For one, it wasn't long ago that I was in class. Actually, it was last year. I sat there, tired, bored, squirmy, and not completely focused on what I was doing. I had stuff going on my life that I couldn't 100% leave at home, and so focusing on work was not always easy. And I was going to school for my career. How can I expect a student to sit quietly for eight hours, in classes that he or she does not even care about? It is, of course, my job to inspire students and lead them to igniting their own fires for learning. But if I can't be expected to be perfect, in a class based around my very passion, Can I expect students to do the same in a subject they don't even like?
No. Of course not. Not that I don't have high expectations, but I do think this is something we have to keep in mind. It helps me with that whole "not taking things personally" that I am constantly working on.
What's interesting is that school is one of those things that you don't fully understand until almost ten years later. I was an honor student. But I wasn't a good student. I rarely read for class. If you're a former teacher reading this, I probably didn't read everything I was supposed to. And I am very sorry, because years later, I read those things for the first time -- and regretted my own childish ignorance. The first time I was assigned The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner, I blew it off. I had been out of town the week we read it, so that meant I didn't have to read it. Duh. But then, in a college Romanticism class, I had to read the poem again -- even if it was really the first time. It was incredible. I wanted to go back to that high school student and smack her for depriving herself of such an amazing piece.
I remember sitting in seventh grade as the teacher drilled into our heads that CALL OF THE WILD IS ABOUT CAPITALISM AND "PASS THE BUCK" IS A THING AND THIS IS IMPORTANT AND PAY ATTENTION ALREADY!!! And I hated every Jack London moment of it. Symbolism was so stupid. Why not just say what you mean? And what if the author didn't want it to mean anything? And why do I need to know this, it's not like I'm going to be an English major or anything (Oh, the irony).
And writing the question. Oh, God the torture. Are teachers crazy? Do they actually think this works? I swear they just like to watch us write for no reason (and I liked to write!)! I hear my students saying this today, and I can almost see little middle-school me, awkward, insecure, bored, and so so frustrated at the tediousness of it all. Does this even matter?!
Yes. Yes, childhood me. Yes, students of mine (until Monday, that is). Yes it matters. The sad thing is that you won't realize this for years. I wish there was some way to communicate this to students, that we are not making this up, that you really do have the potential and you really can do better, and that writing the questions actually helps you to remember and study your work, and that literature is beautiful, and Coleridge is a genius and symbolism and metaphors are sometimes the only way we can communicate. But there is no way to show a person their future. I also wish I could tell past-me to learn to balance a checkbook, to stop leaving her stuff everywhere, to clean her room and practice maintaining a space. But regrets are pointless, and all we can do is work with the present. All I can do is insist to my students that this does matter and hope that they can find this out for themselves one day. All I can do is hope that one day they will re-read what they missed or find within themselves an insatiable curiosity for something.
I've always been one to tackle the impossible, to chase horizons, to push boulders up hills all day, even if they're just going to come back down at night.
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Also, I made a decision about yesterday's crisis. I got a text message from the teacher whose class I had been chosen to cover, the one I worked so hard to get all year. She's being put on bed rest and needs me to start next week. I can't in good conscience leave a pregnant woman, on the verge of delivering her first babies (yes, babies) just because more money came along. I know I need the money. But I talked all last year about the snake-like classmates I had, who, if told that getting a job meant cutting off someone's head, would pause only to locate the nearest hardware store and axe-handling gloves. I'm not a cut-throat person. I have to cling to my morals; I want my students (current and future) to be able to see an example of compassion. I tell students every day to never make another person's life harder than it is already. This value means nothing if I'm not willing to demonstrate it myself. Plus, I've wanted this all year. It seems stupid to walk away from it.
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