After reading Kirsten's post about entitlement, I thought I would address it on my blog. I have so much to say about the subject - in fact, I talk about it everyday with my fellow discouraged teachers. The kids I teach are so low performing, that, I believe, teachers in the past have found it easier just to tell them answers rather than try and teach them how to do an assignment on their own. After reading "Everyday use" by Alice Walker, I told my students that we were going to create a character quilt. This quilt would involve reading half of the story and then drawing either symbols of the mom, Maggie and Dee or a picture of how we feel they are described in the story. They were excited because it involved color crayons and glitter, but when I asked them to think outside of the box and imagine these characters as symbols, they acted like I was crazy. I explained the directions several times, over and over they asked me to tell them what to do, and over and over I refused. "Use your imagination," I said. Apparently they have none - not one ounce of it - except for my one special ed kid Leroy. Leroy drew the mother as a brick wall and had nails laying at the bottom of the wall because he said she was "hard as nails." "Perfect," I screamed, "Leroy gets it!" All the while I tool in poster after poster of stick figures who had silly smiles on their faces. "Where do you get this idea from?" I asked, "The family is not happy." Oh well - at least Leroy gets it.
I often have kids who want clarification and then when I give it to them, they shrug their shoulders and turn away. It is not their fault. They have not been asked to do anything hard. I work constantly to find something to give them hope that they can do the work, but they have no intrinsic motivation. That is something I cannot teach, but i share my thoughts and enthusiasm with them, and I tell them how much it matters to me that they succeed, but lately, I find myself not giving a rat's ass if they learn anything. At the first sign of a sniffle, I call in sick. Me, the girl who missed one class in five years of school. To say I hate what I do right now is an understatement. I hate myself for giving up and for expecting myself to be a seasoned veteran after 12 - is it only 12? - weeks of teaching.
Today, during my planning period, the other 11Th grade teacher burst into my room and said, "Please, go to my class! I can't stand them anymore!" Of course I went in to find a class of angry students shouting, "She doesn't teach us anything! Who are you? We want you to teach us!"
"No," I said, "Really you don't. Ms. Abby is a great teacher."
They gave me the assignment and as I looked it over, I said, "Even if you don't know how to do it, you should show Ms. Abby some empathy and respect and be kind to her."
Dull eyes.
Then, Ms. Abby burst into the room and yelled, "Ms. Taylor, do not be nice to them! They are horrible, mean, vicious children!"
Stunned at her loss of control, I took her outside and tried to calm her down. She had taken the criticism personally. I fear being that person that makes a spectacle of herself to get the attention of my class. I believe that class is lost to her now. They will continue to pull her chain now that they know she views them as "horrible and vicious."
Oh well! Another week in McIntrash.
3 comments:
Dear, dear friend,
I am at a loss of words. School never gets depicted this way on tv. Either they go for the comedic one-line approach, or they over do the drama with guns, knives, and teen pregnancy. Your everyday story fascinates me. It is like reading a novel, with you as my heroine. I am rooting for you and all of your fellow teachers.
I have felt many times, standing in front of groups, the dull-eyed stare of and uninterested audience. It is hard for me to keep courage, still try to make my jokes funny, and not just put my head down and start reading straight from my notes. I hope that you are able to set a spark in at least one of these students. I am currently reading (really, not listening) to Charlotte Simmons. I know the title might seem off point, but her teacher tells her that she has taught for 40 years, and it is producig a student such as her that has validated her career. I think that there must be some proof in this, because the book is written by a teacher of sorts. I guess what I am trying to say is that what you do can't be measured in the traditional sense. How do you measure comfort, or hope? Teachers move children in the way continents move. It is all under the surface, and you might not see it for years to come. Don't be fooled by the dull-eyed, listless bodies. You might be causing the kind of inner turmoil that changes the world. You might be provoking the thoughts that they can't say in class, but are causing their minds to burn from use. You, my friend, are the shaper of minds.
Friend. I wish there was something I could say or do to make things easier for you. I hate that you're miserable. I love you and am praying for you.
I don't think there's anything you can say, Kirsten. Remembering what it was like, all I ever needed was for someone to understand just how hard it is to teach. I knew there was nothing anyone could say to make it better. And everyone was kind and gave me encouragement, but it's something you just have to do. How you get through it is anyone's guess-- I'm still surprised that I made it as long as I did because there were so many days I wanted to give up. But then there was that one incident that made everything else worthwhile and helped get me through.
Nevertheless, I only lasted a year and a half, but I'm very proud of it. And I'm proud of you, too, Alicia. You care so much for these kids and can do so much for them. I really hope it turns out great for you. Just beware of flying M&Ms-- especially blue ones-- those jokers hurt.
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