He's so small. Normally, don't you wish to protect things that are smaller than you? Where's that paternal feeling that I'm digging so desperately for, or do I even have it? No, for this tiny troglodyte, all I feel is rage. I wish I could lift him by his lapels and thrust him against a wall hard enough to loosen his teeth. I wish I could knock him down and set a foot on his chest and sneer. I wish I could slap him right across the cheek so hard the welts would last for days. I could do it. I'm enormous; consequent of eating my vegetables and having good genes. I'm too tall.
But I don't. I save my wrath for a different solution and I let him insult me and lie to me and disrespect me again and again. I use the tools I have and I make his life increasingly strictured and constrained until he realizes, suddenly, sitting in the corner with a single pencil and piece of paper.
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I am sorry. See, I am incredibly lucky; all my students are wonderful. And, like, I want to believe in that as a concept.
ReplyDeleteI don't like thinking of my students as my enemy, or like problems to be managed, or whatever.
I know there are situations where it's probably necessary, but.
This isn't really my feeling, but I think it would feel amazing to feel this way? How awful is that?
ReplyDeleteRight now, I'm observing in a classroom with a teacher a bit like the one described above (students as the enemy), and sometimes I wish I could defenestrate him and teach the class myself.
ReplyDeleteNot like I'm perfect, okay, 'cause, like, I don't know what the what I'm doing.
I just. I think kids need adults in their lives they can trust. Adults they know care about them. 'Cause, like, I haven't ever encountered a behavior problem that wasn't at least partially because of a breakdown in that trust.
Not like I've encountered them all.
There is one student in particular who can't seem to understand I was never the enemy. But he's made me his enemy and he's attempted to win, not understanding that this is not a place in his life where he will have the control he craves. His dad runs a tight ship; his mom is gone. He can't run his own life at home and so he tries to at school, but the way he demonstrates that he can make his own decisions is to go against what is required by the class. I wouldn't mind so much if it were a silent rebellion. I already have one student who refuses to work entirely and sits, instead, silent and bellicose. But this tiny avalanche has decided to make his feud public, as if to prove to everyone that he can't be bossed around.
ReplyDeleteBut he can be, and he will be. He's not in his classroom; he's in mine. It's not about ego or victory, it's about power. Plain and simple. And he has none, and I have all, and if he wants to take power from me I will strip it from him entirely. It's the students who want to do the right thing to whom I hand power and choice. I don't understand why he doesn't see that. I try to make it exceedingly obvious.