Today was not a good day.
I know I'll have plenty of those in my teaching career, but I didn't expect to have one so early on.
I'm really struggling to squash the notion of being "the teacher they like" in favor of being "the teacher they need." I know what kind of teacher they like. They like the funny guy--the guy who has no rules, no seating chart, and no intention of challenging them.
They don't like to be pushed beyond their comfort levels. They don't like it when I hand back the paper they just gave me because I don't feel like it's quality work. They don't like hearing, "Try again." I can tell some of them have been spoon-fed in some their previous English classes. They looked at me like I was an alien when I said, "Answer in complete sentences." They live and breathe fragments. I honestly received a sentence like this:
sun = makes me happy.
What?! They speak as if they are texting or updating their status on Facebook. I have to prepare them to take the 9th grade TAKS test, and they're still resisting writing complete sentences.
Don't get me wrong--they are smart. My Pre-AP kids are especially impressive. They analyze, evaluate, and think critically all the time. It's so fun to sit in a classroom full of people who are just as passionate about reading, writing, and literature as you are. It was hard for me to imagine a student who wouldn't be moved by poetry and a good book. But they exist. I know that now.
It's frustrating to want someone to succeed so badly and to receive the impression that they could not possibly care less. I'm doing everything I can to motivate them (grades are never a good motivator, by the way), and I'm not throwing in the towel yet. But some of them are so incredibly resistant. They are sweet and respectful, but they look at a pencil the way I look at a screwdriver. "What in the world am I supposed to do with this?"
How have they gone this long without discovering the beauty of the written word? How haven't they discovered how relaxing it feels to vent your frustrations to journal? (Or a blog in my case!) They've gone nine years without learning to love literature. And you know. . . maybe they will never love it.
But they WILL learn how to write a complete sentence. They WILL be able to create a grammatically correct and stellar looking resume. They WILL discover how to differentiate between good and bad writing. I'll make sure of that.
It's just sad. I don't mean to go on a tirade, but most of these kids have nothing. Their future is in their hands; every single choice they make impacts their future. Studying for this quiz could mean the difference between an A and an F. . .between enrolling in the university of their dreams and dropping out of high school. I care about them SO much that I'm willing to sacrifice being that "teacher they like" to be "the teacher they need."
Quite honestly, I don't have this problem with all of my classes. I even have kids who come after school & see me, eager to hang out and talk for awhile. But there is ONE class...just one...and it's making me a little bonkers. They're not rude, disrespectful, or mean in any way. But they always look exasperated. They always look like I'm asking them to run outside and fetch me the sun. Maybe, to them, I am. Maybe no one has ever said, "This mediocre effort is not good enough. Try harder." But they'll be hearing that a lot this year. And when they give me something wonderful, we'll celebrate. It won't all be hard times, but it won't be a giant party either. They're here to learn, and I'm here to make sure that they get the best possible free education that they can.
I needed to pep talk myself! Haha! I just feel like my work is definitely cut out for me this year. I'm just going to do my absolute best and hope that they remember to thank me later. ;)
On another note (though one that's NOT much lighter), two of my students came to see me today. We were sitting down at my desk talking when they both started crying.
One told me about some family issues they've been having. She lost her 2 year old cousin, and her family has been grieving.
One said that her mom lost her job. Their car was repossessed last night, and they've been evicted. They can't pay their bills, and dad is not around. When he was, he was abusive to both her and her mom. Mom was recently diagnosed with cancer, though she refuses to tell the kids and worry them. This student only knows after eavesdropping on her mother's private phone conversation.
I never dealt with these things when I was fourteen. I still don't know how to deal with them now. I hugged them both, told them that I was always there for them, and asked them to please call or email me if they needed anything. They hugged me back and said, "Thanks for listening. We were going to go to the guidance counselor, but we really just wanted to come to you."
This is why I do what I do.
