A break from the Negative

So, I put a lot of negative stuff out here. In fact, all teachers do, on all levels. We're usually resentful of being underappreciated by just about everyone, we have to try to focus on conveying knowledge and training students to think when most of our classes are made up of individuals with absymally low maturity levels, and we're often called upon to play tutor, counselor, therapist, advisor, etc... One thing I've been trying to do as we sit in the break room gossiping at work (which shockingly resembles the teacher's lounge from Calvin's school in the Calvin and Hobbes comics - he bursts into it during a fantasy at school, and sees aliens eating lunch) is to bring up the positive aspects of the job, which often gets me Looks from the other teachers. The Looks mean: "Oh, the naivete of youth. Soon enough, she'll figure out that all students are brats, and the ones that aren't are just working an angle." But still, its worth trying (she says, hesitantly into the laughing void). And because it is worth trying, I will tell you the story of Marian and Jimmy, two students whose names I have changed.

Jimmy is a decent guy. He's really struggling with grades, but he does alright with classroom behavior, and jokes with me, which makes him a plus to have around. Marian is one of those students who puts you on notice when you start taking your job for granted. She's very young, and has a toddler, has never missed a class, and her work is explemary. Marian has taken Jimmy under her wing. She helps him with classwork, she helps him outside of class, and she sticks up for him. She also puts him in his place if he forgets his homework or talks while I'm talking. Its an interesting enough dynamic to watch in the classroom, but it got downright touching when Marian approached me after class one day.

M: Ms. Rainykate?
RK: Yes?
M: Can we go over this again on Monday?
RK: Sure, I'll review before the quiz. Did you have some questions?
M: Not me, but Jimmy doesn't understand it, and he's too embarrassed to ask for help. He told me not to talk to you, but I said it was about something else.
RK: (suddenly understanding) Oh. Thank you for telling me. I'll push the quiz back and we'll be sure everyone understands.

Now, Jimmy flunked his quiz anyway when we took it, largely because he can't get over not wanting to look stupid by asking questions. But I went back over that material, gave extra homework, and did a classroom activity that Monday. Partially because Jimmy's not the only student I have who won't ask questions, but mostly because I was so touched by Marian that I remembered why I sometimes enjoy teaching - there are very few other jobs where you get to see genuine concern for others and where you get to demonstrate that concern.

Students make you angry. They will infuriate you with their ignorance and the joy they take in it. They will consciously refuse to see the connections between materials. They will challenge you on your authority, on your knowledge, on your skill, and on your judgement untill all you want to do is walk out and leave them to destroy each other, Lord of the Flies style. There are so many loud, obnoxious and dumb moments in the classroom that it becomes difficult to see the quiet ones. And yet those are the ones that really matter. So, while I will not deprive you of my bile, I'll try to show the Marians of the world every once in a while. Be warned though; Marian is significant simply because she is so rare. Teaching, like so many other jobs, is usually just a constant push against the collective stupidity of a group of people who'd much rather be anywhere else but school.