The general consensus believes
that I am “too nice” for this job. According to my colleagues and professor, my
lessons and planning are solid and engaging, and my classroom management skills
are progressing… nicely. Last week, I
learned about the differences between being a “mean” teacher and being a “hard”
teacher, so this week, I tried to remember that my lessons are hard, not mean.
I stuck to my plans, held fast to my homework assignments, and did everything I
could to accommodate various types of learners. The work was moderately
challenging and would have been very satisfying, had the students actually
listened to instructions and paid attention during lessons, but the sad truth
of the matter is that I do not command respect because, as one of my students
told me, “You’re just not crazy enough.”
When
I probed the student, I discovered that these kids typically responded to
teachers who “yell and holler, and throw stuff around the room,” and even though
I verbalize my expectations, frustrations, and disappointment with my classes
from time to time, I have only yelled at a class once, and when I brought that
incident up with the student, he laughed at me and said, “That wasn’t real
hollering.” I remember that day vividly, and I recall the tremendous amount of
guilt I felt all weekend for losing my temper. If that wasn’t considered “real hollering,” then there are only two
feasible explanations: 1) I don’t actually know how to holler and yell, or 2)
the student doesn’t understand the definition of “holler.” Both are strong
possibilities.
I
may not be a mean teacher, but after gathering some information and processing
some feedback, I am beginning to wonder if the “hard teacher” needs to be
replaced by the “crazy teacher” to make the “teacher” part of the title count
for something. I can act crazy, of
course, but I’m not actually crazy. I could yell, and threaten, and pull on
students’ ears the way another teacher does, but those are not truly options
for me. My weapons, for lack of a better term, are well-constructed and
engaging lessons, and the points these students need to get good grades.
However, for this particular student culture, the value of education is lost on
them. Several of my students do not see the importance of school and treat it
like an interruption in their real lives. I am struggling to instill a sense of
purpose in them, but to do that, I still need their attention, and in order to
get that attention, apparently I need to be crazy.
Should
I have a makeup artist give me a fake black eye so I can tell these kids that I
got into a barfight? That’s crazy. Should I throw a chair or break something,
as my student suggested? That’s crazy too. Maybe I should threaten violence, as
a few students (and colleagues) have proposed. Definitely crazy. Should I
continue to entertain these options? That is what’s really crazy. I’m not crazy, so why are these the only solutions I
can think of? Why are these the only resolutions that the students and staff
can provide? I find it hard to believe that anyone enjoys getting yelled at or
threatened with violence, and it is absurd to think that doing so will actually
instill a lifelong love of learning.
During
my first few weeks at this school, I found that the students were responding
well to kindness. It was odd that they seemed surprised by my genuine attention
and concern, but the surprise gave me hope for being able to manage a classroom
and impart some useful knowledge. Perhaps it was the kindness that was mistaken
for weakness, and now, ten weeks later, I have no control over my classes. I
lost them somewhere between “being kind” and “being a respected authority
figure.” I had originally thought that kindness would beget respect, but now I
wonder if I should have walked in on the first day as a raging authoritarian
and disciplinarian… that’s crazy, right? Although, if I had, then I might
actually be teaching these kids instead of just begging them to pay attention,
and the only respect I would have lost would have been my self-respect.
This
is the quandary of the public servant: changing personal beliefs to meet the
publics’ needs in order to accomplish a valuable goal for society, or
maintaining strong principles at the risk of doing a bad job. I am certain I
will find a balance, and I am certain that every student body will pose
different challenges, but the thing I am most certain of, is that I am proud of
my “niceness” and I’m worried if I sacrifice that, I won’t be the type of
teacher I could respect.
ADDENDUM: After a long conversation, several deep breaths, and some serious contemplation, I think I understand how to reconcile being “too nice” with being “crazy.” The happy medium exists in being firm, strict, and confident in my abilities as an educator. Confidence has never been my strong suit, but I reviewed everything I have done up to this point, as well as the lessons I have planned for the upcoming weeks, and they’re good. I made the mistake of expecting to make mistakes in my planning and effectively showed my students that I could be pushed around, when I should have trusted myself and emanated confidence. I don’t need to act crazy, and I don’t have to stop being “nice,” but I absolutely need to remember that I am a trained professional.
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