In seventh grade I accidentally snapped my gum in Social Studies class. My teacher responded by giving me a poem to memorize and recite in front of the class the next day. I have never forgotten the poem:
The Gum Chewing Girl
The gum chewing girl
And the cud chewing cow
Are so alike yet different somehow
Ah yes, I see the difference now
It's the intelligent look
On the face of the cow.
I think I was meant to be embarrassed by this but I wasn't. I liked poetry, even poor poetry such as this, and I liked performing. I would have felt much worse had he just yelled at me like the other teachers did. My French teacher was a sadist. He made me stand with my arms out and hold dictionaries (French/English ones, of course) until my arms ached. My French teacher did not know that I already knew how to speak French and assumed I was acting up because I didn't understand what was going on. I was bored of conjugating être for the millionth time. My science teacher sent me to sit in the hallway where I had no audience for my antics, but then I would wander up and down the corridors. At least that way he didn't have to deal with me. In English I rarely needed to be squashed because I was usually interested in what was happening, though I cannot say I behaved as well as I should have even there. I remember being sent to the office a few times and the principal making me sit on the other side of his desk facing him and having to do my work there. And in math I never made a sound because I did not want to draw any attention to myself. Now I'm a teacher and I have no idea either what to do with students that don't want to listen to me or to learn anything. I never make them hold books while their arms shake... but I kick kids out and forget where they went. I say sarcastic things sometimes and far too often I just shrug and ignore the ones that are bugging me and teach only to the ones that are listening. I'm glad it's summer right now; I wish I wasn't thinking about school.
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4 comments:
Most of my immediate family members are teachers. Pops was a teacher, 3 of my sisters are teachers, my aunt is a principal....you get the point, it's only a matter of time before I stop rubbing people for a living and decide to teach people who, prior to signing up for massage therapy school, failed to consider the probability of having to actually study biology and physiology. I'm pretty sure my Dad's technique was putting them in the hallway. Personally, I'm looking forward to some jail time.
I'll take your class. I would love to learn massage. And I will behave too, I promise!
I acted up out of boredom because I read classics by age 4, yet was forced to sit quietly while my classmates tried to sound out Dick and Jane. After-school detention quickly became de rigueur, and before long I was a hardened criminal. Elementary school mostly interfered with my natural eagerness to learn.
Classic case of schooling interfering with education. Teachers, what a miserable lot. We have no idea what to do with the smart ones.
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