Wow. Just Wow.

I’ve taught for a while. There have been many jobs held over the years, but being in education and teaching has taken up over half my life. That being written, there are days that just make you question everything you stand for.
Today was one of those days. They happen every year. A class period is so ridiculous, so past caring about doing anything positive, that they just make me hit the wall. And, of course, it’s Thursday today, but it happens every year. At least once, I am so ignored, so past existing in my students’ worlds, that I just retire to the desk, do what I must to decompress, and let them catch up on their work in class–either reading or finishing assignments from a previous day.
But today, my students wouldn’t let me decompress. Many were getting things done, but many others just kept talking and being ridiculous. I suppose they might as well, for it’s their last day of having me as their teacher. They get a different version of me tomorrow, one that has to be a little more of an authority figure. This is not why I got into teaching, but it is what they want and need.
The worst part of the day was listening to them talk. It made me realize why people put their kids into private schools. For one, they have very little to say because their worlds are only as big as their phones’ screens. There is almost no middle ground between them and me, and maybe that just means I’m getting old and out of touch. But what comes out of the mouths of babes these days is a little unsettling, and though I had to listen to it today, I don’t ever need to hear it again.
Here’s the beauty of teaching, though–I get to come back tomorrow and right all the wrongs of today. And, because our society is such a forgetful one, maybe this day didn’t even exist. All my years of substitute teaching, the four years at Long Beach Poly, the 18 years at North High, you would think I would have this down. Nope.
WASC question number one reads, “What do we want them to learn?” Today, I wanted them to learn about Louis Zamperini, about biography, about WWII, about literary criticism and how to infer and understand a writer’s craft. I wanted them to read a book that no student has ever disliked–Unbroken–but, instead, the title became a bit of irony.
I’m fine. Dismayed, bothered, shaking my head at their worlds, but not mad. Two out of 100 sophomores knew who Robert Plant is. I’m fine. Surprised, always learning, but sometimes things I don’t want to learn. In the past, my students have often aroused my curiosity in music, movies, and books, but it’s been YEARS since I found something interesting. Today they wanted me to listen to Chief Keef and even had a particular song for me. After listening for 10 seconds and hearing two F bombs, it was done.
I’m going to be a little vain here, because I feel like it. They had their chance. They had me as their teacher, someone who wasn’t the same-old, same-old, which I guess is what they want. They have thrown me back “like the base Indian” who also “threw a pearl away,” which, sadly, is a reference they will never understand.
Tomorrow.