I Cried on Thuersday. Does That Make Me Cool?

The students know that we’re into the grind now, and they’re showing no mercy.

For as many times as a student approaches me outside of class or initiates a worthy in class discussion, there are just as many times when another student acts like an a complete asshole to me. One of the first things I’ve learned is to not take things personally, and generally speaking I don’t have a management problem. But it’s noticeable that we’ve settled in for the long haul, and I’ve experiences a bit more attitude recently. I have to constantly remind myself not to pick a fight with a particular student; their logical skills in rational argument are naturally lacking, but they’ll be the last to admit it, and it’s never about who’s actually right anyway. I’m learning.

Then, there’s my 4^th period.

I’m not much of a narrative writer unfortunately, so I’ll simply detail the aftermath of my last class on Thursday. It involves a shattered clock strewn about the room, a flamboyant, sarcastic jerk literally running around the room for no reason, a group of complete slackers who showed up for the first time in a couple weeks to make fun of my girlfriend’s allegedly small chest with the bitchiest queen I’ve ever met, an underachieving student giving me a pep speech about needing me to teach (after I’d quit for the day) so their mommas won’t whoop (sp?) them, several excellent students encouraging me to not quit on them and win the battle in the classroom, and me staying 45 minutes after school so no one would see me crying.

I hate sob stories, I hate joking that I’m overworked and underpaid, I know better than to let it affect me more than it’s worth, but frankly, it gets to me anyway. I have so much to offer these students by virtue of my over education, and dammit, I don’t want to give up on them. In fact, now that I’m typing this up, I should say that I won’t give up on them. How else will they learn the beauty of an ablative absolute or the eerie coincidences between Caesar Augustus’s dirty politics and President Bush’s?

I guess the moral of the story is that sometimes it’s necessary to remind ourselves that we are fighting the good and that it really is worth fighting. I hope I kick the shit out of my 4^th period class on Monday.