Tuesday, November 30, 2004
Stupid trees...blocking my view of the forest!
I hate report card night. Especially the first report card night of the year. Why? Because everyone is shocked to learn that little Johnny and little Suzie, whose warm smiles and ability to suck up got them passed along (socially promoted) in middle school suddenly no longer work on this anal-retentive white guy who's teaching their ninth grade science class. Report card night runs from 5:30-7:30. I got home at 9 this evening feeling angry, tired, and exhausted.
The biggest problem for me this evening was a group of about 6-10 parents who were there in protest of my seating policy. Now I have assigned seats in my classroom. Students are aware of this. I inform them of it regularly. Sit in your assigned seat or you will be marked absent. But what if student A sits in student B's chair? Student B informs me, the teacher, and I ask them to move. They don't. Customarily, I know better than to pick a major fight over the issue. So I tell them that both will be marked absent, figuring that common sense will play out and both will realize that they should just go where they're supposed to go. That group of parents I mentioned earlier though got very angry and said this was unfair and raised all sorts of holy hell...one guy even had the gall (or perhaps the insight?) to tell me that if I can't control my students, I may not be meant for this line of work. But seriously...they want me to throw kids out over this? Call security? In the long run, it's a number on a report card...and not even the most important number.
Because all those parents who were bitching and moaning...every single one...had a student who failed my class. Whose grades were piss poor. And the parents will blame me. And the students will blame me. Because, they'll say, I can't control my class. And they may be right. But at least I know what's important...teaching. The act of teaching and in the students' case, the act of learning. And even if my seating policy is flawed, as I eventually was forced to admit under the cold gaze of the mob of angry parents, at least I try to teach everyday.
How many of those students can say they are actually trying to learn?
I nearly broke down in front of those parents...exasperated and angry. What the hell do you want from me, damn it?!? I just want to do my job. You wonder why turnover is so high when teachers are given such moronic flak from parents who can't see the forest from the trees? Because I don't. Not anymore.
I hate report card night. Especially the first report card night of the year. Why? Because everyone is shocked to learn that little Johnny and little Suzie, whose warm smiles and ability to suck up got them passed along (socially promoted) in middle school suddenly no longer work on this anal-retentive white guy who's teaching their ninth grade science class. Report card night runs from 5:30-7:30. I got home at 9 this evening feeling angry, tired, and exhausted.
The biggest problem for me this evening was a group of about 6-10 parents who were there in protest of my seating policy. Now I have assigned seats in my classroom. Students are aware of this. I inform them of it regularly. Sit in your assigned seat or you will be marked absent. But what if student A sits in student B's chair? Student B informs me, the teacher, and I ask them to move. They don't. Customarily, I know better than to pick a major fight over the issue. So I tell them that both will be marked absent, figuring that common sense will play out and both will realize that they should just go where they're supposed to go. That group of parents I mentioned earlier though got very angry and said this was unfair and raised all sorts of holy hell...one guy even had the gall (or perhaps the insight?) to tell me that if I can't control my students, I may not be meant for this line of work. But seriously...they want me to throw kids out over this? Call security? In the long run, it's a number on a report card...and not even the most important number.
Because all those parents who were bitching and moaning...every single one...had a student who failed my class. Whose grades were piss poor. And the parents will blame me. And the students will blame me. Because, they'll say, I can't control my class. And they may be right. But at least I know what's important...teaching. The act of teaching and in the students' case, the act of learning. And even if my seating policy is flawed, as I eventually was forced to admit under the cold gaze of the mob of angry parents, at least I try to teach everyday.
How many of those students can say they are actually trying to learn?
I nearly broke down in front of those parents...exasperated and angry. What the hell do you want from me, damn it?!? I just want to do my job. You wonder why turnover is so high when teachers are given such moronic flak from parents who can't see the forest from the trees? Because I don't. Not anymore.
