Today I had a bad day. I was having just a mediocre day until my fifth period class managed to throw every possible wrench and negative comment into what should have otherwise been an enjoyable and funny creative writing exercise. While I love them, my fifth period class is comprised of five girls and (yes, I promise this is true) 27 boys. Of which, approximately 25 are stereotypical "skater boys." Who are sweet. And kind. But also immature. And apathetic. And inappropriate. And
Sample conversations from today's class:
Isabelle [after reading the daily schedule]: We have a test today?!
Me: No, don't worry. It's not for points. I'll explain later. But please don't freak out.
Cody: You didn't tell us we had a test today! That's totally unfair.
Me: I know I didn't tell you. Did you hear me just tell Isa-
Eddie: Wait, we have a test today!?
Me: No...you guys, just listen. I promise I'll explain when we get there. It's nothing to worry about, it's meant to help you study for the final. You have my word, it can't hurt your grade. But right now it's time for the creative writing journal. So you need to take out a piece of-
Ty: What are we doing today? [Looks to daily schedule] Wait! We have a test today? It wasn't on schoolloop.
Me: I don't understand. Am I not being clear? You are going to take a test on-
Zach: THERE'S A TEST TODAY?!?!
* * * *
Me [extremely irritated]: It saddens me that this class seems to be having trouble understanding how having fun with creative writing and being mature can go together. It looks like you can't handle the freedom that comes along with this unit, and I guess we need to end the year with some in-class essays. That is, unless whoever anonymously wrote "A 52-year-old rapist, who is a member of the Taliban" as a potential fictional character for one of the group stories can admit it to me after class.
(five minutes later)
Student: Yeah...I'll take the blame.
Me: Well that's pretty unclear. Are you saying you wrote it, or that you'll just take the blame for it?
Student: Uh, I wrote it.
Me: Why? I mean, what about this seemed appropriate to you?
Student: Uh, I don't know.
Me: Really? Do you really not know?
Student: No, yeah, uh, you're right.
Me: Look, I know you think this is funny, and your buddies got a laugh out of it. I don't care. It's still completely inappropriate, disrespectful, and in poor taste. And also, so immature.
Student: ...
(Sidenote: In retrospect, this is probably where I should have stopped with the reprimanding).
Me: So, basically, I guess I'm just pretty nervous that you're about to be a senior. I mean...I'm shocked that a seventeen-year-old would write something as childish as this. A "52-year-old rapist? In the Taliban?" Really?
Student: Yeah...I know...
Me: You're a smart kid. I mean, this is stupid. But you're a smart kid. I expected more. And you're going to be a senior. Come on.
Student: Yeah...it was stupid...
Me: So what do you have to say?
Student: I'm sorry?
Me: Is that a question?
Student: No. I'm sorry.
Me: And it's not going to happen again?
Student: Right.
Me: Goodbye.
According to the Broken Bells, "the high road is hard to find." That's for damn sure. I like to think I take it most of the time. But today, while giving my fifth period kids a guilt trip about their inability to focus, and then audibly informing my co-teacher they were the only class who couldn't handle the assignment, I'm pretty sure I was slumming my way down the low road. Perhaps with extra grenades of bitterness, contempt, and exhaustion.
The remedy? Fish tacos and Bud Light Lime. Pleasure reading before bed. And, of course, some of Emerson's wisdom to shake me into a better tomorrow:
Finish each day and be done with it.
You have done what you could;
some blunders and absurdities have crept in;
forget them as soon as you can.
Tomorrow is a new day;
you shall begin it serenely, and with too high a spirit
to be encumbered with your old nonsense.
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