The students I am dealing with on a day-to-day basis comprise an interesting mix. If you have ever surveyed humanity and felt that you'd already seen it all, you have to be wrong. I learned that when I acted as tour manager in a travel business years ago. Now in school, however, I am exposed to a constant variety of different student personalities. They challenge any teacher trying to teach effectively.
For instance, there is the kid in one of the classes I usually work in who clearly has gang aspirations. I'll just call him Jose. Yes, like almost all the other students in school, he is Hispanic. He has dark black hair, cut relatively short, a light-skinned complexion that shows just a hint of swarthiness, and handsome features, He walks like a gang member, a sort of manly swagger that projects self-assurance and might even project a little bit of threat except that he's still too young -- 11 ? -- to threaten anybody. He doesn't wan't to do his class work. He sits at his place and stares off in space. We have a custom in our classroom as kids come in of greeting them, either shaking hands or giving what I call the Black fist bump. When I was new, this kid refused to say "Hello." He didn't keep it a secret that he disliked me. This reminded me of the way kids in high school often greeted new substitute teachers with a cheery smile and a comment that, "You know, we hate substitute teachers." To that one I learned an immediate counter: "If I wanted love, I'd get a dog."
So the hostility of this kid, though surprising at first, made me wonder what kind of issues he had at home. In classes like these, kids bounce all kinds of emotional hangups off the teachers. And once you let them know that they are getting to you, that they are successfully pushing your buttons, its all over. They will do their best to torment you in every way they can imagine. Hard as it is, you must keep your cool, be both firm and understanding, and insist that they follow the rules.
In the roughly six months I have been at this middle school, I have had highs and lows in the esteem of the students. At least three of them, in different classrooms, probed openly hostile when I was assigned to me to help individually in a particular class. When the teacher asked me to sit down at their table, I was told openly and bluntly within 15 seconds, "I don't want you to help me," or "I don't want to work with you." My reaction has been to say, "No problem," get up, and go to other students in the class who need help. There is no shortage in this school, which is primarily Hispanic, of students who need help with a variety of subjects, especially English.
I get asked all kinds of questions by the students. The most common one is, "How old are you?" I have been asked if I was alive during World War I, or during the Presidency of Abraham Lincoln. The most hopeful thing about these questions is that at least they have heard of World War I and Abraham Lincoln. I am by far the oldest person at the school. I think the next oldest person is about 55, twenty years my junior. This coming Wednesday is "Wear a Funny Hat Day." I think that instead of wearing something from the South Pacific, where I lived and worked in various countries for many years, I shall wear my baseball cap that says, "Don't Forget My Senior Discount."
For instance, there is the kid in one of the classes I usually work in who clearly has gang aspirations. I'll just call him Jose. Yes, like almost all the other students in school, he is Hispanic. He has dark black hair, cut relatively short, a light-skinned complexion that shows just a hint of swarthiness, and handsome features, He walks like a gang member, a sort of manly swagger that projects self-assurance and might even project a little bit of threat except that he's still too young -- 11 ? -- to threaten anybody. He doesn't wan't to do his class work. He sits at his place and stares off in space. We have a custom in our classroom as kids come in of greeting them, either shaking hands or giving what I call the Black fist bump. When I was new, this kid refused to say "Hello." He didn't keep it a secret that he disliked me. This reminded me of the way kids in high school often greeted new substitute teachers with a cheery smile and a comment that, "You know, we hate substitute teachers." To that one I learned an immediate counter: "If I wanted love, I'd get a dog."
So the hostility of this kid, though surprising at first, made me wonder what kind of issues he had at home. In classes like these, kids bounce all kinds of emotional hangups off the teachers. And once you let them know that they are getting to you, that they are successfully pushing your buttons, its all over. They will do their best to torment you in every way they can imagine. Hard as it is, you must keep your cool, be both firm and understanding, and insist that they follow the rules.
In the roughly six months I have been at this middle school, I have had highs and lows in the esteem of the students. At least three of them, in different classrooms, probed openly hostile when I was assigned to me to help individually in a particular class. When the teacher asked me to sit down at their table, I was told openly and bluntly within 15 seconds, "I don't want you to help me," or "I don't want to work with you." My reaction has been to say, "No problem," get up, and go to other students in the class who need help. There is no shortage in this school, which is primarily Hispanic, of students who need help with a variety of subjects, especially English.
I get asked all kinds of questions by the students. The most common one is, "How old are you?" I have been asked if I was alive during World War I, or during the Presidency of Abraham Lincoln. The most hopeful thing about these questions is that at least they have heard of World War I and Abraham Lincoln. I am by far the oldest person at the school. I think the next oldest person is about 55, twenty years my junior. This coming Wednesday is "Wear a Funny Hat Day." I think that instead of wearing something from the South Pacific, where I lived and worked in various countries for many years, I shall wear my baseball cap that says, "Don't Forget My Senior Discount."
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