My Fantasy Speech at the Imaginary Parent Conference I have in my head

Posted on January 18, 2014 by Mrs Odie

Parent conferences are a part of being a teacher. As a teacher, I am stern and strict. I have anxiety, and specific procedures for student movement in the classroom are essential for maintaining my sanity. If I have a panic attack in class, I am not an effective teacher. Great fodder for a surreptitious YouTube video, maybe, but not effective.

Once discipline is established, I feel comfortable and have a great time with my students. As soon as they become accustomed to my sense of humor, we have a lot of laughs. Sometimes, parents object to what they see as my authoritarian practices or misinterpret my tone, and they ask for meetings.

I like to imagine myself as confident and fearless as Colonel Nathan Jessup in A Few Good Men.

Here is a transcript of my fantasy meeting with imaginary parents.

Sir, we live in a world with ignorance and that ignorance needs to be guarded against by teachers with rules. Who’s going to do it? You? You, [angry parent’s openly embarrassed spouse]?

I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for last year’s English teacher and you curse my long list of classroom supplies. You have that luxury. You don’t know what I know. That the first time I call in a substitute, the students are going to take the caps off every glue stick on that cart. Those ballpoint pens? Spitball canons. My requirements, while grotesque (something we’ll study in our American Gothic unit) and incomprehensible to you, save minds.

You can’t handle the truth about public education because deep down in places you don’t talk about on the sidelines of soccer practice, you want me in that classroom. You need me in that classroom.

I use words like rigor, obedience, consequences. I use these words as the backbone of a classroom management program built to maximize class learning, minimize disruptions, and keep myself sane. You use them as accusation.

You may think I sound defensive, but I’m just astonished that I have to take the time to explain myself to a person who sees his children thrive in the environment I provide, and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said, “Thank you,” and gave me a Starbucks card.

I run my classroom the way I run my classroom. You want to come at me, roll the dice and take your chances. I eat lunch 100 feet away from 1800 adolescents trained to ignore me. So don’t think you can come in here, flash a sour face, and make me nervous.

Now, say “my taxes pay your salary,” and I will order a Code Red.

Posted in Pure side-splitting comedy, Teaching | 12 Comments

In my professional life, I’ve been chastised by colleagues and higher-ups for taking things too personally. For example, I get to the end of a set of essays and complain to a fellow teacher, “I’m insulted that they think I’m this stupid. Did they think I wouldn’t read their essays, or did they think I wouldn’t notice that every single one of them used the same 3 examples from the two novels they were comparing?” And only two of the three were examples that made any sense.

Oh, look, it’s THAT quote again! What are the odds that 97 students will pick that one passage to quote in their papers in order to support the thesis they each forgot to include? What really chaps my hide is that these students signed a piece of paper wherein they promised they would NOT collaborate on any assignment unless I specified it as a group project. Yet it is so obvious that they are collaborating, even a student in my class would notice it.

Why won’t they try? Why is it so unthinkable for a student to sit down alone with his computer, and write an essay to the best of his ability? Isn’t there a nobility in it? Whether she gets a D a C or a B, isn’t there a pride of accomplishment? I did it! I could have done better, but now with my teacher’s detailed comments on my essay, I know where I can improve. (Oh, God, call the Self Esteem Police! Where’s my son’s A just for trying?! Oh, wait, he didn’t try. He live- chatted with classmates who all shared the same quotes and said, “Use these in your essay. Same some stuff about how John Proctor never quit trying so he got his dream.”)

And what did they think would happen when I got to paper 40 or so, and I thought, “Why does this quote appear in every essay I have read? It isn’t even the most obvious one to choose, and it certainly doesn’t answer the prompt.” I can only imagine it’s one of these possibilities: 1) they didn’t wonder, 2) they didn’t care, 3) they think I’m an idiot.

I’m exhausted by this job. I feel like no one values thinking deeply. They want me to tell them which box to check and then they want the immediate gratification of seeing their grades posted online. And if the grade they get’s not the grade they want, they demand an explanation of why, and they want that grade changed to the one they DO want.

As I sit here on my Saturday, marking essays and feeling like I’m grading the same essay over and over, I am defeated. Didn’t I teach this? I have the lesson plans. I know I talked about concrete detail, commentary, topic sentences, say/mean/matter. I’m all excited to go back to work after the vacation (which doesn’t count as a vacation when it includes entertaining a 2, 4, and 42 year-old 14 hours a day in addition to weaning and spending hours on the phone begging MediCal to cover your mother’s nursing home care — they say no, but only eventually). My worry is that my enthusiasm will be dashed on day one as I realize that I can’t just by force of will make them want to learn. I’m doing the work on my end though. I’m trying a bunch of new stuff and keeping my fingers crossed.

Posted on January 6, 2014 by Mrs Odie | 17 Comments