teaching week two, pt. 1: “you’re going to hate this.”

NB: I realize last week’s entry had a misleading “pt. 1″ designation. I thought it best to leave that week behind me and charge forth. Turns out this week isn’t any better. Cool.

The saga of my inadequacy continues. Worse, the kids are catching on. Eventually they’ll expose me as a fraud. My authority will be shot. I’ll be at their mercy. Obviously, I would prefer this not to happen.

Which is why I’ve concocted a plan.

Inspired by Lydia Cooper’s (PhD) story of “accidentally” calling her students “dumbasses,” I considered unleashing a verbal tirade on my classes – savaging their tender, blossoming minds to a slew of abuses unheard this side of a fishing barge. Then, my thinking followed, at least I’d know they disliked me and why. There’s a comfort in certainty. A certainty that one is reviled is no exception. Depending on how you define “comfort.”

I’ll illustrate. Today I assigned a half-hour in-class writing assignment in which the students were supposed to summarize the results they received in a personality test and respond. As they were leaving, one student (who has already taken great care to define himself as “difficult”) leans over and says, “You’re going to hate this.” Smirk, smirk.  I suspect he thought this because he devoted his essay disavowing all personality tests. He, it was argued, is a unique lil snowflake. Psychological research can suck it.

Frankly, I didn’t hate his essay at all. I was so pleased to find an actual opinion hidden among that teetering pile of blue books, his dissent didn’t offend me in the least. He didn’t realize that I wasn’t going to take his response personally. I don’t need his approval. More accurately, I don’t need his approval once I know I don’t have it.

So, The New Plan: offend every students’ sense of self. Then, if the particular is an accurate predictor of the whole, I’ll be free to do whatever the hell I please.

What I keep forgetting is that I already have that ability. I’m the teacher. Right.

So, The New Plan (Revised): just forget about making them like me and teach the thing. I’ll do it in ways that interest me and hope that interest is contagious. I’ve said from the beginning that I don’t care to be their friend, and that’s true. I never wanted to be their buddy, but I did want them to like me.  I still do, just not at the cost of my sanity and confidence.  So for all practical purposes, when I walk in on Thursday, I will pretend that I’ve called them all dumbasses. Not like Lydia did (when she probably didn’t mean to), but like I looked at them all and said, “Geez. You are dumb. And asses. You are dumbasses. And I hate you a little bit. Dumbasses.”  It’s an impossible place to come back from. Freed from the tantalus of their universal adoration, I can do as I please, teach as I want, and enjoy my role as rhetorical guide.

Wish me luck. Or don’t. Dumbasses.

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