I Will Fight No More Forever

It's kind of odd how one can occasionally need to take a break from writing in one's weblog. It's not that it's really a particularly difficult task, or even that it really takes all that much effort...it's just that sometimes it's hard to make yourself sit down and write something. I imagine that many of you are anxiously awaiting stories of my first experience in the classroom. I'm not sure what to tell you other than that it has been an altogether frustrating experience. It hasn't been discouraging or anything...just frustrating.

The thing is, I firmly believe that students can detect the scent of "new, inexperienced teacher" and thereby behave accordingly. My situation is further complicated by the fact that for the first week of class, they had three substitute teachers. When I arrived, I really didn't have time to lay down a discipline plan. It's kind of a unique situation. I'm dealing with remedial students, teaching a subject that they don't want to take, and I haven't yet gotten the hang of doling out discipline. If anything, this is really good experience for me, and it will make all future classes seem perfect.

There was one shining moment yesterday when a student who had been pretty much clueless about the stuff we've been doing (graphing linear equations) suddenly learned figured out how to do it and was able to graph any equation I gave her. That was the highlight of my week.

Tomorrow I have to figure out how to deal with a group bullying incident that took place today. I talked to the kid who was the target of it after class today and he told me it's been going on since summer school started...and, in fact, it's been going on since last year when they were in junior high school. I'm trying to think of the best way to handle it.

The funny thing is that, when I was in seventh, eighth and ninth grade, I was a bit of a bully myself...tormenting those lower than me on the pecking order in order to relate to those higher than me on the pecking order. Of course, I was also picked on, in turn. I was far from being at the top of the pecking order, so I got as much as I gave. I was a scrawny little thing and attempted to make up for that by tormenting those who would take it. The fact is that any one of the kids I tormented could have easily beat me to a pulp. But, for some reason, they never did.

Anyway, I'm trying to think about what a teacher could have said to me at that point in order to make me stop. So far, I'm not coming up with anything.

From my now adult mindset, I'm looking at the whole thing and not quite understanding the mentality behind it all. I mean, what pleasure can possibly be derived from driving another kid to tears. I guess at the time it was a power thing...and a desire to be accepted by others.

I remember in ninth grade I drove this poor kid to the point of tears. In a fit of rage he attempted to attack me. He swung at me and missed. The substitute saw him swing at me and busted him for that, without even trying to figure out if I deserved it...which I most certainly did. The point is that seeing this kid get in trouble for something that was really my fault was the turning point when I decided that my bullying days were over.

It's odd how I just kind of realized that on my own. I think that seeing his fists of fury fly toward me made me realize that I lacked the brute strength necessary to back up my actions. It occurred to me that one day I could very well be viciously pounded into the ground and never be able to walk again.