that reminds me...

Why am I still sitting in this chair at this desk in this office in this building on this campus this late? So many people comment on how I'm always here; another grad student today told me she's always ready to see a bed set up beside my desk when she comes into the office. sigh Really, people, I do leave. I was home all day yesterday, and it was nice, even if I was transcribing digital records and eating cold pizza.

And I was just about to leave when I saw Lectrice's comment about treating our students as if they were our own. Surprisingly - or not - that brings back a rather painful moment in my educator past. Sit back, boys and girls, and I'll tell you a story.

Once upon a time, in a slightly distant past, in a not so distant school system, I was most unhappily teaching. Why was I unhappy? Because the students wouldn't pay attention, or sit still, or do their homework, or absorb the glories of world literature, or do much of anything I actually wanted them to do. I often expressed my unhappiness about these degenerative little heathens to those who would listen, and I suspect the little heathens had a sneaking suspicion that I did not harbor warm and gentle feelings toward them. Then, one day, the Wizard Behind the Curtain (aka my sister and her email) spoke up to express that, although she loved me dearly, she would not want me to teach her children if I truly felt the way I talked.

Huh.

Talk about a teachable moment. I stepped back, took a breath, and realized the little heathens were perfectly normal teenagers, which didn't necessarily make their behavior any better but it sure as heck didn't excuse mine. Ooo, that stung. Things changed in my classroom, once I started treating my students like people I wanted to spend time with, rather than demons I couldn't get away from fast enough. My classroom wasn't perfect, and I was a far cry from Mary Poppins (still am) but I can point back to that painful little episode as one that taught me a huge lesson.

They drive us crazy. They drive us to tears. They drive us to distraction. But they drive us to get up in the morning and start all over again, which means they must be worth something.