It’s the Littlest Things

Funny thing how a little thing makes you a little bit sad.  This morning,  I discovered a photograph I had printed out with my father and I when he came to visit me in my classroom last year  had been marked on my a pen.  A kid basically scribbled on my face.  I know what class it more than likely came from, and those kids are rascals beyond the time period they should ever be rascals.   They’ll be rascals their whole lives until one day they will be struggling, having a hard day when they will realize how difficult their  lives are all of a sudden because they chose to fight developing themselves as individuals in a highly competitive world.  

The moment I saw my face crossed out I knew it was the action of one individual, probably a student who interrupts the class a lot, is disrespectful to others, and I’ve probably met on contacted their parents several times to discuss their behavior.   Students dislike this very much because it creates a stressful situation for them at home, and it also bleeds out to a moment where they’re looking at my face, and they just want to scribble on it.  

That’s how they empowere themselves.  They deface my image, like others do with the American flag.  Yeah, it bums me out a bit, I think about it, but  it’s one  of the little things we have to put up with as teachers who are forced to be disciplinarians in order to create a healthy learning environment.  The less the parents do the more work we have to do .  I just want to teach.  I don’t want discipline – call parents, send to the Dean’s office, suspend, any of that.  I just want to  be allowed to teach, and in an urban setting today that means being part-cop – just to keep eighty percent of the kids safe from twenty percent of the kids. 

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