See how easy that is? :)
I thought I would switch up my routine and see if my update has a different tone at the beginning of the weekend rather than the end. At this point, I am still recovering from the pros and cons of the week, and I do not have much of that re-energized optimism going for me. But we shall see.
Upon reflection, not much stands out from this week. Even now, I am searching fruitlessly for some highlights with which to regale my eager audience, but to no avail. This is particularly frustrating, since I seem to remember at the beginning of the week thinking, “This will be a great story for my update.” Well, if I ever recall what it was that captured this musing, I will be sure to pass it along. As it is, I will go more for general impressions.
I have found to my halfheartedly surprised chagrin that there are certain students in my class whom I cannot tolerate with any measure of patience. In particular, I have one who is strikingly small for her age, and she has a habit of using her “cuteness” to get by with just about anything. I will correct her for singing in the middle of my lesson, and she will just look at me with a smile that hopes to say, “How can you be upset at my disruption, Ms. Cook? I am so adorable and cuddly!” When she is in my after-school tutoring, she resorts to a baby voice, and often she will come to me to whine or pout about one thing or another, so much so that I can rarely understand what she is even saying.
I think what gets me the most is that the assistant inclusion teacher is the exact opposite of me: she favors the cute-and-cuddlies, and this child loves to take advantage of that fact. Today, the student goes up to the inclusion teacher, holding her eye, and complaining that it hurt. You all know how much I shudder at these attention-grabbers, and my response, for my whole life, has always been, “Get over it.” But instead, this woman pulls her out of my class for the rest of the morning, doctoring this atrocious eye-hurt. She sends the student back in just long enough to ask for a copy of the reading test she was supposed to be taking with her classmates. I have already graded it. She improved by three letter grades over her usual test score. Coincidence? I do not believe in the word, and especially not when these two leave a perfect trail for me to follow.
I struggle to stand up to this teacher, particularly because she is a vicious presence in the school, and I hesitate to be on the wrong side of her. And because I doubt that any comment from me would change her behavior. My co-teacher is a much stronger and more experienced woman than me, and she too flounders when coming up with a helpful solution. More on this relationship in the future, I suppose.
In any case, all of the above should be read casually; I am still in the venting stage of my weekend! ;) The point is that I have noticed an emerging pattern in my relationships with certain students: because I sense a personality clash, I find it difficult to treat them with the fairness they deserve. I have always had a little too much pride, so I think part of it is my third-grade self trying to unleash a little revenge on the children who once made my early years full of needless drama and self-consciousness. The other part is that I refuse to give in to the characteristics I resent and do not admire in others. But I try to keep in mind that I was once a child like these, and given some of the social situations presented to my students, I am not entirely sure I did act or would have acted any differently. I also try to remember that not all of them are blessed with a healthy or even stable home life. And, above all else, they are still children. I cannot impose on them the hurts, fears, angers, humiliations, successes, and failures of my own life. I say all of this and even truly believe it, but I still struggle to live out these values on a daily basis. More than the TFA busy-work, this is where I know I need to improve.
Since the start of the new year, I have realized that there is a bit too much freedom for mental rambling during my days and weekends. As always, I have a malfunctioning on/off switch that keeps me over-thinking and over-analyzing during all hours of consciousness. And while I often enjoy this aspect of my being (it makes for some intriguing dreams), it is also exhausting and inconvenient a fair portion of the time. I feel the need to keep constantly busy and to find distractions even more than I ever did in college, and I have only been partially successful at this. I am still severely limited in friendships and social pastimes and surrounding areas for escape. Anyone who has experienced the Delta can perhaps commiserate with the huge vacuum that seems to exist in many of these areas. I have yet to find non-TFA people my age or avenues for my energy that are conducive to my interests and my teaching schedule. I have asked my mentor about ways to get involved in the community, but so far I have turned up few leads.
So for now, I set aside time each day for reading, which has contained a lovely mixture of genres, topics, and interests. For the first time in…well…ever, I pursue the titles that offer a free-spirited education in popular fiction, history, politics, literary classics, social science, and philosophy—whatever the whims desire. I just finished Nelson Mandela’s Long Walk to Freedom, which is the first South African book I have managed to pick up since I defended my thesis last April. This situation is actually one that continues to mystify me: the single greatest achievement of my life was that thesis, and my topic has lodged itself solidly into a special corner in my heart and mind. Yet every time before this that I had attempted a South African book, I just could not do it. I had to let ample time pass. It is a circumstance that has never made sense, so naturally I cannot fully articulate it. But regardless of this stretch of time, I now find myself happily settled in the history, culture, and persona of Africa, and I imagine I will put a sizeable dent in the African section of my personal library before I stop.
Side note: in my classroom, I put up an 8x10 photograph of the children we met in Vrygrond township (attached). It hangs on my back wall so that I can look on their sweet faces whenever I need a moment of strength. They look much like my children, and like my children, they remind me why I am here and why I keep trying. If it were for personal gain, I would have failed long ago, like so many elitists I have met along the way. My heart is in the right place, even though it might not always seem that way, and sometimes even I forget.
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