at some point in the year, Tom, Jon and i were each reprimanded for being unprofessional. or, at least, not professional enough.
this is perfectly understandable, given that we were first-year teachers fresh out of college, and we all share a similar perspective on life and human interaction. i agreed with a majority of the feedback i received, but at the same time, it got me thinking.
the world we live in forces people to put up certain barriers. these barriers are intended to preserve and protect, in most cases. it's very similar to social norms — they exist for a reason.
i have long been resistant to conform to expectations that i find unnecessary or inauthentic. i particularly hate conversations where both parties are just going through the motions, being overly polite. being honest and open seems to accomplish more with less effort, in my opinion. also, i have trouble justifying changing how you want to act in order to make someone else comfortable.
at the same time, i have some background in journalism, so i understand the necessity of avoiding "conflicts of interest". basically, this term describes a situation where the interests of the reporter as a person conflict with their interests as a professional. that's why reporters aren't allowed to accept gifts, or write a story that involves their family, and so on. it leads to bias.
[simply put, i see both sides, and not just in this situation. the more i observe how people operate, the more i'm inclined to view my ability as a gift. at the same time, it also has the effect of preventing me from being passionate about any one viewpoint. make sense?]
now. back to the theme.
i did many things as a teacher last year that could only be described as abnormal. going to a student's house for thanksgiving, or accepting an invitation to a student's bar mitzvah. attending an "outside" play that a few of my students were in, and showing up at many sporting events i wasn't directly associated with. in fact, i think i only missed one (realistic) invitation from a student.
once you become a teacher, you lose all respect from the entire junior high community. i've talked about this before. it's difficult to find a bigger step down on the respect ladder from "college senior" to "teacher". the way i see it, any opportunity my students allow to voluntarily associate with a teacher is an opportunity i should take. i think it's incredibly important for them to identify with their teachers (and any positive adult role models, period). i'm not saying their parents aren't good role models, just acknowledging that very few kids are aware of them as an option.
one of the biggest priorities for my classroom atmosphere is being comfortable. i want students to feel comfortable not just with me, but with the rest of their classmates. i think i did a decent job of this last year, but i can improve. my students feel comfortable telling me what they really think about my latest assignment, and in many cases i feel comfortable telling them them they are being lazy and/or irrational.
as simple as that sounds, it's not easy to get kids this age to open up. in the middle of a classroom? forget it. the fact that a teacher can achieve that to any degree is significant.
so, that's the value of being informal. i guarantee that Tom, Jon, and i were among the best at gaining the trust of our students, while still educating them and holding them to high standards. there are risks, true. if they see you as an equal, they may tune out. if they think you don't care about education, they may tune out. think about it, though. part of me wants to say that half of my value as a teacher right now is invested in the fact that i'm "young" — something i have no control over. being young is something you have to take advantage of, whenever and wherever possible. one thing i've discussed with them is that they and i are in the same generation. we are all millennials. that, in itself, provides a rare opportunity in the realm of education.
ultimately, if i can get my students to consider the idea that a life dedicated to the pursuit of Truth, Beauty, and Goodness can also be an exciting, interesting life, then i'm counting it as a point in my book. sparking the process of self-awareness and curiosity is invaluable. once the ball starts rolling, it's not going to stop. finding the ideal line to walk is tricky, and an evolving process. i won't let the presence of danger keep me away from the line entirely.
This commencement speech breaks all the rules, and is one of the best I've ever heard. It's 12 minutes long, but it's glorious, and it's summer. Watch it.
one of the best stories on this theme comes from the end of the year. the 8th-graders had a graduation party that wasn't put on by the school (which means pop culture/dancing is allowed). i got an email invitation several weeks prior, like every other teacher, and i RSVPed, like several other teachers. when i showed up to the party, i found a bunch of parents sitting outside, tons of students awkwardly hanging out around a dance floor, and no teachers. this could potentially be uncomfortable for everyone. from the time i committed to when i showed up, i had no idea what atmosphere this party would have. all i knew is that i wasn't going to dance, no matter what. so, i chatted with the parents — we have some awesome parents — and started texting other teachers. nothing. long story short, i danced. yeah. i was sitting there for at least an hour, with pressure coming from parents and kids to get out there, and i allowed the possibility to enter my head. "if the right song comes on," i thought.
a few minutes later, the DJ started playing "teach me how to dougie." remember my last blog about "the pursuit of happiness"? [i'm committed to the illusion i have consistent readership] well, irregardlessly, this song nears it in importance from senior year. it's the ultimate "less is more" dancing song — the less you do, the better it works. it's the song that signaled our crew had taken over the club in Destin on SBoncé. it's the song where Brian and i stole the show at the last Delt formal. i request it at every opportunity, and i have never been denied. the perfect sign.
so i danced. it wasn't much, just enough to prove i could feel the beat and i'd done this before. and i wasn't serious (which goes without saying, i hope). i tried to be silly and reduce the average amount of self-consciousness in the room. still. can you imagine how absurd this situation was? it easily rivals the end-of-season soccer party in pure ridiculousness. and yet, it worked, somehow. there are few things more informal than dancing the dougie with your students, yet i'm tempted to think the end result could realistically be a higher level of comfort and respect (on average), which is exactly what will make me a more effective teacher.
going back to the point at the beginning of the column, i realize that this sort of behavior simply doesn't happen. no one does this stuff. everyone has seen headlines of teachers who get too close to their students and cross the line. those handful of headlines result in unwritten rules and expectations for everyone else. teachers shy away from any possibility of those negative perceptions, and school administration can't allow the risk. it makes sense.
if you're keeping up, i'm saying i understand the rules, and their purpose, and concluding they don't apply to me. this is important, pay attention! i would only have joined my graduating 8th-graders on the dance floor in an incredibly limited number of situations. my sense of what is "appropriate" is not based on sweeping generalities and broad opinions, but a highly specific and intuitive awareness of all the factors involved. without a certain level of established trust with the parents through consistent interaction over the course of the year, a healthy relationship with the students involved, and many other nuances of that particular situation, it would not have happened. i am not some crazy running wild and throwing responsibility to the wind, come what may. i believe in the power of community and recognize that, without trust, human relationships disintegrate. i cannot live in a world where everything is sterilized and the actors are afraid to act.
in closing, consider this quote from Ernest Hemingway:
“The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.”
you will get burned, from time to time. there are bad apples. that doesn't mean you stop trusting.
by the way, the title is sorority-speak, translated as "totally super inappropriate"
