CSotD: Crushing our crazy diamonds

Mike Peterson Published: November 21, 2012 1 minute 2 comments

Pardon My Planet on what kids really need to learn to be successful in the workforce: The difference between what the boss says and what the boss wants. I wish this cartoon wasn't funny, but it is.

In fact, it made me think of a column I wrote nearly 20 years ago, and, when I went back to look at it to see if there was anything in there I could quote, I found I can still stand behind the whole thing. So, with the understanding that this probably still belongs to the Press-Republican of Plattsburgh NY, here's a column from their issue of May 8, 1994:

Dark classroom sarcasm puts kids behind a wall

This is not a column about all teachers. It is a column about some teachers.

It is not a column about evil teachers. It is a column about teachers who don't understand what they are doing to their students.

It is a column about 15-year-old rock lyrics by a group that continues to sell out concerts, playing to the children of its original fans.

Mostly, it is a column about three different students at three different grade levels in three different schools in two different states:

"Sorry we didn't get to your math homework," his dad said, as we were driving him over to his mom's for the night. "But your mother can help you with it."

"I don't think she knows how to do it," the boy replied.

"Well, she's a pretty smart lady," his dad countered. "And anyway, you know how to do it, right? So you can show her and then you can work on it together."

"I don't know how to do it."

"Well, didn't you have some time in class to get started? They give you a few minutes to work at your seats before the class ends, don't they?"

"Yeah, but I didn't know how to do it."

"Did you raise your hand and ask for help?"

"No. 'Cause he yells at you. If you ask questions? He yells at you, like, 'What did I just spend 20 minutes explaining?' He tells you, 'If you don't understand something, just ask.' But, then, if you ask a question, he yells at you."

When we grew up and went to school
There were certain teachers who would
Hurt the children anyway they could
By pouring their derision
Upon everything we did.

Her first report card of the year had arrived and she was sitting at a table alone, nursing a Coke and looking over her schoolwork for that evening.

"So how was it?"

"Flunked English."

"Mm. Can you get it back up?" Shrug. "Have you talked to the teacher?" Shake of the head. "You know, sometimes that's what it takes. I mean, I'm not saying that you should brown around or anything, but, sometimes, if you just go in after class or during a study hall and ask for help, it lets them know you're trying. Even if your work doesnt pick up that much, sometimes they'll cut you a little slack, if they know you're trying to do better."

"Not this guy. He just makes you feel stupid. If you ask him questions, he gets real sarcastic, makes these jokes. It just makes you feel stupid. So we just sit there and try to figure it out on our own. Nobody ever asks him for help."

We don't need no education
We don't need no thought control
No dark sarcasm in the classroom
Teacher leave them kids alone.
Hey, Teacher! Leave the kids alone!
All in all, you're just another brick in the wall.

"She dropped out? Just like that?"

"Yeah. Well, not 'just like that.' It's been building up."

"Well, what does she expect to do now?"

"I don't know. Get a job, I guess. Or get more hours at the job she has; I don't know."

"She seems pretty bright, though. What on earth did she drop out for?"

"Well, there was a lot of stuff going on in her life. She … well, it was pretty serious stuff. And so she was missing some school. A lot of school. Thing was, though, when she did go back, the teachers were really getting on her, making all these comments in front of everybody, you know, 'Oh, I'm glad you could make it today,' and 'Nice of you to decide to drop by.' And, on top of all the other stuff going on, I guess she just decided it was easier not to go at all."

"Was she talking to anybody at the school? Did they know what was going on with her?"

"Ah, you know, they have their priorities, right? And it's not like she was going to go to Harvard or anything."

Hey you! Out there in the cold
Getting lonely, getting old, can you feel me?
Hey you! Standing in the aisles
With itchy feet and fading smile, can you feel me?
Hey you! Don't help them to bury the light
Don't give in without a fight

Here. Scratch the earworm:

Mike Peterson has posted his "Comic Strip of the Day" column every day since 2010. His opinions are his own, but we welcome comments either agreeing or in opposition.

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Mary

I may have been a precocious child, because I was aware of this aspect of some (not all) teachers when I was in first grade. By third grade, I remember very clearly going home and figuring out how many more years I had to endure going to school.
By ninth grade I knew that there were many factors at play in the kind of teacher/student relationship I had with certain teachers. Some of it was socioeconomic: small town; teachers knew my parents or had my parents as students; my parents reputation overall. Part of it could be attributed to my own “spunky” independence. I wasn’t disrespectful (except for once), but I did have a habit of questioning things that didn’t make sense to me. Some teachers really hate that.
There are many teachers who are engaged and committed to not only educating, but fostering a love of learning in their students. I had a few of those teachers. Still, when the time came, I figured it was easier in the long run to homeschool my son. It worked well for us.
Thought-provoking post today, Mike. Not coincidentally, I have always loved that particular Pink Floyd song.

Nov 21,2012
Mike Peterson

Well, you and I had many of the same teachers, Mary, but here’s what I think is sad: I remember the really great teachers, and the really awful teachers, but there are a lot who just fade into the mist, because they weren’t brilliant and they weren’t abusive, but let’s not undervalue mediocrity here. Having studied education and spent time in hundreds of classrooms, I can tell you, even “mediocre” teachers are still gifted.
I got more than halfway to a masters in teaching when I realized how unqualified I was to teach. When I visited a classroom, I’d kill — the kids would be pumped, the teachers would be pumped, it would be like the circus had come to town.
But I had no second act. I was strictly a one-trick pony.
To do that 183 times in a row? Not a freakin’ chance. God bless anyone who can hit the target on a third of those days.
Add to that an element in this posting — in that old newspaper column — that came up recently, about how you don’t know what somebody is going to take away, what is going to stick with them, and you see what kind of a knife’s edge teachers dance on.
One bad day, one stupid joke, one comment you made without thinking it through, and you’ve burned a scar into some kid that will last forever.
The teachers who don’t understand that are the ones targeted in this column. And, as I said then, they’re not “evil.” But, dear god, the damage they do!
But, by contrast, what flowers are planted by the Cordelia Moyers of this world. (Note to everyone not from my corner of the North Country: She was an older, former one-room-school teacher I had the privilege to study under in the fourth grade. I’ve never known a finer educator in my life on any level. And there were three fourth-grade classrooms in our school, so I beat the odds. Hope you did, too, at some point.)

Nov 21,2012

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CSotD: Crushing our crazy diamonds

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Mary

Mike Peterson

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