Power and the pen
One of the hardest parts about teaching at the pen is figuring out whether my students are genuinely ignorant or just making power plays to see how much they can get away with. Last night we had designated writing time (a chance to use computers, which getting them to actually do is a bit like pulling teeth out with tweezers) and three of them beelined for the door to use the bathroom.
“Nu-uh,” I said, holding up a hand. “One at a time.”
“Since when?” one of them demanded.
“Since always. It’s a rule,” said She Who Hates Rules Probably Nearly As Much As They Do and who enforces them nonetheless.
They’d been abiding by the one-at-a-time rule all quarter until now, so I suspect this was one of those times when they were just testing me to see what they could get away with. It’s unfortunate, though, that it puts me in the position of having to wield power. I don’t like to, and I’m not good at doing it in a way where I don’t come across as a major bitch. Usually it’s not a problem, but last night — I blame the full moon, because I can — was a bit of a trial.
And other rules seem designed to frustrate all of us: that in order to get a new pen or pencil, they have to turn in the old one; to get more paper, they have to turn in the cardboard backing of their old notepad. They know this but often “forget.” And because not all teachers enforce these rules, it puts me in an awkward position when I do: what am I going to do, tell my students they can’t write because they lost their pencil? No, of course not.
What I understand, though, is that these are minor frustrations that come with being new. And hey, with time and practice, hopefully I’ll become the type of instructor who’s able to engage students enough that they aren’t running like packrats to the bathroom.