An A for Effort and a T for Nice Try
In another world, I teach a class called Ethics. Someone cheats in my class. I call him on it. He tells me he desperately needs an A. A cheat means an F. He emails me asking for a chance. I teach Ethics, I tell him. To give you a F now would mean you have literally learned nothing. No-fucking-thing.
I hit delete and sink into my chair. I hate failing people. I hate telling people they are royal failures. It's not because I'm a softhearted person who doesn't like to hurt people's feeling, it's because I'm a person, in a suit, who cannot say, "Jeez man, you totally fucked up and you don't get it, do it? It's called ethics, and I cannot do this. Not even for you."
It breaks my heart, to be a teacher for those who don't want to be taught, or at the very least, don't want to deal. I know as a person who's been to college and then some, the value of it all. I have seen lives change. But to see people not take it for what it is literally makes me wretch. At least give it a go.
It's different being on this side of the podium, in a classroom that seats 150. To look into everyone's eyes and to know that someone in this room really doesn't give a shit about what you bust your ass doing is like someone farting in the corner during a dinner party. A stench besides it all. There are days when I feel like oh man, this is some serious payback because my friends I was a total ass in class at times. I told one of my high school teachers I was teaching, and he said, "Ah! There is justice in the world!"
Shit, it's true!
One of the requirements of my course is that the students have to meet with me at some point. We sit down, in my office, chit chat. That's all. We don't talk about goals, we don't talk about where they are in the class, we talk about interesting things. The siblings. The high school. The schools you chose and why you chose Big School over them. We talk about parents, challenges, issues. Sometimes people cry. Sometimes people stay 5 minutes. Sometimes they stay an hour.
Why bother? Well, it's like this; it's a requirement, but I don't harp on people to come. If they come, they come. I'm more than happy to talk to them. If they don't, their bad. You're in college now, Mr. 18 year old. I don't hold hands, but if you extend yours I might help you out. And more often than not, they do reach out. And I respect that. To see that a student wanted something for doing nothing was definitely one of those things that make me sad about being a teacher. Meet me halfway, bro. I'm already here. Where you at?
He wanted an A. shit.
Voodoo