The give-a-shit-o-meter is broken

I'm feeling a little ranty today - humour me!

I told my colleague once that I thought I was pretty good at parenting my teen because I got some handy experience trying things out while teaching somebody else's teen. You know, so I can make my mistakes with them and then perfect the methods for dealing with my own kid? The flip side is that I also feel like I teach other people's teens well because I have to parent a kid of the same age. I can relate to their teenage madness because I witness a lot of it in my own home. Sadly, I have far more patience dealing with my students' freak outs and dumb-arse decisions than I do with my son's........yeah maybe 'perfect' doesn't quite fit the scenario.....

My point is, I care. I experience a measure of success because I walk these two lines - parent and teacher. My bigger point is (yes, I'm giving the punch line away early in this blog!), that if more parents approached their role as mum or dad with the same tenacity and passion they exhibit in their working lives, I would not need to. I would spend more time teaching and less time parenting. More time guiding kids towards their career paths and future goals then setting boundaries to encourage appropriate behaviour. It's tiring, man! It's tiring being switched on and parenting my son and daughter whom I love. Don't get me wrong, I like all kids, but I am only really invested in 2 of them......my own.

So, my give-a-shit-o-meter is slowly wearing down. I want, really really want, to do my best by my students. But what's the point? I sorta feel like that's not going to happen when I'm so distracted fulfilling the parenting role that their own parents aren't stepping up to. (Disclaimer - most parents are wonderful. I am commenting on a handful that are draining the life out of me!) I have become a glorified, underpaid, and unappreciated nanny to other people's children.

Here's a few non-teaching expectations that parents have asked me to fulfil this week -

1. My child is truanting. You need to go and find out exactly where they are! (really? I should drop what I'm doing, get in my car, and drive around a city looking for your kid?)

2. My child has anxiety. Why isn't the school doing anything about it? (Possibly because we're teachers not psychologists)

3. I don't want my child suspended because then they will bother me all day. (We've been bothered enough. And so has the kid that your kid belted repeatedly at lunch time.)

4. My child did deliberately break a window with their own hands but it's not their fault. (So it's yours?)

Is there any point to me doing my job if the parents won't do theirs?

When these kids leave our school how will they ever navigate their way through a world that holds them responsible for their own actions?

Rant done.

My Two Brains

I am lucky enough to possess my teenage brain. It sits alongside my grown-up brain and allows me to understand lots of things that the one brained population can't remember any more. For example, I remember how the world ends when you break up with your boyfriend. I can remember the tedium of having to listen to speeches about how important education is and how it's going to affect the rest of your life. I know that the worse your language is when you're pissed off, the more angry you really are, and you aim to hurt the other person badly for hurting you first.

My grown up brain does different things. Like, I know that if my boss is being a tool, it's better to smile and nod.....and go home and rant to my bestie. I also know that a year isn't so long to wait for something I really want. My grown up brain also takes control of my ability to get out of bed at ridiculous o'clock and to put my kids needs before my own. It's a pretty spectacular organ all said.

I endeavour to keep my two brains operating on separate levels. One is for understanding my clientele (teenagers) and the other is for acting appropriately. Not everyone gets two brains. Some remain with a single teenage brain they're whole life - the type that thinks the world owes them a living and  doesn't consider the risks before acting. Some just get the evolved adult version and never learn to relate to their kids.

I do have the occasional blip......like the time I a set a small fire in the living room involving alcohol and a wedding dress (definite teenage brain moment - the long version of the story is in Bride Everlasting; third time lucky?) ........and then there's the odd work moment where my teenage brain has to go into bat with the teenage brain of my students.

"Miss, my brother said you even swore at him you were so mad!" - whoops! Yeah, that was me. But it  made an impression if he's still talking about it.

Teenage brain vs teenage brain FTW.

Sorry, boss. I'll try not to let it happen again.

Judge McJudgy-pants

Here's something mind-blowing to consider - If your kid's school wants to make a time to see you then it's pretty damn important. So much so that you might want to consider taking that sick leave or making alternative arrangements for your other kids. Because here's the secret........no teacher ever really wants to meet the parents of their students. True story. Not even the parents of the good kids.(yeah, whatever. Of course they're ALL good kids....insert sarcasm....) In an ideal world we would report on the students twice a year about how wonderfully hard they're working and how their manners are incredibly perfect.

Recently I've had a couple of incidents where the parents would like me to organise a meeting 'after hours' because they're employed and awfully important in their role. A little truth for those parents -

1. I have a job too and it finishes before yours. I don't get paid for staying back to accomodate you, nor am I encouraged to do that. Government schools and teaching unions have a strained relationship as it is. I chose my career path. You chose yours. I still haven't managed to get the furniture delivery guy to deliver at my convenience. See where I'm going with this?

2. I also have children. And I'm a single parent. And your children don't get to impact on my children. My children outrank yours. I already have to work full time to support them. That's enough hours in the day. As a parent I won't agree to taking more of my time away from them.

3. Your kids are also your job. And I think you're role is awfully important in their life. What message are you sending them when they're in serious trouble but you don't show up?

Having ranted (yes, thanks. I do feel a little better), educational institutions don't always get right.
When my boy was 5 and I was working full time in social services, I received a call from the Principal of his school. There's a call to dread - the PRINCIPAL wanted to see me immediately. And no, he would not discuss it over the phone. That's it. My kid must have murdered someone! The teacher? Another student? Big Ted? Turns out he kissed a little girl on the cheek and the mum of that little girl was furious and wanted an apology. Not sure why I had to apologise. My boy did the kissing.

My point is (yes, I have one) that as a single working mum I get your pain. It's freaking hard to organise time away, and the pressure you might cop from your boss or colleagues can be unpleasant. But we're grown ups. We'll deal. Don't let your kid deal with their mistakes alone. As a single working mum - and a teacher - I'm judging you.

Bursting the Maslow Bubble

My school is fairly mono cultural. We have a sprinkling of Indigenous, Maori, and Asian kids, but mostly it's a sea of white and the only cultural battle is over the proper pronunciation of 'yoghurt'. As a teacher, this is not a terrible thing. It's easier. One of my earlier schools had race riots occurring during break time (I was always very impressed they waited until class was over). My hardest job lately has been trying to figure out why a single teenage Maori boy always looked like he wanted to punch me in the face. The government, in their wisdom, insists on cutting back the education budget, so I don't always have the resources or people to ask to figure this stuff out. I rely of the good graces from my own friendly networking to ask 'hypothetical' questions and try to resolve these issues. (btw - he never did punch me in the face but I did confirm that he was thinking it)

There is a rather large problem when we are not culturally stretched. We make assumptions. The big assumption where I work is that middle class white kids don't have a lot of issues. Their families are gainfully employed, they have a larger than average sized roof over their head, and English is their first language - whether it's the Queen's version or pure ocker. In this case, we are making 'an ass out of you and umption'. These kids have issues.

Remember the school with the race riots? One of the kids in that school was a refugee. Didn't speak a whole lot of good English but was determined to master it as soon as possible. His family was large and shared a house that didn't always have the electricity connected or running water, but, by God, he made it to school - smelled like a goat but he was there. His classmates used to groan when he was the first to put his hand up to read aloud because he was so damn slow. And I admit, it was painful to listen to.

Back in mono cultural land with the assumed white privilege, one of the kids just can't spend an entire day either in class, or not conducting his own mini-riot (ie - he's the only participant). Turns out his family thinks throwing money in the general direction of their teenager is as good as actually parenting him.

Now I argued with my sister yesterday that Piaget is a goose. Screw your 'rich learning environments' when kids are homeless or hungry. I'm more of a Maslow fan. But reflecting on those two kids what I realise is the main difference is not the adequate shelter or lack thereof, it's love.

So, I was wrong. It's not really easy to work in this school. It's easier to resolve a lack of electricity than it is to resolve a lack of love.

Pathways

Because I'm Human

My highlight of the week in the world of education was a small thing.

I hated high school as a kid. Really, really hated it. I was an anxious kid, shy and nervous as hell all of the time. I was pretty smart though. I got 'A's in most subjects, I didn't break a sweat over homework or assignments, but I did freak out about the notion that by year 11 I should be 'picking a pathway' that I wanted to pursue, you know, for the rest of my life. That's a hard job when your focus is all about getting through a single day unscathed in the mental headspace department. 

Maybe you're wondering 'Well, hey. Why would you choose to return and work in a high school if the place was so damn stressful?' Good question. It wasn't my 'pathway'. I dropped out of high school.......3 times. The last time I dropped out I was in an adult education institution and my Human Biology teacher spent some time chatting with me. Science didn't come as naturally to me as most subjects and he was both impressed with my drive and curious as to why I felt the need to get another A. His curiosity and general chit chat did help me find my way. I like learning - not at high school obviously, but I do like to fill up my head with stuff. Eventually I found my round-a-bout way to university. 3 degrees later and I'm pretty happy. 

So, school. 

The biggest lesson I have learnt in my life is that teenagers respond pretty well to people who listen to them. I have been told I'm pretty good at that. I work in education, not (just) because my first love is English and stories, but because if I can be the Human Biology teacher to a lost kid then maybe I can help them find their path - wherever that might lead. 

On Friday I received a phone call from a kid I had suspended earlier in the week. That was my highlight. That kid takes up an awful lot of my time and makes some horrendous choices. That kid comes across as cocky, arrogant, and kinda mean - but they still called to check in and make sure that the plan we had mapped out for their path would still be ok - because really that kid is just as anxious and nervous as I was. Reaching out and asking for help and reassurance was a new skill. To me, that's a bigger win than awarding an A.

A true teaching confession...

Sometimes I do the unthinkable.....take an idea from the Internet to create fun assignments. Word to the wise (my fellow schoolmarms and masters will understand), proofread that Internet crap carefully. I almost handed out a year 8 sheet with creative writing prompts including 'Write about your first romantic (dare I say, sexual) experience'. Hell to the no!

So funny and so, so sad!

Okay, so I'm teaching the kids about hyperbole, and used as an example Auden's 'As I Walked Out One Evening.'
We looked at the line 'I'll love you until the ocean is folded and hung out to dry' etc, and then asked them to write their own examples of hyperbole to describe everlasting love.

Here is a brilliant example from a girl in my class:

"I'll love you until my dad pays child support,
Or until I get more credit for my phone."

Utterly brilliant.