I’ve been trying to figure out why I am so bothered by the kid calling me an asshole and the resulting fuss. It isn’t that I think I should be more respected because I AM THE AUTHORITY. No, just no–that isn’t my deal. I feel like when kids react to me that way that I am being told that I am bad. I wish I could just strike that word from my conscious. When kids aren’t doing what they should be doing and are failing I feel like they are doing so because *I* have failed. But I haven’t. I managed to push, pull, and drag over a hundred kids through a very successful year of English. Why do I feel like a failure because about 20 kids don’t care about school? That isn’t about me. And really–the number is only about 20 who have fallen through the cracks.
And stuff has been rocky with Noah all week for a variety of reasons. I’ve been thinking and thinking on why. It’s both awesome and frustrating that I can never say, “We are having problems because he is an asshole.” And even going so far as to say that we are having problems feels like an overstatement. I’m being confused and unhappy and grumpy in his direction; he is being quiet and patient and understanding. I really have the best husband in the whole wide world (for me). Today when I realized that I was upset about the kids because I feel like I am failing and bad I started to put two and two together that I am upset about the Noah stuff for the same reason. (Yes, this may be obvious to those of you watching at home–I’m slow.)
Talking about his family (or my family) sucks for me because I feel like any and all issues have to be because I am just terrible. So when there are problems I assume all blame internally even when I am saying out loud that it isn’t my fault. So I’m arguing with myself in my head about blame and I feel like shit. Then I lash out because it hurts and the only way I really know to deal with hurt is to hurt back, even if that just means myself. It’s quite the vicious cycle.
I got to talk to a neato chick yesterday about issues in our lives and issues we each had with Noah (SEE! I don’t hate all of his ex’s!!) and it was interesting getting the comraderie. So that lead to some more interesting talking with Noah. I started thinking about why I feel upset about some of it. Oh wait, I feel compared–which means I have to lose, cause I’m bad.
I really hate this word. I need to find a way to get it out of my head.
y’know…
after teaching a variety of subjects to a variety of different kinds of people in a variety of settings for a long, long time i can honestly say that there are *always* students who simply don’t want to be there – and that goes for kids, teens, and adults.
i’ve abandoned the idea that i’m gonna be able to reach every, single, student because that sorta crap makes you seriously nuts. it’s like trying to pop every, single kernel in a bag of popcorn. you can never, ever do it and what ends up happening is you burn the shit outta all the corn that popped. you ruin what’s good by trying to get what’s impossible.
it’s like a radio. you gots yer sender and yer receiver. they are independent entities. what one does has no real effect on the other. you can choose to send all day long, but if the receiver chooses to not tune in then there’s not thing one you can do about it.
the world is full of stories of heroic teachers who turned some asshole kid’s life around. but you know what? it was the fucking *kid* that chose to make it happen.
and this all this “failure” stuff?
chuck it out the window, sister.
don’t you think it’s best if your definition of who you are comes from an internal source?
allowing others to define you always sets you up for constant failure because you can never make everyone happy. never, ever, ever, ever, ever.
ever.
f’instance: for years i was tortured by the fact that my spouse and mom never get along. it was a huge and constant source of torment to me and i felt like an enormous bunghole shit-pile of a failure because two of the most important people in my life couldn’t stand being in the same room together. to make things worse, i always heard constant complaints from both sides. every family get-together was sheer terror for me because i could never succeed in getting everyone to get alone.
finally, after a particularly disastrous christmas, the night after which i sat up, by myself, for hours, crying, hyperventilating, and (literally) cracking my head against a wall to cause enough pain to punish myself for being so bad and such a failure as a son and a husband. i had this simple, little epiphany:
*i* was not responsible for the actions or thoughts of others.
i repeated it over and over and over until i burned it into my brain. i still drag it out to remind myself of the truth when i find i’m defining myself on the basis of some other person’s half-assed opinion.
and the next time either of them bitched about the other i told them to “shut up and if they wanted to be an asshole about the other then that was ok with me but they could damned well leave me the hell out of it.”
respect, honesty, humility, perseverance, and self-control.
that’s all you need
*from yourself*
to treat yourself like a human, kiddo.
honest.
all them assholes out there?
they can fucking go sit on a stick!
please don’t wait until you’re in your 40s to figure it out.
the lesson nearly killed me.
Ok, I’ll try not to wait until my 40’s to get it. But it may take me at least a few more months. This shit is hard for me.
But thank you for the perspective. 🙂
ummm… what he said.
Hey, realizing what you are doing wrong is the first step. Gimme a few damn minutes (months) for the second step.
Your username says it all, sweetie.