It is as though I am the required fringe scientist; a common staple in Disney's repertoire. Though, Dr. Dolittle and Prof. Ned Brainard do little to help an art teacher explain his latest endeavor to his sniggering collegues without feeling like he is discussing the ins and outs of the life of the faeries which flit by his window. On the worst of days, I should declare, my co-workers are great friends who have been very supportive and encouraging. However, there are days (full moons?) where it seems I am surrounded by hootin' tootn' rednecks ready to collar any idea which they may deem too frooty for staffroom banter. But that is what it is. Staffroom banter. But it is difficult to shake the feeling that they aways feel that way about my course offering. An incense-infused yoga mantra would feel like a rip roarin' quad gunnin' down the backcountry compared to a student's drawing "coming to life". And when the music teacher lolls his eyes back into his brain, you know something might be askew with my course content.
Homer bought Marge a bowling ball. Clearly a gift which he planned with his own enjoyment in mind. I think, sometimes, I buy my students a bowling ball of my own. As they scratch and puzzle over its marbled surface I find myself lecturing over its beauty, its pedigree, its genius, and if they cannot seem to find it within themselves to agree with me wholeheartedly, they must be complete morons and need to have their heads examined. I had a whole class go for hearing exams to further investigate this quandary. Later, an optometrist was booked. It seems, that there may be times when their brains don't bend, their hearts don't leap, and I just can't get them to just see. And it just becomes a bowling ball.
Lord, grant me the wisdom to capture their hearts.
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5 comments:
Your desire "to capture their hearts" would seem to indicate that teaching has captured your heart.
Dad T
I'm still having trouble with the transition into that title. I cannot understand this career where it takes so much of me, but it isn't FOR me it's for these punk kids who would rather be anywhere else. It drives me nuts. It drives me nuts in that I've tried other things to be good at, but the only thing that someone pays me good money for, and the thing that others say I'm so good at I don't really want to be good at. I don't want to enjoy this, but I do. I never wanted to be a teacher but here I am. Why can't I be good at something that I like?
Hey Ryan. I think macaroni and cheese works as bait. Remember that when you capture their torso, the heart is included!
This Ryan from the ol' scetch days?!!?!!?
One and the same!
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