There are many reasons people become teachers, and some are more noble than others. One of the less noble reasons is the appeal of being the boss, the leader, the dictator over a whole roomful of people. Problem is, the kids in my classes don’t do what I say any more than my own kids do. Like Rodney Dangerfield, I don’t get no respect.
My 5th grade class was typical today. I vacillated terribly between trying to use humor and cajole answers out of them, and screaming at them that they were supposed to be human beings, in possession of a brain, and therefore more intelligent than a house plant, but that tirade was met with a blank stare. I was quite shocked that not one of them knew when the Velvet Revolution took place – some of them off by more than a century.
Then I headed out to my little kids’ classes in Vinoř. There was a gypsy violinist in front of the Metro at Vltavska and I stopped to listen to Frank Sinatra’s “Something Stupid” and what I think was “Cielito Lindo,” and that lifted my mood a bit.
It was a gray and windy day, colder than it should be for May. I always get there about a half an hour early, that’s the bus schedule, so I go for a walk by the village pond. It was just ridiculously green and lush, all around. Still, I was wishing it would just go ahead and rain already. The thickness in the air is oppressive.
The 1st class was just 3 little girls (sometimes there are 4 or 5) and they were bored with everything I suggested. I actually nodded out while reading The Cat in the Hat, which I’ve pretty much got committed to memory, and snapped to to realize that not only wasn’t I on the same page I was reading, but that I was speaking gibberish – I don’t think they noticed.
Then came the boys and all hell broke loose. There are these huge rubber balls that they keep stored, rather ingeniously, on a clothesline type contraption near the ceiling, well out of children’s reach. Normally, I like to keep it that way. But, I had already given up on the day, so I indulged their wish and got a few balls down. Every game and exercise I tried to get going after that failed, because they were just having too much fun bouncing around on the balls, and hitting each other with them.
But, you keep trying. Then, I had all the kids stand behind a line (yeah, right – that line was really flexible) and put one at a time against the far wall. I would quiz that one – count to ten, touch your nose, clap your hands, name three animals who eat grass, easy stuff like that – and if they missed one, or were just too slow, everybody else threw the balls at them.
They loved it. Sometimes you’ve just got to let the kids do what they want.
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