10. In one of my first classes (I was 26 at the time) a young man (he was not yet 19) informed me on the first day that he believed a man's place was in business and a woman's place was in the home. Women did not belong in college, in the work force and certainly not in politics. He later asked me if I was planning on having children. When I said "probably," he said, "Well, you're pretty old, is it still possible?" If we had had a boy, I wanted to name the baby after him. Dipshit Morgan.
9. One semester I was surprised to find, on the first day of class, that one of my students was a former high school classmate of mine.
8. Early on, I assumed that if a student were accepted into a college, they were prepared. I quickly lost that assumption. But I continued to assume they were at least competent enough, or had the capacity, to succeed at the college level. Nope. I've flunked more students than I can count. But never did I assume that learning disabilities would be completely undiagnosed through an entire cycle in a public school system and two years into a college degree.
One student struggled in my class, but not enough to make me suspicious. On the night of the midterm exam, I waited the entire 3.5 hours allotted (all the other students were done in an hour) while this student sat at the back of the class working on her test. As the time ran out I walked back to her desk to see that all that was written on her test was her name. She burst into tears. Not having any idea what to do next, I held her. Once she calmed down I offered to give her the test verbally on one condition: she had to be tested for dyslexia. She looked at me as though no one had ever said that word to her. Said that neither her parents, or any teacher she'd ever had, were concerned she had a disability.
I spoke with the appropriate people at the university, called a testing center, put her in contact with the right people and got her an appointment to be analyzed after finals. She sent me a thank you note before the week of her assessment, but then I never heard from her again. My hope is that she was tested and is getting the help she needs and deserves. My fear is that she never went to the appointment and is still sitting at the back of a classroom crying.
One student struggled in my class, but not enough to make me suspicious. On the night of the midterm exam, I waited the entire 3.5 hours allotted (all the other students were done in an hour) while this student sat at the back of the class working on her test. As the time ran out I walked back to her desk to see that all that was written on her test was her name. She burst into tears. Not having any idea what to do next, I held her. Once she calmed down I offered to give her the test verbally on one condition: she had to be tested for dyslexia. She looked at me as though no one had ever said that word to her. Said that neither her parents, or any teacher she'd ever had, were concerned she had a disability.
I spoke with the appropriate people at the university, called a testing center, put her in contact with the right people and got her an appointment to be analyzed after finals. She sent me a thank you note before the week of her assessment, but then I never heard from her again. My hope is that she was tested and is getting the help she needs and deserves. My fear is that she never went to the appointment and is still sitting at the back of a classroom crying.
7. During Mardi Gras week one semester--when I was quite pregnant--the college had a bartender making Mocktails for the students. I ordered a virgin Pina Colada. Into class I waddled carrying a large fruity drink with an umbrella in it. "Today we are going to talk about the politics of legalizing marijuana," I announced. One student pulled out his iPhone and took a picture of me. "Our professor is pregnant, drinking a cocktail and talking about weed," he said. "I have to send this to my mom."
6. One semester, on the final day of class, a student, who never spoke a word during the semester, came up and hugged me.
5. A young girl bounced into my class one semester full of life and chatty about religion. No matter what the issue, from taxes to abortion, her argument was "I'm Catholic." She artfully used her Catholicism to dodge and weave her way through the toughest of debates. She slammed down several of her classmates' stand on reproduction rights and spoke endlessly about the evils that occur when gay couples adopt babies. But the final week of class she came in wearing a large diamond on her left ring finger (so many of my freshman girls get engaged). She gushed about her fiance, the proposal and the number of kids they want. "There's just one problem," she said. "My fiance would have to convert if we want to get married in the church, and the process takes too long; we want to get married next month."
"So what will you do?" I asked.
"Oh, I'm just going to drop my religion. It's too rigid."
4. I caught a student cheating on a quiz the second week of class. He denied it. I had to do paperwork with the head of my department, state my case, show my evidence and follow the university's procedures. It was nerve-wracking and emotionally draining. The student also made sure to show me his anger for the rest of the semester. He would write the word "UNFAIR" in large letters across quizzes instead of answering any of the questions. During his presentation assignment, he stood silently in front of the class for 10 solid minutes and then sat down. And once, when I showed up to class a few minutes late, he pounded his fist on the desk and said "Damn! I was hoping you died in a crash." He didn't miss a single class the entire semester, except the night I happened to hand out the teacher evaluations to my students.
3. I've developed a nasty habit of sizing my students up on the first day of class. I can predict with near-perfect accuracy their political views, their marital status, their academic ability and their sense of humor. I mentally put them in boxes, whether good or bad, left or right, smart or not, and proceed with the following classes by carefully addressing the boxes and shifting them around to make for the best class experience for everyone. I know who I can kid, who is shy, who is mean-spirited and who is a waste of my effort. This semester I had a student who sat on the back row and the first day of class had on an NRA shirt. When a student wears something this politically specific on the first day of class, he's making a point. I put him in a box the minute he walked into the room. Over the semester I noticed that everything out of my mouth seemed to make him angry. He'd shake his head as I spoke, and sometimes just lay his head on his desk. Halfway through the semester I grew tired of it and took him out of his box.
"Got something to share?" I called on him. His face turned vibrantly red and he again shook his head and remained silent. But the box had been opened. Over the next few weeks he began to talk. He spoke endlessly about hoping to pass the open-carry law and how many guns he owned (both legally and illegally). Eventually, I could count on him to be the biggest voice in the class. One day, I drew a big line on the board and explained the political spectrum (far left, moderate and far right), and had every student come mark where they fell on it. He was my only student to put his "x" on the left of the spectrum. "But, you love your guns?!" I challenged.
"Sure, guns are my life. But if you make less than $100,000 and vote Republican, you're an idiot. I may love guns, but I'm no idiot."
2. I once had a (white) student turn to the (black) student beside her and ask if the term "porch monkey" was still offensive.
1. One student was extremely open about his hatred and disapproval of homosexuals. As a former soldier, he was fervently against Don't Ask Don't Tell being overturned. He said that he would personally be afraid of a gay man jumping him in the shower. I asked him if he truly believed he was that attractive. He said it didn't matter, that the gays couldn't control themselves; they would hump anything that moved. I asked him if he was like that with women. He said it was different. This continued most class periods. He was convinced that homosexuals were destroying the environment, religion, marriage, literacy, gas prices and primetime television. I have to live up to my promise of allowing the classroom to be a safe environment. But for weeks I challenged him. Many students agreed with his take and even defended him. Others seemed too scared to argue. I even wondered if I should back down myself because his angry tattoos across his enormous muscles made me curious about my safety if I pushed too far.
Toward the end of the semester I got him to laugh a few times. Got him to settle more easily during debates and even found him paying attention, even when the topic wasn't guy on guy. He wasn't my best student, but I could tell he was trying. I didn't hate him for his hate, but I had to work harder to be unbiased when addressing him in class and when grading his papers.
The last night of class, final exams, the students were given three essay questions. The final question was on the constitutionality of gay marriage. While he spent a great deal of ink reciting everything I'd heard him say all semester, his final sentence was this:
"I think the answer to the gay problem is to line them all up in a row and gas them. But I guess I don't see a Constitutional reason they shouldn't be allowed to marry."
And to think, I consider this progress.
