Since last writing, I've learned a few practical things: first, don't collect 120 journals all at once and then expect to read them all thoroughly in a brief amount of time; second, it is vain of a teacher to believe they've taught their students something after only once teaching it, especially when that something falls under the category of "modern political discussion material." Even if the issue under discussion is misunderstood in wider society and that is why it is discussed anyway, do not presume to think you can clear away the fog and lead people to understanding just like that. If people are already believing the world was created in 7 days, then simply telling them that Genesis is not a scientific description of the creation of the universe is not going to end the problem.
I've learned it's very easy to feel like a failure even when you're not. It's also easy to come out of that feeling so long as you have people around you who see the same thing you see and tell you that you're not a failure. Teaching is very much an art. Not that I think I'm a master, but even the great masters of painting and sculpture reviled some of their own greatest masterpieces even as the rest of humanity basked in their beauty. I've reflected before on the need to focus more on the big picture, but it is so hard to live beyond the immediate moment when the student will not behave, will not follow directions, will not be serious about a given situation, just wills not to comply. It is so hard.
I've also had the experience of dealing with the old cliche, "You can lead a horse to water, but you cannot make him drink." Last week, as I sat to prepare progress reports, I found myself facing the fact that one of the students in my home room had not handed in either a history journal (participation grade) or his religion journal (project grade). I sat him down after school and just put all the cards on the table and told him, "Look. You're failing almost beyond recovery for not handing in your work. The time to hand these things in has more than elapsed, but I'm going to break my own rule and let you take until this coming Monday [today, 12/10; the conversation happened on 12/5] to get these things done." He cried and thanked me for giving him the extra time. I saw a genuine desire to do better.
He didn't have his journals today. He "had a game to go to this weekend."
I put the zeros in my grade book right in front of him and let him watch his average change. He cried again, but this time I had no pity. I asked him, point blank, if he cared. His response was, "Of course I care!" and my response, flatly, was, "It certainly doesn't look like it, does it?" pointing to his averages.
When I was in high school, I was public enemy number one when it came to not handing in math homework. I would start out the semester doing it, but way would lead onto way and I'd get caught up in my other classes and I'd try to do my math homework but it would take me too long and I would rarely understand all of it until we had moved on to the next section - by which time it would be too late to do the old homework anyway since I now had new homework to do. So I just didn't do it.
I tried to put this student into that same mold, but in this student's case my class isn't math, it's history and religion. And the assignment isn't problems 1-49 every-other-odd, it's write a page worth of reflection on a given prompt that he is given time in class to write on (not to mention a great deal of time at home). The excuses I gave in my discussion of math homework were not sufficient then and are not now, but they explain why I didn't do it. For this student, I'm left with the conclusion that either he cannot do the work - and his general writing ability that I've seen does not reflect this - or he will not do the work. He "has a game to go to."
I told the student that, one way or another, he would learn from me before he left my class: either he would master my class's curriculum, or he would learn a very important life lesson. I didn't tell him that I had to learn a comparable life lesson in high school myself. I'm really hoping I don't have to teach him a lesson about failure, but then again, I suppose it's better he fail me now on a report card than he fail a job later and lose his house.
Since last post, I've aged a year further and I've come to realize that adults aren't really that much smarter than kids. I know adults that are much less intelligent than some of my students. The difference is in the experiences, the mistakes, the lessons learned. The great tragedy is that with all the brainpower that humans have, we're rarely smart enough to learn from the mistakes of others, especially from others who have authority over us. For someone like me, teaching is as much a Purgatory as it is a Paradise; every time I get on a student for not handing in work, I feel my inner voice getting on me for the same reason. I have no idea what to do about that, assuming it's even something that needs attention.
And that's what I've learned in the interim.
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