Imagine iPods hangin’ out of ears, greasy chips and soda smeared all over young faces, cell phones sandwiched between book pages and the camera part of the phone aimed at your face — get the picture? Now imagine a teacher having the gall to stand up in front of that class and begin to teach. How dare he or she interfere with the modern gadgets and take all the technology fun out of life? Look, even without numerous distractions teaching is challenging and the state’s pressure for students to pass the Regents makes pressure from an Internal Revenue audit seem like Christmas in July. The strict, brave, successful teachers threaten to arm wrestle any students who dare walk over the threshold of their rooms with any technology ‘strapped’ to their person. But he or she risks the wrath of some parents who complain that such restrictions and deprivations are enforced.
“I must be able to contact my child at any hour,” hyperventilate some parents. Question: Were THEIR parents able to contact them at all times? Absolutely not! And what do you know, both parents and children survived. And some parents, you might risk going into cardiac arrest here, have actually called their kids during school hours. Yep, during school hours, so don’t believe mom and pop when they complain that they don ‘t know how to talk to their teenagers. With all the practice they get from talking to them on their cell phones, they should be experts! If they must call because of an emergency, God forbid, the school has secretaries to take the call, a nurse and counselors to assist. What comfort does a cold cell phone offer?
Remember when we couldn’t even chew gum in school? It’s a wonder we were allowed to swallow our own spit for fear of being accused of eating in class. Eating is permitted in some classes so students risk packing on 1,500 extra calories from their candy, chips and soda.
“I concentrate far better and perform my best school work when I’m eating,” some wise kid will speak up.
“Out in the hall — now!” I’ll order.
I would never embarrass him/her in front of their peers, so once we’re alone: I’ll ask one simple question. “If that’s the case, dear, why is your average in this class a 39 percent?”
Once back in class I continue my crusade. “Growling is the only noise I want to hear coming from your stomachs,” I’ll warn. “You’ll never ever be allowed to eat in my classroom.”
“Oh, they’ll roll their eyes, inhale loudly, or stick out their tongues at my photo ID tag that I wear, but all and all, we share a great respect for one another. Teenagers instinctively know when you like them, so the precedence has been established between us. On very rare occasions (maybe only once, I swear) a student will become so obnoxious, so disruptive in class that one must exercise total self-control not to knock him or her into the next school district. I think it’s against the law to send them sailing, so all I can do is ask the obnoxious, disruptive kid, “Do you want my possible cerebral hemorrhage on your conscience?” and just like that, they’re sitting down and absolutely quiet. Well, maybe not absolutely quiet because those darn teenagers like to get in the last word, but who the heck doesn’t? That’s why I allow that final verbal venting for the whole class to hear like, “I wish our ‘real’ teacher was here.”
“So do I,” I’ll quip, but because they don’t believe me for one second, they’ll give me a reassuring smile. The heck with the smile, I want their attention, their imagination and their hunger for knowledge because ... (to be continued)
Karen White-Walker is a Wilson resident. Her column appears every Tuesday.
Columns
WHITE-WALKER: Students for all seasons
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CITY DESK: A regrettable error
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