No Dads Allowed-Snoopy Style

I TA in a large lecture hall class (somewhere around 230 students). The class is a survey introduction to Children’s Literature. The majority of the students are going on to receive education degrees of one kind or another. My role within the class is complex, flexible and ever changing. It has been hectic, crazy, stressful, amazing, wonderful, exhilarating and ego boosting. The professor I work with refers to be very genuinely as his colleague, which makes a girl feel good! As such, I push myself to step up and do as much as I am able. After class on Thursday we had a line of students with questions. The professor, myself, and the other TA for the class each took questions and answered them as we were able. This system really worked and got through the massive line in no time at all. The final student question seemed to be giving the professor some trouble. He looked to his TAs for help. The student was having a “disconnect” with the material. She was sure she had failed the first two quizzes in our class. She hadn’t even bothered turning in the one we took earlier that morning. She assured us she was taking notes. She was tape recording the lectures. She was reviewing her notes when she got home. I ran through some suggestions and she seemed to feel better. I told her she could always talk to us outside of class if she continues to feel overwhelmed. She left with a smile on her face. I left feeling my work was done.

SCENE II: Jessica is eating a cup of yoghurt in her office and reading over lesson plans. She is feeling calm and at ease. She could take on the world!

Enter scene right: “disconnect” student and her father. (Let me repeat that: and HER FATHER!!)

Father: Excuse me! We need to talk.

Jessica: *choking on yoghurt Oh, hello. (Stands up) How can I help you?

Father: My daughter here is in that Children’s book class. You need to explain to me what the problem is.

Jessica: Hi, I’m Jessica Kander (Puts out hand to shake-REJECTED!) *trying to stall so my brain can catch up to the situation.

Father is angry. He speaks loudly. He accuses me, the professor, the school of not helping his daughter. What are we doing to help her? Why is she experiencing a disconnect? Why is this class so hard? What is the purpose of this class? What are the quizzes all about? The questions seem to go on forever. Once they are seated, I take a deep breath. I swallow hard and do the best thing I ever could have done:

I move my body so that I am facing only the student. I look only at the student. I direct my next comment to the student.

Jessica: It sounds like what you are saying is: you are having a hard time drawing information from the lecture and your notes to make a connection to the types of questions we ask on our quizzes.

Student: Uhm…

Father: She is taking notes. She is in class every day. What kinda question are you asking if she can’t answer them? *very accusatory

Jessica: *still facing student. So let’s look at the quiz from last week. (I pull up the quiz, the answers and the lecture notes and PowerPoint connected with this lecture)

I run through what the question is asking and we look back at the PowerPoint and notes. I show her that the answer is pulled directly from the PowerPoint. I remind her that the professor repeated this information three times and suggested that they make sure they get it since it “might end up on a quiz or exam”.

The Father is silent for a moment and then begins to badger me again as to why we have the quizzes and why we don’t provide complete notes online.

I breathe deeply, swallow and start. I simplify the reasons. I explain. I justify. I start over with the reasoning, the explaining and justifying for the lack of complete notes. And I do all this with my body language cutting Father out of the conversation.

He grumbles. I jump on this moment to really get the student talking. I ask her how she is taking notes. I have her show me the notes. I see a problem! We provide the PowerPoint before the lecture. Most students print this out and bring it to class (or do this right on their computer) and take their notes directly on the PowerPoint. She is printing out the PowerPoint. She is brining it to class. But she is writing her notes on a separate piece of lined paper. PROBLEM!! DISCONNECT!! She is writing some great details, but I can imagine that the disconnect is happening when she gets home and cannot remember where these details fit in. Which main point are they working towards? I strongly recommend that she take her notes right on the PowerPoint. We talk about tape recording the lecture. I talk about how to review her notes when she gets home.

Father keeps jumping in, commenting, grumbling…almost as if he is waiting for me to buckle and say “You’re right. We’re unreasonable. What were we thinking. No problem, I’ll just take notes for your daughter and give her the quiz questions before class so she can study them ahead of time!” But I hold firm. I throw that fucking ball back in their fucking court, and I do it with a smile!

By the time Father and Student leave he has claimed defeat. The white flag flies over his head. He admits that this class sounds very interesting. That it seems like I really know what I’m doing. I have gained his respect (and a farewell hand shake)

*Father and Student exit scene right. Jessica deflates and runs in search of a much needed hugJ

In which Jessica nearly makes an ass of herself!

When I woke up this morning to the cozy sound of rain falling on the roof (I say cozy because I was tucked comfortably into my bed, warm, dreamy, half awake) I panicked a bit. On a good day it would be hard getting my students to turn up in a different location. On a rainy day in our same location it would be hard to get my student to show up… Today, on this lovely rainy day, I am having my students meet me in the Library. Frick!! Frick, frick, frick. I rolled over and sighed loudly, hoping it was enough to wake Jake up so I could vent my concerns. I sighed again, even more loudly. Finally, I kneed him in the side (I know, I’m awful!)
By the time I got in to the office, later than I wanted, I was in a fowl mood. I’m wet, I’m tired, I’m anxious, and to top it all off I’m wearing shoes that pinch my toes and rub my heals!
“Those students better not fuck with me today” I say to Angie as I shake the rain out of my clothes.
I pull myself together. I write a lovely note for my classroom door reminding my students to meet me in the library and I head over (all the while my feet are screaming obscenities to me).
8:46: Two students are already waiting. Wonderful! One is still finishing her homework due in 15 minutes, I decide to let it slide (as long as it is done by 9:00).
8:55: There are six, wet, tired students. I’m clinging to a persona I want to kick in the balls today: “It’s so wonderful you all are here. We’re going to have a great class today and you will all be so much more prepared than your fellow classmates”. Blah, blah blah. Roses and rainbows and unicorns. SHUT UP!
9:00: 11 out of 22 students. I lead the way to our reserved room.
9:10: 5 more students trickle in while I am going over our Agenda for the day.
9:11: A very rude man comes barging in telling me I need to move, this room is by reservation only. I calmly explain that, “Well, sir, I did reserve this room.” He waves his had in my face that I must be confused he has this room reserved for a conference. My students start giggling. I hold firm and tell him he can take this concern to the front desk downstairs, I have a class to conduct. I then turn my back to him and continue talking to the class. I really wanted to tell that guy where I thought he could stick his concerns and attitude (and it had nothing to do with the information desk downstairs). Some of my students nod approvingly that I was able to turn this angry man away. I get a few arm pumps and smiles. I never hear from angry man again, so I figure the front desk explained things to him or told him where to stick it!
9:15: 3 more students wander in wet, wide eyed and extremely apologetic. I hand them the papers I am going over without a word or a smile and keep talking to entire time. They know I’m not pleased, I can tell by the way they slump in their chairs.
9:20: We are heading out the door to find the magazines and copiers. Another student arrives. I thrust papers at him and continue walking.
9:30: Student are busy looking for magazines and finding advertisements. Extremely late student comes up to talk to me. I brace myself to stand firm. My frustrations are bubbling right on the surface.
Student: “Miss Kander. I’m real sorry I’m late today”. He looks very distressed
Me: “Yeah, you were 20 minutes late today.” I raise my eyebrows and refuse to be sympathetic. “What’s the deal?”
Student: “My roommate had a seizure this morning” I can see tears start to well up.
Oh god, I am the queen bitch of the world. I melt. I ask what happened. I ask how he is doing. I ask how his roommate is doing. I want to tell him (but don’t) that this is totally one of those times that it would have been okay to miss class. I commend him for coming to class. I listen as I talks about what happened. I tell him to find a friend to talk to or call someone from home, it sounds like he might need some support right now.
Wow! Suddenly my frustrations were wiped away. The rain stopped carrying a mocking tone. I was able to see outside myself again, to see my students as the people, the young men and young women that they are. I was reminded of what it is that I really love about this job…and I did all this on a miserable rainy day!

Goats and Angry Mammas

You know what really gets my goat? Close minded people!
So we have this mother in the preschool I'm working at...we'll call her "Darla". This women never ceases to amaze me in the creative new ways she comes up with to piss me off. She is the mother of 4/5 kids, the oldest of which is in her 30s. "Chris" her son is 3 years old and a real handful. Today Darla pushed a button today that really got me boiling. She came in with Chris, late as usual, and demanded my time right in the midst of group time with the kiddies. She informed me, in a none to nice way that "Hank is not to change my sons diaper under any circumstance!" Now let me tell you about "Hank". Hank is in school to be an early childhood educator. He is amazing with the kids, professional with the staff and parents, and really down to earth. He will be an amazing teacher who I would feel very comfortable sending my offspring to. He is in our room a few hours a week and not often during Chris' pick up or drop off times. We have several male professional teachers (head teachers) who have the same responsibilities as the female professional staff (including diapering and toileting). As a student staff memeber Hank is often responsible for diapering and toileting. However, because he is in our room so few hours he has not yet had that responsibility with our kids. That being said, there is no reason, NO REASON, why we would not have him change diapers. I got pissed. Darla continued on that she really did not even want a male teacher in Chris' room and that she was upset we didn't inform her about his presence ahead of time (mind you Chris and Hank have both been in our room since September!) With Hank standing within earshot she went on about how any man who works in early childhood must be sick, that there must be something wrong with him. Did we check his background (which the school does for anyone working in the building). I got a little short with her and finally passed her off on the Fran (the head teacher in the room) who also got pissy and informed Darla that while Hank would not be changing diapers today she could not promise he never would...and that Hank was an amazing teacher who has earned our respect. Darla grunted and then left in a hurry...boy am I glad I won't be there for pick up time :)

If I could be...

If I could be just a little more grounded...maybe I wouldn't feel so stressed.
If I could wake up just a little bit earlier...maybe I would be thinner.
If I could worry just a little bit less...maybe I could get closer.
If I could focus just a little more...maybe I would be farther.
If I could just do it...maybe I would have done more.
If I could get out of my head...maybe I would see more.
If I cleaned a little bit more...maybe I would feel more comfortable.
If I planned a little bit less...maybe I would be more excited.

If...