----------------------------
The
Pink Room: Thoughts About Intentional Living
Chapter
13/ Bad Days.
Part
1 (Previous post contain the previous chapters.)
----------------------------
After
I earned my teaching license I was fortunate to be offered several short-term
contracts. There were few long-term contracts, if any available. One of the
semester-long contracts was an obscure situation where the district knew me and
at the same time had an unexpected opening in Food Science. Since cooking and baking
are a serious hobby and I could “talk” to the curriculum contents. Then decided
I would be a reasonable fit and I received an emergency license in Family and
Consumer Education--FACE.
I
was glad to have been given the opportunity to teach, and be trusted with a
content area that wasn’t technically mine; but I was not glad to have that
experience because it was horrible.
The
previous instructor did not require the students to do regular assignments or
any assignments for that matter. The students were used to coming in and making
themselves meals or snacks whenever they wanted to. They would use whatever
they wanted to and were not required to clean up. She told the administrators
she did dishes all day. But if you were to look at the dishes…it was evident
that was not entirely true. She, well actually the students, left the room in a
shambles.
The
retired teacher, from five years earlier, and I spent a week scrubbing and
inventorying supplies to put the stations back in order. All the cupboards were
emptied and all items placed in the middle of the room. Dishes were put away as
found—the first task of the students would be to wash dishes.
There
was residue from every cooked item that the students prepared, in the previous
couple years, left on the surfaces. A yellow sticky oil residue coated so much
of the room it was distressing. It was the kind of oil that has a stale deep
fryer smell. It was the kind of old grease that requires attacking from all
angles--vinegar, ammonia, soap, hot water, and scouring. It took forever and
the partnership between us and the janitorial staff.
I
heard comments about it being “so clean,” for weeks after the students came
back.
No
station had all of its pieces. Most were missing at least one small appliance.
Toasters and blenders were missing knobs, lids and cords. There would be a food
processor with no blades and crockpots with no lids. We had to purchase several
hundred dollars of small appliances and kitchen supplies. By the time the
semester started I was exhausted.
Little
did I know, the fun was just beginning… There was a day I was told by a young
man that he was going to make my life miserable. There was another day a boy,
after being told to sit quietly, decided to stack thirty glass dishes. He knocked
them onto the floor breaking all of them. There was a day when a group of
students put a wooden spoon in a running blender--then they were upset with me
when I would not let them drink their milkshakes. Or when a boy tried to juggle
knives and didn’t understand why I sent him to the office. Or the girl who
never told me she had a vision problem and sat where she could not see the
board--then she told the administrator I never gave her assignments when she
was getting a bad grade (which I wrote on the board and said aloud to the class
daily.) Or the three boys that decided to bully another boy with learning
problems to the point where he blew up.
There
were parent calls, referrals, and talks with the administrators about removing
students. I was told that students could not be permanently removed because
there was no place for them to go. Especially those in the advanced class, it
was literally the only option available to them for that last elective credit
for graduation.
Thank
God I taught at that school for a year before that, and had no significant
issues to speak of. That semester was exhausting in a way that few things are--mentally,
physically, spiritually and any other “-ally” that is out there. The students
were not used to having boundaries and expectations. I did not ask for a lot
from them, knowing where they were coming from. But what I did ask for I
expected completed and turned in on time. They tested every expectation. They
put their toes on every line in the sand. The few who crossed lines were
immediately removed from class.
At
some points I felt compassion for them. The students were not expecting me, and
they were not used to someone to expecting anything from them. At the absolute
minimum, I would require respectful behavior. As a student, you are welcome,
even if you never turn in an assignment as long as you treat others with
respect. You’ll get an “F,” but I would be civil with you. The choices were all
theirs.
The
most difficult part of being with those students was how they got under your
skin. I cared about them. The more challenging the individual, the more
intentional I had to be about showing care and concern, the more time was
invested added up to real loving-kindness for them.
Except
one, there was one boy that didn’t happen with, but that is another story.
----------------------------
Job,
in the Bible, suffered great loss and trials and finally told God that he
needed an explanation. Instead of getting a hug and pat on the head God said to
Job, “Human, you will never understand the intricacies of the universe and what
I orchestrate. End of scene.”
My
students gave me a very small glimpse of “you will never understand what I’ve
had to orchestrate” to get this all ready for you. If I had not been so tired
by all the orchestrating, the trials of that semester wouldn’t have been so
challenging. By then end, though, the students were happier knowing
expectations and boundaries, and existing in a clean room—slowly their groaning
turned into smiles. And by the end they were looking for my approval. All of
the expectations and boundaries made them feel cared for and they liked the
clean predictability of the room.
God
is the same with us. If we work within the boundaries and recommendations in
the Bible we will find that He is just trying to set us up for success. When we
get used to it we feel cared for, and we begin looking for His approval.
