When you become a teacher of smallish children, it's a rare moment when your thoughts (typically feverish and abrasive) are even remotely related to your words (usually redundant and at times painstakingly censored).
Other adults could perhaps sense what it is you're thinking based on your twitching eyebrow or the slight inflection of your voice when you tell little Louie, for the umpteenth time, that you expect his voice to be off when others are reading. And while the students sense your emotions too, they have never heard you utter an expletive, so although they know precisely when you're frustrated, they could never fathom that in your mind you are ripping off a verbal onslaught that is so riddled with expletives that it would bring their sanctified image of you, their ostensibly pure teacher, down so fast that it would make their head spin.
These thoughts, which scream to be voiced but are constantly suppressed, are becoming increasingly difficult to hold in day after day. So I will expel them here, where I'm not at (a great) risk of being fired for them.
What I'm thinking when I say things to students
What I say:
"Jane is reading. Jeff's opening his book. Jack is reading. Jimmy is not reading–that's a consequence Jimmy. Jill is opening her book. Joseph has his eyes on his book."
What I think:
Ho-ly. Shit. This. Is. Redundant. How do these knuckleheads not notice how annoying this is?! I wonder how long I could get away with narrating before they realize they're trapped in a vicious cycle of repetition? Thirty seconds? One minute? Five minutes? I wonder if I can make it to the end of the period just by narrating behavior. Probably not. I guess it's time to start the exit ticket. Damn.
What I say when talking to a student in the hallway after he or she has committed some repulsive transgression:
"What happened in there, hmm?"
What I think:
The fuck is wrong with you?! Have you completely lost it? Did you forget I was in the goddamn room? Did you forget to take your meds this morning? Did you forget that the principal was in the room with us? Did you know she was evaluating me? Oh that's why you did it, huh. You monster.
Other adults could perhaps sense what it is you're thinking based on your twitching eyebrow or the slight inflection of your voice when you tell little Louie, for the umpteenth time, that you expect his voice to be off when others are reading. And while the students sense your emotions too, they have never heard you utter an expletive, so although they know precisely when you're frustrated, they could never fathom that in your mind you are ripping off a verbal onslaught that is so riddled with expletives that it would bring their sanctified image of you, their ostensibly pure teacher, down so fast that it would make their head spin.
These thoughts, which scream to be voiced but are constantly suppressed, are becoming increasingly difficult to hold in day after day. So I will expel them here, where I'm not at (a great) risk of being fired for them.
What I'm thinking when I say things to students
What I say:
"Jane is reading. Jeff's opening his book. Jack is reading. Jimmy is not reading–that's a consequence Jimmy. Jill is opening her book. Joseph has his eyes on his book."
What I think:
Ho-ly. Shit. This. Is. Redundant. How do these knuckleheads not notice how annoying this is?! I wonder how long I could get away with narrating before they realize they're trapped in a vicious cycle of repetition? Thirty seconds? One minute? Five minutes? I wonder if I can make it to the end of the period just by narrating behavior. Probably not. I guess it's time to start the exit ticket. Damn.
What I say when talking to a student in the hallway after he or she has committed some repulsive transgression:
"What happened in there, hmm?"
What I think:
The fuck is wrong with you?! Have you completely lost it? Did you forget I was in the goddamn room? Did you forget to take your meds this morning? Did you forget that the principal was in the room with us? Did you know she was evaluating me? Oh that's why you did it, huh. You monster.
What I say:
"I tried this activity with another class and they really liked it."
What I think:
I'm a badass teacher and you guys are just going to have to deal with that fact today. However, if you don't exhibit the same level of enthusiasm during this activity as the previous class, you will shatter my confidence and break my heart.
What I say:
"Everyone is writing right now. That's a point for hard working. Keep it up."
What I think:
(As that Aloe Blacc song plays in my head): God I hope my principal walks in right now because this is a heckuva rare sight to see.
"I tried this activity with another class and they really liked it."
What I think:
I'm a badass teacher and you guys are just going to have to deal with that fact today. However, if you don't exhibit the same level of enthusiasm during this activity as the previous class, you will shatter my confidence and break my heart.
What I say:
"Everyone is writing right now. That's a point for hard working. Keep it up."
What I think:
(As that Aloe Blacc song plays in my head): God I hope my principal walks in right now because this is a heckuva rare sight to see.
What I say:
"This is your first assignment of the marking period, so this will be the first thing I put in my gradebook. Start this quarter right!"
OR
"If you choose to ignore this assignment, you'll get a zero for today."
OR
"You are copying down the vocab words as I write them on the board. Take good notes as they will help you for the quiz."
What I think:
I grade approximately zero percent of the work you do. If you knew how many assignments I unceremoniously recycle...anarchy. Now I know that when they say ignorance is bliss, they mean for teachers.
What I say:
"That's an interesting question, and not really on topic, but there are no dumb questions!"
What I think:
Dummmmb question.
What I say:
"Tom, that's your third consequence. The expectation is that your voice is off."
What I think:
I'm about to fly over this table at this child and shut his mouth for him. No but I can't; he's just a child. I must remain calm, despite the fact that he's single-handedly derailing this entire class period. I must. remain. calm.
What I say when Louie talks again (and my eye twitches):
"Tom, that's your fourth consequence. I'll be calling home tonight."
What I think:
SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP. You heathen! Also, godDAMN IT, I didn't want to make any more phone calls home tonight!
What I say when they ask me how long I've been teaching:
"Oh-so-long. But I also did a lot before teaching: working at a grocery store, newspaper, magazine, Kinko's. Then I got into teaching in Oregon. Taught in the Bronx for a while. Now I'm here."
What I think:
By getting into teaching in Oregon I mean I applied to a teaching program without having a wink of teaching experience. When I say I taught in the Bronx for a while, I mean a combined total of about 18 hours. When I say now I'm here, I actually mean that less than a year ago I was blissfully enjoying being a college student with about one-eightieth the workload of what I do now. Eight months ago I shaved right before I walked at graduation, meaning I looked like a giddy fifteen-year-old about to receive a big basket of candy. This beard must be working if you guys can't tell I'm fresh out of college and ripe for the likes of you to destroy me. I guess I won't be shaving any time soon.
What I say when little G. asks me: Did you used to be one of those guys who cuts down trees with a chainsaw?:
"That is an excellent question. Unfortunately, no."
What I think:
This beard. Doing something right!
"This is your first assignment of the marking period, so this will be the first thing I put in my gradebook. Start this quarter right!"
OR
"If you choose to ignore this assignment, you'll get a zero for today."
OR
"You are copying down the vocab words as I write them on the board. Take good notes as they will help you for the quiz."
What I think:
I grade approximately zero percent of the work you do. If you knew how many assignments I unceremoniously recycle...anarchy. Now I know that when they say ignorance is bliss, they mean for teachers.
What I say:
"That's an interesting question, and not really on topic, but there are no dumb questions!"
What I think:
Dummmmb question.
What I say:
"Tom, that's your third consequence. The expectation is that your voice is off."
What I think:
I'm about to fly over this table at this child and shut his mouth for him. No but I can't; he's just a child. I must remain calm, despite the fact that he's single-handedly derailing this entire class period. I must. remain. calm.
What I say when Louie talks again (and my eye twitches):
"Tom, that's your fourth consequence. I'll be calling home tonight."
What I think:
SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP. You heathen! Also, godDAMN IT, I didn't want to make any more phone calls home tonight!
What I say when they ask me how long I've been teaching:
"Oh-so-long. But I also did a lot before teaching: working at a grocery store, newspaper, magazine, Kinko's. Then I got into teaching in Oregon. Taught in the Bronx for a while. Now I'm here."
What I think:
By getting into teaching in Oregon I mean I applied to a teaching program without having a wink of teaching experience. When I say I taught in the Bronx for a while, I mean a combined total of about 18 hours. When I say now I'm here, I actually mean that less than a year ago I was blissfully enjoying being a college student with about one-eightieth the workload of what I do now. Eight months ago I shaved right before I walked at graduation, meaning I looked like a giddy fifteen-year-old about to receive a big basket of candy. This beard must be working if you guys can't tell I'm fresh out of college and ripe for the likes of you to destroy me. I guess I won't be shaving any time soon.
What I say when little G. asks me: Did you used to be one of those guys who cuts down trees with a chainsaw?:
"That is an excellent question. Unfortunately, no."
What I think:
This beard. Doing something right!