Close to home for me. Granville. Westies boy. Working class. Not that I was conscious of any class distinction back then. After teaching teens for 50 years I now realise being different was normal. I’ve probably had 5000 teens in front of me over the years; every one of them different. Different shapes, interests, abilities, experiences, capabilities, physiology, social and family, cultures, ethnicities, histories, religions, attitudes and interactions.
Making judgements about any one of them was fraught with pitfalls. It was enough to deal with the judgement they made about me and each other. Parents also had input as they should but it’s difficult to deal with the fixations of adults who consider themselves good parents and even better teachers. Take for example the father (a politician of some note) telling me that his daughter was destined to fail physics because “physics was a boys subject and girls wouldn’t understand it”. Oh how I could go on with examples of situations that required me to be guardian, carer, mediator, psychologist, educator and administrator of sometimes archaic laws and rules. Oh, yes, and teach physics.
It used to scare me. Still does a bit. The first step was to eliminate judgements from my thinking. No uglies, genders, colour, age, religion, sociology- economic background, ****** preferences. Even the most bizarre interactions had a real and logical basis.
I meet many of my ex students from time to time. I’m a little embarrassed but quietly pleased that what they learned from me can be summed up nicely by one student: “ Mr. D, you were always finding a different way with me. You never got tired of me asking questions and explaining. And you told really good stories. I was inspired”. I blush even now to write it. I see her from time to time. She manages a dress shop and is a single parent (with tattoos).
Me too.
