Back to school. Or: Memories of More Socially Inept Youthdom.

Back to school. Or: Memories of More Socially Inept Youthdom.

Let's just tag this as another installation of my Chronicles of Socially Inept Youth series, because it's been a while.

I went to my first day of classroom observation on Tuesday (amazing! more later!). I spent most of the day with my old AP English teacher (who I adored back then, and still do), and a few classes with my freshman humanities teacher (who I hated back then, as follows).

One delightful day in 1992, after a particularly harrowing and rainy experience in 2nd period Marching Band bringing the little golf cart with three trailers in series holding a plethora of stationary percussion instruments back from the football field to the band room, I was a little late to 3rd period humanities. I rushed to the classroom with no real concept of how late I was. I don't think I ever really looked at the clock and figured out how late I was, either, but I'm thinking it was pretty inexcusable.

I got my first and only detention that day. This is no problem. I totally deserved it.

However, what I also got was the worst public mocking ever to be bestowed upon me so far. The teacher stopped class halfway through, and asked me, IN FRONT OF EVERYONE:

"Julia, as a child back in England, did it rain a lot?"

I hesitated and told him that of course, you moron, it rains in England. It came out like this, though: "yes."

He then asked, "So, do you remember liking the rain?"

I might have said, "What the fuck does this have to do with Hamlet or whatever we're reading?" which also came out as "yes."

Then: "Did you also like to play in puddles? In the mud?"

I paused, thinking of what he could possibly be getting at with this question. I answered, "sort of."

Then, he gave me the smarmiest look I've ever beheld and gestured towards my feet. "I see you brought that habit to America with you. Please get out of my classroom and clean off your shoes."

I'm totally not making this up. Rather than leave a note for the cleaning crew to vacuum up the carpet or what have you, he decided to deride a sweet* and innocent** freshman girl about having mud on her shoes on a rainy day. I couldn't even tell you what books we read that year in his class, but I have been able to perfectly recite that conversation by memory ever since. I got up and left the class and just wandered around the halls for the rest of the class.

I contemplated reminding him of my strongest memory of his teaching style this week as I shadowed him, but figured I was probably the only one in the whole class who remembered that incident. And also, I kind of noticed that not much had changed, as he mocked a freshman for falling asleep in his class. Yes, we know we shouldn't have muddy shoes or fall asleep in class, but come on. There's a basic mandate for any interpersonal communication, not just teaching: praise in public, criticize individually, and mock behind their backs or on the internet.

But hey, I will never enter a room without wiping my shoes now. I am scarred.

________________
*allegedly
**actually, at this point, this was still true. I was probably more accurately described as "ridiculously naive," though.