Sunday, January 16, 2005

A story about teaching.

I don't think I've put this story down in the blog yet, so I figured I would relay it. It's moderately short.

Last year, my first year, when I didn't have any clue how to keep control of a full class who didn't especially want to listen, a lot of my students would just kindof waste a lot of their time in class either zoning out or talking. Some of them were audacious enough to talk across the entire room to their friends.

One such student would zone out until she realized that she had something to say across the room, and at least once a week, no matter what was going on in class, she would shout out, "Yo, nigga," to which her friend had no trouble responding to. This was pretty funny to me, and since they don't seem to mind being debased by each other, I didn't respond much differently than if she had simply yelled her friend's name out. Interesting side note, both of the students were Hispanic, by the way.

I'm generally pretty hard to get a rise out of, but the few times that students have inadvertently called me "nigga" I have not been especially nice to them, nor have I been quick to accept their apologies, which are always profuse when they realize I'm actually mad at them. Disgusting word, it is.

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