This week I made several of my students cry, which incentivized me to quit teaching as soon as possible.
Crying from a biological standpoint is useful for babies to draw attention to a need that must be met, while lacking the ability to speak. But after the age of 5, crying seems to serve a more insidious purpose.
In the first class, one of the best young dancers in group began wailing due to “not having a leading role.”
In the second class, I stepped on a young boy’s hand. He took that shit personally: raising his fist at me with tears streaming down his face.
This isn’t the first time that I’ve encountered kid logic.
I used to be part of the organization “Chess Wizards.” And on one fine evening, there was a boy who was clearly very alert and clever. He pretended to not know how the pieces worked, and made illegal moves to “be funny.” He specifically tormented one girl in particular, until she began mouthing off. After she asked to go home, he resumed with another student, passing it off as it never happened.
What frustrates me is that I never encountered these kinds of issues as a young kid myself. It’s not the entitlement of the children that’s different. I think the problem is me.
Sure, my dance studio was quite fraught with attention dynamics and drama like any other; but once the teacher entered the room, there was a shared love for the craft and respect for the magic that each instructor was able to conjure.
instruction vs. babysitting
Most of my questions fall under the umbrella idea of “how can I act so that they learn to love the subject as much as I do?”
I’ve been able to endure “finger-guns” for 30 minutes, in which I pretend to be “shot” to keep his attention for long enough to introduce him to new moves.
I give the kids time to play tag at the end of class, because that’s their reward for paying attention. But it shows that they look forward to that part more than the dancing.
Am I underselling myself by dealing with the petty antics of children whose parents are just looking for a break; should I seek a more serious demographic, perhaps older or already experienced dancers; or is this a universal pain that all adolescent teachers experience…
Are my students double-marshmallow champions? Or smart for snapping after the presentation of a single pillowed delight?
hierarchies of ability
I would describe the various overlapping worlds of private vs. public institutions, competitive vs. casual extracurriculars… as concentric circles of access. The center is the most “elite,” and here you can find the most successful athletes and intellectuals: coaching or being mentored.
My opinion is that, while not insurmountable, there is a tangible stratification of layers which separate some promising leads from others.
I was placed in such environments of excellence throughout my life that I never questioned what second-class education might look like.
In terms of bettering educational methods for everyone… How can I better foster emotional health while giving each child specialized instruction and care? Should I focus on the ones who excel or the ones who are slower to catch on?
Isn’t the separation of levels simply cherry picking out of young populations, denying “problem” others who could benefit the most from exceptional teachers?
In this way, kids marked as “special” become blinded by their own superiority while the average kids must be more crafty to appear excellent in their class.
seek ESTEEM, not fear
Kids at the club where I work often sneak behind the front desk while I’m away cleaning. And they have the comfort and audacity to even put their feet up.
I always want to yell, “Never do that again.” Instead, it comes out as “Hey, it would be nice if you didn’t do that.”
Scary gets you places. But merciful empathy will serve you better over time.
If I had better posture; more secrets; cleaner appearance; skill that drives awe and wonder… I don’t think the kind of situations I’ve had over the past few years would happen. I’m a nobody.
The kind of feeling that makes you straighten your back when you see a legend: It can be attributed to a few reasons of increasing importance…
- Prestige in the eyes of the public (whether YouTube views or competition placement)
- Accomplishment that can be shown immediately by physical demonstration
- Resonance, i.e. spiritual likeness on a personal basis
Interestingly, unless you are sporting school spirit gear, no one can know your formal credentials on sight. Contrary to popular belief, I believe a diploma is mostly for yourself, to say, “I can do what I set my mind to.” For example, look at the tech sectors of the world, in which many employers do not judge you based on where you went to school. Coding interviews can be prepared for independently.
In my case: badminton and breakdance… the things I am interested in and employed for are brazen in nature. It’s like wearing your heart on your chest, but in a professional sense. Either you have the ability, or you don’t. A second of observation tells you everything you need.
I strongly believe that if I were a successful college graduate, I would be more confident. But with the situation of my illness, and the lack of support from my parents in adulthood regarding my education… I have to learn to bootstrap new and essential skills, e.g. emotional regulation, without confirmation from an institution that I’m doing well.
HOW FAR I’LL GO
In order to make progress — comparing me to me in the way my brother always makes a point of — I need to listen.
The owner of the studio I frequented the most as a child and young adult, once told my mother the most accurate piece of advice I have heard to this day (HEAT):
“Abby would be more successful if she spent the time helping others into helping herself.”
-Ms. Janine
There’s a Punnett square of people I love (first love) vs. people I trust (first bf). Taking advice from said people, both criterion must be satisfied for me to take crucial input. This reduces the noise of advice that I hear all the time down to the essential.
Is teaching more an act of helping myself or helping others? The more I think about it; based on how limited my professional knowledge is at this point in time, it’s the latter. It’s what Ms. Janine warned me about. And that’s not good.
There’s the classic bromide of “those who cannot do, teach.” I bring this up not to disparage teaching as a profession. It actually brings light to the idea that the best teachers are veterans. They “come home” to teach after living life in its rawness. My brother, enduring internet hate to become a coach for his college e-sports team and landing in the semifinals; Jen proving that locality and travel can make you valuable; Beiwen Zhang showing that being a lone wolf doesn’t make you alone. These are stories that I admire but don’t resonate with.
And that’s why I have to make a change. Soon.
I was too afraid to do athletic shit professionally until now.
I spent years admiring Esther, Nicole… all the ladies and thinking I could never be like them: sitting in hospital beds, dreaming, watching their matches, living through clips of hot girls practicing drills and sweet photos of meals abroad.
I want to be someone before I teach others.
Not for the accolades. I want the process of hellfire pressure to produce that all-elusive “character.”
(Let me note that I spurn the Olympics as much as Rick and Morty hates the Marvel universe. This is because my lab mate in freshman year of college had gone to the Olympics so many times for sailing that she saw through how immaterial the medals were in the scheme of her career and personal development.)