Shaken, But Not Stirred

Friday was one of those days that shakes you to your core, makes you question your career choice and the society in which you live, and teaches you (via sledgehammer) that words do indeed have power. And even if you don’t feel superstitious, you realize that full moons DO affect the behavior of adolescents. And their parents.

I will spare my sensitive readers the ugly details, but there was some misbehavior, some consequences, and some very angry parents slinging some really powerful and highly derogatory words around. I wasn’t even in the middle of it but that kind of name-calling really takes a toll.

Here I am in a roomful of teen-agers trying to fight the good fight and teach manners, writing, love for neighbor, grammar, life skills, resiliency, etc., (not necessarily in that order) and it feels like the whole world is spinning off its rocker. Have you ever been in a room full of thirty 14 year olds? Now THAT is a job. Trust me. I love this job quite often and the moments of discovery and humor and growth. But think of all the hormones and the growing pains and the personalities spreading their fledgling selves!! It is a lot.

My colleague took the brunt of it this time, but I have been there too. It was his name at the heart of the matter and he had the most to lose. As a teacher you take a moment to discipline and model and try to teach the life lesson, and it all blows up in your face.

We couldn’t even talk yesterday, just shook our heads and looked at the floor as we tried to figure out how people could behave that way. It was very much a funeral; we were mourning so many things like common decency and respect and etiquette.

At a loss for words, I realized my dad said it best. (I don’t know why it surprises me that even after ten and a half years it is my father’s voice I hear in my head and pull out to comfort my friend.) My dad was a tough man; a stint in the army, his job in the steel mill blast furnace, and his career as a repo man made sure of that. His well-worn line: “Don’t let the bastards get you down.”

There’s the rub. I am always tripping on my superhero cape in my struggles to bring peace and justice to the land. Trapped between going whole hog to fight the good fight, or choosing a more prudent, turn-the-other-cheek Gospel approach. Sometimes the line is spiderweb thin. And sometimes I am a little too feisty to decide (prudently) what approach to take. Living the Gospel and praying for those who persecute me (and my friends) seems like kow-towing and letting the bad guys win. But then again, I need a job and a paycheck to support my family and I really do enjoy teaching the future.

I always say this is a job of moments. The giggle of the new girl warms my heart when she finally loosens up in a room full of strangers, a young man turns himself around and starts doing his work consistently, a student creates a metaphor I can remember by rote years later. But there are hard moments too: when the truth gets lost and the players get nasty. It is junior high after all, (with all that entails) and I know that parents love their children (and don’t always believe what they are capable of.) But I don’t know why they won’t believe that I love them too.

Things are a little better today. The moon has waned. Time has started to heal. The deep breathing is helping. And I have chosen to do what I am called to do. (It IS good to re-evaluate choices and methods and heart, after all.) I will not forget that words have power; I choose them carefully. In my head is the whisper of my father and my hope for the future: “The good guys in the white hats always win.”