Nov 10 Being grateful for humor - share a story about a time in career where humor played a part.
I like to say "bad travel makes good stories." When I find myself in Beijing, whispering "I'm going to die" while riding on the back of a motorcycle as the driver jumps the curb to scoot around slow traffic, or while watching 4-inch centipedes scurry across the ceiling as I try to fall asleep on my cardboard mat on Wotje Atoll, I remind myself I'll have stories to tell.
I practice the same mindset on bad teaching days. Reframing the experience as a story helps me process disaster into...less than disaster.
From late August:
I am the one-woman engine behind #AHSfuel, a de-feminized pep club of sorts. I get paid a whopping $900 a year, which comes to about $25 a week for hosting a Monday-morning meeting and helping kids organize the pep bus (which was cancelled this week when only 14 kids signed up), distribute Trojan tattoos (during A lunch; the assigned kids forgot during B lunch), and dream up the student-participation games for pep rallies.
Yesterday was our first rally of the year. I spent the day praising M for her great organization of our game, which involved four kids from each grade (who then each chose four partners) for a total of 8 people per grade. This meant we had 32 participants out on the gym floor.
Unfortunately, when L grabbed the mic, she called for "everyone we asked to be in the game" to come down. Many confused freshmen (whom I'd invited to be part of a different ball-tossing game that opened the assembly) came onto the floor and huddled around me like...confused freshmen.
Meanwhile a dozen bossy seniors (mix of AHSfuel members and my journalism editors, who think they deserve to be front and center of everything--a mindset I've too often foolishly encouraged) started the cat-herding process of directing half the freshmen/sophomores/juniors/
A major argument ensued over whether we could roll up the cheerleaders' mats in the middle of where we needed to push the scooters for the game (answer, no). Students began randomly tying blindfolds on each other (blindfolds were part of the game; the random part wasn't). For some reason the scooters were in the far corner of the gym and only Ryan (WHERE'S RYAN?!) knew where they were.
I think we only ran around like this for about five minutes, but I might be airbrushing the memory so I can forgive myself. It was a disaster. I almost grabbed the mic and said "FORGET IT. WE'LL TRY AGAIN NEXT WEEK" (read: NEVER).
What I did was grab the mic and said "On your marks, get set..." to which the sophomores and juniors screamed "NOT YET!" I paused, reminded everyone that the winners had the honor of dousing the principal and vice principal in the ALS icebucket challenge...and tried (again) to start the race.
The scooter race itself took about 2 minutes, which gave the band exactly 30 seconds to play our 45-second fight song before the kids' dismissal. I really felt bad. Bad. As in I went to my room and sat in the dark for about 20 minutes. I didn't cry; I just tried to think about other things. I then bumped softly against the pep rally thought, then circled around it, and bumped it gently again, trying to let myself think about it and manage the churning chagrin in my belly.
The deal is this: disorganization is the biggest gorilla on my back. I work hard to keep it from peering over my shoulder and grinning maniacally at everyone who looks at me. The pep assembly was a very public demonstration of me at my disorganized, bumbling worst. But writing about it helps me remember these things:
1) No one NO ONE cares about pep assemblies.
2) Haters gonna hate. I'm a forceful (and for the most part quite competent) presence in the school. I gave my critics something to gnaw on for a time. That's okay.
3) "Happy are they that hear their detractions and can put them to mending." --William Shakespeare
4) I'm okay.
Teaching Humor in Pictures:
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| Fabulous Liz Huggins and me as Prom emcees 2014. |
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| Senior paint fight 2013 |
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| Maria Oltmans, Yours Truly, Liz Huggins Shakespeare on the Green 2013 |
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| Wotje Atoll 2012 |
Disorganization is my gorilla, too, Allison. I can clearly see the ninth graders huddling around you "like...confused freshmen." I wanted to hug you in your dark room with your hurtful thoughts. Comedy is tragedy + time, right?
ReplyDeleteBhill, I loved this. You were an inspiration to me. I don't mean to sound creepy, but every once in a while I'd wonder what's going on in your head and it's interesting to hear your side of the most chaotic and most uncontrollable situations.
ReplyDeleteI too would have to agree that disorganization is my gorilla as well. I do my best to be as organized as can be (to the point where some may think I have OCD or something), and I sometimes fear that I'm going to forget where I put something or someone is going to move all my stuff around and I just won't know what to do with myself. So I completely understand.
Thank you so much, Jenny and Josh (Josh! Great to hear from you!). I am going to remember Comedy is Tragedy + Time. Excellent. And thanks for the hug. Josh, I try to remind myself that TRUE organization means "getting stuff done"--not just looking like you're getting stuff done. Some of the most orderly, tidy people I know don't move a lot of mountains.
ReplyDeleteThis was so good. Our biggest mess-ups are usually thought about by others for like 17 seconds, right? I wrote about that embarrassing poetry debacle, and I guarantee you both the student and the observing principal have NO recollection of it. And girl, I hear you with disorganization. I'm sure I walk 8763 unnecessary steps each day because I walk to the front of my classroom without my stupid projector clicky thing. *sigh*
ReplyDeleteI am glad that I made it into your picture. I wish I had been there to share in this experience. One of my favorite activities was making messes and then working through them with you. MISSSSSSS YOU!
ReplyDelete