Last night, Daniel and I stole away for a night on the town (AKA: a Washburn Rural High School home basketball game). As soon as we entered the packed gym, I knew we would have a difficult time finding a seat. I glanced quickly through the stands and found a student of mine. He made eye contact with me, but immediately looked away. I thought that if I could just catch his eye, I could ask him if the seats in front of him were saved. To no avail. He refused to look my way. Strange. I thought I had a good relationship with him.
Anywho...so I walked to where he was sitting and asked if the seats were saved. He didn't really say anything, but he moved his coat. I motioned to Daniel to join me, and he did so promptly. I turned to my student and asked (in my very cool, outside-of-school voice), "Hey, how's it goin'?" That's right. I left the "g" off of "goin'" to seem like one of them. Instead of making eye contact with his beloved English teacher and continuing on a lovely conversation, he avoided eye contact at all costs and muttered, "Good." Lame. I didn't fight it. For the first time in my life, I was the uncool "older person" who the "cool" teenager refused to engage in conversation.
Oh time, it flies fast.
I think scouting and claiming your seat as a new teacher is HARDER than the same task executed by even the high school Freshman. At least they have a posse to hunt with. You know the students the best. Seasoned teachers already have their spots. You're not a parent. You're not with the band "unless you ARE!!! (Thanks, Toby...) Your power and position you function under in the school building change in different environments...
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