If there was one taunt that used to get on my nerves, it was "Are you mad?"
Most students have very little to offer or accomplish in class, so they amuse themselves with funny ways of provoking each other or tempting the teacher to lose his temper. I regret that schools seem to have driven the fun out of learning, and now for most students the most fun that they can look forward to is harassing the teacher.
The teaching profession can be very frustrating, especially for a substitute who is supposed to be the full-time teacher. This was my fate a few years ago. I admit that I did not have a substantial plan in place as to what I wanted to do in this life. I was getting tired of teaching, but for a long time I was still unsure about many things.
Nothing succeeds like an excess of success, so I threw myself into this awkward of situations. I was the full-time teacher for the element of my being there, but I did not receive full-time pay, nor did I receive full-time respect. but I found myself frustrated and worn out after six weeks of trying to make the most in one of the most unbearable and unmanageable of situations.
I was "just a sub" to most of the students. Holding onto the most tenuous of hopes, that I could get the permanent assignment for the class which I was covering, I went out of my way to be the best teacher that I could be. The sale was a no-go from the world "Go!"
"Are you mad?" Came from the back of the room a few times. I was mad, yes, I was. But I did not really know why. I was uptight a lot, too. I was frustrated, and I was frustrated that I was frustrated, and I was frustrated because I did not know why I was frustrated.
I just could not bring myself to send students out of class. Some days, it seemed that I would have to send three, four, five students out altogether. Plus I was fighting an unusual and unmanageable case of the jitters. "You have to get rid of your anxiety, or at least internalize it," I could recall my university supervisor telling me after one of her visits to my class when I was student-teaching.
The more that I tried not to be mad, the madder I got. I was so falsely convinced that my upset would compromise me and my teaching. Then again, unbelief will overcome even the best of intentions.
"Are you mad?" Fear will make you mad, because you have competing interests attacking you from every angle. You want something more than what you have, but still no idea as to what. You have not other options as far as work, so it seems. I thought that I was stuck, no way out. That can make anyone mad.
The teacher next door– a live wire, a lively, wire of a man who loved to come to work. He wore wigs, he used powerpoint, he had everything a teacher could want to get his work done. I had nothing but a drab, one day at a time push to get somewhere, to a classroom where I had to start teaching at 7am, and students routinely showed up late, as if it were my fault! No sleep, no direction, no idea what was going to happen, still convicted by conscience that everything mattered to me, all on my shoulders. I dragged myself in at 6am, the other teacher was already in class planning away. He was made for this line of work. He had no problem driving in from Anaheim, then going home at 5pm, and he was furthering his education.
"Are you mad?" The snide junior quietly posed, just pushing me a little further. "No, I'm disappointed." Compelled to be honest about one thing coming out of my mouth, that's what I said. The class refused to be quiet, and all I could do was — get mad. I did not have the courage or the confidence to do anything, those days. I felt that nothing was worth doing, worth trying. I was lost, afraid, and fearful because I was so lost. Who was I? What was I doing there? These questions in themselves never crossed my mind, either, I was so caught up in trying to get ahead, or rather just trying to get by.
Students cursed at me. I did not know or care what to do. The deans were powerless, held captive by guilt or disrespect. Administration did not care one way or another what happened to us. I should have seen it all, if I had been willing, but that was not to be. I just hoped that "something" would make the days better, more bearable. Nothing. The same empty routines of blather, disrespect, and failure. I wanted to work, but I did not want to work, either. What a trying experience that could be, if I had stayed stuck in it.
That assignment ended, at last. I cannot believe that I really thought that I wanted to work there. Even the full-time teachers, comfy in their tenure, did not want to work at Hawthorne. One science teacher candidly admitted that on certain days, he could not understand why things were going well. The worst part of classroom management at the school: things would go well, and I could not explain why, either. The students were in a good mood, they had enough to eat at lunch (pizza, perhaps?) Friday could be a good day if a disc jocked visited the campus.
"Are you mad?" I was, for a long time. I felt like a heart of wood on the inside, not beating, so beaten that there was not beat left. I just did not care, but thud thud I walked through the day, just trying to survive. I am alive now, more than I have ever been before. I do not want to be a teacher. I know what I want, in part because I know who I am, and being a teacher is not relevant to that.
One of my last days subbing, and I was contending with the students of the continuation school, many who just sit back and do nothing. A stagnation school, certainly. I expected them to get something done, however, and I would pace around the room and move seats, if I had to. "Are you mad?" one student asked me, trying to set me off.
"Does it matter?" I rejoined, inspired by a sense of peace, that no one was going to take away my peace. Indeed, it did not matter, as I would not be working at the school for long after, anyway, deciding haphazardly that I would not tolerate disrespect any further from high school students who insisted on acting like ten year olds.
"Are you mad?" Not any more.