Friday, August 6, 2010

In which the Bitchy Bear finds Jesus only to lose Him in the pretzel bowl


How y’all been?

I had thought to retire along with RYS. I’d put in quite a bit of time trying to keep the old page afloat, and I thought we had heard entirely enough about me. 

But Calico offered to let me have the dried scorpion collection from the compound if I agreed to stop by from time to time.  

The other reason to retire was that I recently read The 7 Laws of the Learner by Bruce Wilkinson—the crazy-best-selling Prayer of Jabez preacher guy.  And by the power of his words and his silver-haired, smiling visage on the back cover, I had a change of heart about teaching. I vowed I would, as Mr. Wilkinson suggests, love every student in my classroom with a real and unconditional love that flows directly from Our Father, through me to them. The cynicism and snark on RYS, I decided, was bad spiritual food for me in my new identity as a Jesus-centered instructor.

Wha? You don't believe me? You think instead I spent the summer in a gin-soaked binge of reading fun books, watching the Dodgers bite it, and desperately trying to finish the piles of writing I've promised people for months to do? Oh, all right, if you must be so unimaginative as to want the real actual truth, yes, that IS what I have been doing. Thanks for ruining this Very Special Episode of College Misery. 

I did read Wilkinson's book though; I’d ordered it by accident in a book-buying binge on Powell’s.  And while the book’s message is very good-hearted, it’s quite clear that the type of kid who goes to a Bible college is much more likely to be receptive to touchy-feely sentiments from an instructor than most of my students, who seem to believe that the world delivers so long as checks are written, and since checks have indeed been written, I had better deliver.  

Several of Wilkinson’s very nice stories about how students entirely blossomed after he told them that he loved them left me thinking “well that’d get my ass sued off.”

Then a student shouted at me (via email) because: 

NO CAN’T GET THE ASSIGNMENT FROM BLACKBOARD I NEED IT NOW OR I NEED EXTRA TIME OR MAKE UP WORK BECAUSE I AM GOING ON VACATION WITH MY FAMILY FOR TWO WEEKS AS I  ALREADY EXPLAINED AND MAYBE I WON’T HAVE INTERNET AND THIS CLASS IS REQUIRED SO ITS NOT MY FAULT MY FAMILY IS GOING ON VACATION AND I HAVE AN ASSIGNMENT. NOBODY HAS ASSIGNMENTS THE FIRST DAY USUALLY.    

Time to put theory into action. I shall show this student unconditional love, I thought.  However, I found myself writing things like “I love you, you entitled little robot from Satan’s Workshop.” and “You should know that God and I want the right things for you, and the right thing for you is to STFU about your effing vacay and leave me the hell alone until classes start.”

It’s been a trying year so far.

3 comments:

  1. Now this page is REAL, the Bitchy Bear from Boston has arrived. Welcome, darlin'.

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  2. I LOVE it Bitchy Bear :)

    This reminds me so much of an experience my husband had. He (unlike his heathen wife) is a regular church goer, and at one point last year was a Sunday school teacher for a bunch of 5 year old kids. At the end of church, his class along with ALL THE OTHER CHILDREN under the age of 12 in the entire congregation would get together in the same room with a bunch of ladies trying to teach them Jesus-oriented lessons. It was absolutely out of control. Kids were running around, shouting, talking--basically behaving like children will when they've never been subjected to rules or discipline in an environment in which their parents are not present.

    As such, my husband tentatively suggested to one of the church ladies who was "in charge" that perhaps some discipline (the time-out kind, not the spanking kind) as well as some basic standards might be helpful.

    Her response? That they should all lead by a loving, Christ-like example, and then the children would be sure to behave.

    Surprising that such a spiritual woman would employ a strategy with the same probability of success as a snowball's chance in hell.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I genuflect before the Goddess of Snark. I am not worthy.

    ReplyDelete

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