No, not for the fame, the money or even the women. I wish I was a jock so I could be running sports camp right now instead of teaching summer session.
Five years ago I made a typical rookie mistake. I told some girl who needed a calculator to divide by 1 that she might explore majors other than chemistry. I got raked over the coals. Apparently you can't give sound advice to adults if it might hurt their self-of-steam. It was the truth, but it wasn't what she wanted to hear, so I was a mean rotten meany for saying it and the chair and I lost many hours of our lives because I'd said it.
At sports camp, however, which is going on right now on campus, because we're whores and we let anyone with a checkbook rent our space for 10 weeks... Apparently at sports camp you can tell 7 year olds that they "suck" (the counselors' words, not the campers), repeatedly and with venom in your voice, and if a 7 year old whiffs at tennis, you can make them run the perimeter of the courts while all of their camp buddies (dozens of them at a time) try to peg them with balls. That's what they do at camp for a country club sport like tennis. I shudder to think what might be going on across the field at football camp.
Who do I see about changing the designation of my course to "Chemistry Camp"?
Ah, dear, Wombat ...
ReplyDeleteJust remember, those venomous counselors will most likely become the entitled flake 'roids in your class in a few years.
Then, a few years after that, after losing the lottery known as a career in professional sports, will return to your uni as the "savior" coach who will again be able to berate "student" athletes all the while making 5 to 500 times what you do!
Buck up, there Wombat!
These students also, on not making the team or on losing a game, would probably not explain, "But I tried really hard! Basketball is really hard for me! And, yeah, I carry the ball downcourt with my hands-- I have a different way of learning. And, anyhow, I think my method of playing is totally valid, even if I don't put the ball in the basket you and establishment want me to. It's just your opinion!"
ReplyDeleteWombat, my campus is overrun with sweaty 10 year olds too and a bunch of kumbey-ya religous folks too. I'm happy to take their money since they don't park in my space.
ReplyDeleteI did run a science camp for a few years. It actually made me some money (parents will pay a mint for summer camps) and I taught some really bright high school kids. They did a bunch of our freshman chemistry labs and loved it. All in all, not a bad deal.
Strelnikov and I simply like the whole idea of a "camp," especially if the people are forced to be there and they spend enough of their time sweating and getting verbally abused. Sounds good to me. I would have the kids build a canal, dam or steel mill or dig for coal, however, something good for society and the "general will," and not have them waste their time on something as decadent and pointless as sports.
ReplyDeleteI've had thoughts similar to Wombat's while working on a community garden plot in a park that also houses athletic fields and tennis courts. Most of the coaches I've overheard aren't mean (a few are), but all seem to be so much freer than we are to say: "that was wrong; here's what you need to do next time," as well as "not quite," and "better, but you still need to pay more attention to this," and -- perhaps most important -- "good; now let's see you do it that well five times in a row. . .oops; not quite; start over, and remember to. . ."
ReplyDeleteI'd love to be able to teach that way. I *try* teach that way. But somehow I end up in endless conversations about why, if they *did* the assignment, they don't get full credit.
The college I attended used to rent out space in summer to a dance school. Every year as soon as the tiny dancers arrived on the scene, the bathrooms would go to hell. I heard, what I thought was a joke, that they were bullimic. They were so tiny and cute. Why would cute tiny kids make themselves throw up? And how would cute tiny kids even know how to do that?
ReplyDeleteThen one day I walked behind two of them, no more than nine years old, on their free afternoon. They were returning from the corner deli with a pillow case full of candy and talking about one of their little frienemies. It went like this:
"She thinks she's going to get picked for [some ballet] because [some counselor] likes her. But..."
(second little cherub interupts) "He doesn't like her he likes her father's checks." I was shocked already from that line, but it got worse.
First little darling resumes "Yeah, but she's too fat anyway. She should quit and paint scenery. She could paint the castle on her ass."
The language struck me as almost cute because they were so prissy, it was funny to hear the potty mouth on her, but not the creepy cattiness. But that wasn't even what shocked me the most. THEN she POINTS and I realize, she isn't talking about some chubby kid back in the dorm, she's talking about a girl 30 or 40 feet up the sidewalk who was pale and thin, like typing paper (hey, remember typing paper?). She was calling a fellow nine year old stick "fat" and saying a castle could be painted on said stick's "ass".
A couple of hours later we found a pillow case full of candy wrappers... in the bathroom.