Snobs Anonymous

Me:  'hi, my name is Roy and I'm a snob.'
Group:  'hi Roy'
Me:  'I'm still kinda nervous admitting this, but I hate group work, and the irony of being here is killing me.'
Group:  'We were all where you were once.  Relax, we're here to help.'
Me:  'And I really need to change this.  I won't be able to assign group work with a clear conscience until I get over this hurdle.'
Group:  'Just remember the affirmations and you'll be fine.  Learning is a collective process.  Trust in your group mates and have faith that the end result will make everything worthwhile.'

One of my greatest concerns when entering teachers' college was the amount of group work that would be required.  Group presentations, group reports, group meetings, group ....  Suddenly I had visions of the past groups and the members that I had issue with:

1. The apologist.  The one who arrives late for meetings, doesn't complete the task assigned on time, but usually has 'legitimate' reasons
2. The opportunist.  The one who knows some members are driven to get good marks so will happily coast along
3. The minimalist.  Always gets things done, but never really pushes beyond what's necessary
4. The inspirationalist.  The one who has a completely different spin on the article to the point where many question if it was the same source, and wishes to move the group in a counterproductive direction.
5. The born leader.  The one who must run the meeting and control the agenda.

Me:  I'm a lot of 5 with a dash of 4 here and there.  And if I root around deeply enough, I'll find a little of all 5 at some time or another.  Myers-Brigg had no issues classifying me as an Introverted Thinker as I max out the scale on both accounts.  I just have this belief that despite my understanding that the synergistic approach of group work results in a better product, the hassles that group work represents in my mind leads me quickly to the 'I wish I could just do it myself' corner.  Many would call me selfish ... and I cut my philosophical teeth on Ayn Rand so I can't deny it.  (I'd best add that Nietzsche changed my opinion fwiw).  And it comes down to one issue...

Trust.  When you set expectations for yourself such as I do, and you don't willingly accept the 'shoot for the moon and land amongst the stars' sidestep, it's tough to trust that others will try to live up to your expectations when you know that you can't realistically achieve them yourself.  And when an introvert is thrust into an extroverted world, an uncomfortable world within which no semblance of control is possible, fears starts to creep in like ants to an unguarded bowl of sugar.  I'd really like to confirm that I have the answer to this personal Gordian Knot, but I'm not sure that it exists.  All I can do is try to partition the past and try to find my own group work Tabula Rasa.  And I sure hope that I'm able to.  Because, somewhere down the line, I'm going to meet a student with similar foibles, insecurities and concerns ... and when I do, I'll be uniquely qualified to give an honest and convincing argument.

Failing that, I'll go back to my favourite Nietzchean philosophy, Amor Fati.  My version has always been:  There will be successes in life and there will be failures.  There will be things in the past that you might want to change, things that you can accept, and things that are ideal.  But deep down, you have to love the life that the fates handed you ... every error and every checkmark ... not by whitewashing over the past, but by accepting and loving your life to such a degree that you wouldn't want to change a thing.  For to do anything else is to deny those influences that made you who you are, and therefore, to regret your existence.

(someday in the future, I'll likely move my inside voice posts to private.  But for now, I'd much rather leave these nasty bits hanging around with the hope that someone else who's facing a similar issue might find a nudge in the direction that they wish to move)

I need a bottle

Naw ... I've got no plans to return to those foolish halcyon days of my first university degree.  We're talking one of those Jim Croce bottles that save moments complete with the emotional underpinnings required to recreate that feeling of 'wow' when I'll need it in the future.

Stepping back a few days, I was facing another "why do you want to be a teacher" icebreaker moments.  My love of problem solving, along with a Brock seminar induced love of hearing my own original thoughts expressed to a group, always creates an overwhelming (and frequently troublesome) desire to express a different and new response to any question that I'm asked more than once.  Wouldn't it be nice if I could be satisfied with Beach Boys-style rephrasings of my overwhelming desire to inspire students with my love of history and mathematics.  Sadly, I'm one of those introverts ... the ones that employ the coping mechanism of quasi-theatrical / shock appeal responses as the means to deflect attention from me to what I've said.

My response:  "after 20 years, I couldn't avoid becoming a teacher any longer."

Now, before you think that this is a facetious response, well, it's one of the most honest answers that I could give to the question.  Back a quarter-century ago, one of those employment interest surveys that were tossed around by guidance counselors told me that I should look at math / science teaching.   Given that the other field the test said that I would excel in was as an IRS agent, I was easily able to discount the results as inaccurate.  Upon hearing this my step-mother (who recently retired from the YRDSB) confirmed that it would be an excellent field for me to explore.  Oh yeah ... my step-mother's confirmation helped my teaching career as much as The Odyssey's sirens helped sailors. So as much as I'd like to say that my nascent introspective talents steered me away from teaching, as I definitely wasn't ready, it was more my teenage rebellious side that steered me towards the right decision than realizing that it was not the right time for me.

Through the next 15-20 years, plenty of teaching opportunities came up within my various jobs.  So I wrote and presented a successful 10 week commercial underwriting course during my insurance days.  I frequently trained co-workers on new systems or different ways of using the existing systems ... but in my mind these were just part of my regular job and not evidence of me having any teaching skills.  And once I returned to university, it was because I was a mature student that people came to me for help, and definitely not because I was able to teach.  Even when I gave successful seminars or pre-exam reviews for a group of classmates, well, it wasn't anything that I did.

Overall, my decision to enroll in teachers' college started by accident.  It was getting to that 3rd year decision point ... the 'what am I actually going to do with this liberal arts / history degree' moment.  When it came to application time, I started considering masters' programs, tossed in a couple applications for history masters' programs, and got a 1 way ticket to physiotherapy courtesy of a transport truck and a surprisingly secure Ford focus at 100 km/h.  With my plans put on hold for a year, I considered graduate work a bit more and I came to the realization that I was a little old to be starting on the road to tenure.  I enjoyed writing, but I had no desire to do the exhaustive research necessary to enter the publish or perish world.  Overall, I realized that the part of being a professor that was exciting me the most was the teaching portion.  In addition, a year and a day after our car accident, my father died.  One of our last conversations came back to the inevitable "son, what do you want to do with your life."  And, I was finally able to answer him, "dad, I'm going to become a math teacher."

So, after a 20 year wait, I finally started down the road to teachers' college.  Each day of classes, I wake up at 6am and put my dad's watch on my left wrist.  I can't say that I see 6:00 daily due to the alarm clock - it's set at 7:00.  I just find on a daily basis that I can't sleep any longer.  Why? ... Because I can't wait to start teaching.  Every day I wake up with my brain in excitement-fueled hyper-drive and filled with 'what if,' 'what about,' and 'I wonder if this would work.'  And that's really why I want one of those bottles.  I know that there will be days when I might be feeling a little down and not feel that level of passion necessary to inspire my students.  And, for those days, it would be nice to just be able to open a bottle of now to remind me of these times when I couldn't wait for my career to begin.

Introductions

The first lecture must be tough.  Now, I'm not getting this from any of my instructors showing an ounce of nervousness, despite the fact that more than one of my past teachers has confided that his or her first class nerves lasted at least 15 minutes.  My hint came from the format of most of these introductory classes.  Despite some differences in arrangement and time allotted to the lecture, the format for almost every class was the same.  Some instructors made some genuine efforts to break from the standard format and some apologized for the lecture-heavy nature of the first class but overall:

The format seems to be:
1)  an introduction of the course leader including her or his qualifications
2)  the distribution of a syllabus along with a review of of the contents typically highlighting major assignments
3)  some form of icebreaker for attendance purposes including name, how you got to this class (previous university, teachables) and some other personal details (something interesting about yourself or past experiences that relate to the given class)
or 3a)  2 truths and a lie
4)  depending on the length of 2, a short introductory lecture
4a)  possibly some initial discussion questions on the nature of the class
5)  confirmations of required readings for the next class

The time efficient part of me wants to scream out, "give me the syllabus ahead of time so that I can review it before class and come with appropriate questions."  Then my realistic side reminds me that by misreading my timetable I sat through 3/4 of a special ed class (before realizing this) instead of my scheduled law class ... ie my preparation skills leave a bit to be desired so expecting a thorough pre-reading of the syllabus is probably unrealistic.  I'll likely stop beating myself up shortly over this oversight, but for now I still shake my head in disbelief.

I think that the piece of this standard introduction that I'd like to change the most is part 3.  I'd much rather take the Little Prince's approach as opposed to the standard approach.  I realize that facts are easier to convey, but where people did their undergrad work and what their teacheables are ... well these kind of details really don't tell me too much about my classmates.  I'd much rather hear answers to a question like "what are the most important things about you that you'd like others to know?"  Knowing that my subjects are math and history or that I did my undergrad work at Waterloo and Brock tells you so little about me - you learn far more about me through my link to chapter 4 than most of these intros could ever convey.  2 Truths comes closer, but with the audience focusing on which is the lie, it's tough to remember the truths.  And given that many truths are chosen to deceive or cite very small details of a person's life ... I'd be hard pressed to recall five of the truths that I heard and I'm not sure that most of the truths that I recall go beyond the 'facts and figures' type of information that the pilot cautions against.  I'm not naive enough to believe that we should still be able to see the 'sheep in a box,' but I'm hoping to find a way to try to a little harder.