Destination: Procrastination

Do you recognize the subtle distinction between the terms “computer game” and “video game”? I do. I have never owned a Nintendo, Sega, PlayStation, or X-Box of any kind, but having grown up on the likes of King's Quest, Ultima, and Civilization, I have a weakness for the kind of games you play with a keyboard attached. Some people smoke. Some people watch too much TV. Some people hang out in abandoned parking lots, have irresponsible sex, get stoned, jump out of airplanes, eat too much, spend money, etc. I play computer games.

So we made it to Labor Day. Almost a month of teaching is done and over. A stack of imperfections to contemplate, but it could have been worse. A lot worse. I have decided to give myself credit for the parts of my classroom management that are going right. The kids are getting more and more used to starting the block off how I want them to: Quietly in their seats and working on the warm-up by the time the bell rings. And I spend very little time in class fighting the discipline battle. Still the occasional, “Go back where you came from!” out of the obstinate, but they get ISS.

Still, I feel almost lucky that things are going as well as they are, because there are a lot of positive things I could be doing much better. I have awarded class points consistently, but the promised benefit of a party (for 200 points) is so distant at this point as to seem unlikely to motivate much. Still, the students do care at least a little bit, because occasionally they will remind me that they have been good and deserve another point or two. Unfortunately, no class has earned a Friday Fun Day since the first week. I really do look for moments to reward my Transition class with points, but the thought occurs to me that I may be too stingy with my Algebra II classes, because I have higher expectations for their behavior. I know I have not done very well with my individual rewards. I have given out a few tickets, but awarded no prizes yet as a benefit of receiving said tickets, so the students still have barely any idea what they are for. Shame on me. I have a couple boxes of chocolates sitting my refrigerator, intended for the secretaries and the janitor lady who sweeps my classroom. But the gifts have been sitting there for weeks now, because, out of shyness and what? busy-ness? I cannot bring myself to give them over. My Students of the Week still have not received any tangible recognition of the honor. At first, I planned to post their pictures in class along with a short bio they prepared, but now I think I just want to print certificates to give them. Still hasn’t happened though. And the worst part? I still have yet to pick up the phone and dial a single parent.

Now playing: Lacuna Coil, “Self Deception.” I picked up this CD at Wal-Mart for 9 bucks the other day, and now I have it on repeat play. The insert booklet art includes goth chick frontwoman Cristina Scabbia squatted with a long fold of black satin falling between her open, naked thighs.

Liar, you tempt me.

Oh, I don’t know what to do.
No guilt is in my heart.
I don’t know what to do.
I’m not the reason.

I wish I could say all that. But I feel like I am the liar. I know exactly what to do, I just have not done it. And the guilt is in my heart.

To be fair, everything I listed above as things I wish I were doing better are things I have never really done before, despite my two years experience teaching in Africa. There, there were no parents. And I used to just toss candy around; my rewards were never so idealistically, systematically arranged. At least I admit my weaknesses. I console myself with the thought that as long as I am still improving and trying new things, even if I am not doing everything perfectly, at least I am heading in the right direction. Right?

Do you sense a regression since my last post? Well, I reneged on my resolution and brought work home with me this weekend. Progress reports are due this upcoming Thursday, and I plan to give tests on Tuesday and Wednesday. Got a stack of grading and phone calling to do between now and then. Still have not touched it. Thus the guilt. Reminds me of school, as a student. The difference is that, come tomorrow morning, there will be no skipping of class. I refer to this as “bend without breaking.”

I got a memo in my mailbox Friday from Mr. Bic. He started off by thanking me and congratulating me for a job well done. Then he got down to business and told me to stop writing up kids for failure to complete the punishment I assign them. He went on to imply that I am not doing my job, like other teachers are, because I am not calling the parents myself first. Well, forget that he was the one who told me I could write them up for this in the first place. He is right, in a way. And at least he said it in a nice way.

When you get right down to it, I hate telephones. Sometimes I can picture myself picking up the phone and having a conversation with these so-called parents of mine, telling them how their son or daughter is or is not doing this or that in my class, encouraging them to exhort their child to try harder, etc. I can read over my blog from the summer and note my earlier optimism about how I was going to contact parents proactively, and when I picture it in my mind, it seems almost easy. What was I thinking? Nothing terrifies me more than telephones. I think I have a bona fide phobia of talking to the wrong person, calling at the wrong time, and saying the wrong things. The disembodied voices without context and a shyness I never got over. Just answering the telephone all day long for a tech support call center was one of the hardest jobs I ever had (besides teaching)—at least for the first month or so. I underestimated how much this is still a hurdle for me, and I realize now how intensely I have been avoiding the task, making excuses for myself and considering myself too busy to make some calls today. Perhaps I need to start really small. Like, say, the kids who fail to complete my punishment.

Escapism: In response to nebulous dissatisfactions, I turn to an alternative reality, a stimulus so strong that I actually forget about the real reality which depresses me. I despise card games and first-person shooters; they bore me. I consider myself Teh Thikning Mans Pwner: If it doesn’t have a story or statistics or strategy, then I am not interested. It has to be something I can put my mind to. Something immersive. Like role-playing games. Or strategy. And now you know the truth of how I pass the days, outside of school.

To be sure, I celebrated the opening weekend of college football in style. Traveled to Rosedale with the Merry D. to watch my high school get whooped up on Friday night. It was an exercise in offensive futility: Our Trojans turned it over at least 6 times. But the defense played valiantly, and we held the opposition to zero offensive points for the second half. I can hardly wait to make a little speech in Algebra II commending my cornerback’s defense and praising their commitment, even in the face of despair, esp. a goal-line stand in the waning seconds, with nothing left to play for but pride. Also talked the same company into joining me the next evening, an unusually comfortable, beautiful Saturday in the 70’s, to travel all of a few blocks from here to watch Delta State’s football opener. The opponent: West Virginia Tech. The final score: 61-0 to the green and white Fighting Okra. We have a pretty good local Division II football team here, apparently. It looked a little bit like college players against a high school team, and the score was 45-0 just at the half! Afterwards, the Merry D. and I sought to lighten our souls at La Cabana and their 32-oz. draft beers. It was a lot of beer. We had to walk it off afterwards, so we made an impromptu trip to Wal-Mart, where Merry claims I said the f-word in front of one of my students. Oops.

Last night he and I got together once more and traveled down to Leland to have supper with a couple other Teacher Corps classmates who, like Merry, also happen to be graduates of Williams College. Hooray for Williams! I friend you. Merry cooked butternut squash soup, which tasted splendidly like pumpkin pie, and someone else made some pasta with bacon in it. Yummy! It was a deliberate Sunday supper get-together, filled with every intent to become a tradition I want to be a part of. The camaraderie, the sharing of stories, lesson ideas, frustrations, etc., took place casually, with a sense of humor, in a way that was lacking in Oxford last weekend. Afterwards, we made a midnight run to Dodge's Fried Chicken (a gas station) in order to buy ice cream treats. We stood around in the parking lot, making fun of people who hang out at gas station parking lots, until we realized that we were those people, and then we left abruptly.

But the loneliness remains. I would not be so preoccupied with leveling up my Morrowind character of late if everything were peaches and ice cream wonderful. At least I am not playing Second Life or Eve Online. I have not played today. But I have not really done any work either.

Ben Guest called out of the blue just now to check up on me. He asked how the contacting parents is going.