Disclaimer Time

Ms. Lauren over to the Femimiste posted a disclaimer last week--stuff that her readers should really know before opening their big mouths. Dorcasina followed up with her own disclaimer, things her university students should know before entering her class.

Makes me wish I could have my own disclaimer for my students. Sadly, it's not the sort of thing I could really give kids and get away with, but here's what I would do if I could:

1. I have been teaching high school English for (gasp) almost a decade. In that time, I have taught probably close to a thousand students just like or very similar to you. And while something always happens to surprise me, rest assured that there is very little chance that anything you say or do to me will be new, original, unique, or particularly memorable, unless you are more creative than your predecessors.
   
   If I haven't quit teaching before now, your criticisms of my teaching style are certainly not going to push me over the edge. You can also feel free to criticize my looks, clothes, voice, bald spot, gait, shoes, handwriting, choice of chalk, or anything else that strikes your fancy, and none of it will bother me. Let's face it: My self-esteem really just doesn't depend on what some fifteen year old thinks of me.
   
   [Stealing this line directly from Dorcasina] If I don't like you, it's probably because you are a) dumb, b) belligerent, c) rude, d) unkind, or e) arrogant. If you are certain none of these applies, then I guarantee that the reason is a).
   
   
2. Physical threats and intimidation also do not work. I have great health care and, frankly, could use some time off. Take your best shot.
   
   
3. If you have a question, concern, issue, or problem, in particular about the way I run the class or why your grade is the way it is, the best time to ask me is, surprisingly, not the middle of class when I'm trying to teach and your classmates are trying to learn. Sadly, I never leave my classroom, because there's always a big pile of work for me to do. So, yes, I'm here before school, after school, between classes, and even during lunch. I am happy to talk to you then.
   
   
4. I am not here to be your friend. That's not my job. There's a word for someone who gets paid to be other people's friend, and, you'll notice, that word is noticeably absent from my job description.
   
   I will not regale you with tales about my private life. Do not ask me about my wife, my weekend, my hobbies, my taste in music, my car, and the like. If I want you to know something, I will tell you. If I don't tell you something, clearly it is because I do not want you to know it.
   
   This is a two-way street. I want you to tell me if you are in some kind of trouble or need help--I assure you I will do everything in my power to assist you or find someone who can--but this does not mean that I need to know every detail of your relationships, your recreational drug use, the parties you go to, your backstabbing friends, your body functions, and so on. The "experts" all say that schools should be treating students like customers. Think about it: Do you really want your customers to tell you their life's stories as they order that Big Mac?
   
   
5. If you address me or, through your actions in class, show me disrespect, it becomes that much harder for me to show you respect in class. When you come into class on the first day, I (usually) don't know you. I make it a practice not to dig up your transcripts or go scrounging around asking other teachers for their opinions of you. If at some point it seems like I don't respect you any more, it is because of something you said or did in my classroom.
   
   
6. The English class you are has not been designed to make you, individually, miserable. I do not sit around at night and devise as many clever ways as I can to ruin your life. If I assign work of some description, it is because I believe that it will improve your skills with the language in some way, shape, or form. If you do not like a particular assignment, rest assured that I did not give it to you just to piss you off.
   
   Remember that your high-school education is a cooperative exercise: I will do my part, but I expect some effort from you. If you choose not to do an assignment, that is your choice. If you choose not to hold up your end of the bargain, again, that's your choice. I will make every effort to help you learn the skills you need to succeed in the Real World or College or Wherever, but you actually have to do the learning. Basically, I get paid whether you learn or not, but it's in everyone's best interests if you at least try.
   
   One additional note: I do know what I'm doing. I've been here long enough to get the hang of it. I borrowed a lot of money to go to school for a lot of years to learn how to do this. I read books, journals, and articles to keep up in my field. If you decide not to trust me, again, that's your choice.
   
   
7. In addition to knowing what I am doing, I also take great pride in it. Ever since I was your age, even a little younger, I've known that I wanted to be a teacher. My whole educational career from high school through college led me to this moment in this classroom teaching this curriculum. That is something that weighs heavily on me, and I take this job seriously.
   
   I stay up late grading papers (that's why I'm always cranky), reading books, blogging, and planning lessons. I go to training, conferences, classes, committee meetings, and union meetings, because I want to make sure that your work environment and mine are the best they can be. I practice what I preach by writing and writing about writing when I'm not teaching.
   
   And, while it's true that I can't quit my job--seeing as how I'm not really qualified to do anything else--I don't want to. I love what I do, even when I hate how a particularly poor group of students makes me feel. In the end, I'm not asking you to love what you do in my class. All I'm asking is that recognize that I do what I do because it is both my love and my calling. Once you get that through your thick little adolescent skulls, we just might have something here.