The other day at work (I'm a teacher) the kids were supposed to decorate the building for the upcoming holiday.
|Check out their work. It's the worst.|
It's not their fault. It is the way of a child to not try. Unless they are threatened by a scary adult. I try really hard to find a balance between being a terrifying adult and an upstanding, fairy godmother-like role model.
The nice thing about children is that they are really good for the self-esteem. Number one, my students always tell me that I'm pretty. At least the ones who know how to work the system. They are smart in that way -- I always think of them as a little more angelic when they compliment me on a new pair of boots or when they notice that I've done something different with my hair. I also enjoy it when they tell me that I resemble notoriously beautiful people in Hollywood. (Listen, I take my compliments where I can get them.) In turn they reap the benefits of a happy teacher who gives extra points and candy to all. I completely understand that I'm getting played but I still feel that winning is going on EVERYWHERE.
Number two, they believe everything that I say which makes me feel both powerful and wise. The only problem is that mostly, the only pieces of information that they actually retain are the lies that I tell them about my personal life. For example, I had one school year where I saw about seven awesome Monster Trucks around town within the course of a week. Naturally I took photos of the said Monster Trucks on my cell phone and then showed them to my favorite kids at school, acting as if I owned them all. (I felt as if God was asking me to do this: Why else would He place all of these majestically large vehicles in my path so suddenly?)
Fast forward six months and I found Pedro awkwardly approaching at lunch one day. "Miss C," he said to me, with a questioning tone in his voice as I silently bit into my sandwich, "I'm not sure that it's true that you drive a Monster Truck." And as my colleagues all glanced up curiously at me from across the table I solidly looked him in the eye and said, "We can discuss this later."
My students here in Turkey honestly believe that this is a previous class that I had in the states:
I wanted some street cred. This particular group of Turkish students was being excessively loud so I thought, "Hey, it's clear that they don't respect me. Maybe if I lie to them they will think that I'm cooler than I actually am and then do what I tell them to do." It worked like a charm. I even went so far as to point out the children in the video who received the highest marks in my math class. To make it seem more realistic.
Here's what Michael thinks about some stuff.
I'm not going to lie. I think about this interview all the time. I have been thinking about it for years. Every single time I say "it was ok" in response to something, it is always in a small Michael Jackson voice. At least it is in my mind.
Is that weird?
I just said to someone out loud, "I think about Michael Jackson all the time."
They didn't respond. Yet. Let them think about that statement for awhile.
I'm at work and people sometimes ignore me here, especially when I indulge in some seemingly irrelevant commentary on life.
I'll say it again in a few minutes.