A Few Rotten Apples

One of the aspects (good? probably. odd? certainly) of being surrounded by teachers in my life is that occasionally, needs arise that I seem capable of fulfilling. As some of you may remember from last time, I'm not well-suited for teaching. At least, not within the traditional schooling structure that presently exists. I lack the rigour for it. I don't believe in using confusing sentences or pretending I know more just because I'm a few years older than you.

And indeed, my recent excursion into the realms of the youth once more proved me correct.

A friend asked me if I could take over his classes yesterday, and I found myself saying 'yes' because he's dear to me. As often happens, it was about five seconds after ending the call that a wave of questions rushed over me. Questions like why do I not say 'no' more? And more importantly, do I look like someone prepared to teach religion, of all things?

However, the deal was done, so yesterday morning saw me up bright and early, on my way to enlighten young, unripe minds. That failed about ten seconds after walking into the first class. It was a religious class about the Seventh Commandment.

Thou shalt not steal.

According to the Roman Catholic Catechism, I'd been instructed to consult. The Internet suggested (as per Orthodox teachings) it was something advising you against adultery and other sinful living arrangements. I was quite relieved when I figured it was only stealing.

One kid promised to learn Eminem on piano if I came back next week. He also played me meme music on it. He was so talented.

The trouble with eleventh graders is... they already know not to steal. I'd been instructed to read and have them write down everything to make the time go by. Except, why dictate when we can converse? (I told you I'm not good at this)

We ended up talking about a myriad of things - identity, abortion, integrity, how do you meet a world that is primed to offend you, and still keep upright. Matters that interested these young people way more than "thou shalt not"s.

I let some of them study, also, as I did with a group of ninth graders later, for more important exams coming up. It surprised me that they did. That, despite this common attitude of superiority that many adults take, these children wouldn't go to naught without you there to maintain the standard. They're already busy creating their own order, making their own way in life. It would serve us well, as we get older, to remember that in the end, we're all really just confused, know little, and are trying.

Or, in the words, of a man much wiser than me, "these children that you spit on as they try to change the world... are quite aware of what they're going through."

I had a few classes with twelfth graders, also. Kids 18-19 years old. Not really kids anymore. I was supposed to tell them how to be good Christians. Talk about the separation between church and rationality (taking my cue from John Paul Redux) I did talk on that a bit with one group, but mostly, I listened.

I talked to this fantastically bright kid about the need for unity, for oneness, for a whole to return to at our core (the church or family?) so we can then migrate back to the peripheries of the rest of our lives and live well. Things that are of great interest to me and that I got to debate with people younger than myself, with new ideas.

Others, we debated politics, or rather the vital importance of approaching a discussion as if you don't know everything. And they did. That was the fantastic thing. Like, they explained to me the research they'd done themselves on upcoming elections, but it was glaringly obvious they weren't trying to assert that they knew. I thought that was a brilliant attitude to start on, and told them so. I really hope they don't lose it. The world needs more people who know less.

One brilliant, charming kid kicked my ass in chess. We talked meanwhile, of course, the whole class, except I don't really think you can have good conversations as long as I'm standing and talking down (inevitably) at you.

At one point, we were talking about the future, they were sort of telling me which universities they wanna attend and one girl said no. I'm not telling you. I said okay and complimented her on standing up for herself. She was extremely sweet. She waited for me after class and told me where she wanted to go, and that the real reason she didn't say in class was because she knew her peers would mock her if she didn't get into that uni. It broke my heart, that great beautiful capacity for opening, always under threat of people being calloused and stupid and shallow.

Another kid, one of the younger ones, told me a teacher had called them stupid monkeys who didn't think. I told her she should've turned to the teacher and said "you and me both, sister".

I don't don't don't like people thinking they're smarter because they're usually not. And because that kind of closing to new ideas and wisdom makes both you and I a whole lot stupider in the long run. I was struck, as before, by how much wisdom these kids have, how much they had to say, and by this pervading sense that no one's listening to them.

And it was a damn strange thought, because I'd talked also to the guy I was subbing for. I knew he saw them with fondness and that he's a good man (which I reminded the children, even when I found it hard to defend some of the attitudes he'd taken in class). There's always this strange duality of how we interact and flow in this life. But more importantly, this sense that if we don't listen to one another, we won't get very far.