This past Wednesday I taught my last class as a First-Year Instructor. And I have to say that it has been an unforgettable experience. There’s something unique about my class that I feel I crafted. I crafted something, whatever it was, into their little freshman hearts. Pure cynicism, sheer sarcasm, academic terror… the usual input any good instructor would normally utilize to his advantage to ensure social control.
Overall, it was an enjoyable time teaching ten straight courses on my favorite topic, “Exploring History.” And not only did we explore history, but we tore it apart, chewed it, spit it, and then ate it again. It was glorified Waterloo all the way through the beginnings of World War I; you can’t get a better form of academic masturbation at the undergrad level, I assure you.
I noticed a few things about the way my class functioned and seating arrangements inside a small classroom. Let’s describe the classroom first. As an extra credit question on a quiz my students took, I asked, “What are the two Rutgers classroom temperatures?” The answer was pretty easy, as most students experienced the “sauna” and the “igloo” during summer and winter, respectively. For some reason, Rutgers likes to turn heat *on* during the Summer, shuts heat on and *off* sporadically during the winter, and is gracious enough to offer you enormous lecture halls to perplex your uncomfortable experience here at Rutgers. However, in a small classroom, things change a bit. Talkative students form a T-shape in the seating area. This constitutes the front row and middle isle. Students in other parts of the classroom think they’re invisible and read too much Harry Potter.
I also noticed that these kids are young. Although they’re just two years younger than I, their idealism is sometimes disgusting. But they have somewhat of an excuse- they’re Freshman. The typical college Freshman thinks that the world is rainbows and butterflies; nothing can ever go wrong, no matter how drunk you were this past weekend, no matter how many guys took advantage of you, no matter how many wars our government decides to fight, no matter how much our government wants to tax us. They think the world can do no wrong and when wrong happens it can be easily rectified. They clearly haven’t seen Junior year. They clearly haven’t taken a class with me yet.
A lot of these kids also have no idea what they want to do with their lives. Which is funny; it’s like a stay-at-home-mom going into a supermarket after driving 17 miles out of her way and not knowing if she wants to buy anything yet. These were students who believed that education was a right, not a skill. They couldn’t understand that some people just weren’t fit for academia whereas others are lame enough to enjoy reading history books on a daily basis. They couldn’t understand that if every 18 year old in this country went to school, this would lead to an inflation of education, and learning within itself loses its value.
But I did a few things differently. I knew the political culture I was getting myself into and this was something that even my advisors couldn’t comprehend. I guess if one works in academia, the only thing keeping them employed is giving out unworthy A’s to those who just “try” but don’t quite try hard enough for their work to be considered adequate. Realizing this, I knew that the very least I could do is instruct them on how to be competent individuals versus little historians. So I made sure that my grotesque cynicism would open a few eyes up to what the real world is really like.
So what did they learn? They learned that if one man has too much power, lots and lots of people die or starve. They learned that in order to get places in life, you have to actually like what you do so you end up selling a good product; sometimes that doesn’t necessarily mean college. But other times, if you really want to screw over the system, you suck it up and go to Law School, given that you’re sane enough to consider this option. I feel like I taught them to think strategically, if not analytically.
If any of my students are reading this, here’s what I learned from you:
- I learned that listening to indecisive thinkers makes me cringe.
- I learned that sometimes you just have to say the right answer and stop bullshitting.
- I learned that to get places in life, you sometimes, if not all the time, need to trounce on the weak.
- I learned that to develop an easy learning curve, you have to be a sarcastic asshole.
- I learned that America’s youth is going to hell in a hand basket.
- I learned that if you want good results, don’t constrain people to a rubric; let them figure it out on their own.
- I learned that public speaking in a room designated as “sauna” will make you sweat like you just ran a marathon; this is when you shift class outside.
- I learned that when you’re forced to give really impractical assignments, you need to be lenient with how you expect it back in your hands.
- I learned that Livingston campus is still a terrible place to live.
- I learned that if you can’t speak in a room of 24 students, you’re probably going to have a hard time getting employed.
- I learned that I have absolutely no patience and if I ever do this for a living, I’m going to live an extremely short-lived life.
So what does me teaching come down to? I fucking loved it and if I can do it again, I would- even if it means a short-lived life. But then again, I said the same thing about joining the army and that really went places…
My class did change me. They showed me that excessive idealism is dangerous in an environment of fragile human beings contesting Darwinistic ideals. You can’t force people to be idealistic and Darwinism isn’t going away anytime soon. Dog eat dog. How are you going to have your dinner in life?
