"Tennis or teaching?"

Yesterday, I found out that as a student teacher I have to show up at my placement a few days before the children's first day, which is the Tuesday after Labor Day, because I need to help the coordinating teacher set up the classroom. I also have to be there the first week of the children's classes, after Labor Day. I am fine with all this, except classes at our college don't officially start until the Wednesday after Labor Day, and I had already purchased tickets for the U.S. Open for me and my dad for Tuesday, when I didn't think I'd have to be in class....

I resigned myself to having to give up that seat, which really sucks because it's the only day I bought good seats for us, but I thought it wouldn't hurt to email the preservice program (which is a different program from my own, but through which we spend a semester of our student teaching) and ask them if there was any way I could miss the children's first day of school. I assure you that this email was not intentionally flippant or ditzy.

A few hours later, I received a reply from the program director, who is a professor of curriculum and teaching (mind you), with the subject heading "tennis or teaching?" I would love to copy the entirety of the message here, but that might be too revealing, and perhaps too mean. Basically, the message elaborated upon the subject heading--does Ms. Tao want to watch tennis or become a teacher? Apparently, my asking whether I could miss the children's first day of school meant to the program director and manager that I was some kind of monster who had not thought through what it means to become a teacher and unfit to teach children. She ends the message:

"As a program, we cannot afford to jeopardize our reputation with the public schools and with the teachers who donate their time to be cooperating teachers; if you are wavering in your commitments, or if teaching is perhaps too restrictive of a life-style, we should discuss this ASAP."

I was furious. Others around me agreed that her reply was unprofessional and was obviously meant to make me feel bad.

Now that I have taken part of the conflict resolution course, I saw a different way of dealing with this particular conflict. Instead of composing and sending a seething reply right then and there, I waited. My immediate reaction was to cry, "Not fair!" and get revenge and hurt/insult them the way they had hurt/insulted me: by either writing something scathing that hit them where it hurt or else taking it to the university to file a complaint. But these were all reactions to the strong emotions evoked by some disrespectful words written by someone who had misunderstood me.

I finally wrote back this afternoon. I always talk about nonviolence and how important it is that I be mindful of the effect I have upon other beings, but it was Shane who stressed the importance of "attacking with love." People always say, the only thing you can control is your response to others. So my response was calculatedly nice. I used strategies I learned from my conflict resolution class--find out the needs and interests of the other party, be attentive to them, find common ground. Mainly I provided information that I had left out of my initial email, all about how (1) I must not have understood importance of being there on the students' first day of school, (2) I don't see my father often, (3) how he has always wanted to see a Grand Slam tournament, (4) now I am living in New York for the duration of my program he is finally able to see a few matches in person, and (5) that I did not know we would have to begin student teaching earlier than classes began. I informed them of my feelings in reaction to the email--that I was hurt by the implication that a good teacher or student would know better than to ask such a question, therefore meaning that I am not either.

I have not heard back from the program yet.

The situation made me feel awful; I was shocked at first, then entirely indignant, in a fury, sad and defeated, vengeful. I entertained thoughts of quitting the program here once and for all, because I have had it with this place. I am paying too much, and for what? To suffer at the hands of idiots who do not practice what they preach--to hear lectures about the importance of respecting your students, knowing where they come from and how they learn, and finding ways to engage them and motivate their learning--when hardly anybody stops to wonder why this isn't happening in the very classroom where we are hearing these lectures. And now I am insulted by a professor I do not know, who does not know me, who thinks that I am some kind of airhead who is in a $100,000 teacher education program for no reason. Well, fine! I'm ... moving to Albuquerque!

I always think about moving to Albuquerque when I feel done with this place, because Julia Sapir and I both applied to UNM at the same time, not knowing that we both did, and because if we were to live in the same town again we know we'd have a fabulous time hanging out. UNM's bilingual education program was the only other program I applied to, and I was accepted, and it would be cheaper, not only tuition-wise but in cost of living, too. And, what more do I need to say, Julia Sapir!

But in the end, I realized it's fastest to push through here; it's just one more year, and maybe the distinction of the Ivy League diploma will make some difference in future opportunities. And in retrospect, it's just one piddly person being bitchy to me for no good reason--it's not worth all this turmoil. I was able to analyze myself in the situation and see that I was reacting out of principle, which is commendable, but which is not always effective. And then I saw the situation as a test. As a teacher I will have to deal with many crappy people, and I can't let one crappy person (or even three or four or ten) get me down. If I can't handle them then I might as well reassess my commitment to becoming a teacher....