I think most people know that we live in an era of Christopher Columbus bashing. There are certain historians and politicians who for years have been bullying history text book authors to “tell the truth” about Columbus. In other words, Columbus should no longer be celebrated for his discovery of America but rather he should be condemned for his plundering and butchering of the Indians.
Fortunately, these Columbus bashers have failed in their attempts to rewrite history. The textbook publishers are no idiots; they write books to make money, and, thankfully, the school boards in charge of adopting the textbooks prefer that Columbus be shown as a positive figure in our history. After all, we have enough cynics in this country; do we really want to mass produce them from the high schools?
Now, I don’t care what they teach at the university level. The students are old enough to investigate the “truth” for themselves anyway. There are enough existing primary sources to get a pretty good idea of what Columbus was doing here. I just don’t like the idea of school children growing up thinking that our country was discovered by a bunch of murdering, gold hungry scoundrels.
Another component to the Columbus bashing includes the ever-popular denial of Columbus’s discovery of America. Yes, yes, we all know he initially made landfall in the West Indies. Big deal. Get over it. So I was thrilled when my Psychology of Education professor told one of my Columbus bashing history buddies that he had “obviously fallen victim to contemporary politics” after making such a claim.
My friend’s jaw dropped to the floor. He was so used to professors giving him that “yes, my clever little puppet” smile whenever an attack on Columbus was made. I, on the other hand, giggled and squirmed, and resisted the urge to bow down before my professor and kiss his genuine leather boots.
I've been so insanely busy during the last few weeks that it's been impossible to sit down and write something that doesn't have to be turned in for a grade. But, at the same time, I've missed writing for the sake of writing and the therapeutic advantages that go along with spilling one's thoughts onto paper (err pixels).
The last few weeks have been an exhausting rollercoaster ride consisting of summits of exhilaration and valleys of doubt--some days I'm thrilled to be entering the world of pedagogy, while other days I'm filled with crushing uncertainty at best and downright terror at worst. But I keep reminding myself that I've made a noble career choice, and I frequently reflect on the encouraging moments that have happened thus far.
The moment of the week may not seem like a big deal to anyone reading this, but for me the experience was like an intoxicating elixir that charged my spirits. For weeks I've observed this kid (Gabe) sitting in the corner of the classroom staring, blank faced, at nothing in particular. He never participates in class discussions; if asked a question he normally shrugs and glances at someone in the group to come to his rescue.
On this particular day, Mr. Leonard instructed the students to draw a vertical line down the center of a blank sheet of paper and write "problem" on one side and "solution" on the other. They were then directed to read several pages in the text that discussed issues faced by the American colonists and then list them accordingly.
Simple, right? No, not for everyone. For many, it took several explanations. And for Gabe, well, he just wasn't interested. At least that was the impression I got. I passed by his desk several times and his page was still blank. Finally, I decided enough was enough. I was going to get this kid to do something, even if I had to force the pencil into his hand and poke his skull with a ruler.
I pulled up a chair beside him and sat down. After a few minutes of re-explaining the assignment and asking him questions to make sure he understood, I finally got him to draw the chart. We read the first paragraph together and I spotted one of the problems the colonists faced: the dreaded Stamp Act, which forced colonists to pay a tax to have an official stamp put on wills, deeds, newspapers, etc. And the solution: the colonists boycotted British manufactured goods and the Brits responded by repealing the act.
I kept this info to myself, of course, and asked Gabe if he could locate the problem and the solution himself. To my wondrous delight, he pointed his finger to the word "tax" and asked if that was a problem. Resisting the urge to say, "You're damn right it's a problem," I nodded and proceeded to explain it every which way I could until the word "tax" tasted like blood in my mouth and dripped like blood from Gabe's ears.
Then we came to the solution. And I was surprised to learn that he didn't understand what the word "boycott" meant. Epiphany: Vocabulary is an issue with this kid. Yo comprendo now. So I had a fun time explaining the word, and as a way of making it more relevant to him I asked if he remembered what we (Americanos) did when we found out the French weren't going to support our decision to go to war with Iraq. He responded with a big smile and said, "Freedom fries!" I nodded and said, "You're absolutely right. And we boycotted French wine, French cheese, and French poodles."
He smiled again, and I downed another shot of that magic elixir.
In Mr. Leonard's world history class the kids are learning about democracy. In order to understand the concept better, they were assigned an activity in which they were to create their own government.
"Imagine that you're shipwrecked on a deserted, uncharted island," Mr. Leonard began. "There's no chance of being rescued, so you all need to work together to build a community."
"Are you on the island, too?" asked a girl in the front row.
"Nope. It's just you guys out there. Now, you'll have forty-five minutes to make a flag--you can use the board if you'd like--and then decide on who's going to hunt and gather food, cook the food--"
"The girls can do that!" shouted a husky boy in a football jersey.
"Okay, listen guys," Mr. Leonard spoke over the laughter and protests. "You guys need to figure this stuff out for yourselves. Who's gonna fish, who's gonna explore the rest of the island, care for the ill. What rules will there be on your island, and what are the punishments. All these things you guys need to decide. And remember, I'm not here. So off you go!"
Immediately, several of the more boisterous kids stood up and raced to the whiteboard. Sean, a tall black kid, started drawing the outline for a flag, while Tom and Angela were arguing over who was going to come up with the island rules. A small group of students gathered around these three, but the majority of the class remained in their seats and watched passively.
As the forty-five minutes clicked by, the level of noise rose and the arguments flourished.
"Who wants to be president?" "Why can't there be a committee?" "If you vote for me I'll give you a dollar!"
"I wanna be treasurer." "But there's no money."
"I wanna be the cook, so I can poison y'all."
"Hey, everyone's guilty until proven guilty!"
"There's no jail, so if you get in a fight we're gonna kill you." "Yeah, we'll throw you off the mountain."
"Everyone's gonna die cuz we gotta sucky doctor!"
"No, we don't have no women executers." "If you kill someone, you're getting hung!"
A short kid yelled out, "If you're taller than six-five we're choppin' off your legs!"
By the end of the forty-five minutes, the kids had a rainbow colored flag with a swastika in the middle. A list of rules proclaimed that people who were found guilty of any crimes would have their hair cut off and be tossed into the volcano. The really bad ones would get "hung." Only girls cooked, but the guys would hunt and then lay around all day. Gay people would be fed to the sharks.
"Alright, guys," Mr. Leonard said, shaking his head sadly. "In the last forty-five minutes you guys returned to the stone ages."
He then proceeded to criticize their barbaric government. He explained how a proper democracy was supposed to work and how it meant that people had the right to vote in their leaders. He pointed out how the majority of the class didn't even participate in the forming of the government and compared them to the millions of people who failed to vote in America.
"So do they have a right to argue and complain about the government?" Mr. Leonard asked.
"NO!" shouted several students.
"You're right. Each of us has the right to vote, but if we don't exercise that right then we have no business complaining about the things we don't like about our government. Now, as you guys have learned, forming a democracy is hard work. It's tough getting everyone to agree. So you should appreciate what we have in America. Now, remember that when you're old enough to vote."
I remember clearly the day I decided I'd had enough of retail and chose to go back to school. Although I can't recall if it was a specific incident that spurred the decision (it was probably a culmination of all the horrible episodes one experiences in retail), I do remember the fear, anxiety, and doubt that went along with the decision.
While the money wasn't too bad at Swatch, and the advancement opportunities were definitely there, I just wasn't happy in my job; and I couldn't foresee that ever changing. I owed it to myself to do something that didn't make me feel completely worthless at the end of the day.
So I chose to return to school to become a history teacher.
It was a pretty quick decision: I thought it over for a couple of weeks before giving my district manager a two months notice. Still, my final days at Swatch were a mix of enthusiasm and intense fear of the drastic change ahead. I was going back to school at thirty-two years old. And although my friends and family were all very supportive, the fear and doubt in the pit of my stomach never really let up.
Nevertheless, I decided to devote all my energy to school. I made it the priority in my life--even over writing, which was painful since writing is my ultimate love. I sat in the front of all my classes, took copious notes, never missed a class, and after four semesters I had a perfect GPA to go along with my diploma. And on graduation day, I knew it had all been worth it.
Now I'm in the final stretch: the credential program for teachers. And with the program comes a whole new sort of anxiety and fear. The prospect of coming up with unique lesson plans and executing them before a class of forty high school kids, a master teacher, and a Fresno State supervisor has turned my stomach into fiery knots. I literally wake up in the middle of the night drenched in fear. Little voices inside my head shriek: "Go back to Swatch" "Retail's not that bad" "Escape before you make a complete fool of yourself!"
But then I tune out those cowardly voices, and I tell myself: This is it--the final leg of the journey I set out on three years ago. I have to suck it up and get over my fear of failure. Even if I screw up a little, the kids will never know; and my master teacher and supervisor understand what I'm going through because they've been down this same road.
The key is to remain confident and to keep my focus. If I devote the same amount of energy that I put into my classes into my lesson plans and on my delivery then I can expect an equal amount of success.
Now if I can only figure out how to slow down my heart rate and stop my hands from trembling.
In Honor of Stupid People... In case you needed further proof that the human race is doomed through stupidity, here are some actual label instructions on consumer goods. On a Sears hairdryer -- Do not use while sleeping. (That's the only time I have to work on my hair.)
On a bag of Fritos -- You could be a winner! No purchase necessary. Details inside. (the shoplifter special?)
On a bar of Dial soap -- "Directions: Use like regular soap." (and that would be???....)
On some Swanson frozen dinners -- "Serving suggestion: Defrost." (but, it's just a suggestion.)
On Tesco's Tiramisu dessert (printed on bottom) -- "Do not turn upside down." (well...duh, a bit late, huh!)
On Marks &Spencer Bread Pudding -- "Product will be hot after heating." (...and you thought????...)
On packaging for a Rowenta iron -- "Do not iron clothes on body." (but wouldn't this save me time?)
On Boot's Children Cough Medicine -- "Do not drive a car or operate machinery after taking this medication." (We could do a lot to reduce the rate of construction accidents if we could just get those 5 year-olds with head-colds off those bulldozers.)
On Nytol Sleep Aid -- "Warning: May cause drowsiness." (...I'm taking this because???....)
On most brands of Christmas lights -- "For indoor or outdoor use only." (as opposed to what?)
On a Japanese food processor -- "Not to be used for the other use." (now, somebody out there, help me on this. I'm a bit curious.)
On Sainsbury's peanuts -- "Warning: contains nuts." (talk about a news flash)
On an American Airlines packet of nuts -- "Instructions: Open packet, eat nuts." (Step 3: say what?)
On a child's Superman costume -- "Wearing of this garment does not enable you to fly." (I don't blame the company. I blame the parents for this one.)
On a Swedish chainsaw -- "Do not attempt to stop chain with your hands or genitals." (Oh my God...was there a lot of this happening somewhere?)
