Overload of Empathy
I had an excellent student in my English 101 class last spring. She has a son who is also at Tech. He's in an Eng 155 class I teach this term.
He's doing ok in the class. Sure, he laughs at my jokes, but otherwise he doesn't really participate.
One day he came in with his arm in a cast. Apparently, he had missed the previous class due to being too damn drunk and hitting a wall with his hand. Hence, the cast. That was my first clue.
Now, in this classroom, the students don't pass by my desk on the way in. Therefore, I can't sniff him out like the damned bloodhound I am. I don't do anything more than announce loudly that said student entering the class is stoned and/or drunk, and I've never failed to be accurate about it(oh, and I also ask if the student in question drove...nobody drives home drunk if I am aware of it). Hell, I even have had two students sitting at the desk for tutoring, and I've told them: you drank last night...it's STALE alcohol smell, not fresh. You drank so much that it's still coming out of your pores. And yes, I've been right both times. My sense of smell can differentiate from fresh alcohol/I am now drunk and stale alcohol/I was drunk. I have no idea if the son is drinking and coming to class, or getting stoned and coming to class, but given new evidence it's likely.
His mother tracked me down today. She knows I can't tell her anything specific gradewise or attendance wise about her son due to information rules. However, she also is just itching for SOME kind of information about her son because she's worried. She found out all sorts of things, drug related, of which I won't detail. In short, she knows her son is starting the mad spiral downwards.
I feel for her, especially as a parent. I wish her son would come and talk to me...not like I can do shit, but once in a while somebody who is not in the picture can help out in ways others can't. You're witnessing my problem here: my desire, even though currently I'm overwhelmed with too much to do, for this boy to come and seek me out. I already counsel numerous students. I already come to school early and leave late helping them both with classes and their personal life. I can't help it...I want to assist people if they come to me for help. Sometimes, I feel like crying out, "SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!! I'm worried about my son having a cold, if I can grade my papers in time, will I be able to pay the bills, is the cat ok, can I see Alex next weekend, will the ex continue to be agitated about Alex, is Ari doing ok in spelling, is my sister hanging in there or do I need to start planning out a way to get her out of the house for a bit so she can proceed with life, do I have the girl scouts' next project put together for the meeting? etc." But I don't. I really DO want to help. It makes me feel useful, and it's just that sometimes I'm a little too stressed to be patient and kind. I have a couple of students who are SO NEEDY that I am being drained dry, but I would worry about them even if they didn't talk to me, so oh well.
Like student Z I mentioned a while back (the one who had been sexually assaulted by another tech student). She's pregnant. I am very agitated about the choice of fathers there. I can read the signs, but I sure as hell am not going to tell her what to do. Like my therapist did to me: I won't tell anybody when to leave or when to stay unless they're having the tar beaten out of them. That's another matter entirely. That's when I arrive with the Uhaul and say, load 'em up! We're going! Anyway, Z still comes into this one class and sits next to me while I finish up teaching it. She feels safe around me. We talk about babies and pregnancies and how she really needs to wait until after the baby is born to see how her fiance reacts to the newborn. I told her: last thing your baby needs is a crap father role model and a miserable mom who is always on the bad end of the stick with the husband because you rushed this thing. A baby isn't a reason to get married.
You know what I fear? I fear what I've seen several teen mothers do: "You told me it would never work! I'm gonna make it work! Damnit! I'm gonna DEFY you! I'm gonna SHOW you we can be married and raise this baby and I don't care HOW miserable I am, I'm gonna SHOW you, and NOBODY can tell me 'I told you so' 'cause I'm gonna make sure this sucker WORKS!" Her fiance is acting nice now. He's done this before and always reverted to "jackass." Worried? Yes, yes, of course I'm worried. Can I stop helping her? Of course not. I thrive on the overload of empathy.
But back to the mother.
There were tears in her eyes as she described things to me her son had done or was doing. I wrung my hands and wondered what to do because she also told me I couldn't TELL the boy I knew all this stuff. That means I have to hope he comes to me on his own, and I doubt he will. So I fret.
And I remember the mother's tears.
And I know that the teen years sprawl out ahead of me, and I wonder, will I make bad choices as a parent that will leave my children with options I wish they didn't think they had to take? Will I one day be the student coming up to a professor and silently pleading for help while stating, "I know you can't tell me anything about my son's performance, but let me tell YOU what he's been doing and why he's been arrested..."
Soft, squishy heart. That's me. It's why I couldn't become a vet. It's why I carry my work home with me, even if there are no papers to grade.
It's a good thing I'm not actually the goddess Alex claims I am. I'd run around with a magical wand....
POOF! No, you can't have more children until you ask my permission. First, find a decent guy, THEN you can ask.
POOF! Oopsie, now whenever you try and DRINK, you'll just throw it up. Alcohol will be repulsive to you.
POOF! You know what? Your friends took a poll and NOT ONE OF US EVEN SLIGHTLY FINDS ANYTHING REDEEMING IN YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHER. Therefore, he/she is disintegrated. From now on, we get to vote on whether or not you can date somebody since you are incapable of picking out said person on your own.
POOF! Yeah, sorry about that urge to rape you once had that's been replaced by an urge to wear women's pink panties and constantly sing showtunes from "The Sound of Music"
POOF! Ok, so you think it's cool to put down others who came from a more rural/less educated/more poor background than you. Wow, lookie there, you now talk like Larry the Cable Guy except you're not funny, and you break out into a rash whenever you wear clothes that weren't bought at Wal-Mart! Sucks to be you!
POOF! Man, all you can do is live vicariously through others, gossip, and slander. Ok, for you, you're now a deaf mute. Enjoy!
Yeah, it's a good thing I'm not Goddess of Planet Earth...
...I think...
He's doing ok in the class. Sure, he laughs at my jokes, but otherwise he doesn't really participate.
One day he came in with his arm in a cast. Apparently, he had missed the previous class due to being too damn drunk and hitting a wall with his hand. Hence, the cast. That was my first clue.
Now, in this classroom, the students don't pass by my desk on the way in. Therefore, I can't sniff him out like the damned bloodhound I am. I don't do anything more than announce loudly that said student entering the class is stoned and/or drunk, and I've never failed to be accurate about it(oh, and I also ask if the student in question drove...nobody drives home drunk if I am aware of it). Hell, I even have had two students sitting at the desk for tutoring, and I've told them: you drank last night...it's STALE alcohol smell, not fresh. You drank so much that it's still coming out of your pores. And yes, I've been right both times. My sense of smell can differentiate from fresh alcohol/I am now drunk and stale alcohol/I was drunk. I have no idea if the son is drinking and coming to class, or getting stoned and coming to class, but given new evidence it's likely.
His mother tracked me down today. She knows I can't tell her anything specific gradewise or attendance wise about her son due to information rules. However, she also is just itching for SOME kind of information about her son because she's worried. She found out all sorts of things, drug related, of which I won't detail. In short, she knows her son is starting the mad spiral downwards.
I feel for her, especially as a parent. I wish her son would come and talk to me...not like I can do shit, but once in a while somebody who is not in the picture can help out in ways others can't. You're witnessing my problem here: my desire, even though currently I'm overwhelmed with too much to do, for this boy to come and seek me out. I already counsel numerous students. I already come to school early and leave late helping them both with classes and their personal life. I can't help it...I want to assist people if they come to me for help. Sometimes, I feel like crying out, "SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!! I'm worried about my son having a cold, if I can grade my papers in time, will I be able to pay the bills, is the cat ok, can I see Alex next weekend, will the ex continue to be agitated about Alex, is Ari doing ok in spelling, is my sister hanging in there or do I need to start planning out a way to get her out of the house for a bit so she can proceed with life, do I have the girl scouts' next project put together for the meeting? etc." But I don't. I really DO want to help. It makes me feel useful, and it's just that sometimes I'm a little too stressed to be patient and kind. I have a couple of students who are SO NEEDY that I am being drained dry, but I would worry about them even if they didn't talk to me, so oh well.
Like student Z I mentioned a while back (the one who had been sexually assaulted by another tech student). She's pregnant. I am very agitated about the choice of fathers there. I can read the signs, but I sure as hell am not going to tell her what to do. Like my therapist did to me: I won't tell anybody when to leave or when to stay unless they're having the tar beaten out of them. That's another matter entirely. That's when I arrive with the Uhaul and say, load 'em up! We're going! Anyway, Z still comes into this one class and sits next to me while I finish up teaching it. She feels safe around me. We talk about babies and pregnancies and how she really needs to wait until after the baby is born to see how her fiance reacts to the newborn. I told her: last thing your baby needs is a crap father role model and a miserable mom who is always on the bad end of the stick with the husband because you rushed this thing. A baby isn't a reason to get married.
You know what I fear? I fear what I've seen several teen mothers do: "You told me it would never work! I'm gonna make it work! Damnit! I'm gonna DEFY you! I'm gonna SHOW you we can be married and raise this baby and I don't care HOW miserable I am, I'm gonna SHOW you, and NOBODY can tell me 'I told you so' 'cause I'm gonna make sure this sucker WORKS!" Her fiance is acting nice now. He's done this before and always reverted to "jackass." Worried? Yes, yes, of course I'm worried. Can I stop helping her? Of course not. I thrive on the overload of empathy.
But back to the mother.
There were tears in her eyes as she described things to me her son had done or was doing. I wrung my hands and wondered what to do because she also told me I couldn't TELL the boy I knew all this stuff. That means I have to hope he comes to me on his own, and I doubt he will. So I fret.
And I remember the mother's tears.
And I know that the teen years sprawl out ahead of me, and I wonder, will I make bad choices as a parent that will leave my children with options I wish they didn't think they had to take? Will I one day be the student coming up to a professor and silently pleading for help while stating, "I know you can't tell me anything about my son's performance, but let me tell YOU what he's been doing and why he's been arrested..."
Soft, squishy heart. That's me. It's why I couldn't become a vet. It's why I carry my work home with me, even if there are no papers to grade.
It's a good thing I'm not actually the goddess Alex claims I am. I'd run around with a magical wand....
POOF! No, you can't have more children until you ask my permission. First, find a decent guy, THEN you can ask.
POOF! Oopsie, now whenever you try and DRINK, you'll just throw it up. Alcohol will be repulsive to you.
POOF! You know what? Your friends took a poll and NOT ONE OF US EVEN SLIGHTLY FINDS ANYTHING REDEEMING IN YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHER. Therefore, he/she is disintegrated. From now on, we get to vote on whether or not you can date somebody since you are incapable of picking out said person on your own.
POOF! Yeah, sorry about that urge to rape you once had that's been replaced by an urge to wear women's pink panties and constantly sing showtunes from "The Sound of Music"
POOF! Ok, so you think it's cool to put down others who came from a more rural/less educated/more poor background than you. Wow, lookie there, you now talk like Larry the Cable Guy except you're not funny, and you break out into a rash whenever you wear clothes that weren't bought at Wal-Mart! Sucks to be you!
POOF! Man, all you can do is live vicariously through others, gossip, and slander. Ok, for you, you're now a deaf mute. Enjoy!
Yeah, it's a good thing I'm not Goddess of Planet Earth...
...I think...
posted by Kira | 2:33 PM
12 Comments:
ah kira youll always be a goddess to us! and you can only help those ask for it, im glad he has you if he realises he needs it though!
You are a Godess to me!
And you always seem to use my magic wand :D It works only in your hands...
No, you should be Goddess...I really, really think so. Isn't it amazing that once you've been around a drunk for a while, you do learn the difference between fresh and stale alcohol? It got to the point with dipshit that I could tell the difference between beer and liquor from ten feet away. Maybe that's why I read the "urge to rape is now the urge to wear pink panties" and thought of PB. It just seems appropriate.
Can I borrow your sterilization gun?
I agree with Amanda, you should be the Goddess. I'd be totally cool with trusting you to make those kind of decisions.
As a fellow teacher, I am so impressed with your dedication and love for your students. I can't imagine how amazing college would be for everyone if all teachers cared about their students the way that you do. I know it overwhelms you to care that much, but I know you make a difference and clearly this is what you were meant to do.
Maybe at some point when the kid comes in reeking again, you can casually ask "everything ok? Need to chat for a bit or anything?" He can decline of course, but then he knows the door's open and that you recognized that things might not be ok in his world.
Heartbreaking, isn't it?
That's pretty powerful stuff. I don't know what I'd do if I were in your shoes, but I doubt I'd be as good at it as you are.
There is another lady in the blogsphere that has similar issues. She teaches at SMU. I think she is "The Professor" or "The Anonymous Professor" or something like that. It is an nteresting and probably unappreciateted world you live in.
In the case of your student with the substance problem, it sounds like you're presuming any intervention you make will have negative consequences. That's not necessarily the case. While you do have the ability to be forceful, mightn't it be possible for you to intervene in a way that won't drive the student off? I think you're the kind of person who wants to leave the situation better than you found it. Now, you know these people better than I do, so if you think there's nothing to be done, so be it. But don't you think there might be something you could say or do? Think about it.
POOF! Those without a conscience suddenly develop one and realize what they've done with their lives!
Have you seen "Intervention" yet??? I don't know which channel it's on. My sister taped it for me last week and we watched it on Sunday. Powerfull stuff. There was a male alcoholic, Howie, and a female heroin addict, (forgot her name). It was amazing to watch. Every action these people took before their intervention was to pursue their drug of choice. Both chose to seek help when it was offered. Then, after they had cleaned up, they were like new people.
I wish I hadn't had the experience that I did with addiction. Now, though, it's true. You CAN spot it a mile away.
First, I'm going to have to agree with the majority; YOU SHOULD BE A GODDESS with a magic wand. The world would be a better place.
Second, I need to give you many kudos. Being a teacher is one of the toughest jobs there is, in my opinion. Because it goes far beyond just teaching. You have to interact with people on a personal level many times. Especially when that teacher is someone like you with an open mind, good heart, and just all around wonderful person.
I understand how you must feel (I think). Because that day I went and had lunch with Ethan and heard what all of the kids had to say, my heart broke. I wanted to help them all by taking them out of their situations or take their saddness from them even if I had to bear it myself.
What do you do? Obviously it's the best you can which you hope is good enough. But Kira, time and time again I've said that you are truly such an amazing woman. With all that you have on your plate that gives you stress, you have 2 great children and a perfect man. You deserve only wonderful things and happiness. Giving is such a great gift not only to others but to yourself and you give so unselfishly. That, to me, is one of the best qualities a person can have.
You shouldn't be an English teacher, you should teach a class on how to be a good person.
the fact that you care and try makes you goddess enough for me
as far as i am concerned, you are a goddess. your caring and compassion for others is like none i have ever seen. now if we could just work on getting you that magic wand you so deserve! :)
Sometimes, being the caring person is harder than being the fool you care about. Save some kind thoughts for yourself. You cannot cure 'em all; pick some, and let the others go. You deserve some non-fret time for yourself. This will be hard, because of who you are, but you gotta be well, too.
Everybody! Thank you for the overwhelming number of compliments...I am flushing now, and that's a rare sight to see (ask Alex!). I have no idea how to respond to so many nice things. Even April--whose job is my official Ego Feeder--outdid herself this time. Still flushing, guys...
I guess the only thing to say is "thank you!"
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