My first industrial arts class was in Grade 7 in a school in Mississauga. The teachers had us do this exercise where we wrote down our name and address in a drafting style. After a while I heard the teacher's voice behind me, saying, "Oh, that lettering! Oh, that numbering!" I realized that he was referring to my work, disapprovingly. (I never did see what was wrong with it.) There's a sort of teacher who starts off the year with a show of power, singling out one kid to impress the rest.
After class, I told him that I didn't like his approach. He responded, "If you want my sympathy..." --which wasn't exactly what I wanted-- "you'll have to be more polite to me." How was I being rude? "I asked you a question, and you answered 'Yeah.'" (The only polite answer being "Yes"...)
I told my parents about it, and wanted them to speak to this teacher, but they said, "We're going to have nothing to do with him because he's unreasonable!" (If he'd been reasonable, of course, there wouldn't have been any problem.) Their idea of a serious solution was that I should be absent from school every Monday afternoon to avoid his class. What they didn't understand was that I was afraid I'd get into trouble if I did that.
In the end, I failed that class. Big deal!
No comments:
Post a Comment