My mother taught my brother and me at home until 1998, when
I was finishing 6th grade and Isaac was finishing 4th. My
parents separated that year, and both Isaac and I started public school in the
fall. I had attended I think a month or so of first grade (after which my
mother decided it wasn’t the best place for me to learn) and I believe two
weeks of fifth grade (after which I decided it wasn’t the best place for me to
learn) in public schools. I had just lost my identity as a family and my
identity as an alternative-schooler (and moved house twice in five months), so
for me a sharp identity-less panic was cast over the general malaise that is middle
school adolescence. *
Even while I was attempting to just keep my head down and
get good grades so no one would look at me and I could try to find some solid
mental ground to stand on, I was horrified by some of the things I found in public
middle school. Not that it was a bad school or that I had bad teachers. Many of
my teachers were good, a few of them were excellent and there is only one who I
would credit with increasing my anxiety. For one thing, I found that cliques
were real, even though every book or movie or anecdote I had ever heard of
seemed to prove that all cliques did was build walls between people who should
have enjoyed each other.
More than that, I found that I had trouble relating to how
the students learned. They were not used to having any control in their
learning, and so didn’t often seem to evaluate the worth of a piece of learning
outside of what it meant for their grade.
The experience that stands out most illustrating the
difference I felt between our minds was a lecture by the eighth grade Social Studies
teacher while I was in seventh grade. I don’t remember if it was just my grade
or the whole school that was required to attend, but I remember being sent
rather unexpectedly to the auditorium first thing in the morning instead of to
my first period class. This teacher was originally from Laos and he told us the
story of his family’s escape from their probable deaths in that country. I have
never been a morning person, or terribly fond of changes in my schedule without
my consent, so I don’t remember being thrilled to be in the auditorium at 8am
when I was expecting to be in Reading class but I was moved by the offer he was
making of such a personal experience. And I was impressed by the odds against
this kind of story coming to me in Ames, Iowa. So I resolved to thank him for
it.
I didn’t want to. I didn’t want his attention when I talked
to him. I didn’t want to have to talk to anyone. I didn’t really want anyone to
look at me. I just wanted to get through my classes so I could go back home.
But I finally convinced myself that, even if not because of the magnitude of
what he had offered, I had to thank him because everyone else would and I would
be the obvious one missing. So I
wrung my hands for a while when everyone was milling around in the cafeterias
afterwards and finally walked up and thanked him for what he had shared. He
said I was welcome, and I think said another warm-hearted thing, and then as
quickly as I could I made an awkward retreat.
A week or so later during a break in my Social Studies
class, my teacher asked me (in front of everyone) if that had been me who
thanked his colleague who had made that presentation. I said I had, and he
thanked me and said I had been The Only** student who had thanked him, and that
the presenter had been very moved that I had spoken to him.
Aside from this total backfire-- attention-wise-- of what I
had been trying to accomplish, I could not believe this. I could and can hear
some homeschool parent voices in my mind saying that public school kids don’t
have manners, but honestly I think those voices can be dismissed pretty
quickly. There were many students who were at least as worried about looking
good as I was, and many also who were genuinely kind people. Somehow this just
wasn’t personal for them, somehow they didn’t relate to him enough to want to
talk to him. Or, if they wanted to, some other social force stopped them.
*I realize this is more or less a demand for pity, but this
had a huge effect on the way that I experienced public school and I haven’t
found an honest way to talk about this phase of my education without it. It probably also made my opinion of middle school much more negative. Please
bear with me.
**I remember “The Only student”, and it may have been “one
of the only students” or “one of the only students who wasn’t in his own
classes.”
