Life can be a struggle at times to succeed at what you really want to do. I find that struggling is the norm for me. I look out across the room of students before me and all that is returned are faces filled with disinterest. That is, if they bother to even look at me at all. I think to myself, I have to find a way to reach them. However, how do you reach those who do not wish to be? One, two, three, four, five. Five heads down, eyes closed, the text unopened before them, or left turned to some far previous page. I do my best to get each of them back on track as the reading continues, but only one thought is racing through my mind: This is going badly. How do I recover?
I can’t answer that question. I’m not even sure I want to. Twice already I have changed everything in an effort to connect with them. What began as active antagonism toward everything has turned into a cold indifference. I couldn’t begin to say which of these things is actually worse to endure. Should I stiffen up and soldier on, hoping they become willing to change, or should I keep changing and trying? Is it simple teenage rebellion or am I somehow lacking something that they expect of a teacher? I have no way of knowing for sure.
Tomorrow is another day. As they leave class looking like desperate prisoners who are finally being allowed to see light again, one of them at least bids me a farewell greeting. Of course, he calls me “Mr. Teacher” rather than to actually use my name, and as I recall he was asleep but not twenty minutes before. I hope he had a good rest. I’m not sure how easy I’ll be able to sleep. I’m unsure of where things are going and how I should change them to suit their needs. I probably won’t be able to sleep a wink, let alone through an entire lecture. I can always hope that with each new day a breakthrough might present itself and everything can be turned around. Until then, I have to try. It’s all I can keep doing.