Hard as I try to forget about my day job during the days I’m off the clock, it’s simply too interesting to ignore. Two lessons for my teaching, then, drawn from experiences which had nothing whatsoever to do with teaching.
The worst kind of driver isn’t the left-lane slow-mover, the driver who doesn’t really get that, by convention, we drive in the right-most lane that can comfortably accommodate our speed, allowing hurried drivers to pass safely on the left. The worst kind of driver is the one that lags along in whatever lane she chooses, a steady stream of cars to her right preventing anyone from passing her. Once that stream dams up, though, rather changing lanes or allowing trailing drivers the opportunity to pass, she speeds up before slowing down again once she reaches another protective buffer of cars.
I’m trying to remain unconscious of the fact that my class is required for high school graduation, that I won’t suffer low enrollment and a possible layoff if word gets out that my class is a miserable slog – driving diligently, essentially, even though it isn’t required.
I landed Social Distortion’s “Story of My Life” with 100% accuracy on medium difficulty, which, whatever, it took me long enough, etc. My friend told me I couldn’t sandbag it any longer and I had to move to hard. I did. I landed 30% fewer notes on average. I had a lot more fun.
I don’t think the happiest students in my class, the happiest teachers at my school, are the most successful. I suppose it goes without saying that failure and satisfaction go hand-in-hand, to a certain extent.