When I posted the FB status about this blog, I think I said something like, "And, if I don't feel like having a damn teachable moment, I'm not making it a damn teachable moment." There's a history behind that statement. The first part, most of you know about. The second part, I haven't told anyone until now.
The first part began in 2010 when some asshat "friend" reported my FB page to our college's anonymous ethics hotline. I had posted a link to a site called "Rate My Vajazzle" where you could actually rate vulvas and pubic mounds according to age group. (Apparently, after you hit 40, your hoo-ha is too old to rate). Anyway, the people who know me know exactly why I posted the link. It's not ridiculous enough that people are judging women by their faces, hair, and bodies all the time, but a website to judge the beauty of your vulva? Yeesh.
The ethics hotline report got me sent to the school attorney's office where she read the complaint to me. I was accused of distributing pornography. The attorney said she was a feminist and she understood why I posted the link, but told me that I should have made it a teachable moment and written exactly why the link was offensive and how it fit into a feminist sociological perspective. I didn't get any official sanctions, but left the office furious and defriended everyone from the college in a fit.
It's my FB. I use it for entertainment and to stay connected with friends. I teach 5 sections a semester (which is already ridiculous), write articles and manuals about teaching, and teach my kids every second I'm with them. I get tired of teaching. I don't want to make every single second of my life a teachable moment. Besides, the asshat who reported me was exercising some personal vendetta and wouldn't really care why I posted the link. (I still don't know who it was. And, there are still people who are trying to figure it out 2 years later).
The second part happened this summer. I got a scary racist rant from a former student (who was not a FB friend) in my FB mailbox, and I posted a status about it because it scared me. My friends came to my defense (of course) and posted some harsh words about this guy. Including insults and violence. How I handled the rant was I blocked the former student, didn't respond to him, and sent the message to the Vice President of Student Services. They actually took the rant very seriously, did research on the student, and brought him in for a meeting. After taking my class, he had taken History of the Holocaust, Modern European history, Modern Russian history, and started taking German. He agreed to go to counseling every week, but they judged him as stable and not dangerous.
Then I get a FB message from an old friend. She's about 25 years older than I am, and has known me since I was 14. She told me that if the student was in his late teens or early 20s that he may be showing early signs of schizophrenia and that the racist rants weren't his fault. She also told me to post on my page that the student could be schizophrenic and that the comments that my friends made about him were unwarranted. I told her to feel free to post it herself. She refused because she said she couldn't talk/discuss schizophrenia in a public space. She didn't say why. Just that she couldn't. I told her politely that my friends were defending me, and that I didn't really want to excuse the behavior of someone who had scared and insulted me. She then wrote this huge message about how I am an educator and I needed to take that situation and make it a teachable moment. That is was my responsibility as someone who had such a large audience. Basically a huge guilt trip.
You know what? Screw that.
If I am going to be the teacher, then I get to pick the moments. Not someone else. I can't champion every single cause in the world. And, I can't manage my emotions 24 hours a day. Sometimes I get mad. Sometimes I get scared. Why is it my responsibility if someone gets offended by my post? Why is it my responsibility to defend someone who threatened me? Yes. I am an educator. And, I decided that at a really early age. But, seriously. Stop telling me what and when I should teach. I get to choose my teachable moments. And, sometimes, you just have to throw up your hands and roll your eyes.
No comments:
Post a Comment