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9 years ago
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Monday, June 11, 2007
Delusions of Grandeur
For about 3 years, I worked in Television. I wasn't a hot shot in the industry by any stretch of the imagination; I was at that point where you have to make a decision about your career: Am I going to stay here, working my way up the ranks and into a very comfortable lifestyle, or am I going to step out and hope for something grander.
I opted for the latter.
Several noteworthy accomplishments later, I find myself as a substitute teacher. Here is where the real delusions begin. My main gripe with the area of television I was working in was that there is no depth, no meaning. I felt like the imprint I was helping to leave on society damaged more individuals than it helped. What kind of person did that make me? I thought being a teacher of some sort was more noble. (This does not mean that I don't have any passion for creating in the entertainment field - but I prefer to do that independently.) Just over a month into my subbing career, I am already frustrated, to the near point of paralyzation. I have spent most of my time working in the inner cities - which is where I would like to be - but this is where the delusions come in. How many teachers, administrators, substitutes have come flying into the inner city, capes in tow, thinking that they could save the entire student body without wrinkling the "S" on their chests?
Was I one of these people? Did I really come in thinking that I would be able to penetrate the layers of generational oppression from a variety of sources and breathe new life into these young people, who, obviously, must be thirsting for a quality education at the hands of someone who has soooo much to offer? I want to believe that my intentions weren't naive at best, and arrogant at worst. But I am not sure.
This past week has been trying! I have had good days and bad days in the past - some students that really had a grasp on the value of education, and others who, for whatever reason, valid or not, couldn't care less about school. I have had to call security on more than one occassion. I have broken up fights. I have heard students no older than 12 and 13 discuss their jail time, and very generously offer advice into what judges were better, what halls they preferred, and who was "gonna get it" for snitching on them. Needless to say, my jaw stays on the floor. I was an African American studies major at UCLA. I have worked in Watts before. But nothing could prepare me for the hard and callous exterior of some of the students I have encountered. And now, I am left saying, "What should I do?" Where is Mr. Clark when you need him? I haven't been to fair East Side High yet, but some of the schools have seemed as scary to me. I don't want to tuck my tail and run, but I am left standing here, unsure of what to do and how to proceed.
Maybe what I really felt in the beginning, was the audacity of hope, as Barack Obama has put it so many times. But, while hope is a great thing and an impetus for change, it is not an action. And what I need right now is some tangible advice.
I opted for the latter.
Several noteworthy accomplishments later, I find myself as a substitute teacher. Here is where the real delusions begin. My main gripe with the area of television I was working in was that there is no depth, no meaning. I felt like the imprint I was helping to leave on society damaged more individuals than it helped. What kind of person did that make me? I thought being a teacher of some sort was more noble. (This does not mean that I don't have any passion for creating in the entertainment field - but I prefer to do that independently.) Just over a month into my subbing career, I am already frustrated, to the near point of paralyzation. I have spent most of my time working in the inner cities - which is where I would like to be - but this is where the delusions come in. How many teachers, administrators, substitutes have come flying into the inner city, capes in tow, thinking that they could save the entire student body without wrinkling the "S" on their chests?
Was I one of these people? Did I really come in thinking that I would be able to penetrate the layers of generational oppression from a variety of sources and breathe new life into these young people, who, obviously, must be thirsting for a quality education at the hands of someone who has soooo much to offer? I want to believe that my intentions weren't naive at best, and arrogant at worst. But I am not sure.
This past week has been trying! I have had good days and bad days in the past - some students that really had a grasp on the value of education, and others who, for whatever reason, valid or not, couldn't care less about school. I have had to call security on more than one occassion. I have broken up fights. I have heard students no older than 12 and 13 discuss their jail time, and very generously offer advice into what judges were better, what halls they preferred, and who was "gonna get it" for snitching on them. Needless to say, my jaw stays on the floor. I was an African American studies major at UCLA. I have worked in Watts before. But nothing could prepare me for the hard and callous exterior of some of the students I have encountered. And now, I am left saying, "What should I do?" Where is Mr. Clark when you need him? I haven't been to fair East Side High yet, but some of the schools have seemed as scary to me. I don't want to tuck my tail and run, but I am left standing here, unsure of what to do and how to proceed.
Maybe what I really felt in the beginning, was the audacity of hope, as Barack Obama has put it so many times. But, while hope is a great thing and an impetus for change, it is not an action. And what I need right now is some tangible advice.
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