december 5, 2000. Today has been rather demoralising. And I'll tell you why… At the end of my supervised lesson on Friday, I gave the students a one-page paper to write listing similarities between Jay Gatsby and the mono-myth theory of Joseph Campbell. Yesterday I collected the results: 20 papers out of a class of 36. Huh. 4 of those papers were summary with no mention of the theory at all (although lots of energy had been expended in talking about Gatsby as a cultural hero.) I set those papers aside and resolved to discover if these students really understood the assignment. First thing I see when I walk into class was a girl who had written one of the four exclusions. When she was done getting help with her essay, I beckoned her over & explained that although her paper was well-written, it wasn't quite what I was looking for. Did she understand the lesson? "I didn't understand it," she said. "A lot of people didn't." Ouch. So we worked together for 20 minutes or so, and she left for first class. During 3rd period she approached me with a re-written paper that was another plot summary. So I pulled out an example from the other class and read it to her. Finally, a lightbulb appeared to go on over her head. "I understand it now," she said. "But a lot of people didn't write papers because they didn't understand it." Well, fine. Of the 20 papers I received, a dozen were excellent. In fact, only a few people seemed to have trouble with it. I know that she was making a defensive comment that really had little to do with the actual performance of the class; still, it stung. This class convened in 4th. When I put the question to the class, they were pretty vocal about not understanding it. So we spent 20 minutes going over the lesson again, using Hamlet as an example. Then I read them a successful paper from the other class, to illustrate what I wanted them to write me. And every kid who had claimed to be confused now assured me that they were okay with the lesson. Now. Am I a shitty teacher? I had thought that the lesson went okay. There were about 6 people who seemed to be helped by today's recapitulation, while the majority of the class seemed to talk about Hamlet with ease. Both classes of grade 11's did surprisingly well with a harder novel. Am I a shitty teacher? I just don't know. I came home & was all in the dumps about it. I called a bunch of people at home, cried a bit in the bedroom and ate most of a bag of vinegar chips. I don't feel any better. I think my car pool is beginning to tire of me. I think people at home are beginning to tire of me. I just don't know anymore. So I called Nic. I can't even remember why - I just thought that it would be a good idea. My brother spends quite a bit of time working with young teenagers in halfway houses and the like. His typical case is the 15-year-old male sex offender. He listened to my story and said flatly, "as long as you're learning from your mistakes, you don't have any problems." His vocabulary has expanded greatly in the short time I've been away, and I had a chance to tell him how sophistimacated he's sounding these days. I'm so pleased - I was considered the smart kid, so he let himself be defined otherwise. Now he's just blooming. I love it.