Precious, my student
Last night, I finally watched the movie Precious, directed by Lee Daniels, based off the novel Push by Sapphire. I knew the basic plot: Precious, 16, is abused (verbally, emotionally, physically, and sexually) by her father and mother and has some teachers and other people that help her survive and rise above. I was pretty prepared to cry throughout the movie, and I did. How could you not cry? What I wasn't prepared for was the film pointing my thoughts toward my students, past and future.
I know inevitably that I will teach students who will have parts of Precious' story as theirs. In fact, I'm certain I already have in my short time as a teacher. I've had a student whose parents pulled knives on each other in front of 30 people; I've had a student who's dad isn't allowed on campus because he got a DUI on the middle school campus. Yep, there's more, some less offensive and some more, known and unknown. That's a scary part about teaching, who you'll come in contact with, adult or child.
(Spoiler Alert, I think) In the movie, Precious got sent to an alternative school because she was a 16 year old middle school-er and pregnant with her second child from her father. Her teacher, played by the lovely Paula Patton, pushed Precious to find worth in herself. Ms. Rain (Patton) helped begin the undoing of all the damage done to Precious her whole life. She spoke love, truth, and worth into Precious all while helping her learn how to read, write, and do math. That's a lot. That's the thing about teaching that they don't teach you in school. I'm not just teaching children how to be musicians, which is, in and of itself, a privilege, I'm teaching them how to be human. Parents, good or bad, aren't the only people who have a heavy influence on their child's future; knowing that my classroom will be one of the only safe places a student has is a heavy responsibility. I had a student tell me he liked the bandroom because it was a nice place, soon after his mom busted in and (almost made me pee myself out of sheer terror) yell at him and embarrass him for no other reason than she's just like that. To know that my classroom will be the only place where some children feel successful and safe is heavy. I want them to feel they are good at something, even if society puts no value on the arts. In Precious, Ms. Rain asked Precious what she was good at, Precious couldn't think of anything and after some prodding Precious figured she was good at cooking. I've had and will have students like that. My job, then, isn't to just teach them music, it's to hold a mirror up to them and unveil all the worth and good that's been overgrown by the bad and lies.
To call a teacher a glorified babysitter is like calling a child 'just a tax break', 'just a mistake', 'just a money pit', 'just a burden'; teachers, the good ones, help students see what's worthy in themselves, they help undo the words of "not good enough" society pins on seemingly every child. As a teacher, a young one at that, I feel the burden and blessing of helping students realize their purpose and potential. What an honor.
I know inevitably that I will teach students who will have parts of Precious' story as theirs. In fact, I'm certain I already have in my short time as a teacher. I've had a student whose parents pulled knives on each other in front of 30 people; I've had a student who's dad isn't allowed on campus because he got a DUI on the middle school campus. Yep, there's more, some less offensive and some more, known and unknown. That's a scary part about teaching, who you'll come in contact with, adult or child.
(Spoiler Alert, I think) In the movie, Precious got sent to an alternative school because she was a 16 year old middle school-er and pregnant with her second child from her father. Her teacher, played by the lovely Paula Patton, pushed Precious to find worth in herself. Ms. Rain (Patton) helped begin the undoing of all the damage done to Precious her whole life. She spoke love, truth, and worth into Precious all while helping her learn how to read, write, and do math. That's a lot. That's the thing about teaching that they don't teach you in school. I'm not just teaching children how to be musicians, which is, in and of itself, a privilege, I'm teaching them how to be human. Parents, good or bad, aren't the only people who have a heavy influence on their child's future; knowing that my classroom will be one of the only safe places a student has is a heavy responsibility. I had a student tell me he liked the bandroom because it was a nice place, soon after his mom busted in and (almost made me pee myself out of sheer terror) yell at him and embarrass him for no other reason than she's just like that. To know that my classroom will be the only place where some children feel successful and safe is heavy. I want them to feel they are good at something, even if society puts no value on the arts. In Precious, Ms. Rain asked Precious what she was good at, Precious couldn't think of anything and after some prodding Precious figured she was good at cooking. I've had and will have students like that. My job, then, isn't to just teach them music, it's to hold a mirror up to them and unveil all the worth and good that's been overgrown by the bad and lies.
To call a teacher a glorified babysitter is like calling a child 'just a tax break', 'just a mistake', 'just a money pit', 'just a burden'; teachers, the good ones, help students see what's worthy in themselves, they help undo the words of "not good enough" society pins on seemingly every child. As a teacher, a young one at that, I feel the burden and blessing of helping students realize their purpose and potential. What an honor.
Comments
Post a Comment