On Awkwardness and Absentia ... and Sophomore Slumps

"Sophomore Slump" is a term I learned about as a sports fan--where the baseball Rookie of the Year isn't as good his second season as he was his first. Well, you don't really have to be the Rookie of the Year. Backing up, you don't have to be a sports fan to understand what a sophomore slump would be. And its application here, well, all I need to say is that I AM a second-year teacher. And last week, well, last week we had assessments in all of my classes, and the results brought back a lot of first-year thoughts and emotions centered around inadequacy. All in all, I thought, the kids are nicer this year, they're on my case less, we're at each other's throats less ... But they're still not learning and so I still suck. I wasn't the Rookie of the Year last year, you see, but I had thought this year was going much better than last year. And I still do, I still do. But ... plenty of room for growth. P-L-E-N-T-Y.

Poor test results aren't the whole reason for this latest bout of melancholy. There's also just ... the lack of discipline and routine that would allow me to participate more meaningfully in this MtBOS community. I'm glad for this "Exploring the MTBOS" series of challenges that I've signed up for, if only because it will force me to get back in the habit of blogging. Basically, the intense nature of September-October has kept me from spending a lot of time backing up and gaining perspective on my teaching. That is, not only am I not doing a lot of blogging, but I'm also not doing a lot of reflecting. It's just--"shit, tomorrow's seven hours away--what am I doing tomorrow?" Repeat four times and a week has passed. Repeat 24 times and the calendar has turned another page. It's moving much faster this year than last, but I still often feel reactive rather than proactive, and as somebody who is currently listening to the Seven Habits of Highly Effective People  (proactivity is Habit #1) on audio repeatedly, that is not as it should be.

Having said all that (vomiting all that uncertainty and inadequacy onto paper), I will happily turn my attention to something that has happened in my classroom over the last 10-14 days that has been unique, and fun, and there is the potential for more of it. This is my class within a class: Awkward 101.

See, it developed that ... well, a number of things. First of all, I'm just kind of an awkward dude. A lot of times there are conversational pauses that I just am too oblivious (or lazy or complacent) to fill. "It's your turn to say something," my friends will say. Anyway, these moments would find their way into my classroom with regularity. Last year and this year. Mornings and afternoons. Now, they occur in different ways at different times throughout the day. My afternoon class, for example, is an Algebra 1A class that's not about to have awkward silences in it--people are too damned busy making mischief (cringing just hearing myself). But there is awkwardness at the very beginning, when students walk in! One girl mentioned it ... helping to set off the epiphany I'm describing.

But the real awkwardness tends to happen in the morning. There, I have a big class--38 kids in the room, for which I get some extra compensation. And yet, it's one of the better classes I've had; pretty focused, pretty attentive, pretty eager to learn. But then, in that environment, the awkward silences are born. They are born, and they fill up the room. I need to pause to get the computer working. I am waiting for the projector to come on. And for a minute, the whole room is waiting for something. And my mind is just going crazy with frustration and thoughts of I should be saying this, or I should have a funny story, or ... just crazy. Cray-cray.

And at some point, about two weeks ago, I just mentioned it. One of those moments was happening, and I said something like, "You know, it's alright. It's an awkward moment, but that's all it is. It will pass. Just breathe, focus on your breathing. A little awkward, but not the end of the world."

It was beautiful. A few kids smiled. And it was all true--it was just an awkward moment. It did pass! I was saying it to myself as much as I was saying it to my students, but it was probably just as vital to both of us--we all needed to hear it. Thank God for giving me the inspiration to say it! Oh that I could stay in touch with this thread, and follow it!

That is where "Awkward 101" was born. A few days later I was suggesting that I will be teaching this "class within a class" on the art of being awkward. I suggested "Awkward Homework: Wait for a moment where you are expected to say something, and then ... don't say anything!"

Whenever I talk about awkwardness, it's beautiful because I am invested with an authority that I always lack everywhere else. I am MUCH more of an authority on awkwardness than I am on anything else--and the kids know it--and they respect it! They're like, "Oh damn, he's talking about awkwardness--I'm going to wake up and pay attention to what he has to say!"

This all sounds like over-the-top self-deprecation, and it is partly that--that is one of my things. But there is more to it than that. I have read a lot of spiritual essays, quotes, and even books about living in the moment. I've gobbled it up, I've said, "Yes! That's it! I've got to live in the moment more!" but I've had no idea how to put that into practice. And here ... well ...

Is it possible that awkwardness is the thing we must meet and step through in order to live in the moment? And if so, can we pull it off? How do we do so? What are the ways in which we avoid doing so? Is their a gold mine waiting to be tapped if we can live in that awkward place--can I pitch a tent there, can I live there and teach from there?

That's what I've got going. And that is all I have to say about that.