I am still in the slightly-overdramatic juris doctor's class. Classes. They're intense but useful enough that it's worth killing myself to get through them. They're also bringing up a lot of uncomfortable stuff about my educational history, and how I handle a classroom environment.
I learn best when given as much information as possible right up front. I joke that I learn everything via cryptography, because that's actually the standard procedure you follow when trying to decrypt an unknown message in an unknown system: Gather as much cyphertext as possible, put it in a big pile, and then sit down and stare at it (or get a computer to stare at it) until patterns jump out. I often make better progress starting out in the advanced class, as I've done here, and then doubling back to the foundations course once I have some experience. Most beginner classes are streamlined and pared down until you're learning only the thing that is directly relevant at any given time, and I have a lot of trouble retaining anything if I don't have a "big picture" view to slot it into. On the other hand, I'm pretty baller at guessing background from context.
The downside of this is that nobody ever has to let me do it. The amount of trouble I cause varies. Sometimes I just need to ask the instructor for permission, sometimes there is an entire convoluted process involving paperwork that needs to be signed and countersigned, and some poor schmuck from IT has to go in and manually override the computer in four different places just to get me on the roster. Either way, it is always under special dispensation, and I am never quite at the intended level for the course material.
I try to compensate by not being that pain in the ass who continually asks questions outside the scope of the course. It's rude to interrupt the education of the other twenty people in the room to either get an explanation of something they all learned two years ago, or rope the instructor into a graduate-level discussion. I go to class, shut the hell up, learn everything I can, and go home and consult the internets if there's something I don't get. If Professor Google isn't helpful, I ask the instructor after class/during office hours. I figure if I'm getting something wrong, someone will eventually come by and correct me. If I'm doing fine I'll be left alone to cram things into my head in whatever way works best.
This has been my process for the past thirty-five years. And it does not work on the SOJD.
I don't technically know a lot of about his background, but applying some basic arithmetic to the career highlights he puts in his bios, he must have a history very similar to mine, where he was not just tracked into an ad hoc patchwork of gifted & talented programs, but often into programs that were intended for students several years his senior. Which means he almost certainly copped a lot of the same shit that I did. My favorite was always "follow your dreams, never give up on your passion!" followed ten minutes later by "put your hand down, we know you know" and "dear god, shut up, don't you have anything else to talk about?" from adults that don't understand the connection between perseverating on your interesting new skill and mastering it with breathtaking speed. One of the reasons I'm so adamant about keeping my head down is that it's historically been the only way to navigate the double-bind of 'you have to know everything or we won't let you keep signing up for the interesting stuff, but never let on that you know everything because it's socially unacceptable and makes other people feel bad'. Existing in a bubble where I only speak when spoken to and don't interact much with the rest of the class is the best way to suffer the fewest negative consequences.
The SOJD clearly loathes this paradigm. Now that he is in charge of the room, he is running the class he wants to be in. He solicits shout-out answers from the group. Being the biggest, fastest voice every time doesn't get that 'put it down' wave and an order to give other people a chance -- nor does it get you called to the front to demonstrate, which is the other thing I always disliked, because nothing makes the other eight-year-olds hate you quite like being deputized. One of his best features as an instructor is that he is very, very blunt with both corrections and praise. He's not mean, but there's no preamble and no hedging. He has eyes in the back of his head, and he does not play favorites. You get his feedback whether you're the loudest or the quietest in the room.
Outside of instruction is a different matter. I try not to worry too much about a teacher's personal opinion of me. There's 'instructor realized I am terrifyingly smart and now has no idea what to do', which means I need to cool my jets, and 'instructor isn't wasting a lot of time on me', which means I can keep doing what I'm doing. The teacher can feel however they want, obviously; they're human, too. But those two options are the only ones with any practical relevance to my behavior in the class.
I assumed that I was skating by on a solid Option #2, which I consider the best outcome. I don't have to worry about much, other than keeping my after-class questions in some sort of order. Until one day he shanghaied me on my way out and didn't want to let me leave until he had very specifically told me that I was doing brilliantly, picking things up incredibly quickly, and it was a joy to have me in his class.
This is the first time anyone has ever said that to my face, y'all. I will be forty next month, and I was in formal classes all the way through a four-year degree. I dimly recall a couple of early teachers saying it to my mother while I was around, because when you're five the adults like to talk about you right over the top of your head like your ears don't work. Once I got old enough they remembered that I understood English, teachers started mad underplaying their feedback on my work, and carefully expressing no opinion on my presence at all.
I don't recall how I reacted to this pronouncement. My mouth made the appropriate 'thank you' noises and I think I probably redirected to something I appreciated about his teaching methods, because deflecting is a great way to deal with gushing. But really my brain ran a Find... on how I'm supposed to deal with this and came up with 0/0 instances, because this just isn't a thing instructors have ever done. I feel squirrely enough when one of my reasons for finally signing up for a class I've been eyeing boils down to 'teacher seems neat'. Finding out the teacher has an opinion is so orthogonal to everything else that goes into that decision that I have a hard time deciding if it makes things better or worse. I almost feel like I'm doing something wrong by wanting to come down on the side of 'better'.
It's been repeated several times since. I don't know how usual it is for him; I haven't seen him gush quite as much over anyone (or anything) else, but I also don't follow him around and listen to all of his conversations, and there's a reason for the SO part of SOJD. He has done it in front of other people, so clearly he doesn't think it's strange or awkward. I get more of the same any time I make even the vaguest rumblings about wanting to continue in the course. Last week, I asked about his fall schedule and if he was cool continuing to hold a studio comp spot for me. He made this sort of celebratory squeak noise and... you know that thing people do in anime, where they press their knuckles to their cheeks under big glimmery eyes? I now know that humans can do that IRL. Or at least this one can.
You would think that being told things like 'you are a joy to have in my class' and 'you are always welcome', unprompted and in exactly those words, would silence all of the old alarm bells that say the teacher taking notice of me is a Bad Thing, but no. Brains are inconvenient like that. That lesson was banged into my head slowly and painfully over the course of a couple of decades, and it's probably not coming out again without a crowbar.
Comments
Post a Comment