Monday, May 25, 2009
One of my colleagues has been working with a confident young student teacher. We’ll call the student teacher Fred. We’ll call him this because it’s his actual name. Fred was asked to deliver his final lesson. This was supposed to be his masterpiece, the lesson with which he would demonstrate everything he’d learned about education. Unbeknownst to young Fred, his master teacher had given the students a special set of instructions beforehand. She also asked the principal to drop by. He had also been given a special set of instructions. Fred had stayed up half the night preparing the mother of all English lessons. Nothing could have prepared the self-assured young student teacher for the nightmare he was about to experience. Fred began his brilliantly prepared lesson on existentialism. In accordance with the master teacher’s instructions, the students began talking on their cell phones, throwing things at each other, walking out of the room, laying on the floor and feigning sleep. It was a three ring circus. The principal pulled Fred out in hall and gave the verbally battered him into complete submission. The boss assured Fred that he would never get a job in his school district, that his name was Mud in Arizona. The master teacher, the principal, and the students had a blast executing the elaborate prank. The last time I saw the student teacher he was walking through the hallway muttering incoherently to himself.
Posted by #167 Dad at 10:25 AM