The weight of teaching
Jul. 14th, 2005 07:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
taylweaverOver the past few days, I have come to realize just how much responsibility teaching puts on my shoulders. On Monday, I had to grade papers for the first time. With math, this is not so difficult - the answer is either right or wrong, and the questions I asked did not really lend themselves to partial credit - though that will complicate things next time. But when grading essays, things get much harder. There is no objective way to say which paper is better than another. I tried to quantify it. I tried to use a rubric.
For those who don't know what a rubric is - I sometimes forget that it is not part of everyone's everyday vocabulary - just mine - it looks something like this:
Outline Organization
1 Missing Poor
2 Incomplete Getting there
3 Great Wonderful
But add a few more categories, and a better description for each number.
So I tried that system, but I realized it did not quite match with my idea of which students were writing "good" essays. And then I had to tweak the system. And I had to read each paper multiple times. And it took me hours.
After all that, I still end up feeling like some of my decisions were a bit arbitrary. And these possibly arbitrary decisions determine what grades some of my students got - the difference between an A and a B, a B and a C. This is a big responsibility.
But I have learned that teachers also bear a different kind of weight. Teachers get approached with many questions. Some of these questions reach beyond the realm of education.
Yesterday, a ten-year-old asked: "What's a suicide bomber?" She then added, "What's suicide? So-and-so told me I should know already."
Without really thinking, I answered something along the lines of: "Suicide is when a person kills themself. A suicide bomber is someone who wants to kill other people so badly that he is willing to kill himself along with them."
It was only afterward that I paused to think about whether or not I should have answered at all - though, upon reflection, I decided that if she was asking, I should answer. She knew the context - she asked me if I had heard about what happened in London - and she had read the phrase in a newspaper - I am guessing it was in a headline.
What to say after answering is an even tougher call. Do I reassure her? Do I tell her these are very bad people? I didn't say anything of substance. In retrospect, I think I should have asked how hearing the definition made her feel, what was going through her head. Maybe then I would have know what she needed to hear next.
I suppose teachers are not the only ones who face these questions and decisions. Parents do too, of course. But in some ways, it's more complicated as a teacher. For one thing, I have known my students for little more than a week. And then there are the parents themselves - if I make a bad decision, or a decision that they think is wrong, I have them to answer to.
For those who don't know what a rubric is - I sometimes forget that it is not part of everyone's everyday vocabulary - just mine - it looks something like this:
Outline Organization
1 Missing Poor
2 Incomplete Getting there
3 Great Wonderful
But add a few more categories, and a better description for each number.
So I tried that system, but I realized it did not quite match with my idea of which students were writing "good" essays. And then I had to tweak the system. And I had to read each paper multiple times. And it took me hours.
After all that, I still end up feeling like some of my decisions were a bit arbitrary. And these possibly arbitrary decisions determine what grades some of my students got - the difference between an A and a B, a B and a C. This is a big responsibility.
But I have learned that teachers also bear a different kind of weight. Teachers get approached with many questions. Some of these questions reach beyond the realm of education.
Yesterday, a ten-year-old asked: "What's a suicide bomber?" She then added, "What's suicide? So-and-so told me I should know already."
Without really thinking, I answered something along the lines of: "Suicide is when a person kills themself. A suicide bomber is someone who wants to kill other people so badly that he is willing to kill himself along with them."
It was only afterward that I paused to think about whether or not I should have answered at all - though, upon reflection, I decided that if she was asking, I should answer. She knew the context - she asked me if I had heard about what happened in London - and she had read the phrase in a newspaper - I am guessing it was in a headline.
What to say after answering is an even tougher call. Do I reassure her? Do I tell her these are very bad people? I didn't say anything of substance. In retrospect, I think I should have asked how hearing the definition made her feel, what was going through her head. Maybe then I would have know what she needed to hear next.
I suppose teachers are not the only ones who face these questions and decisions. Parents do too, of course. But in some ways, it's more complicated as a teacher. For one thing, I have known my students for little more than a week. And then there are the parents themselves - if I make a bad decision, or a decision that they think is wrong, I have them to answer to.
Re: Evil, Mental Illness, and OCD
Date: 2005-07-15 10:06 pm (UTC)I. It occurs to me that I would not want to call anyone evil - or bad or any word like that. Deeds are good and evil. People are people.
I'm not sure whether or not I have ever heard such a distinction (between moral charged actions vs. morally neutral people) made before. But I ask: would you actually not call anyone evil, or would you just "not want to call anyone evil" (as you wrote).
II. If I did, I would need to label entire cultures as mentally ill - such as those that practice female genital mutilation.
When you say that you would label whole cultures as "mentally ill", do you mean this as a metaphor (after all, cultures do not have literal minds), or do you literally believe in Carl Jung's idea of a collective unconscious?
And on the topic of genital mutilation: while we Westerners feel that female genital mutilation is disgusting and cruel, there are many people out there who believe that the (minor) genital mutilation that we Jews perform on newborn males is disgusting and evil. In fact, many of the anti-circumcision people might say that Judaism is a mentally ill culture. (And perhaps it is, at least some branches of it-- see below.)
By the way, I hope that Fuzzy Pink isn't reading this. Fortunately, there is no link to this blog from Fresh Samantha, and FS has told me that she doesn't follow this blog.
III. That having been said, I do know of at least one form of mental illness that is connected to religion. I believe it is called scrupulosity. It is one specific type of obsessive compulsive disorder, in which the obsessive compulsive thoughts/behaviors are connected to religious practice.
Hmmm (as you would say). If we are talkiŋ about illness of the "collective mind" of a culture, one might say that the entire of Ashkenazic Jewry, or at least Orthodox Ashkenazic Jewry, has this collective mental illness. Look all over the Mishna Verurah (yes, that beis/bet is supposed to be soft, because the previous word ends in an open vowel): "ובעל נפש יחמיר" (one who has a soul will be stringent, said about matters that are technically permitted), and "וירא שמים יצא ידי כולם" (one who fears heaven will fulfil all the various opinions, said in a case like the one that you mentioned above about tzitzit, that one should be afraid that each pair doesn't count according to one medieval Rabbi, so one should wear 300 pairs, to make sure that one has fulfilled the mitzvoh.
This is all a far cry from suicide. But who knows what can lead to what?
(And to thiŋk that I have finally accepted the label Orthodox... See the entry in my blog entitled "Relativistic Orthodox": http://margavriel.blogspot.com.
By the way, I may have mentioned this before, but perhaps not: it is discussions like this one that make bloggiŋ worthwhile.
Re: Evil, Mental Illness, and OCD
Date: 2005-07-15 10:31 pm (UTC)And halachic stringency is not a mental illness. It's about the person's approach to it. Paying attention to every detail is fine. A constant fear that one is breaking a law, leading to an impairment of function? That is not fine.
Evil Deeds vs. Evil People
Date: 2005-07-18 04:02 pm (UTC)>It occurs to me that I would not want to call anyone evil - or bad or any word like that. Deeds are good and evil. People are people
Mar Gavriel responded,
>I'm not sure whether or not I have ever heard such a distinction (between moral charged actions vs. morally neutral people)
I've heard the distinction many times, and I make it myself. And it's not a distinction between moral deeds vs. moral people - it's a distinction between the judgements that we are able to make about deeds vs. the judgements that we are able to make about people. To wit, we cannot really make judgements about people. We cannot know what went into a person's decision to commit a particular act, or the struggle that went on in his mind and heart before he commited himself to that act. So I leave to God ("bochen kelayot valev" and various other quotes to that effect) the judgement of whether a person is good or evil.
Deeds, on the other hand, can be viewed more objectively.
To perhaps throw a wrench into this discussion, upon the aforementioned topic of God's ability to judge people, I'm fond of saying that God is the ultimate subjective judge, and hence is the only truly objective judge.
Re: Evil Deeds vs. Evil People
Date: 2005-07-18 04:57 pm (UTC)You wrote:
Deeds, on the other hand, can be viewed more objectively.
Can they, indeed? Do we really ever know all the facts of the case? If someone kills innocent children praying in a mosque, I might say that that action has been despicable and evil, whereas other people (most probably among the right-wingers, but let's not make sweeping generalizations here) might say: "How do you know that parents hadn't strapped bombs to the children?"
To perhaps throw a wrench into this discussion, upon the aforementioned topic of God's ability to judge people, I'm fond of saying that God is the ultimate subjective judge, and hence is the only truly objective judge.
Wonderfully poetic, but what does it mean? Do you feel that the only objective reality is God's subjective feeling? If so, I see that you view God very personally, almost anthropomorphically.
On this topic, I would like to relate something that NG (now a rabbi in Long Beach-- you know whom I mean) told me last summer:
NG: I have a great insight!
Me: Tell me about it.
[I think: I'm sure it's going to be something about halokho, like all of NG's other thoughts.]
NG: We're supposed to judge people justly, according to din. Yet rachamim is considered greater than din, and God is believed to be full of rachamim. [He then said something about Plato's Republic, which I don't remember.] Well, I've just figured out that din vs. rachamim is not a dichotomy. Rather, the greatest kind of din is rachamim. How so? We must judge people based on their situation. If you or I need money for food, we need to work for that money. However, if someone on the street needs food, this person may be mentally ill (there's that term again), or weak, or addicted to substances, or for whatever other reason may not be able to work. It is din that we should show rachamim to such a person, and give him/her food or money, even though we would not deserve for others to give it to us. HaQadosh Barukh Hu is the ultimate Dayyan, because his din is rachamim.
(If Taylweaver finds this comment relevant (רֶלֶוַונְטִי), she may choose to define our Hebrew/Jewish terms in her "glossary". Otherwise, she may choose to delete my comment. Of course, she may choose to do neither. None of these options bothers me terribly.)