Sometimes I Get Discouraged...

I realize that I've led a pretty tame and quiet life, but I am repeatedly blown away by the degree of knowledge that grade school kids have acquired.  I am not referring to the knowledge they are supposed to have - like the times tables and reading skills.  I'm talking about those topics that make my jaw drop when I hear them uttered out of the mouths of babes.  

I'm not a prude, and I've heard (most) of it all before.  It's just disarming to me that these kids are so steeped in such matters.  Sometimes it makes me mad, because they are just trying to get a rise out of me by saying such things.  Sometimes I feel a little sad that what should be a period of innocence is already gone.  And then there are those times when I have to hide my smile and wait to laugh until I can tell Kyle about it later.  

This is the crux of why I've struggled to enjoy teaching.  I suppose I had the mental image of my idol Laura Ingalls teaching in her cozy one room schoolhouse.  I saw children bent purposely over books, studying quietly and know that misbehaving in the classroom was not even an option, and that their parents would punish them severely if they did misbehave.  

I did not envision the realities - nonexistent parents, students who haven't eaten in days, students in dirty clothes, students with one set of clothes, students with no homework, students in high school who can't read, students whose sole purposes are to drive their teachers to madness.  I didn't imagine the students who would call me every name in the book, students who were backed up by parents who imagined I must have "instigated" something if their dear Johnny or Jane had been provoked to engage in poor behavior.  I didn't consider the administrators who might instruct me to "find a way" to pass that student who had been missing from class since the second day of the semester. 

I get very discouraged, not only when working in education, but also when so many of my unrealistic and high expectations are not met.  I seem to have pretty high standards that few people can or do measure up to.  Then I get disgruntled, my depression grows and everything else goes downhill.  I have to figure out how to better establish expectations so that they are still high but not so high that I'm bound to be disappointed.  It's not fair to others and it's not fair to myself.  


I try to remember that this is a different generation, that kids are who they are, and not to be too hard on them.  At the same time, I worry for them (and for us, who will be led, fed and put to bed by them someday!).  Where should the lines be drawn?