Dear Elementary Ed Majors,
It has come to my attention that the rest of the world can - and does - profile you on sight.
This is unacceptable.
We are one big, happy, dysfunctional family - you and us in English Ed (after all, you are the saints who tamed those teacher-eating pygmies for the six years prior to when we received them), and so I feel a great responsibility to apprise you of the facts.
Now, please know up front that I greatly respect what you do. Elementary Ed takes a special kind of person. That is why the rest of us do other things. Although I do not really care if they know their times tables by the time they hit middle school (or ever, for that matter), it is quite useful that you have trained them so nicely to sit in their chairs. That is huge. Really.
That said, there are a couple of things you should be aware of.
First of all, there seems to be a misconception among you that the world will fall to pieces if you do not have every detail clarified and repeated twice. This is unnecessary. Let me reassure you, if you can read, you can probably find the answer. (Note: I’ve heard this is sometimes problematic for some of you, which explains why you’re in literature classes, among other things. Don’t worry. Critical reading is a skill. The syllabus is a great place to start.) So just sit back and relax. You might surprise yourself how much you can infer from syllabus, professors’ commentary, other people’s questions, etc. Questions are okay. But do not, under any circumstances open your mouth. It is a dead giveaway. When in serious doubt, ask a classmate.
Secondly, your anal retentive tendencies toward small-mindedness. Well, those are hardly your fault. Let me explain. I have long heard of the cultish indoctrination that the College of Education seems to indulge in so liberally, and I have at last experienced it myself. That’s right: brainwashing. I firmly believe that you began on your career as a bright-eyed, idealistic free thinker intent upon saving the world one child at a time. Bravo! We share that in common.
But statistically speaking (please don’t comment on the irony of an English major citing statistics), very few of you reach your second and third years of education with that same luster and passion. Instead, it would seem that those have been replaced by Piaget, manipulatives, and classroom management, not to mention those excruciating PASS standards. Like I said, it’s not your fault. Those are all noble aspirations. However, surely they are not your only aspirations? What about the overall picture? Surely you have not lost sight of that? Oh, you’re really going to love these literature classes.
On a related note, we must also discuss Excellence, and the pursuit thereof. As you already know, not all children are created equal. Some of them are incredibly intelligent. Your dogged efforts to make them appear to be so are exhausting and mildly nauseating. I just don’t understand it: If there is one thing the Education field loves, it is the idea of diversity. Make no mistake, I wholeheartedly support this crusade in all its many guises, but I find no reason to suspend this idea in reference to learning styles and aptitudes. Yet they (yes, they; it is purposely ambiguous) staunchly refuse to acknowledge minorities in learning, especially those on the upper end of genius.
Those children in your care – the intellectual troublemakers and sidetrackers that drive you crazy because they insist on drawing abstract references and asking ‘inappropriate’ questions … those are the kids we really love. Why, you ask? Because they already know how to think, and moreover, they seem to enjoy it. Most of us have to learn to do that.
I do not expect you to understand this, but trust me on this one. (We’re family, remember?) Let me repeat: these kids are important to us. Please do not harm their minds, and for heaven’s sake, stop expecting them to color barns when they really want to know why Sarah, Plain and Tall is considered ‘plain’ when beauty is subjective. Take a moment celebrate excellence every now and then, and the rest of the class will still be there. Pinky promise.
And finally, there is one more small, touchy point. You tend to share an unreasonably high-pitched voice. Believe me, the world already knows you are here. (See above for further explanation.) While said pitch is appropriate for children and dogs, the rest of us would prefer if you toned it down a notch or two… or three. Now, I know this has been an extensive list, so if this is not possible, I understand. The other items are much more important. It is merely food for thought. If nothing else, learn how to write, and we will overlook this part most graciously.
You know, looking back, none of these qualities are particularly obnoxious; I don’t know what the world has been complaining about. Much ado about nothing, as they say. But regardless, I feel much better for having completed my duty... almost like Gulliver taking on the giants! Thank you for listening so earnestly. What’s that? No… no, you may NOT ask a question!! We’ll discuss it at our next family reunion, Ed Psych.
Much love,
An English Education Major
