insanityEven Dr. Provident, the college vice president of customer satisfaction, implied that to some degree I was myself at fault. On Friday he met me in the hall to bring me up to date on the matter. There was still no word on Wyatt's whereabouts. But Dr. Provident had learned more about Wyatt's condition. When Wyatt stopped taking his medication, he did often become argumentative and on occasion even menacing. But he was easily intimidated. All that was necessary was for one to speak sharply to him, Dr. Provident informed me. Wyatt just needed to know that he'd goofed up and gotten lost again. On each occasion he had to be told that without being aware of it he had once more lost his bearings. Dr. Provident looked earnestly into my eyes as he explained.
"You should've said in a firm, commanding voice, 'Sit down, Wyatt! Sit down!' That's all it ever takes. Then he knows."
The college vice president of customer satisfaction demonstrated for a second time the proper technique.
"'Be quiet, Wyatt, and listen to me!' That's all that's necessary," Dr. Provident explained.
He looked at me suspiciously, or so it seemed to me, as if any damn fool should have known this. He seemed disappointed in me, too, I thought, as if I had somehow failed him personally, betrayed his trust in me and been found unreliable, and me a supposedly bright veteran teacher, his demeanor seemed to say. More, he seemed to be implying that my passivity had been a kind of cowardice. But I might have been reading all of this into it. Dr. Provident demonstrated a third time.
"'Sit down, Wyatt! Sit down!' Like that."
The advice of the college vice president of customer satisfaction reminded me of something I had once been told about menacing dogs. One should not run from but face them—never look them in the eyes though—and then step slowly backwards out of their territory and speak to them in a loud, sharp command: “Sit! Sit!” I would have to consult Dr. Olson about this tactic, and I made a mental note to do so. But the college vice president of customer satisfaction had still another insight to share with me. Dr. Provident thought it might have been my giving Wyatt a C+ on several of his weekly assignments that had contributed to this problem or had perhaps—and Dr. Provident wasn't blaming me, mind—even caused it. The C+ grade did not have the official sanction of the college, he stated. It created in the student false expectations that the college could not and would not meet, Dr. Provident explained.
"I don't like plus and minus grades," he said sternly, frowning at me. "Never have, never will."
Clearly I had been scolded. The college vice president of customer satisfaction paused, as if waiting for me to explain myself. I stiffened. Wyatt was not available to answer questions. I was. Feeling offended, disgusted, patronized, and unjustly accused, I remained silent as I monitored the waves of emotion as they rolled through the warm dark sea of my ego. As these waves receded, I contemplated the sharp, cruel words they had left like flotsam and jetsam on the bright shore of intellect for my defense. Should I counterattack? A vast weariness settled upon me. Now I was in familiar territory. I recognized its ambience. It was postmodern American education. If the student fails, it's the teacher's fault. I stifled the impulse to defend myself and remained silent. The college vice president of customer satisfaction and I both set our jaws and looked at each other grimly. I felt like a child in a stare-down contest. We parted at the T-intersection of corridors.
............................................
INSANITY to be continued
"You should've said in a firm, commanding voice, 'Sit down, Wyatt! Sit down!' That's all it ever takes. Then he knows."
The college vice president of customer satisfaction demonstrated for a second time the proper technique.
"'Be quiet, Wyatt, and listen to me!' That's all that's necessary," Dr. Provident explained.
He looked at me suspiciously, or so it seemed to me, as if any damn fool should have known this. He seemed disappointed in me, too, I thought, as if I had somehow failed him personally, betrayed his trust in me and been found unreliable, and me a supposedly bright veteran teacher, his demeanor seemed to say. More, he seemed to be implying that my passivity had been a kind of cowardice. But I might have been reading all of this into it. Dr. Provident demonstrated a third time.
"'Sit down, Wyatt! Sit down!' Like that."
The advice of the college vice president of customer satisfaction reminded me of something I had once been told about menacing dogs. One should not run from but face them—never look them in the eyes though—and then step slowly backwards out of their territory and speak to them in a loud, sharp command: “Sit! Sit!” I would have to consult Dr. Olson about this tactic, and I made a mental note to do so. But the college vice president of customer satisfaction had still another insight to share with me. Dr. Provident thought it might have been my giving Wyatt a C+ on several of his weekly assignments that had contributed to this problem or had perhaps—and Dr. Provident wasn't blaming me, mind—even caused it. The C+ grade did not have the official sanction of the college, he stated. It created in the student false expectations that the college could not and would not meet, Dr. Provident explained.
"I don't like plus and minus grades," he said sternly, frowning at me. "Never have, never will."
Clearly I had been scolded. The college vice president of customer satisfaction paused, as if waiting for me to explain myself. I stiffened. Wyatt was not available to answer questions. I was. Feeling offended, disgusted, patronized, and unjustly accused, I remained silent as I monitored the waves of emotion as they rolled through the warm dark sea of my ego. As these waves receded, I contemplated the sharp, cruel words they had left like flotsam and jetsam on the bright shore of intellect for my defense. Should I counterattack? A vast weariness settled upon me. Now I was in familiar territory. I recognized its ambience. It was postmodern American education. If the student fails, it's the teacher's fault. I stifled the impulse to defend myself and remained silent. The college vice president of customer satisfaction and I both set our jaws and looked at each other grimly. I felt like a child in a stare-down contest. We parted at the T-intersection of corridors.
............................................
INSANITY to be continued
