Participation Anticipation

Class Participation.

(Anxiety. Anxiety.)

I used to hate class participation, specifically due to an event that occurred circa third grade when I thought the capital of Massachusetts was Springfield, and the entire class laughed at me. [I still specifically remember my teacher saying the capital was Springfield, but whatever.] At any rate, after that day, it was easier to force myself off the side of a building than it was to force myself to participate inside an educational classroom.

In high school, participating in English was usually easy for me, mostly because I had always done my homework and had highlighted my book for pertinent quotes to use in upcoming papers (yes, I was that kid.)

It was math that was my stressor. Calculus and I didn’t get along, which was always difficult for me to grasp since I had gotten along with Alegbra, and even Pre-Calc, so well. Sigh.

At risk for losing my LSRHS Scholar standing, (Eek! Gasp! The Horror!) I needed to magically change my C+ to a B-. This heightened my anxiety level for an entire year. Anyways, like any good goody-two-shoes, I moseyed to my teacher for after school help, set up regular tutoring, and attempted to get her to like me so that maybe she would just magically turn my C to a B. [Remind me to blog about the follow up situation involving said calc teacher telling me I had an anxiety problem. Gee, thanks for that insight, jackass.]

No dice, in fact, she fed me the very line I hated hearing the most.

“Kristin, you can boost your grade if you participate more in class.”

Yes, yes. I was an educational studies minor. I understand the fundamentals behind participation and how it can nurture the educational process for all students in a classroom, not just those who are struggling. I will also take this moment to spit out the traditional teacher line, which is: “If you have a question, chances are that someone else is wondering the exact same thing.” This is what the “adult” voice now says in my head.

I didn’t have that voice in Calculus.

Whatever.

Riddle me this, Mrs. I-teach-calculus-and-you-need-to-participate-more-if-you-want-that-B-. If I am not doing well on my quizzes, why is it that you want me to participate more in class? Clearly I am not retaining the curriculum. Isn’t it counterproductive to ask a student who doesn’t understand what is going on to participate in a discussion? Wouldn’t that further confuse other confused students, and only agitate those who did understand it? Further, wouldn’t it be time better spent for me to sit and attempt to learn the information you are presenting to me, rather than spewing the what-I-think-to-be-correct answers into the classroom, and polluting everyone’s learning experience?

The answer was always “no Kristin. In order for you to get a better grade, I want you to spew your incorrect version of what you think the answer should be, and then use you as an example in front of the whole class.”

Here I go again, making a personal agenda out of every non-personal situation to every exist.