Enemy of Apathy

I was sarcastic today. My new 8th period, the highest group of 11th graders, could not refrain from talking or laughing throughout the duration of their ACT diagnostic exam today. One student, scribbling frantically sat in the front corner, and I was so angry at the others for ruining her testing experience, for ruining their own, for wasting time that they could never get back. 8th period is supposed to be "ACT Prep," and every one of those students responded to their surveys affirming that they would like to go to college. And yet, everyday they walk in, slump in their seats, put their hoods up or launch into heated conversations, and when the bell rings, continue to do so. I stand at the front, asking individual students to quiet down, who proceed to quiet down just long enough for me to ask someone else to quiet down, and the vicious cycle continues.

Today, one student slept in his chair for most of the test, and for the rest, refused to stop talking. Frustration overwhelmed me. Here they are, annihilating any chance they have of doing something with their lives, and they think it is funny. The childish "make your teacher mad" game. I'd had it. I collected his blank test, looked at him and dished, "wow, you did a really great job on this." He retorted, "wow, what a really great sarcastic comment you just made."

I stooped. I gave in. I broke and entered their world. I played the game that their other teachers play. I made them feel worthless like the adults around them make them feel. I mocked them. As self-important as they may try to be, so many of these children have no sense of true pride, the quiet kind that is cultivated by the steady accretion of affirmation and encouragement of trusted adults.

Their apathy is just killing me. I don't know what to do to wake them up. On the back of their welcome survey, I simply asked, "Write me an essay about your passions." I gave them starter questions, like "what do you live for? what makes you burn with outrage? what makes you squeal with delight? what is your purpose in life?" A few of the essays were what I had hoped for, wide-eyed accounts of their vision for life--from the standard, "I love dawn in the morning" and "I love to travel and meet new people" to "I love the thrill of getting in trouble, of not knowing when I'll get caught." Most were short to empty. One or two sentences of "I don't know"s or "I want good grades." One girl wrote "I am passionless."

This isn't just about 8th period. All day the bell rings and nothing changes. The students don't move from their posts in the courtyard. Their conversations don't end. Their pencils are still nestled in their pockets. I ask them to copy the title for today's notes and they groan. The most animated they get is over the temperature in the classroom: every day, "Maaaaan, it be cold," two minutes later, "real talk: where's yo heat, ms. bump?", and "why you gotta do me like that? its too cold." The problem is insidious. Hallways, classroom, office, bathroom, band hall, courtyard. Children loafing around like you are the most despicable creature on the planet for opening your mouth to form words that will ask more, something, anything of them.

Whence the apathy? Theories abound, but I think it's mostly got to do with something like: if you don't try you can't fail. Real talk: if you skip class, you can fail and use absence as an excuse. You weren't there, so no one can call you dumb, slow, lazy, or disruptive. You just weren't there.

I refuse to give in, because even though our school culture tips towards apathy, truth is that many of the kids DO care. They just aren't the vocal ones, the ones that everyone looks up to. But how to change a culture? A 600 member student-body with only half of the senior class not on track to graduate?

I don't know. But I do have my classroom, and as much as the homes and the hallways come in with each and every student that walks in the door each period, I have a small platform. I must set an example. I must never stop caring. I must show them that I love them, and that God loves them, even when they make the kind of choices that incite vexation and dismay among those around them.

I am going to apologize to that student tomorrow. All I have is my example, and I will go on inhabiting my genuine self, my sincere, non-sarcastic Ms. Brittany Bump, even if it doesn't mean anything to them until years down the road.