Teaching really is an ideal job for a know-it-all. If you enjoy being right most of the time, what better than to stand in front of a captive audience of those who don’t already know the fascinating facts you’re about to divulge about your specialist subject? Of course, there’s always the risk that some smart alec has already read copiously on the topic and will try to “out-fact” you or contradict you, but they are fortunately few and far between.
Sometimes, it’s tempting to throw in something outrageously wrong just to check they’re paying attention,
but this can backfire; I for one will never forget the biology teacher who had me believing that oncology was
the study of sea-shells well into my adult life, and then there are the scornful looks at parents’ evening
when a grown up smart alec of a parent gleefully informs you that a marmoset isn’t actually a type of orange
jam, because they just don’t realise that you were only having a laugh at their child’s expense.
However, being the omniscient one can sometimes go to your head. Being contradicted in front of a class full of children by some swotty oik who watches the Discovery Channel for fun means your credibility becomes slightly chipped, even if you know that a superficial half hour TV programme is no substitute for your three years of degree level study on the topic. The temptation is to stamp out the inquisitive questioner in front of everyone to ensure they all leave the lesson knowing that you’re the one armed with all the facts and answers.
But this overlooks the truth that children need to question and challenge in order to learn and progress. Deep down I know it’s good for them to win a debate and feel they are able to question what they are being told. Teaching is full of contradictions like this: I want the kids to be free-thinkers and to see the benefits of questioning the status quo, but I don’t want them doing it while I’m the one who’s supposed to be in charge!
Knowing this doesn’t help my reaction when I see a hand shoot up out of the corner of my eye, and start waving frantically the more I ignore it. Maybe my nostrils flare slightly with indignation as I slowly turn to face the owner of the hand and slowly ask, “Yes?” in a voice that is really saying, “You dare to challenge me, young person? You think you are going to be more correct than I already am? Fool, well go and try, but don’t think you will succeed”.
It’s great being the omniscient one, but it doesn’t feel so good when you go out of your way to use your
wit and all known powers of rhetoric to win a verbal battle with a twelve year old who is determined to pick
holes in your statement. In fact, afterwards it feels a bit mean and grubby to have argued them back into
their place when they’ve presented you with a series of “buts". Again, I did try to anticipate this
reaction when introducing a text book topic to a smart arse class for the first time. I only did it the
once though. I started off following the simplistic text book and then just as several twitchy hands were
about to spring into action I said, “BUT… and there’s a very BIG BUT…” and then lost my thread of
explanation as half the class started sniggering over the size of my bottom.
added 3/3/06
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