I Could Care Less...
But chances are I won't.
I have a reputation for taking things a little too seriously when it comes to education—my own and others’.
I was in kindergarten sitting on the floor in a circle, as one does when one has Gumby-like, five-year-old joints. My teacher Mrs. S. was frustrated. The class was noisy, chaotic, as I imagine any classroom is when part of the day has to be given over to nap time.
Mrs. S. had been pleading with us to “be quiet.” It seemed to me that there was a lot of noise being made, but it wasn’t all my classmates’ fault. With laser focus, I kept my attention on my teacher, fascinated that she seemed to struggle to take control of two dozen pint-sized humans.
“Be quiet,” she said again. “We haven’t been able to get anything done today.”
I promise I wasn’t trying to be that student, a busybody, know-it-all, a teeny fictional Tracy Flick-type. I didn’t have any frame of reference for such a student (and the movie Election wouldn’t be out for another 20 years). But I did care. I cared that indeed we were not getting anything done that day. And in my mind, we had lots to do. For starters, we had yet to learn how to read a book.
I had an idea! My hand shot up high, and before she could give me permission to speak, I blurted: “Mrs. S., maybe if you try being quiet we will get something done.”
What possessed a roly-poly half-decader to have the chutzpah (and that is putting it nicely) to share some classroom management strategies at that time? I can only guess that I cared too much.
My K-12 education is dotted with similiar stories of my over-caring about the education I was receiving; most of the time they were as poorly received as my kindergarten suggestion. I was then—and often—punished for disrespectful behavior.
I care too much because it feels that in this day and age everything is at stake in a way that nothing really was ten years ago.
As soon as saw my teacher’s face, I knew I had made a grievous error. If there is anything I hated more than wasting precious learning time, it was getting in trouble.
“Amy, go to the orange pillow,” Mrs. S. said.
I had been banished, far away from my classmates, to presumably “think about what I did.”
I have been thinking about that experience a lot lately because I have had dear colleagues and friends ask me the same question when I share a frustration with higher education, what’s happening in the classroom (or not), and my own feelings of helplessness: “Why do you care so much?”
There is a statement beneath that question rather than genuine curiosity: “Stop caring too much. It is ruining your life.”
They are not wrong. Caring too much causes me lots more grief than if I lived my life not worrying about anyone else. Caring too much has sent me down rabbit holes to understand what it is I am doing wrong and how to fix it. It has led to obsessions about why students do what they do—from using AI for everything to leaving to go to the bathroom for 20 minutes in a 50-minute class…every class meeting mind you.
Caring too much comes with a cost, and left totally unchecked, and could morph into unhealthy behaviors at worst. At best, it can create strain between the very people you are trying to help (Sorry, Mrs. S!), which ultimately defeats your purpose. As an educator caring too much has pushed some students away.
But caring too much has also given me a richness to teaching and learning. I often think about good teachers and coaches that I have had in the past who cared a lot, who held the standard, who accepted nothing less than my best even when I was not interested or capable. Those teachers are the ones that I remember and revere, not the ones who couldn’t be bothered to hold anyone to account or, in some instances, to even do the basic parts of their jobs.
Caring too much shows up for me in the classroom in these ways:
+ Wanting to know as much as I can about what students want and need
+ Spending lots of time crafting what I think will be a great learning experience
+ Revising a course sometimes in the middle of the semester to meet students’ needs
+ Challenging students’ perceptions of the value of course concent or activities
+ Expecting that I to get to know each student well enough that I could write them a letter of recommendation (and mean it)
+ Ruminating over every eyeroll, sigh, and disengagement to determine what I could do differently next time
+ Requiring that each student conferences with me so I can break the barrier of professor-student and plant the seed of empathy for both of us
+ Fussing over how quickly I can get feedback to students to help them develop and grow or just know that they are going to be okay
+ Diving deep into my “misses” more than my “hits” and wallowing in the disappointment of the few students who were not impressed by anything
I care too much because it feels that in this day and age everything is at stake in a way that nothing really was ten or more years ago. It sounds hyperbolic, but I care too much because it feels as if not enough people do care too much we won’t find our way out of the mess we were in now in higher education…and the world.
I could care less about teaching and learning, but I don’t think it will happen. I am just wired that way.