It is the end of the first week of a new semester. The longer I teach, the grumpier I get. I am still very warm to my students, encouraging and supportive, but I have diminishing patience for students with attitude. If a student is engaged and trying to understand, my fuse is fairly long. But those who are arrogant, demanding and judgmental make me increasingly angry.

Take, for example, my new student Yao. He placed into Level 2, our lowest level. (The placement test is excellent evaluation tool, almost always giving an accurate picture of where a student is.) On Day Two of class, he told me that he was bored and should be in Level 3. I hadn’t noticed him much before that, because he doesn’t participate. I started to observe more. He sits, arms crossed over chest, with a look of aggressive boredom and superiority. He thinks he’s better than other people in the class, which he’s not, and he doesn’t even try. One approach might be to get at the root of his attitude, but frankly, I’ve seen it too much and I don’t care. Some students don’t want to study. Perhaps a great teacher can engage them, but perhaps not.

I’m doing an identity box with the students now, which we’ll finish on Tuesday. I’ve told them the purpose and benefits of the exercise: get to know each other, improve listening and speaking skills in specific ways that I detailed. It’s a fun project, with lots of room for individuality and creativity. After I presented the assignment to them, and showed them my own identity box, I asked, “Who is excited about this project?” Yes, it’s a stupid question, but I was watching faces to see who was engaged and who wasn’t.  Yao shook his head ‘no.’ “Yao, why are you here?” I asked with noticeable irritation. “TO study English,” he replied. “Do you want to study English?” I asked. “No,” he said. “So: why are you here?”

Students who don’t want to be here are impossible. I yacked a bit about this assignment being suitable for people who can barely speak English, and native-speaking graduate students: that you will get from the assignment what you put into it. If you don’t work, you won’t learn anything. I said that any task is as fun as you make it. If you’re not interested, it’s your job to find something interesting about it. I said I do that every day at work. Some of the students were interested in the project.mOthers seemed to understand what I was saying about finding the value in something. But Yao was immoveable. And it made me really angry. One reason was the bald-faced opposition, and the knowledge that he will be a pain in the ass all semester. I’ll devote some effort to engage him, but if he doesn’t give back, I’m not gonna go crazy. The other reason is that people like that can have a contaminating effect on the rest of the classroom. These guys are young and easily swayed by each other. Open defiance might seem attractive, to mask laziness or lack of motivation. Also, it’s just plain rude to come in and demand something for nothing: this is boring, my English is better than this, pay attention to me… but no signal of effort or anything else worth rewarding.

Yesterday I talked to Bill about it. I told him I didn’t want a solution, I knew I could deal with it, but I just wanted to vent. He listened, but I still feel sort of poisoned. In class later, yesterday afternoon, I did a little more prep for the identity box project, which they will start presenting on Monday. Once again, Yao was above it all. Once again I asked to see who was having fun so far. Maybe three or four of 12 raised their hands. Again, I told them it was up to them. I told them that part of their assignment was to try to figure out how to have fun with this.

Students test teachers. But one of the reasons I wanted to teach adults was because I didn’t want to fuck around being tested in stupid, childish ways. But a lot of these college-age kids are kids. It’s a two-pronged matter for me to consider: 1) Is there a way to motivate kids who are here because their parents want them to study? and 2) Is it my responsibility to expend a whole bunch of effort reaching out to a student who is an entitled brat; and is there even a benefit to doing so?

I resent the entitlement that I see all around me: among peers of a certain age (20s and 30s) and students. I have always worked hard and never (in my recollection) expected the world to bend to my will. I’ve wanted things and stood up for them sometimes, but I don’t recall having thought they’re my due. Benefits are a result of effort, not simply because you exist. Two students came to me last week to complain that the classroom is too small for the number of students we have. They’re correct.  Yet we were on Day 3 of classes. The dust hasn’t settled on the number of students in each section, or room selection. “We’re paying a lot of money for these classes,” both of the boys told me. “Yes, it’s true. But you also have outstanding teachers.” I would never complain to administration about the size of a classroom on Day 3. It’s cozy in there, but not stifling. I have to stop judging the world by what I would do. Still, whatever happened to courtesy, patience and respect: things I endeavor every minute to show to my students, and that I don’t see from them in return.

It’s a teacher’s job to encourage students, yet it’s interesting to me that it’s also our job to do the opposite: to put some in their place. With Yao, I have showed him that I notice him. In response to his arrogant inertia, I have given mini-speeches about the need for effort and responsibility. Next, I will try to knock him back. When he gets something wrong, he will know it. I will grade him especially hard on the subjective factors, like effort. I am finished, though, with the positive reinforcement of him–of addressing the concerns he’s raised about  how good he is and how bored here–until he earns my accolades. I’m surprised at how personally I take all this. I think, “Don’t you know how hard I work? Don’t you know how insulting it is to tell someone you’re bored in  her class? Do you have no clue that your boredom is your problem, not mine? It’s not my job to entertain you. I try to keep things active, but it’s not going to be exciting all the time. Figure it out.” Upsetting.

Yesterday I did an exercise about why the students were there learning English. There was an interesting byproduct of that. Students talked about wanting to get into Ohlone College after ELI, so they could “learn knowledge.” What they meant was that they’re eager to take classes in which there is core content. Content-based instruction has that, but our classes here are really language based. They’re learning about language, not about something else via language. I’ve always been interested in content-based learning but haven’t messed with it for various reasons. The textbook I’m using (this is a listening & speaking class and I’m using a Heinle/National Geographic text) does have content chapters that are pretty interesting. So maybe once we get into that, they’ll be more satisfied. Just to dive into a murky pool of language without an informational flow or direction is pretty hard. I’ll be starting the book the week after next, once the students have it in-hand.