Objective: The reader should understand that to teach teenagers, one must develop the proverbial “thick skin.” The reader is hereby warned that teenagers will pick apart every outfit the teacher wears, will comment upon every blemish, or pound gained, and will create their own version of the teacher’s personal life. The reader should realize that when teaching teenagers, it’s not personal.
Materials/Resources Needed: Any outfit that can not be found in the juniors department at a local mall, a microscopic spot on a sweater, a wrinkle in a shirt, or any other item of clothing, trait, or mannerism that a teenager could dub as “weird”. A mysterious personal life will also work.
Anticipatory Set: Take a look in the mirror. Like how you look? Feel pretty good about your appearance? Now consider your life. Do you have great friends, a variety of interests and hobbies? Do you feel pretty good about your life? (Brace yourself.)
Input/Modeling:
- Fashion Critics
- Spider Bite
- There Must Not Be A Mr.
- That’s Weird
- 15 Year Old Match Makers
Assessment: Find 2 things in your closet that do not at all match and wear them both at the same time. Spill coffee down the front of you. Head out to the local mall. Let people stare. If can you walk out with your head held high you might be ready for a teenage audience.
Closure: Teenagers will always be much more interested in the details of everything you wear, say, or do than your lesson. They have amazing eyes for detail-when it comes to the string hanging from your sleeve (as opposed to their math problems). As for your personal life–well, you’re a teacher, so they will never think you have one. You can’t take any of it personally.
Fashion Critics
Wednesday. I’m wearing a new pair of pants, and I’m feeling great. They’re higher waisted pants just like I’ve seen in the pages of Us Weekly magazine, wide legged, cuffed. I’ve paired them with my tan shoes I bought on sale at the end of last season that haven’t been worn all summer, and I have a great tailored shirt tucked in to my new pants. I feel svelte and sophisticated, and my hair is in a stylish bun, and I’ve got compliments from a few other teachers including the football coach so I know I look good. I walk into 7th hour, Algebra 2, and my kids are working on their warm-up, and Jesse Martin, a senior boy takes one look at me and exclaims, “What is UP with your pants today? Those are the highest waisted pants I’ve ever seen! They look weird.” Laughter ensues.
“Yeah Ms. Jane, why are your pants so high? You should untuck your shirt then you wouldn’t be able to tell they’re so high,” Kelsey adds.
Thursday. Two years ago there was a Ralph Lauren skirt I eyed all season. It’s mainly tan and brown striped with a multitude of other colored stripes in the mix, it has a bohemian feel to it, and I eyed it all seaon and finally bought it, and I love it. I wore it Thursday, and again I felt great. It’s my favorite skirt, I always feel great in it. It’s 4th period, my kids are engaged in a group activity, and I’m walking around the room thinking what a good teacher I am in my stylish skirt, and I see Brittany staring at me.
“Do you have a question, Brittany?”
“Have you ever been to Mexico, Ms. Jane?”
“Nope.”
“Well, there are people that try to sell you stuff on the street. Like blankets. Your skirt reminds me of those blankets they sell on the street.”
Alex chimes in, “Yeah, it looks like a blanket a Mexican cowboy would put on a horse.”
Spider Bite
I had pulled my bangs back in a barrette that morning, which in hindsight was a bad choice. Ok, I had a blemish on my forehead. A small imperfection. Small. It happens to the best of us once in a while. That’s why every good woman owns good powder. I put my good powder to work, and from 6 inches away or further, I looked flawless. Or so I thought; I forgot that teenagers not only have selective hearing but selective vision.
I was standing at the front of the room talking about an upcoming test. Half the class was writing down the details in their planners, half the class was spacing off, and Juan Contreras was squinting at me, because as always Juan couldn’t see. He desperately needed glasses–or maybe he had them and didn’t wear them. But Juan couldn’t see anything, which is why I made him sit in the front row. (Yes, I had to make him.)
So there I was talking about the test, and Juan was squinting, and I asked if there were any questions about the upcoming test. Juan raised his hand. ”Umm….Ms. Jane, did you get bit by a spider?”
I had no idea what he was talking about. It was so random, I wasn’t even sure I had heard him right. ”Nope,” I replied, “Any questions about the test?”
“On your forehead. I think you got bit by a spider. That can happen in your sleep,” Juan continued.
Oh. My blemish. How in the world could Juan Contreras of all people see that? I mean, I knew it was there, I have 20/20 vision with my contacts, and I could not see it in the mirror. Juan, half-blind Juan could see it? Was he faking not being able to see the board? No way. No way he would fake being forced to sit in the front row. Juan was a back row guy. This was an anomaly. My thoughts were interrupted.
“Oh. my. god. Juan. You are SO rude. That’s not a spider bite, that’s a zit, you moron.”
(Ok, note to self, Lexie Frank also has good eyes.)
“Yeah, Juan. That’s a zit,” added Bobby.
“Oh, my god, you guys, stop talking about it. She’s standing right there. You guys are probably embarrassing her. I would be totally embarrassed if I was her.” (Thanks, Lexie.)
But it was Juan who was embarrassed, poor kid. His face was maroon. Juan adored me, and I suspected he had a crush on me. He had been in trouble with every other teacher, but never me. He worked hard for me (relatively speaking), he never cussed in my class (a huge gesture), he made me a wooden pencil holder in shop class, and a homemade card for my birthday. And he was mortified.
Still baffled by the seemingly eagle-eye vision of these kids, I intervened, “Ok, thank you Lexie for your concern. Yours too, Juan. Unless anyone has a question about the test I think we should get started.”
Juan raised his hand.
“Yes, Juan?”
“Ms. Jane, don’t worry about the zit. People will just think you got bit by a spider.”
“Thanks, Juan.”
