There are two types of men in this world: the bearded, and guys with baby-face. When I was in 11th grade, I worked at a burrito joint and distinctly remember children referring to me as “Ma’am”. You should have seen the disgust on the lesbian’s faces after I told them I was –in fact— a teenage boy!
I love the way I look do not get confused; I just wished the faculty at my school did too. Every day I dress up for the reputation of our teaching profession, more so than the faculty who rolls up ten minutes before the bell in yoga pants and sandals. I abstain from gossip at school functions, follow instruction, and hold my head up high while I am at work.
“Young man… where are you going?” An assistant principle aggressively grabbed my shoulder as I walked out the building. I turned around and probably looked pissed off from being touched: “Do not put your hands on me! We are coworkers and you would remember that if you looked at me when I introduced myself.”
He frantically apologized, but similar comments seemed to come out of nowhere.
1. You are the less experienced driver,
2. The teacher who yelled at me for using the faculty bathroom.
3. “How do you feel being so close in age…”
4. Are you not nervous about the open house and the way they will look at you?
5. “You look 16 and that is all that matters to me, not the badge”
+++++
One comment put me over the edge on my walk up the stairs. A co-worker tapped me just to scoff, “If you want to look like a teacher, just grow a beard.” This is an exemplar of situational irony because he is struggling with obesity.
I had thirty minutes before the bell rung, and students were walking in. One wallflower approached me (I looked on edge): “You are already a better teacher than he is. I heard what he said to you.”
My CT chimed in, “Mr. Harley has a lot to offer the school. Someone must be worried his job is up for grabs with how silent that room is.”
To veteran faculty who refuse to collaborate with millennials:
I am not taking your job because I know tech or pop culture.
They are giving me yours because you became bitter.
Teaching as Storytelling 