Beat the Teach

Bolted down to your seat in class, watching the agonizingly slow rotation as the second-hand leisurely dances around the clock on the wall, deliberately protracting that single second into the indefinite. The 9… the 10… the 11… the 12… just 20π more radians to go. And all this time, you’re supposed to be furiously jotting down notes about some inane trigonometry identity that you’re positive will have no significance in your future life as a guitar-wielding rock god.

Seems like the same, vicious, monotonous cycle, everyday… times six periods (seven if you’re one of the poor saps who’s been forced into a zero period). How do we endure it? Some spend the entire class trying to fight off the allure of slumber—fading back and forth between states of sleep and consciousness, leaning their head forward, and then snapping back awake, quickly gazing left and right, and then succumbing to the sleep-head jerk reaction over and over again. Some more audacious friends just sleep outright (they’re usually the ones in the back.). Others doodle or use their Ti-83 graphing calculators in all the wrong ways. And in every class, there are always those two or three martyrs, scattered across the room, that cover for everyone else and actually participate to give the teacher the illusion that the class is paying attention. But no matter what method, we’re all in the same boat here: Just trying to survive through that 6^th period class, and we’re home free to take a quick catnap and wake up in time for our choice 8-10pm WB show. Even the teachers.

And that’s where the vulnerability lies. Teachers in fact, are just as desperate to get through that last class and be done with us students, although they’re more likely hankering to grade papers or go to a department meeting or some such thing. Every teacher has a weak spot, some area of susceptibility in which, if you push the right buttons, the teacher will eventually just give up all hope for the class, subsequently ignoring all teaching duties and filling class time with some unrelated activity. The way teachers act in these situations can be classified into three kinds of teachers: The Digresser, the Low-Initiative, the Professional Party Teacher, and the On-Edgie

The Digresser

During lectures, some teachers just can’t help themselves from spontaneously going off on a completely unrelated topic. Maybe they get distracted easily. Or they have strong opinions. Or they just really hate their department. Anyhow, it all works for us students. The Digresser can be identified by a sudden launching into a topic wholly unrelated to the course, oftentimes set off by a mere remark from a student, or even just out of the blue. Most Digressers have a favorite subject that they like to go on and on about. It could be the Iraq war, or President Bush, Bay Area history, Sojourn trips, standardized tests—anything. Once you determine this favorite topic, you have a veritable black hole in your hands; the teacher can’t help but be sucked in by their own zeal. Just simply pop the question, “Hey Mr. [insert name], did you hear that Bush wants to put in another 10,000 troops in Iraq?” or remark to your friend very loudly, “Man, I’m taking the SAT this Saturday… It’s so stupid,” and you’ve bought yourself a good 15 minutes of free time as the teacher harangues the class about the utter ineptitude of our president or the evils of standardized tests.

The keys to prolonging this time mostly lie in giving feedback. Interject several “Yeah’s” or “uh-huh’s” and nod your head periodically, and every so often, ask a related question. The holy rail gun of feedback and prolonging the wasted class time, however, is a contrasting viewpoint. When the teacher’s in the middle of a fiery assault on Bush, for example, a perfectly timed “All you liberals just want a government handout!” can amplify the teacher’s rage to another level, riling him or her on even further into the subject.

The Digresser is probably the easiest teacher to exploit—all it takes is a single student to instigate a conversation, and depending on the teacher, the subject, and your own skill, an entire class can be spent simply talking about politics.

The Low Initiative

Low initiative teachers suffer from the same chronic trait that afflicts most all students: they’re not very motivated to do work. Like students, they’ll oftentimes look at lessons or assignments and think, “Man, I don’t wanna go over this today…” or come to the shocking realization, “My gosh, I’m going to have to grade all this afterward, aren’t I?” Sometimes they’ll just say outright, “Okay well I have an awful [insert bodily ailment] and I don’t feel like teaching today, so you guys can just have free time or work on [insert previous assignment] for today,” after which they slink back to their desks and hide behind their cluttered piles of papers doing god-knows-what (most likely grading papers or preparing for a department meeting). Other times the low initiative teachers manifest themselves in subtler forms, such as the oh-so-slick, “Okay so why don’t you guys get into groups and work on this.”

There isn’t really a golden rule to the low initiative teachers—oftentimes, if they’re in that kind of lethargic mood, they’re all too happy to let the class do nothing anyway. The key is just recognizing if the teacher’s in a lazy mood (as opposed to stressed out/frustrated), and, like with your parents, nagging and whining a bit to nudge the teacher off that edge.

Professional Party Teachers

For some teachers, grading papers and department meetings just aren’t enough—they want fun inside of class too. Though they’re rare, and often more of a subdivision of the low initiative, party teachers like to get jiggy with it as often as possible. This means in-class parties on holidays; fun and unorthodox class activities, like economic simulations or student debates; movies, often unrelated to the subject (though with foreign language teachers, sometimes you’ll get a Spanish or French version); and sign-ups to all the band concerts, chorus performances, and guest speaker assemblies.

Oftentimes, the only thing needed to spark the inner party-animal is simply a suggestion: “Hey, can we go to the band concert on Friday?” or “Ooo let’s have a party for winter break!” This often works well on lazy days—test days when half the class is gone, the ridiculously short minimum days when there’s not enough time to really do anything, or the ridiculously long block schedule days when there’s not enough to do—anytime when there’s a void with nothing really to do, so the teacher implements some fun activity, like a movie, or putting the students toward a class debate, to pass the time.

On-Edgies

On-Edgies are the ill-fated teachers who have fallen out of favor with the Education Gods and have been assigned the dreaded [pause for climactic buildup] rowdy Freshmen classes! [Thum-thum-thumm]. In any other circumstances, we would treat with sympathy the teachers who must work under these unfortunate conditions, but as we, or those of us in these disobedient type of classes, are the ones who stand to benefit from manipulating this vulnerability in the teachers, the instant gratification and teenage lack of conscience enable us to overcome any pity we would usually have for the teacher’s situation and exploit the On-Edgie for the purposes of an idle class.

On-Edgies must be steadily worked up to the critical nerve-cracking level of stress, at which they explode in either a) a depressive mental breakdown, b) a rageful fury, or c) exasperated frustration. Oftentimes, On-Edgies develop a student-phobia, leaving them extremely anxious and “on-edge.” This may be a result of overexposure to inner-city students, a long career of feeble attempts to educate freshmen and slower-pace classes, or, for those with devilishly clever students that apply themselves in the wrong ways, a deliberate plot to crack the teacher. It is also to be noted, unfortunately, that the foremost victims in this category are usually the nicest ones, who are just in fact too timid to exercise the despotic authoritarianism often required to keep the freshmen classes in line.

Nevertheless, the purpose of this piece is to describe how these susceptibilities can be exploited. The goal for the On-Edgies is to push their hope for the class into a state of resignation, either through despairing loss of hope (a) or fed-up exasperation (c). Constant nagging, noncompliance, and a lack of attention, if applied continually, will break even the most resolute teachers. Be wary, however, of over pursuing and practicing such insubordination in excessive amounts, for it will manifest the intelligent ploy behind the class’ actions, revealing that the students are not simply lazy and disobedient out of natural disposition but are doing so with intent, likely leading to enraged anger (b) and severe consequences for the class instead. If or when (a) or (c) is achieved, knowing that the class as a whole has neither will nor desire to learn, the teacher will concede defeat and focus singularly on grading papers and preparing for department meetings, their last, ironic solace in a malicious student-world that has turned against them.

Every teacher has a weakness that’s exploitable, whether it’s through subtle suggestion, nagging persuasion, or outright resistance. The key to establishing and maintaining class inactivity is simply identifying this weakness in your teacher, and then getting the class together to collaborate and exploit it.

(Note that the writer of this piece does not actually endorse the exploitation of teachers for the purpose of class inactivity, but simply used the subject for satirical purposes.)