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“Objection Overruled," Or
"You Can Always Go to Law School
If Things Don’t Work Out”
By Taylor Mali
We've all been there. Having managed to wrest a few precious
hours from endless evenings and weekends spent grading papers, preparing
lessons, decorating bulletin boards, writing report cards, contacting
parents, shopping for supplies, or updating the classroom Web site,
you are quietly enjoying a rare social event, when rising above
the casual chatter you hear...the Voice. “What’s a kid going to
learn from someone who decided his best option in life was to become
a teacher?” the Voice demands. "Those who can, do; those who can’t,
teach." How do you respond? Perhaps with the words of "Objection
overruled, or You can always go to law school if things don’t work
out" by Taylor Mali.
He says the problem with teachers is, “What’s a kid going to learn
from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a
teacher?”
He reminds the other dinner guests that it’s true what they say
about teachers:
Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.
Taylor Mali,
a former middle and high school teacher, is a professional
performance poet and the winner of four national poetry slam
championships. In addition to numerous poetry readings, Mali
has produced two CDs and written several books of poetry. His
works include What Learning Leaves, "a collection of poems about teaching, love, and dogs."
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I decide to bite my tongue instead of his and resist the temptation
to remind the dinner guests that it’s also true what they say about
lawyers.
Because we’re eating, after all, and this is polite company.
“I mean, you’re a teacher, Taylor,” he says.
“Be honest. What do you make?”
And I wish he hadn’t done that (asked me to be honest) because,
you see, I have a policy about honesty and ass-kicking: if you ask
for it, I have to let you have it.
You want to know what I make?
I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could. I can
make a C+ feel like a Congressional medal of honor and an A- feel
like a slap in the face. How dare you waste my time with anything
less than your very best.
I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall in absolute silence.
No, you may not work in groups. No, you may not ask a question.
Why won’t I let you get a drink of water? Because you’re not thirsty,
you’re bored, that’s why.
I make parents tremble in fear when I call home: I hope I haven’t
called at a bad time, I just wanted to talk to you about something
Billy said today. Billy said, “Leave the kid alone. I still cry
sometimes, don’t you?” And it was the noblest act of courage I have
ever seen.
I make parents see their children for who they are and what they
can be.
You want to know what I make?
I make kids wonder,
I make them question.
I make them criticize.
I make them apologize and mean it.
I make them write.
I make them read, read, read.
I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely
beautiful
over and over and over again until they will never misspell either
one of those words again.
I make them show all their work in math.
And hide it on their final drafts in English.
I make them understand that if you got this (brains) then you follow
this (heart) and if someone ever tries to judge you by what you
make, you give them this (the finger).
Let me break it down for you, so you know what I say is true:
I make a goddamn difference! What about you?
Poem by Taylor Mali, reprinted with permission
Education World®
Copyright © 2008 Education World
Originally published 10/29/2002; updated 05/22/08
The opinions expressed in StarrPoints are those of the
author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Education World.
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