My Heart of Darkness

I have made it another day! Although today was altogether uneventful. I have begun Heart of Darkness for my book club which meets next week and I am not sure why I have agreed to this torture. I sadly left the novel to the last minute so reading it coupled with my isolation is enough to make me start to rock in a corner.

As a teacher, I push my children to focus, be better, learn more, and cram as much knowledge into them as I can before they fly off into the world of...year 3. However sometimes, I catch myself becoming one of them and I wonder why I am so demanding of their little minds. As adults we forget what it is like to read, write, or do anything that is beyond our capabilities. It is not like anyone is currently forcing me to complete an algebraic calculation or solve for x. Adults choose what they succeed at to continue doing for the rest of their lives. For books, if we don't like a novel for whatever reason, we put it down and choose another one. I find more often than not, I put down a book because it is out of my grasp, not because it is bad writing. I will read any poorly written book (Twilight) as long as it has a gripping storyline (Twilight), and an intense love affair (Twilight) usually between an immortal and a human (Twilight). However, throw me a copy of...well...Heart of Darkness, and I approach the book with resentment, boredom, and mind-wandering.

Children don't have the luxury adults have. I make them read nonfiction. I make them jump to the nearest ten before continuing to add the units. I make them research on sharks, light and dark, and insects. I of course don't have an issue with exposing them to things they might not be interested in or good at, I am all for that because you won't know what you like or what you are good at until you try it and practice makes perfect...there is also no I in team and absence makes the heart grow fonder, and any other cliche you want to throw in there.

I am just stating that sometimes we forget that a child might not be perfectly engaged when listening to the BFG because they don't friggen care. They may find Roald Dahl's made up words hard to decode and inaccessible. But it is adults that demand them to stay focused and try harder when it is something they would not expect of themselves. I am obviously not going to change what I teach the children because they drift off, but this new found awareness will make me call in to question how I teach certain topics and allow for some mental drifting without the harsh snap-out-of-its.

I do also now sympathize greatly with my teachers from the past and present and mostly my parents and my partner. I certainly wasn't and am not the easiest pupil but I am trying and isn't that what we also hope from our children? So back to the book. I read it because I know it is a significant piece of literature, but I do it with great turmoil. Averaging one page a fortnight isn't all that bad but it will be come Tuesday when Maggie asks my input on the author's take on good versus evil and the destructive nature of colonialism. Because after all, I may be a new generation of teacher but I guarantee Maggie is plain old school and I am sure I will get my knuckles rapped if I don't come up with the answer or if it starts to look like I am off with the fairies.

Here goes nothing. Zzzzzzzzzz