This Borscht Could Use Some Dill.

That's all I'm saying.

I think that my family is a bit surprised that I became a teacher; they all know I have no patience. None whatsoever.

And it's true. I have no patience for stupidity, for people who don't shovel their walks, for ignorance, for my idiot neighbor boy, for Dr. Laura, for energy drinks, for laziness, for Nancy Grace, for bad parenting, for the grandma-sweatered, flowery-smelling History prof down the hall, for dollar loan centers, for Elizabeth Hasselbeck.



In the classroom, however, I have the patience of St. Monica, the, uh, patron saint of patience. I will calmly answer the same question over and over again. I will explain next week's assignment in a billion different mediums: verbal examples, drawings on the board, written on the class blog, diagrams in sand I have truckloaded in. I answer e-mails professionally, when I really want to write, "YOU MAKE MY LIFE BAD." I will bend over backwards.



Except for yesterday, when I almost lost it. I was explaining, againagainagain, the rule for commas after conjunctive adverbs: commas go after the conjunctive adverb if said conjunctive adverb is more than two syllables.

(Did I know this rule before teaching basic writing? Nope. Will I stand in front of them and talk about it ad naseum and act like THE authority of comma usage and conjunctive adverbs? Absolutely.)

One student was just not getting it. At all. And I got frustrated. I raised my voice, let my irritation creep into it, leaned into her, jabbed my finger at her paper, and asked, a bit harshly, "How many syllables are in this word?" Silence from her. Then it hit me. She didn't know what I meant by syllables. I took a step back and softly counted it out with her, and she said, "Ohhh!! OK!" And she got it.

I could use this story to lament about education today. I could complain and raise my blood pressure. But I won't. In teaching, and especially teaching the unique student demographic that I do, you need to step out from behind the podium and meet them where they are.

She's a good student--she's going to make it. And I'll continue to work on hanging onto my patience, if even I am clutching onto a very, very, very thin thread.

St. Monica, pray for us.