the unusual request

On Friday morning, one of my students hung back after the 7:40AM class was over to ask me whether she could stand up during class from now on. "Why?" I wanted to know. She explained that she was working a full-time job and was a grad student, and that she rarely got more than four or five hours of sleep per night, which meant she was tired all the time. Then she said something that made me a bit suspicious: "My high school teacher used to let me do this."

The remark seemed calculated to push me to do her bidding, which made me bristle. It was also, I realized, interesting in its illogicality: she obviously wasn't in grad school or working full-time back when she was a high school student, which indicates that her problems with sleep deprivation (if that's really the trouble here) weren't related to work and study, but to a set of bad habits.

So I slapped my large belly and told her that I didn't have the right to say this, but that for her own health, she should think about improving her habits, budgeting her time better, and getting some more sleep. I hedged a bit, though, and added that I would consider her request; after all, it probably wouldn't detract from anyone else's ability to participate in the class, and in a conformist society, it was doubtful that the other students would suddenly all feel the need to stand during the lesson.

At this point, however, I'm leaning toward No, which is probably what I'll say on Monday. Maybe I'm being a dick, but I didn't like my student's tactics (eerily reminiscent of how children play one parent off the other) and felt that her request contained more than a whiff of bullshit.

Then I began to wonder how such an exchange would have gone in an American university. Most of us Yanks are normal Joes, but we're more likely to labor under some sense of entitlement, easily visible when things don't go our way, causing us to bitch and moan to anyone who will listen. Koreans can be obnoxious, too, but this is usually while they're in the process of achieving some goal (e.g., shoving people aside to gain a seat on the subway), not after they've been thwarted from it.

I recall one instance where my favorite prof at Catholic University pulled me aside and said he wanted to ask me about something (I was in the CUA Master's program in religious studies at the time). Curious, I followed my prof to his office, where we sat down. He then explained that an undergrad student had received a poor grade from him on a paper, and that the student had come to him to ask for a change in grade. As the two discussed their respective reasons for why the grade should or shouldn't be changed, my prof noticed that the student was becoming visibly and audibly agitated-- breathing harder, flushing, the works. By the end of the exchange, it was obvious that the grade wasn't going to be altered, and the student stalked off, incensed.

My prof shook his head and asked, "Was I too harsh?" I said that it sounded as though this kid had anger management problems, which may be true, but to be honest I really didn't know. I was raised to be fairly fatalistic about grades; I felt that I got whatever I deserved, and I can't recall ever arguing with a teacher-- much less a college professor-- about the perceived injustice of a grade I had received. Some people, however, are natural-born grubbers: they'll kick and scream and make noise even if all their effort results in the tiniest of gains, the smallest of victories. I saw this often both as a student and as a high school teacher in America, where cries of "That's so unfair!" would ring out several times daily. I also remember being challenged multiple times on grades I had given. That sense of entitlement again.

Letting my student stand during the lesson is unsettling for some reason. I can't quite put my finger on why. I'm not a drill sergeant; I'm not really a martinet (my students all think I'm a softie); I'm not fundamentally opposed to having one student stand for the sake of staying awake, but... something about our conversation rubbed me the wrong way. I'd like to say there are Larger Issues at work here, for example, What will this girl do when she's in the workaday world and tries to wheedle favors from her boss? Shouldn't I be breaking her of this habit? But in thinking this way, I can't help seeing myself as one of those fatuous, petty, frustrated villains in a "Woody Woodpecker" cartoon-- the kind where the forces of calm and order are the enemy while the chaotic and mischievous Woody is the show's hero.

Meditate on this, I will.


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