I am not sure what to say. We are on the second day of speeches, the dates for which are listed in the syllabus. When date changes occur the students are notified through email. No emails were sent. Sign-ups were weeks ago. They are also allowed to switch speech dates with fellow classmates if they so desire, so long as they notify me of the change. So nothing set in stone, except that they are responsible for making sure they get their assignments done. Namely speeches. This is a public speaking class after all.
I decide to go for deeper questioning so as to hide my desire to say, "And this is my problem why?" Because, who knows, maybe there is some very good reason. Reasons that just happen to coincide with the very date chosen for giving their speech, in a class that lasts from 9:35-11:10am. Maybe they were sick in the hospital with dysentery. Or perhaps aliens abducted them and wiped their memories of speech class and, in the interim, also made off with their common sense.
"Why?"
"I wasn't there that day I guess"
Damn. OK, so here it is. The syllabus has the dates on it. I talk about the speeches endlessly in lectures prepared to help them understand what is expected of them. We workshop some of the ideas for speeches in class. People sign up for times on specific days set aside for students to do their speeches. These days are jam packed with students diligently giving speeches, except for a few of them. The few. The proud. Some students are genuinely afraid, and you can usually pick those ones out and wrangle them into both their date and into a semblance of speech giving capability. But then there are those, not many, who seem to dare you to define their scholastic experience with expectations.
So I say it.
"So, what am I suppose to do about that?"
His eyes widen and he seems stunned and a little unprepared for my blunt questioning. I feel a momentary weakness. I want to cave. To say, "No worries, go ahead and sign up for next class." He's a nice kid overall. But then I look out at the rest of the class. There they are, so many of them pulling their share of the load. Come hell or high water, they are there, doing what needs to get done. My student with schizophrenia, who so bravely battles not only the usual work load of many students, but also his inner demons that can on a moments notice wreak havoc with his emotional stability. Another student with a husband who accosted her last week and is now living in a location out of harms way, but a location that is temporary and transitional. Her life in shambles. So damn brave. And then this one. "I wasn't there that day I guess".
You can't walk through life saying well, I know I was supposed to do this thing, but now I am going to shove that off on you and make you answer for me. That is lower than low. I accept, "I'm terrified" or "I'm lazy and irresponsible but I'll do anything to make it right" or "Can I have a do-over...my first try sucked." I know this is just speech class. This isn't brain surgery. But these kinds of ethical lessons need to start, or be reinforced, somewhere. And I guess I've decided that if there is a poverty of accountability, that this will be addressed here, in how I handle this class. Whether it is being responsible for the language we use or the work we do. So this is the moment, that ubiquitous "teaching moment".
The class floods out of the room as people head off to their next destinations and he stands before me, mute. Suspended. Everything is moving except us.
Finally he manages to utter
"I don't know...I uh just uh thought I would tell you."
"OK, thanks. Try and kick ass on the persuasive speech and on your final paper."
As he turns and leaves I wonder if I should call him back and relent. I wonder if I am being too hard on him. But his arrogance or rather the easiness of his approach in telling me that he needs to sign up for speeches, on days that we all understand are too short and overcrowded as it is, stops me. He expected me to relent. There was a privilege there in his approach that checked my generosity. I don't think he explicitly contemplates, "I am better then the rest of those people. She'll let ME squeeze in on a non-speech day so I can get my speech done", but the effect is the same.
The next class rushes in, bumping into chairs and desks, laughing and talking. I am offered coconut bread by a student who, though not doing exceptionally well in my class, never gives up. Another student asks if she can time speeches for that day. My spirits are lifted. We contemplate a class fishing trip to to a local lake in order to fix my inability to catch trout. For right now I am happy catching smiles.
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