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I never thought of myself as a prude, a prig, a Miss Manners type of person.  I've always felt pretty accepting, tolerant, and  amenable to things.  Cut to me being a teacher in a room full of 18-20 plus year olds.  When I started teaching at the college level, I was 26, so some of what my students did was probably not out of my own experience.  But as the years went by, I started to see things that just blew me away.

• One student brought in an entire three course meal from the cafeteria, sat down in the front desk and proceeded to try to knife and fork his way through the entire thing during a lecture about essay format.  The eating in general (despite the signs and the rules) is just a thing to do.  Donuts, chips, popcorn (Chex mix--damn, that stuff is loud).
• A student got up--slowly--from his desk, slowly walked to the front of the room, dropped a can (clank) into the garbage can, and slowly walked back to his desk, his CHP type sunglasses on the whole time.
• They talk.  And talk.  They try to talk while I'm talking, while other students are talking.  They need to catch up on their relationships, their work tales, their family lives.  They need to laugh at other people, make jokes, tease each other.  It's important to do this during really intense discussions and lectures.
• Answering the phone (I've already gone through this part in a blog) during a lecture.  The first time it happened, as student told me his "pard-ners" needed to know what he was doing.  Okay, fine.  I'll tell them
• Five minutes before the class is over but well before it is over, they start to pack up.  Zip.  Zip.  Zip.  They even sometimes stand up before I'm even done, waiting like bulls from the gate, desperate to get out.
• Going to the bathroom.  A lot.  Whenever there is a chance, a break, a lull.  Staying out and having a smoke and then coming back.
• Coming in late, leaving early.

Okay, I could go on, but aside from the fact that these things interrupt me at my job (or are a sort of part of my job) I just don't understand the manners.  There it is.  Manners.  Yes, I am getting old.  Sure, I had boring classes when I was in school.  I had a Shakespeare teacher so dull, I forced myself to sit in the front row, dead center in order to stay awake. 

I know I must have talked during class, but I made sure the teacher didn't see or hear me.  I remember when whispering was something students did.

In high school movies, students are doing this and worse.  Maybe I've been lucky to just have this wave of rude behavior in the last few years. Maybe this just doesn't occur elsewhere in academia, and I haven't noticed this ever in my UCLA classes (where the age is usually older).  But what are we teaching our children about listening to others, about learning?

Could it be that children aren't exposed to groups of people listening to one person any more.  Dare I suggest that not going to a church has caused this?  (Yikes!  That would be one good reason to take kids to church!)  Could it be children aren't taken to lectures, to readings, to public places enough to know that their behavior is part of the performance, the show.  Haven't they read about Shakespeare and his time, about how the audience sat on stage and almost became the play?   Should we make sure we take our children to the theater, enroll them in classes where they kind themselves in the front and center spot?

I try my best with humor and sometimes teacher meltdown day to express the importance of the class' behavior as a whole.  But it doesn't seem to stick.  And some days, I weary of trying to teach them literature and etiquette.  Lately, though, instead of getting angry, I sort of watch in wonder, trying to figure out how these students can think what they do is in any way polite. And I don't give up because I want to show them I want them to know what the world would like of them, how to move into a public space and respect the public space, the person in front of the room, themselves, too.  By showing me respect, they respect their own learning, their own growth, their own path.

Jessica