On WhatsApp and …Wisdom

The fact that I wrote about a brand new class only after a couple of months of their acquaintance and nothing about the other one of the same age – another group of people of a peculiar kind I have been with for 5 long years that we’ll identify as 5Afb –  has aroused some sort of stupor among them; I guess because they found themselves unexpectedly stripped of the coveted title of “weirdos” mostly. Actually, it seemed pretty incredible that this event could ever happen, but it did. So, having the 5Afb been definitely surpassed by 5(I)D on matter of weirdness and desiring to make things even writing something worthy of 5Afb, I found myself running short of ideas. After all, you cannot write on command. But, one day, something epiphanic came in help.

The occasion was an unmissable training course given by the formidable Mr Cross, a former magistrate, deputed to updating  school staff  on the matter of norms, about the dangers of the usage of WhatsApp in class and in particular as means of communication with students. After more than an hour of endless boredom 🥱 Mr Cross came up with an incredible story which he thought to be pretty convincing:

Mr Cross:  ” It is absolutely not recommended the usage of WhatsApp  with students, hence, I wish to tell this story to dissuade you once and for all from using it for any school activity. So, listen carefully. I have been told that a student texted his teacher demanding if he could skip the test the following day and she replied he could not. The following day, as he was unprepared, he was given a bad mark. His parents read that conversation and sued the teacher for sexual harassment”.

Teachers : 😮😮😮😮😮

Mrs Tink ( texting a colleague) “If this is a real story, I guess there must be some parts missing!! How did we go from test to sex I can’t make it out”.😕

Nonetheless, despite the anecdote was absurd, it stirred something in my conscience and I found myself wondering  about the massive usage of WhatsApp I usually have with my students, which, in a word, I could actually define ….over-the-top. I know, it was only five years ago when I pontificated urbi et orbi about the joys of disconnection, but in five years a lot has changed, there has been a pandemic and communication via WhatsApp has become vital…..and fun. It was exactly during this thorough examination that some episodes about the 5Afb in question came up to my mind.

But first of all I have to spend a few  words on the general demeanour of this class. Their weirdness has always consisted in the fact that since early days almost all of them seemed to have joined the school by a twist of fate. To be more specific, their attitude has been for long that of a bunch of youngsters who are at a football stadium and the very moment their favourite player is about to kick an important penalty, for some sort of magic, they find themselves in a class while Mrs Tink is explaining the wonders of the Present Continuous tense. I still have this impression from time to time when I look them in the eyes. They are addicted to football and this is truth we have to deal with every day.

During the pandemic I even found myself in charge of the coordination of all the activities of the 5Afb, bureaucratic stuff  in particular, and on that occasion it was clear to me they all had trouble in responding effectively to the word “deadline”. Every time I needed some papers and I set a specific deadline, if  it was a good day, I had 2 in 22.  Words were totally useless, hence, I thought about using the figurative, primitive but impactful way of communication that WhatsApp  emoticons can offer. I actually used three of them  in particular, according to my level of anger and  consequent danger for them:

☠️:  You did something wrong! Watch out! I am ticked off! There will be consequences (but in a way you still have a chance of redemption).

⚰️: Your time for redemption is running short, in fact, I am just about to seal the lids of your coffins ( I usually texted a sequence of coffins according to the number of those who had not accomplished their tasks)

🪦: Non matter what you mean to do. It’s over. Fertig. Fini. Finito. Tomorrow we will settle up (sequence of gravestones followed).

Well, it worked and it was fun. They have become soldiers in matter of deadlines, I have to say.  I still every now and then text a skull, just to see how and whether they react, and they do (very childish of me, I know).

Mts Tink :☠️

5Afb : “What have we done, now?”🥶🥶🥶

But, I couldn’t help but wonder during that training course, what if one parent had stumbled across that group chat? The kind of parent Mr Cross’s story was about? I would have offered my head on a silver platter, especially if one wanted wilfully to misunderstand tones and intentions. So, I resolved upon being definitely more careful in the future. Hence, still full of concerns, I decided to test the waters telling the class Dr Cross’s tale and comparing it to our skull/coffin/gravestone episodes (and more🤦) to have a good laugh and check their reaction at the same time. While they were listening to this crazy story, I could see their faces enlighten and their smiles take the form of a smirk. Then, after a while, one of those “impostors”, a bold one, took the floor hinting darkly that in due time I might as well get a skull one day in remembrance of those “good” old times.

5Afb : ” Before the exams in June it would be a good timing, wouldn’t  it?😇😇😇

Mrs Tink: 😈“ You won’t live that long”.🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦

Advertisement

(Un)Happy and Connected?

My mother and technology have always been two worlds apart, the simple tuning of radio stations was a mystery for her, just to give you an idea. So, when long long time ago she decided to buy me a mobile for Christmas, her choice could not but be based only on glamour and price, after all she would have done everything to make her beloved, spoiled, only daughter happy. It was my very first mobile and I can still remember how she was eagerly awaiting to read the surprise and joy in my eyes and how she hurried me to open my gift, after all, such new device was everybody’s wish at that time and so she assumed it was even mine. Once unwrapped my present, I remained a few seconds in silence watching the thing and said : “Give it back , I don’t want it”. It was not her choice of mobile that I disliked – a red, super expensive, flashy “Ferrari ” ( famous mobile brand isn’t it?), but that was the instinctive reaction to a thought that took possession of my mind at once : with that gizmo I could have been controlled. Even if she tried to hide it, I saw tears in her eyes. Since then and after many mobiles that thought has never abandoned me, it has been only put aside, but every now and then it comes back to claim its rights and that’s why my relationship with the connected world has always been something between love and hatred.

I cannot deny that more than once having a mobile has been more than useful , as
when I broke the axle and the axle shaft of my car while I was on my way to work
or, of course, that time I was left imprisoned in a lift and….. well, actually,
nothing more that vital I can remember. Two episodes in about 25 years! Of course, I love
chatting, texting, googling. ……but on the other hand I believe the control you
have on people being thus connected anyhow, anywhere, has increased rather than
reduced our fears and made our psychological space a bit too crowded and
suffocating. One example ? My mother. Again. I am sure whoever has an elderly parent knows well what I am about to say.  When I call her on the phone at home she rarely answers, of course, I am not worried as she might be doing something and I try and look for her on her mobile number: silence. After many unsuccessful attempts to reach her, my
mind begins to be haunted by the shadows of any possible disgrace, hence, I feel having no other choice than going and seek for her at home. And there she is, peacefully watching tv.  When I enquire about her mobile, she always answers candidly: “Oh, it’s off, my dear”. It’s her revenge for that Ferrari, I’m sure.

Whenever we want to control somebody it is often for a good reason, but hardly ever it is the consequence of a positive thought. We want to put at rest our fears, but if we take the phone any time doubts and apprehension cross our brain, we just end up reducing the freedom of others, even the freedom of making mistakes. Think about how the parent-child relationship has changed in this last decade. I see children continuously connected to their parents for any reason, much more that I used to be at their age, it is a continuous presence that can make them eventually  grow less responsible. I can witness this at school. If they forget their book, dictionary, money, snack or if they feel like having a problem with a teacher, no problem, let’s call mummy or daddy, and they’ll promptly come at any time of the day to help and solve their problems. However, they never forget their mobiles, strange indeed.

I can still remember my years abroad. I usually heard from my parents twice a month! Of course, it was B.E.M., namely, Before Mobile Era and as calls were expensive, I knew I had to manage things myself and that it was no use calling them to tell my problems, if I had any, the only result would have been making them more worried. I’m sure the flavor of those happy years wouldn’t have been the same, had my mother phoned me three times a day.

The princes, princesses and their Queen, of course.

Of course, you may guess, what I might think of Whatsapp with its blue check marks or its noisy, chatty, crowded groups: I hate them. However, I cannot ignore how it has recently become quite common at school  to form Whatsapp groups to share information. There are three kinds of them, which I will list according to the degree of danger of breaking into your privacy: level 1 – teachers (dangerous); level 2 – teachers and students (very dangerous); level -3 teachers, students and parents (madness). So far, I have unsuccessfully joined some level 1 groups.  Last June I had my chance to experience level 2. The occasion was a trip to Sicily with one of my classes. I thought about creating a group for a while, but no way, I could not, I only resolved about giving my precious telephone number to two selected students, with the solemn promise of burning or swallowing it at the end the trip. I have to say that they have been fantastic and behaved like princes and princesses, I am not joking, but even aristocracy sometimes has its faults. One day inTaormina, we were on our way to the theatre, when my two colleagues and I had to stop to help one of our boys who thought he had lost his wallet. By the time we called the coach company and check whether the wallet had been left on the coach, they had all disappeared, vanished. We hoped they had seen the huge sign to Taormina theatre and turned left, but they had not, they had gaily followed the flow and turned right. Once arrived at the solitary gates of the theatre my colleagues started to text them on Whatsapp, of course, they could easily reach all their students and give directions, but  I could not. I was mortified. I was just about to call my two chosen ones, when I saw the name of one of them on my display. He asked me where I was where I was  and assured they would have joined me soon. When they all arrived, my collegues soundly reproached them, but I did not. I could not.I just smiled.

On the necessity of private lessons

I  have a nephew, beloved nephew, who is the sheer example of the generation of the teenagers of these times. His life mostly focuses on football, both as main topic of conversation and activity as he is a full-time footballer, shoes, some girls and of course, social media. He is very “social” indeed, in fact, you can find him on Facebook, Instagram, Whatsapp, Ask and I don’t know what else. He enjoys a constant symbiosis with his smart phone, from which he doesn’t wish to be separated for more than few minutes as he feels the world that matters is there. Unfortunately there is a parallel world that every now and then knocks on his door in a less alluring form, a nightmare in fact: his school report.

So, when  last year, Federico, this is his name, brought his first term report card, his parents were shocked to learn that only physical education stood out among the poorness of his grades. In order to avoid the ghost of a possible failure, an army of teachers was recruited and I was selected among them. I was really happy to help. We decided that Federico could come to meet me  only on Saturday afternoon, as he had already planned all the lessons with the other teachers and there were still the three-time a week football training sessions and the Sunday match to take into consideration, of course.

I made all my best to make of that afternoon a very pleasant time. I wanted him to be happy to come and he was, actually. I often made him come for lunch, my husband is an excellent cook, or if he couldn’t, he always found a tray with cakes or pastries waiting for him. Sometimes after the lessons, we even brought him to a shopping centre to buy him something as a reward, you know, we wanted to thank him for keeping us company on Saturday afternoons, when you have really nothing better to do.

The first lesson always seems  a success. Always. The student displays a certain interest and praises you for your passion, clarity which go far beyond what the teacher does at school. Always. For a while you are flattered and your self-esteem dramatically increases till the next session arrives. We had studied the Tudors, the Act of Supremacy etc., so when I checked what Federico had understood, I had some random facts and a lot of nonsense back. Just to give you an example, it took a few minutes to convince him that Henry VII couldn’t be but the father of Henry VIII, as seven comes first. He was surprised.

Then I remembered. I remembered me a long time before, while I was taking Latin private lessons, when I was at high school. I hated Latin, I just couldn’t see the point why I should study Latin, which I regarded only a dead, useless language.Those hours bored me to death: “Tityre, tu patulae recubans sub tegmine fagi…” , that nightmarish lullaby still echoes in my mind. I learnt only what I needed to pull through and soon after I forgot everything. Strange indeed, when I went to university I chose to study German as a foreign language and well, even if the grammar, the structures resembled so much those of Latin, it didn’t find it so detestable after all, but rather did love it. I loved it so much that I started to take into consideration the studying of Latin again. So one day I found myself searching my old Latin grammar book, which I had safely placed in a remote corner of the shelf. It wasn’t that bad after all.

At the end of school year Federico succeeded in filling his gaps in the majority of the subjects (English included, in case you want to know) , but he had to give Maths and Physics in the September session of exams, which he passed. However, his mother had noticed that when it was almost the end of the school year, Federico seemed to have made some progress in both Maths and Physics, despite she had decided not to waste her money in further lessons. Well, once alone and without anybody to support him, he had naturally started to organize his work, and his grades had actually improved, not enough to pass the year sparing the exams in September, but there were good sign of amelioration and for free.

Private lessons are hardly ever useful. Parents must understand that their children learn a lot from their mistakes, particularly if they are let alone to face them. They learn to be responsible for their actions and autonomous. Remember, their failure is not your failure and everything may turn into a great chance of growing. Let them grow. Therefore, you may imagine my reaction, when a mother, at a parent teacher conference, displaying a certain apprehension, wanted to have my opinion about some private lessons for his son, who had not manifested any real problem till then. I smiled. I took her hands and warmly said: “Go shopping!” She was speechless and I added: ” Get the money you wanted to spend on these lessons, buy yourself something nice and have fun!” She thanked me, the last time I saw her.