Today, I just set my kids on fire.
Not literally of course.
Though I believe it would be quite thoroughly satisfying if I could do that.
For the past few weeks, it was hectic with a flurry of competitions in school.
I thought that after more than two years of teaching experience, I'd be able to handle kids and their dumb competitions.
I thought that, hey, kids are interested to join competitions without being forced to, therefore, they would commit and will do everything to win. I'd just have to be as committed to them to see them through.
On the contrary, I had multiple meltdowns.
I questioned my vocation. I felt like a failure. I felt unappreciated. I felt trampled on. I felt like I have wasted my time and energy with kids who didn't put in half of their effort to win.
I hated my job.
And no matter how many times you make it clear to them that THEY are the ones who are competing, they still take things so easily. Thinking that victory is just a fucking smile away.
That's what happened to my debate team today.
Since day one, they lacked commitment and were lazy. When I told them to just quit, they refused. I applaud their fighting spirit. But I only got to see them really debate with each other the day before the competition as they only finished writing their scripts about two days ago, in which they had about two fucking weeks to get it done. Yes, I made them write their own scripts. I believe debaters should not be memorising perfect scripts written by their teachers. And with severe lack of preparation, it hurts my brain just looking at them debating like rocks.
And the moment they opened their mouth, I knew they would get shredded badly in the competition.
If I were a normal, kind hearted, face-saving teacher, I would have not allowed them to enter the competition, as it will only embarrass them, me and the school.
In all honesty, I wanted them to continue competing not because I don't believe in giving up.
It's because I want to watch them burn. Fuck embarrassing ourselves. I want them to have real education.
I want them to suffer the consequences of their action. I want them to know that life is full of thorns before one can reach the bed of roses. I want them to realise that they have to work their asses off if they really want something.
And that was exactly what happened to them. When I heard (I wasn't there because I'm done wasting a second with them) that they were muted by their opponents and lost miserably, I didn't feel any shame (people who know shit can judge me for being a shitty trainer for all I care), instead, I secretly gained a sadistic feeling of satisfaction.
Not because I'm a cold-hearted bitch. Well, maybe a just a little.
But because the objective of my life lesson for them has been achieved.
You can tell me I'm a bad teacher, but I still wanted them to learn, even though they were the cause of my recent suicidal thoughts. So fuck me, right?
Therefore, when all teaching methods have failed, the only thing we can do is to watch our students burn till they learn not to play with fire.