4/20

 

I’ve been teaching nearly seven years now, and I took a class on a field

trip for the first time a couple of weeks ago. It was to RiverMead, the

retirement community in Peterborough: about five miles, round-trip.

     A friend from Dublin who lives there now had asked me to come address

the residents about my concern, expressed in this space, that boys seem to

be lagging behind girls academically at ConVal and across the nation. I was

willing, but the day and time he wanted me to come, I had a Journalism

class.

     So I decided to take the class with me. After all, who would know more

about how boys and girls respond differently to high school than the boys

and girls themselves? Plus, they could write stories about the event for the

school newspaper.

    I checked with my RiverMead friend to see if that would be all right. He

was intrigued, and got it cleared at his end. I filled out the necessary

forms at my end, handed out permission slips to my 20 students, and reminded

them every day for a week that we were going on a field trip on Monday,

April 3, and that the bus would leave at 9:45 sharp, with or without them.

Six of them were either absent, cut class, or forgot about the trip. Five of

the six  were boys.

     We arrived to find an audience of about a hundred residents. I made a

few remarks, then I put the four boys who made the trip on stage. RiverMead

had provided a handheld wireless microphone for us, and I was ready to ask

the kids questions myself if the residents were too shocked or shy, but that

was not necessary. There were hands up in the audience for the entire hour.

     We didn’t stick strictly to the subject. I had contemplated asking my

students to dress more formally than normal for the visit, but on

reflection, decided that our audience should see high school students in

their native plumage -- unedited, uncensored, unretouched. I suspect this

was why one of the first questions was, “Does your high school have a dress

code?”

     When we got around to gender and schools, one of the boys said that

boys have “higher priorities” than academics -- sports, mainly. Another

explained that boys who got good grades ran the risk of being called

kiss-ups.” Someone in the audience asked for a definition of the term,

which led to a minor semantic skirmish. I translated “kiss-up” as a

derogatory term for a student who curries favor with teachers, but one of

the girls denied it. She said it was a term of respect for “someone who

works really hard.”

     One of the boys offered to put it in context. “Say I call a guy up on a

Saturday to see what he¹s doing, and he says he¹s studying,” he explained.

“So I’d say, don’t be such a kiss-up!”

     After the boys were done, I brought four girls up on stage to get their

perspective. They agreed that boys had other things on their minds. More

interestingly, they said that when they were younger, they also tried to

avoid looking too smart for fear of being unpopular. “Guys like to teach

girls stuff,” one said, “so I’d pretend not to know anything.” But they all

agreed that as they matured, they stopped doing that. “Now girls just work

harder.”

     I’ve left out a lot. The hour went by swiftly, and as we departed, one

of the residents said, “I wish it could have gone on all morning.” My friend

called later to say that everyone who attended was still talking about it,

and many wanted to invite us back for more.

     That was gratifying. But the best part was the five-minute ride back to

ConVal on the bus. The students talked passionately about the experience all

the way, and when we got into class, they didn¹t stop for another hour.

     It was only five miles, but you don¹t have to go very far to discover a

different world. I must do this more often.