I am stubborn, especially when I think I'm right. I come by this characteristic naturally (Mom), and it's been a part of me for a long time.
In second grade, a friend (Joan Nobile) gave me some little figurines right before our bathroom break. I took those little guys with me, had a seat in the back stall, and played and played and played. It was a while before I discovered that I was alone. I sheepishly walked into the classroom where my classmates were engaged in a workbook activity. The teacher, Mrs. "Nasty" Norris was furious and after yelling at me for what felt like an eternity, she sentenced me to stand in the corner during recess for one week. The next day was rainy so the class played indoor games. Carol Marshall ( the Nelly Olsen of my day) taunted me endlessly, and I decided that would be my last day in the corner. The next day was rainy again, and I joined my friends playing a game. Carol was furious that I could be so defiant, and she ratted me out to the teacher who hadn't acknowledged the empty corner. "Aren't you supposed to be in the corner?" asked Mrs. Nasty. I stared her down and said nothing in response. Either my look to kill or her realization that the punishment was excessive caused her to back down and she said, "Oh that was last week, wasn't it?" I still refused to speak to her, but I nodded yes, went back to playing, and laughed to myself when the teacher shut Carol down and threatened her with a week in the corner for tattletaling. I was glad the incident was resolved so easily because I knew I wasn't standing in that corner again and my second grade brain was frantically trying to figure out my next step.
In ninth grade my typing teacher, Mr. Storti, brought a sick student to the Health Suite and jokingly called himself "Super Sam." He didn't know I was in the back room. So when I wrote a gossip-type column for the school newspaper, I hailed him a hero and shared the moniker with the school. He was livid, and rather than talk to the teacher who oversaw the contents of the paper, he yelled at me in front of the class and assigned me a detention for the following day. Shades of second grade! I wasn't serving that detention, no way in hell. Two days later he made me stay after class and questioned my not showing up. I told him I was never going to serve that detention. He was flummoxed. I was a good student, I did what I was told, and he knew I meant business. He sent me on to my next class and treated me horribly for the rest of the school year. I'm stubborn and he wasn't getting away with it. I bided my time. When I graduated from high school with a college acceptance into Millersville's teaching program, I wrote him a letter that explained my desire to be a teacher and how my experience with him would guide me through the years as a prime example of what I would never, ever, ever do to a student. We crossed paths once after that letter, and he couldn't look me in the eye.
I don't know if I ever treated a student in a similarly unfair manner. (If I did, feel free to write me a letter. I will grovel and apologize.) But, my first year of teaching was such a nightmare that I've blocked out many of the memories. I had no classroom management skills and learned on the job from my many mistakes. Had I not been stubborn, I could not have survived that year. Dead bird in a baggie in my desk with the misspelled note "your next." Back the next day. Called into the office to apologize to a student I sent to the office for his nine hundredth unexcused lateness. Back the next day. Breaking out in hives when the kids hid my car keys that I sobbingly searched an hour for with Russell Barnes, our beloved custodian. Back the next day. Birthday gift of a bag of garbage wrapped like a present and left on my desk. Back the next day. Called to the office to watch the assistant principal return a student's pen knife because he said he did not carve his initials into a desk, and she chose to believe him. Even though the initials were on his desk! Even though the whole class saw him! Back the next day. I was too stubborn to give up. Too many young and naïve teachers don't survive their first year. Failure was not an option for me, so I stuck it out. I'm so glad I did!
I am now involved in another test of wills with my new dog, Winnie the Poop. For eight years, she was allowed to do her business inside her owner's home on a pee pad. I told her that those days were over, and I swear she said, "It's on." Every day, four to eight times a day, the call of "Go pee" can be heard coming from my yard. Twenty minutes this morning, before coffee, in my nightgown and winter coat, we played Go Pee. She didn't. I watch her constantly. She has a favorite spot by the back door. My sneaky Stealth Shitter leaves me little logs proving that she is in it to win it. I have started giving her treats when she goes pee outside. She loves them, but still hasn't yet made the connection. She is the only dog I have ever walked who does nothing on top of the other dogs' scents. I dread the days of nice weather when my words "Go pee dammit" will float into my neighbors' windows and send them running to the bathroom. This stubborn dog is a challenge, but I will win. I have many more years of stubbornness on her. I taught middle school for thirty long years. Chew on that Winnie because you will learn to "Go pee" and you will like it.
