So, you're being required to look for a job, but you really don't want one? You looking for a good way to make damn sure no one hires you? Here are some helpful hints:
1. Smell Funny.
Seriously! Nothing will drive away potential bosses faster than you coming in smelling like you've been snuggling with pissed off skunks in a pile of pig manure while burning patchouli.
2. Be Uninformed.
You're looking for a job as a daycare teacher, so of course you're going to come to a by-the-hour private pay tutoring center! Good job!
3. Dress Badly.
Please, come in to meet the people you don't want to hire you in booty shorts, a dirty tank top, and sporting plenty of facial jewelry. Bonus points on the booty shorts if you're male and...excited. That will definitely send off those "don't hire me, I'm a pedophile" vibes you want.
4. Slang It Up.
If your goal is to avoid getting a job teaching children to read and write English, make sure to drop all of your definite articles, use lots of bad language, and talk like you've got oatmeal in your mouth!
5. Ignore the Needs of the Boss.
So, the boss tells you that she'd love to talk to you, but she only has five minutes right now? No problem! Take a nice deep breath and go for that ten-minute soliloquy. It works like a charm. Make sure you avoid eye contact, talk over the Boss when she tries to interrupt you, and remember that nervous body language is what you really want.
6. Encroach on Personal Space.
Nothing says "Do Not Hire" quite like sidling up to someone who is doing everything up to screaming "STRANGER DANGER!" Those steps backwards and crossed arms really mean "break through my walls, it's sexy!"
7. Insult the Boss.
When everything else fails, make sure that you say rude things to the person who might be inclined to hire you. Make sure she knows that YOU are the world's authority on every subject and that you will not bow to lesser intellects.
That's a good start, I think. Just remember, these seven simple steps can keep you safely out of the workforce and collecting unemployment benefits, where you know you want to be.
Showing posts with label teachers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teachers. Show all posts
Monday, June 1, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Charisma
It's something a person like me needs to guard against. I'm not exactly sure that I do a good job of it. Allow me to explain.
I am well-educated, and I am well-read, but I am not a genius. I can appear to be smarter than I really am, because I have learned that the trick to looking smart is to ape smart people. I get an awful lot of credit for seeming really smart and really on top of things because I can retain information and, when the need arises, discuss the information passionately, with great dramatic voice and captivating gestures that my audience feel what I want them to feel. Reagan had it, Obama has it. George W. Bush had it more than either of his serious opponents (Gore and Kerry). This is why actors get paid so much, because they can lie convincingly.
Don't misunderstand me. I'm not suggesting it's a bad thing to be able to do. It's a good thing. People like being lied to. They like believing that their Hollywood heroes are real people. We like that. It's not bad or good. It's a neutral thing. The bad stuff only happens when people don't separate the fantastic from the real.
There's a book called Double Star, written by a man named Robert Heinlein, whose early work is the stuff on which I was weaned. (My parents, as far as I can remember, didn't really buy us kids "children's literature." Instead, we read stories we couldn't fully understand, but could at least get the surface plot of, and were never subjected to your average child's diet of morality plays.) The book, Double Star, is about an actor who has to play the part, to truly become, a kidnapped politician. I don't mean politician as we mean it today. Think Churchill. A good man, and an honest politician. As the story is written as a first-person narrative, an extended journal entry almost, the actor discusses his beliefs and his ability to take on the role he is required to play. He suggests that he could come to love and understand Jack the Ripper if required to play him. Jack Nicholson has said similar things about the baddest of baddies he plays so well.
In a favorite movie of mine, The Jackal starring Bruce Willis, Richard Gere, and Sidney Poitier, Bruce plays the title character, a cold-blooded monster of an assassin. But he has charisma, and as you watch the movie, during the scenes in which it's The Jackal versus other bad guys, you want The Jackal to make it. You want him to win. He's a sympathetic character. This is the danger of charisma. Charismatic people can make you believe what they want you to. They can make you love what they love, and fear what they fear. This is how people have been convinced throughout history to do terrible, terrible things. And I'm good at it.
A couple of my friends and I were discussing a mutual acquaintance the other night. I was assuming the pose of the lecturer, and waxing philosophic about the acquaintance's failings, chiefly his need to be the Arbiter of Cool in our circle of friends and acquaintances. I find him incredibly annoying because of his need to be smarter and cooler than other people. As I was driving home that night, it struck me how much like him I am. And I felt ashamed. I felt suddenly how much I need to be the smart one. I wear my nerd-status proudly. I want people to believe I know more than they do, and that I am smarter than they are. I talk about subjects that people find difficult and painful to work with as if they are easy. For me, they are. I routinely tell my students that something difficult isn't "that hard." I have told myself in the past that I say this because I want to inspire self-confidence instead of fear. Now I'm not so sure. Do I, perhaps, say these things more so that the child will be confident in himself, or in me? Does my need to be the smart one override what's best for the child? I hope not.
As I think about the way that we approach our students and their parents, I am stunned by how fake we are, how much of an act we put on. We can fake sincerity like no one else. We can sit and listen, make the right noises at the right times, fix a face of concerned sympathy, and finish the sentences for you as if we understand exactly what you're going through when in fact we are just remembering the last twenty parents who said this same thing. But we can pretend as though your situation is unique and different, that your child is special and important to us personally. And when our meeting is concluded, we will bad-mouth you and your child. We can't seem to help ourselves. We belittle your beliefs and your stupid kid and your inability to deal with reality.
What does all this mean? Why did I write this post? I think to warn you. As much as parents can be unpleasant and obnoxious, teachers can be more so. Do not assume that all teachers who claim to care actually do. Teachers, tutors, administrators and managers of teaching facilities are not to be trusted without good cause. Don't trust us just because we have our sheepskins. We don't always know what's best, and sometimes we don't really care. We're just trying to make you think we do so we can get our jobs done.
I am well-educated, and I am well-read, but I am not a genius. I can appear to be smarter than I really am, because I have learned that the trick to looking smart is to ape smart people. I get an awful lot of credit for seeming really smart and really on top of things because I can retain information and, when the need arises, discuss the information passionately, with great dramatic voice and captivating gestures that my audience feel what I want them to feel. Reagan had it, Obama has it. George W. Bush had it more than either of his serious opponents (Gore and Kerry). This is why actors get paid so much, because they can lie convincingly.
Don't misunderstand me. I'm not suggesting it's a bad thing to be able to do. It's a good thing. People like being lied to. They like believing that their Hollywood heroes are real people. We like that. It's not bad or good. It's a neutral thing. The bad stuff only happens when people don't separate the fantastic from the real.
There's a book called Double Star, written by a man named Robert Heinlein, whose early work is the stuff on which I was weaned. (My parents, as far as I can remember, didn't really buy us kids "children's literature." Instead, we read stories we couldn't fully understand, but could at least get the surface plot of, and were never subjected to your average child's diet of morality plays.) The book, Double Star, is about an actor who has to play the part, to truly become, a kidnapped politician. I don't mean politician as we mean it today. Think Churchill. A good man, and an honest politician. As the story is written as a first-person narrative, an extended journal entry almost, the actor discusses his beliefs and his ability to take on the role he is required to play. He suggests that he could come to love and understand Jack the Ripper if required to play him. Jack Nicholson has said similar things about the baddest of baddies he plays so well.
In a favorite movie of mine, The Jackal starring Bruce Willis, Richard Gere, and Sidney Poitier, Bruce plays the title character, a cold-blooded monster of an assassin. But he has charisma, and as you watch the movie, during the scenes in which it's The Jackal versus other bad guys, you want The Jackal to make it. You want him to win. He's a sympathetic character. This is the danger of charisma. Charismatic people can make you believe what they want you to. They can make you love what they love, and fear what they fear. This is how people have been convinced throughout history to do terrible, terrible things. And I'm good at it.
A couple of my friends and I were discussing a mutual acquaintance the other night. I was assuming the pose of the lecturer, and waxing philosophic about the acquaintance's failings, chiefly his need to be the Arbiter of Cool in our circle of friends and acquaintances. I find him incredibly annoying because of his need to be smarter and cooler than other people. As I was driving home that night, it struck me how much like him I am. And I felt ashamed. I felt suddenly how much I need to be the smart one. I wear my nerd-status proudly. I want people to believe I know more than they do, and that I am smarter than they are. I talk about subjects that people find difficult and painful to work with as if they are easy. For me, they are. I routinely tell my students that something difficult isn't "that hard." I have told myself in the past that I say this because I want to inspire self-confidence instead of fear. Now I'm not so sure. Do I, perhaps, say these things more so that the child will be confident in himself, or in me? Does my need to be the smart one override what's best for the child? I hope not.
As I think about the way that we approach our students and their parents, I am stunned by how fake we are, how much of an act we put on. We can fake sincerity like no one else. We can sit and listen, make the right noises at the right times, fix a face of concerned sympathy, and finish the sentences for you as if we understand exactly what you're going through when in fact we are just remembering the last twenty parents who said this same thing. But we can pretend as though your situation is unique and different, that your child is special and important to us personally. And when our meeting is concluded, we will bad-mouth you and your child. We can't seem to help ourselves. We belittle your beliefs and your stupid kid and your inability to deal with reality.
What does all this mean? Why did I write this post? I think to warn you. As much as parents can be unpleasant and obnoxious, teachers can be more so. Do not assume that all teachers who claim to care actually do. Teachers, tutors, administrators and managers of teaching facilities are not to be trusted without good cause. Don't trust us just because we have our sheepskins. We don't always know what's best, and sometimes we don't really care. We're just trying to make you think we do so we can get our jobs done.
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