Hate at First Sight

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Every month, I walk into my new classes and I hate them on sight. It’s not personal. I just hate everybody that I don’t know; those in the classroom are no exception.The feeling usually passes once I share a few words with them and am forced to accept them as people, but up until that point? Hate.

Okay, hate is a bit strong. I’m exaggerating, as I do. Hate indicates a degree of caring, which doesn’t exist in this case. Apathy or, at worst, distrust would be more appropriate. Whatever it is, while I follow something resembling the social code which I was taught (holding open doors for people, not cutting in line, and other such blah), people that I don’t know don’t really register as real people.

Every month, I walk into my new classes and I hate them on sight. It’s not personal. I just hate everybody that I don’t know; those in the classroom are no exception.The feeling usually passes once I share a few words with them and am forced to accept them as people, but up until that point? Hate.

Okay, hate is a bit strong. I’m exaggerating, as I do. Hate indicates a degree of caring, which doesn’t exist in this case. Apathy or, at worst, distrust would be more appropriate. Whatever it is, while I follow something resembling the social code which I was taught (holding open doors for people, not cutting in line, and other such blah), people that I don’t know don’t really register as real people.
Midway through the second day of class, once I’ve attached names to faces and seen a glimpse of personality, I come around to the idea that my students are real people. By the end of the first week, we’re all pretty tight, such that I can cater my lesson plans to each of their individual learning styles and personalities. By the end of the month, I can even imagine that some of them exist outside of the classroom; this is in part because they insist that I have a drink with them, an invite which I rarely decline.
When classes come to a close each month, all the names, which went with faces, most of which had personalities, move on. A new sea of nameless faces, which I hate on sight, then grow to see as people, and finally like, maybe just a little bit, replace the old.
It’s an exhausting process.


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