Closed-minded, chit-cricker pharts

Closed minds and stereotypes wore this old phart out today!

My work day always starts upbeat: I have a nice group in the social psych class. My work day usually ends a little hectic, but satisfying, for the most part. Many in my end-of-the-day journalism class are giving it a run...some are very talented. It's the Longaberger cheese in the center of my work-day sammich that is giving me gas.

Social psych is on stereotypes....and the local, long-held stereotype came out. Shit-cricker! Only in Kirksville. What is that? You decide. I'm going to bet if you're not from this area you have no idea what that derogatory--and wrong--belief is.

I also gave this class an outside activity. Only two of the 12 declined to take part. The asking them to take part WAS the activity. Two were holding on to false and fearful beliefs. I was pleased that only two refused.

Ah, but the stinky cheese.

Many of my gen psych students just can't (or haven't or won't) pull it together. They're defensive, fearful--and today--three of them were down right defiant!

We do a functional fixedness (think outside the box) activity in class: students are given a piece of paper, a sewing kit, a magic marker and a record (and an old vinyl for these young students is an unknown! And that's another story!!) and are told they need to make a phonograph (another story) with the materials they have. By the way, it can be done. Try it.

Working in groups of three, most groups at least tried. One group bucked up, bulled up and decided I was deliberatly trying to make them look stupid. Hmmm And they never once tried to--well--think! Any time I walked close to them to ask how it was going....they bulled up on me. At the end of the exercise, all the other groups had the general idea, and one group had made a phonograph.

During this exercise, one young man in another group decided to haul out his wham-bam-fancy cell phone and (trying desperately to hide it under the desk) bring up music. Whoa baby, I ain't that damned stupid. When I told him cells were off-limits in class, he copped a 'tude. When I told him policy states it goes off and in his backpack or it was mine...he came out of his chair and told me if I tried that effin shit he'd effin walk. Okay....I can play that game. I pointed out the door and told him I hope to hell it didn't hit him in the ass on the way out! Professional? Umm, no way.

But the little babe who, as we were getting ready to dismiss, decided to whip off her sweatshirt and twirl around and show her buddies her body art (or her boobies, I'm not really sure which) and then yanked down her jeans to show a nice piece a work on her left butt cheek, put the stink in my sammich!

I did, however, get a laugh when another student let it be known, "Yo, idiot, this isn't a gawdam bar, this is a classroom!"