There are two types of people in this world (as there often are, depending on what axis we’re talking about): teachers, and students.
I’m a student. By the time I learn something, I’m so stupefied by its obviousness that I usually try to gloss over the fact that I didn’t know it (for an example of such a topic, see last week’s post). There’s a ton of stuff that I don’t know, and that I’m trying to find out. My favorite way to engage new people is really to ask a lot of questions.
Teachers--those people who derive joy out of lecturing me on topics they may or may not know anything about (to be fair, they may have just learned about them themselves)--therefore can really enrich my life. All I have to do is listen attentively. They feel appreciated, and I get some new information. Or at worst, I get to daydream while they tell me something I already know, and they still feel appreciated. It might have something to do with how my favorite activities with a lover are whatever makes me feel like they’re showing off (with the added bonus that they’re usually gorgeous when they’re doing something that both takes talent and makes them entirely comfortable). As with a dom-sub dynamic, there’s something extremely complementary about the teacher-student one. Extra bonus points if both parties switch occasionally.
There are a couple of times when teachers don’t work with me. Most importantly, it’s when they’re downright wrong. This often happens when they’re trying to teach me about something they just learned, and I happen to know a lot about (in fact, it was a particularly ignorant podcast about polyamory, by a poly couple that doesn’t even have outside partners to contend with that got me into blogging in the first place). Sometimes, it’s amusing. I can go off into daydream land again and trust that they will figure out the folly of their ways in their own way and on their own time as best they can, and I assume they’re just processing thoughts out loud the way extraverts do. I’m generally pretty good about not saying, “I told you so,” unless I actually bothered to tell. And depending on the personal dynamic, some teachers don’t like to be told (this, as well, can be either amusing or infuriating, depending on how important the topic is to me).
It was deadly on a recent job interview, though. I’m pretty loudmouthed (overeducated extravert alert), and when two people in my office encouraged me to pipe up with my opinions about the office to a job candidate on an interview with us, I was surprised to find I was reluctant. Then I realized what was up: the candidate was telling us how we do our jobs. And she was wrong! And she was very loud about it. I suppose I could have stepped up and corrected the misassertions, but why bother? It would have involved interrupting her, which is impolite. Plus, all evidence pointed to the idea that she would have a hard time working in a group of which she wasn’t unilaterally in charge. She didn’t do the appropriate homework, and she expressed a complete lack of curiosity about what might actually be going on in the office or about what anybody else had to say. Incidentally, she’s a former professional teacher.
That said, I’d bet she was very effective at leading whatever group she ended up in charge of.
Happily, I’m not in charge of most teachers’ employment prospects, and the worst they can do for themselves is convince me not to hang around them. This has happened both when I’ve gotten very insistent misinformation (look, do you want me to look it up on the iPhone so I can show you and kill the party, or can you be the big guy who admits that he doesn’t know the answer and I do?), and with the very obvious running commentary of someone’s thought processes. “Look! They’re wearing gloves. They must be working with something dangerous!”
Um, yes, most likely. Or they’re working with something regulated, or they’re running a demonstration of proper handling procedures on something completely innocuous, or they don’t want to contaminate a system with their own cooties. Or any number of possibilities that didn’t pop up in my head in the first 3 seconds.
Understanding the common academic assumption that there are no stupid questions, it’s unkind of me to not want to be taught something I think is obvious (after all, how does one know what actually is obvious to someone outside their own head?). But that preference still makes me reluctant to broadcast my newfound and inexpert knowledge on someone who didn’t ask for it. Sounds a bit like the difference between extraversion and introversion, but I’d argue there’s something different happening (I am, after all, an extravert and a student, by my definition). Extraverts and introverts process information differently after they’ve gathered it. I’m thinking teachers and students have different preferences for disseminating vs. gathering information.
Many teachers--the ones I particularly like--seem to want to know everything and assume everyone else does, too, so they’re happy to be told the obvious from someone else’s perspective and are willing to risk boring someone to impart information. Other teachers--often the ones who frustrate me--really like the sound of their own voice, and if there’s nothing interesting in their heads, they’ll settle for something boring rather than listen to someone else. So it sounds like the world of teachers can be divided into two types as well.
*****
Questions, comments, thoughts, or controversies? I’m all ears. Try me at polyaturated@rocketmail.com.
I’m a student. By the time I learn something, I’m so stupefied by its obviousness that I usually try to gloss over the fact that I didn’t know it (for an example of such a topic, see last week’s post). There’s a ton of stuff that I don’t know, and that I’m trying to find out. My favorite way to engage new people is really to ask a lot of questions.
Teachers--those people who derive joy out of lecturing me on topics they may or may not know anything about (to be fair, they may have just learned about them themselves)--therefore can really enrich my life. All I have to do is listen attentively. They feel appreciated, and I get some new information. Or at worst, I get to daydream while they tell me something I already know, and they still feel appreciated. It might have something to do with how my favorite activities with a lover are whatever makes me feel like they’re showing off (with the added bonus that they’re usually gorgeous when they’re doing something that both takes talent and makes them entirely comfortable). As with a dom-sub dynamic, there’s something extremely complementary about the teacher-student one. Extra bonus points if both parties switch occasionally.
There are a couple of times when teachers don’t work with me. Most importantly, it’s when they’re downright wrong. This often happens when they’re trying to teach me about something they just learned, and I happen to know a lot about (in fact, it was a particularly ignorant podcast about polyamory, by a poly couple that doesn’t even have outside partners to contend with that got me into blogging in the first place). Sometimes, it’s amusing. I can go off into daydream land again and trust that they will figure out the folly of their ways in their own way and on their own time as best they can, and I assume they’re just processing thoughts out loud the way extraverts do. I’m generally pretty good about not saying, “I told you so,” unless I actually bothered to tell. And depending on the personal dynamic, some teachers don’t like to be told (this, as well, can be either amusing or infuriating, depending on how important the topic is to me).
It was deadly on a recent job interview, though. I’m pretty loudmouthed (overeducated extravert alert), and when two people in my office encouraged me to pipe up with my opinions about the office to a job candidate on an interview with us, I was surprised to find I was reluctant. Then I realized what was up: the candidate was telling us how we do our jobs. And she was wrong! And she was very loud about it. I suppose I could have stepped up and corrected the misassertions, but why bother? It would have involved interrupting her, which is impolite. Plus, all evidence pointed to the idea that she would have a hard time working in a group of which she wasn’t unilaterally in charge. She didn’t do the appropriate homework, and she expressed a complete lack of curiosity about what might actually be going on in the office or about what anybody else had to say. Incidentally, she’s a former professional teacher.
That said, I’d bet she was very effective at leading whatever group she ended up in charge of.
Happily, I’m not in charge of most teachers’ employment prospects, and the worst they can do for themselves is convince me not to hang around them. This has happened both when I’ve gotten very insistent misinformation (look, do you want me to look it up on the iPhone so I can show you and kill the party, or can you be the big guy who admits that he doesn’t know the answer and I do?), and with the very obvious running commentary of someone’s thought processes. “Look! They’re wearing gloves. They must be working with something dangerous!”
Um, yes, most likely. Or they’re working with something regulated, or they’re running a demonstration of proper handling procedures on something completely innocuous, or they don’t want to contaminate a system with their own cooties. Or any number of possibilities that didn’t pop up in my head in the first 3 seconds.
Understanding the common academic assumption that there are no stupid questions, it’s unkind of me to not want to be taught something I think is obvious (after all, how does one know what actually is obvious to someone outside their own head?). But that preference still makes me reluctant to broadcast my newfound and inexpert knowledge on someone who didn’t ask for it. Sounds a bit like the difference between extraversion and introversion, but I’d argue there’s something different happening (I am, after all, an extravert and a student, by my definition). Extraverts and introverts process information differently after they’ve gathered it. I’m thinking teachers and students have different preferences for disseminating vs. gathering information.
Many teachers--the ones I particularly like--seem to want to know everything and assume everyone else does, too, so they’re happy to be told the obvious from someone else’s perspective and are willing to risk boring someone to impart information. Other teachers--often the ones who frustrate me--really like the sound of their own voice, and if there’s nothing interesting in their heads, they’ll settle for something boring rather than listen to someone else. So it sounds like the world of teachers can be divided into two types as well.
*****
Questions, comments, thoughts, or controversies? I’m all ears. Try me at polyaturated@rocketmail.com.
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