Shannon Costello

Teachers, along with students, naturally welcome the end of the academic year. But I find that I have a hard time prying myself away from my classes. “But wait! They must learn about–” This reluctance to stop teaching helps explain why my students are still doing actual graded work as opposed to playing games and watching movies. It makes me feel mean.

I’ve thought a little bit about leadership and mercy lately. Curtana is one of the swords used in the British coronation ceremony. It is the Sword of Mercy, whose blunted tip precludes it from being really useful on the battlefield. In considering the school year as a whole, I wonder if I, as ruler of my classroom, have been merciful often enough.

I am taking a class on Caribbean culture. As part of my homework, I looked through the syllabus for a text to present orally that seemed interesting but was also scheduled for after I middle school ends. During class the professor proceeded to flip through the index cards we had filled out (name, reasons for taking the class, etc.) and to critique our presentation ideas individually- and publicly: too broad, doesn’t fit with the syllabus, etc. The first four or five students had all chosen to talk about musicians that I had never heard of and themes that were not specifically listed in the syllabus. I thought I had misunderstood the assignment. I was scared.

When it was- finally- my turn, I suggested two texts. The professor mentioned a third text, adding that it should also interest me since it was written by a teacher.

So I’ll be presenting a little earlier than I wanted and on an essay that is longer than any of the others. But the professor managed to take the very little bit that he knew about me and use it to give me an assignment that I was comfortable with. And the intensity of my feeling of relief - I could have cried- that it was all so easily and happily settled…well, I felt like I had been shown mercy.