The Gotcha Generation

You are in the middle of teaching and the back door suddenly opens.  In slinks a man with a computer.  He doesn't say a word, just sits, watches and types.

You are just starting a lesson and three students arrive late.  You admonish them, tell them to see you after class and then continue your lesson.  A man in the hall sees the time they arrived and jumps on you.  Why didn't you mark them late?  What are you going to do about it?

The man walks by your room and notices a boy sitting in the back texting.  You didn't notice.  He is immediately on your case for not only allowing this behavior to continue but for not even being aware of it.

Your time card has a note asking you to stop by the Principal's office. You wrack your brain out trying to figure out what you did wrong.

Maybe the man means no harm.   Unfortunately, these little things might mean nothing but those of us who grew up in the "gotcha" generation of teaching (as well as those still living in it) will never be able to rid themselves of the unpleasant feelings these actions cause.

Rita and Larry were feral cats, probably about 4 months old when we adopted them.  I don't know what happened to them before we took them in, but they came to us with a terrible fear of strangers.  It took years before they trusted us and little Rita still doesn't trust completely.  She always has her guard up.  They do not trust strangers at all.  Those of us who have seen and especially those who have felt the heavy arm of administrators don't forget either and that feeling of danger will always be with us.