I’ll admit it. I occasionally repost on Facebook without thinking hard about it. I occasionally fly off the handle when I half-read a comment.
But I have found my ultimate pet peeve: the only geniuses can answer this question being answered incorrectly on teacher groups.
And I know the whole point of this click-bait is to get people commenting so you can shame then when they’re wrong…. And I know that not everyone teaches math everyday and might not love linear equations…. But seriously….BEDMAS? Teachers who don’t know order of operations?
And then I go red when I see the grammar errors on teacher posts – even though I have often posted without proofreading and had my own slip through. It just irks me to see the wrong there or which in writing – no matter how casual – ascribed to a teacher.
I’ll spare you my vehement rant on those teachers posting incorrect math answers to those genius questions. That’s is a whole othe issue. What concerns me more is the lack of thought.
It has always been understood that teachers live in a bit of a terrarium. If you’re out on a Saturday night and see your students, you’re still a teacher. If you’re at a bachelorette or grocery shopping without you hair nicely combed, you’re still a teacher. You can’t shed the title. But for some reason many teachers haven’t considered how they come across on social media with the same scrutiny. And I will admit, until my husband pointed it out, neither had I.
So it makes for a teachable moment. While most of us currently teaching did most of our truly embarrassing stuff before the Internet, some of us are making up for lost time now.
So I beg, I plead, and I urge all the teachers out there. Think before you click. Think before you post. Think before you forward something that makes you appear to be a click-shamer and consider the value of what that click will attribute to you. And while you’re scrubbing your wall and tidying your timeline, think about reading narratives online that make you think in good ways, instead of the uh-oh ways.
‘Cuz you’re always a teacher, even once you’ve logged off.