Resistance Paper
I don't actually expect anybody to read this, I just wanted to have it online so I can get access to it anytime I want.
High school is an intense time for everybody. From the captain of the football team down to the most uninvolved C student, everyone struggles with growing up. Some students handle it constructively by joining groups, making friends and gaining a sense of self. Other students fail to cope and fall into dangerous and destructive behavioral patterns such as drug or alcohol abuse, sexual promiscuity and violence. In my senior year of high school I displayed my frustration at having lost faith in God and at the rules and regulations of my Catholic school through aggressive behaviors.
The summer between my sophomore and junior years, I lost my faith in God. I was the first in my class to do so. My first job exposed me to a world outside my comfort zone of Catholic students, schools and suburbia. My co-workers smoked pot, drank heavily and did crank. Drugs were a distant concept to me and I was shocked when I saw first hand the negative effects they had on people’s lives. I saw people using drugs to make life livable while I was guaranteed a secure life after high school. Instead of seeking guidance I chose to be alone with my confusion and bottled up my concerns.
In his book, “Dear Josie,” Joseph Featherstone suggests that a student’s resistance begins at an early age. When crossing from the connected and safe environment of home to the judgmental and unfamiliar environment of school, kids become frightened and will lash out at other students or authority figures before they can be attacked (43)
My resistance began when I crossed from the safe world of suburbia to the volatile world of working. I was unable to cope with my new found knowledge and believed I was the only one who saw how bad the world could be.
I reacted to this exposure by questioning the core beliefs I accepted for so long. Papal authority, a just world, and the very existence of God seemed hallow because my real world experience countered these concepts. I had trouble understanding the school’s desire to make a point that God was real. The distance between what I felt was real and what the school told me was real helped spur my frustration. I needed to express my problems and I picked inappropriate and sometimes dangerous ways of doing so. I sought respect from my peers but the attention I received came because they were entertained by me, as if I were a clown.
When I decided my values didn’t match my peer’s I further isolated myself from my community. I created an outside image to hide my insecurities and to protect myself from how I thought people viewed me. I presented myself in school as a pessimistic Atheist. I consistently attacked the beliefs of anyone who tried to make any connection with me. I kept myself emotionally distant and attempted to shock people into recognizing my individuality. As my shocking behaviors became accepted I found I needed increasingly outrageous means to maintain my reputation.
Often, a simple greeting from a casual acquaintance would yield an attack from me on their beliefs. My response was often irrelevant to their question:
“Hey Dan, how’s it going?”
“God is dead!”
Dennis Stevens, in his article “Student Traffic Control and Resistance in the Corridors of a Prestigious High School,” says that students respond to a school’s dictates based on their own self image. If a student sees himself or herself as an A student who is working toward a bright future, that student will be more likely to be in line with the school’s goals and less likely to resist. However, some students see themselves as deviants and respond in a manner consistent with that image. This leads to students being treated differently by teachers (68).
This difference in treatment from the authority of the school leads to daily reinforcement of the student’s self-image. Students in the deviant category tend to believe what they think about themselves and what the school thinks about them. Acts of resistance come from a combination of self image and imposed image.
As these behaviors continued, school authorities contacted my parents and set up a conference. I was shocked. I felt my parents viewed me as an uncontrollable animal incapable of rational thought. During the discussion I broke down in tears and confessed to my parents and principal that I felt alone and could not identify with the ideals the school promoted. My principal suggested I try counseling but I swore I would change my behaviors. I said I would give them an example at the Senior Retreat.
The day of the Retreat I awoke with a feeling of dread. Despite my promise, I had spent the past week trying to convince anybody who would listen that Jesus was a liar, that God was dead and that retreat would be a waste of time. My assertions had been met with passive nods or silence. I was angry that I had to go and made it clear to everyone around me.
As I was getting ready for school my dad came into the bathroom to talk with me.
“Dan,” he said “I want you to promise me that you won’t do anything bad today. I know you’ve had a tough year, but please just be good.”
“Okay, dad.” But I was not.
During the bus ride I got a different reaction to my statements. Whenever I spoke, my peers gave me a knowing smile. Something was going to happen.
At the Retreat a surprising number made an effort to get to know me. When asked questions about my family, what I wanted to be and why I felt like I did about God, I would feel cornered, turn red and sheepishly explained my arguments. After I mumbled my theories, my classmates would debate with me. When they discovered my theories were largely unsubstantiated they would change the subject to alleviate my embarrassment. They were getting to know me and I got scared.
I wasn’t quite sure how to deal with people reaching out to me and asking me to back up my beliefs. I felt vulnerable and exposed, so I decided that people needed to be reminded of how much of a rebel I wanted to be seen as.
The opportunity came when the Retreat was almost over. With two hours left, all two hundred and forty two of us were brought into a gym with chairs lined up like pews in a church. The Retreat leaders asked us to get up in front the entire class to speak about what we had learned that day about our faith.
As I walked up to the front of the class, I carried a chair with me. I was given a microphone in front of the entire Skutt Catholic class of 2003. There was a buzz in the air. I was on everyone’s lips and I enjoyed it. I was going to remind people of my reputation. I was scared all day and wanted to scare them so I wouldn’t have to be vulnerable.
As soon as I got the microphone I yelled a PG-13 version of “Fuck the Police” by NWA. Instead of using the actual profanity I held the microphone to the crowd. My peers responded by cheering and chanting my name. I enjoyed it too much. In my mind I was a god. I can’t believe, to this day, the teachers didn’t cut me off.
I expressed how the six hours we had spent under the school’s rules didn’t match what I felt. I launched a massive assault on the Church, God, and anything I could think of that was faith-related. I insulted the faculty, calling them ‘puppets of their depraved and pathetic notions of humans being more than dust.’ “I am more convinced today then ever before that god is dead,” I said, “and I can thank this retreat for that.” I finished my speech and brought my tantrum to a violent climax. My name was chanted louder. The moments began to blur. I saw the chair I carried and recalled images of famous rebels like Kurt Cobain, Joe Strummer and Pete Townsend. I saw myself as one of these icons and I decided to follow in their footsteps.
I pulled the chair from the ground, lifted it over my head and without any hesitation smashed it into the ground. The chair remained in tact so I slammed it to the ground again. This time the legs were bent. I threw the chair at the crowd, nearly injuring a classmate. I then ran at full speed toward the nearest wall. I jumped as high and hard as I could, turning my body so I struck the wall at a ninety-degree angle and bounced off. I landed ten feet away from the wall. I was a legend for a day.
My English teacher, Ms. Upton, escorted me away from the gym. When we were alone, she yelled at me. She said I was acting like a child, I was better than that, and none of those people respected me. My adrenaline was flowing too hard for it to sink in.
The teachers and Retreat leaders assembled to discuss what to do. I sat in a chair and smiled to myself. I didn’t feel any remorse until I was told my punishment. I was to call my dad, explain the situation and ask to be taken home. Somebody gave me a cell phone and I dialed my dad’s work number. I began to cry while talking to my dad and could not finish the explanation, so my Principal did. They arranged for my Mom to come pick me up. To this day I can honestly say that was the only time I truly wished I was dead.
The drive home was the most awkward thirty minutes of my life. My mom refused to acknowledge my presence. When I asked her how her day went or if she still loved me, she remained tight lipped. Her face was set in stone. She acted like she was the only person in the car.
After yelling and questions my parents and I determined I needed to seek therapy. The conversation is one of the most memorable of my life. It was the start of the healing process for everyone involved.
“Dan,” he said “I think therapy will be good for you.”
“Why do you care? I’m such a bad person. Why do you even let me stay around?”
“Because I love you, and I always will.”
My behavior at the retreat and at school was not justified under any circumstances. My actions were destructive, unnecessary and immature. However, there was a rationale behind each one, an underlying thought process that determined how I behaved. I was aware I my behavior was harmful but chose to act out in spite of the consequences. Stevens notes that sometimes what is important to the school in terms of order and discipline is not what is important to students. When this happens the school punishes the student for what he or she may honestly think is the right thing to do. This leads to feelings of forced conformity on the student which can result in more frustration. If someone feels their deeply held beliefs are wrong, they will make a point of resisting. (Page 64)
Being the first to lose faith in the Church and God is unnerving. I denied the things my life was based on and felt isolated for it. This isolation bred fear. I wasn’t sure who I could talk to. I felt my parents were rigid authority figures, the school was maintaining the status quo, and my peers didn’t feel as I did. I felt I had nowhere to turn and was afraid of being vulnerable. I used my extreme actions to scare people away. The frustration at my situation is reflected in a quote from a journal entry I wrote in February of 2003:
“They (students/teachers) only spit out what their parents tell them and are completely incapable of thinking for themselves. Like a tape recording, always spewing out other’s thoughts, never their own.”
I also felt isolated by the administration. The rules that were in place had been there longer than I. I felt the rules weren’t in line with my philosophy at the time. I felt that since I didn’t have anything to do with their creation they should not apply it to me. The rules were a daily reminder of what I was no longer part. I felt like the administration was mocking me by telling me I was part of a group I didn’t like.
According to the article” the author, Dennis Stevens, offers an explanation as to why students feel the need to resist. “Student resistance is a product of a compelling institution’s nature, since a compelling institution establishes the policies, enforcements and goals for its members without their consent” (73).
Feeling isolated caused me to crave attention from others. I wanted to be recognized so I was not by myself. I had no sense of community in my life and needed to draw it from my classmates. They gave it to me, but only when I was acting as their source of entertainment; the rest of the time they left me alone.
I felt alienated by the institution because I couldn’t find something that was for me. I felt I was being controlled and looked over. The policies seemed so inflexible that my choices were to bend and conform or try to break them.
How does the institution remedy this problem? Can it even be fixed? I believe it can be, but as with all cases of help, the other person needs to meet the institution half way. The best thing to do is to encourage students to get involved. Explain the benefits of being around like minded people and try to get feelings of isolation to a minimum. The isolation is where it starts, but frustration is where resistance begins. If students can feel connected to others then resistance won’t seem like a viable option.
In class Stephanie Clausen brought to my attention a boy named Pete. Between in-class discussions and blackboard posting she painted a picture of a student who was frustrated with school, but enjoyed the connection he felt playing sports enough to do the minimum amount of work to graduate. Pete would tolerate school in order to gain a sense of connection. If I had found a way of connecting with others then perhaps I might not have acted so violently.
When students who already feel frustrated internally have an external mechanism like school enforcing and reinforcing a negative image of self then resistance is often only a natural reaction to feelings of forced conformity. I can say that my frustrations were often an emotional reaction to feeling trapped and isolated and I am sure that is the case for many students who resist.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Stevens, Dennis. (1985). Student Traffic Control and Resistance in the Corridors of a Prestigious High School. Education. Vol. 108. Issue 1. p62-75.
Featherstone, Joseph. (2003). Dear Josie: Witnessing the Hopes and Failures of Democratic Education. New York: Teacher’s College Press.
Clausen, Stephanie. (2005). Pete. Retrieved December 2, 2005, from Blackboard Discussion Board Story on Resistance. Web Site: http://my.unl.edu/webapps/portal/frameset.jsp?tab=courses&url=/bin/common/course.pl?course_id=_200625_1
High school is an intense time for everybody. From the captain of the football team down to the most uninvolved C student, everyone struggles with growing up. Some students handle it constructively by joining groups, making friends and gaining a sense of self. Other students fail to cope and fall into dangerous and destructive behavioral patterns such as drug or alcohol abuse, sexual promiscuity and violence. In my senior year of high school I displayed my frustration at having lost faith in God and at the rules and regulations of my Catholic school through aggressive behaviors.
The summer between my sophomore and junior years, I lost my faith in God. I was the first in my class to do so. My first job exposed me to a world outside my comfort zone of Catholic students, schools and suburbia. My co-workers smoked pot, drank heavily and did crank. Drugs were a distant concept to me and I was shocked when I saw first hand the negative effects they had on people’s lives. I saw people using drugs to make life livable while I was guaranteed a secure life after high school. Instead of seeking guidance I chose to be alone with my confusion and bottled up my concerns.
In his book, “Dear Josie,” Joseph Featherstone suggests that a student’s resistance begins at an early age. When crossing from the connected and safe environment of home to the judgmental and unfamiliar environment of school, kids become frightened and will lash out at other students or authority figures before they can be attacked (43)
My resistance began when I crossed from the safe world of suburbia to the volatile world of working. I was unable to cope with my new found knowledge and believed I was the only one who saw how bad the world could be.
I reacted to this exposure by questioning the core beliefs I accepted for so long. Papal authority, a just world, and the very existence of God seemed hallow because my real world experience countered these concepts. I had trouble understanding the school’s desire to make a point that God was real. The distance between what I felt was real and what the school told me was real helped spur my frustration. I needed to express my problems and I picked inappropriate and sometimes dangerous ways of doing so. I sought respect from my peers but the attention I received came because they were entertained by me, as if I were a clown.
When I decided my values didn’t match my peer’s I further isolated myself from my community. I created an outside image to hide my insecurities and to protect myself from how I thought people viewed me. I presented myself in school as a pessimistic Atheist. I consistently attacked the beliefs of anyone who tried to make any connection with me. I kept myself emotionally distant and attempted to shock people into recognizing my individuality. As my shocking behaviors became accepted I found I needed increasingly outrageous means to maintain my reputation.
Often, a simple greeting from a casual acquaintance would yield an attack from me on their beliefs. My response was often irrelevant to their question:
“Hey Dan, how’s it going?”
“God is dead!”
Dennis Stevens, in his article “Student Traffic Control and Resistance in the Corridors of a Prestigious High School,” says that students respond to a school’s dictates based on their own self image. If a student sees himself or herself as an A student who is working toward a bright future, that student will be more likely to be in line with the school’s goals and less likely to resist. However, some students see themselves as deviants and respond in a manner consistent with that image. This leads to students being treated differently by teachers (68).
This difference in treatment from the authority of the school leads to daily reinforcement of the student’s self-image. Students in the deviant category tend to believe what they think about themselves and what the school thinks about them. Acts of resistance come from a combination of self image and imposed image.
As these behaviors continued, school authorities contacted my parents and set up a conference. I was shocked. I felt my parents viewed me as an uncontrollable animal incapable of rational thought. During the discussion I broke down in tears and confessed to my parents and principal that I felt alone and could not identify with the ideals the school promoted. My principal suggested I try counseling but I swore I would change my behaviors. I said I would give them an example at the Senior Retreat.
The day of the Retreat I awoke with a feeling of dread. Despite my promise, I had spent the past week trying to convince anybody who would listen that Jesus was a liar, that God was dead and that retreat would be a waste of time. My assertions had been met with passive nods or silence. I was angry that I had to go and made it clear to everyone around me.
As I was getting ready for school my dad came into the bathroom to talk with me.
“Dan,” he said “I want you to promise me that you won’t do anything bad today. I know you’ve had a tough year, but please just be good.”
“Okay, dad.” But I was not.
During the bus ride I got a different reaction to my statements. Whenever I spoke, my peers gave me a knowing smile. Something was going to happen.
At the Retreat a surprising number made an effort to get to know me. When asked questions about my family, what I wanted to be and why I felt like I did about God, I would feel cornered, turn red and sheepishly explained my arguments. After I mumbled my theories, my classmates would debate with me. When they discovered my theories were largely unsubstantiated they would change the subject to alleviate my embarrassment. They were getting to know me and I got scared.
I wasn’t quite sure how to deal with people reaching out to me and asking me to back up my beliefs. I felt vulnerable and exposed, so I decided that people needed to be reminded of how much of a rebel I wanted to be seen as.
The opportunity came when the Retreat was almost over. With two hours left, all two hundred and forty two of us were brought into a gym with chairs lined up like pews in a church. The Retreat leaders asked us to get up in front the entire class to speak about what we had learned that day about our faith.
As I walked up to the front of the class, I carried a chair with me. I was given a microphone in front of the entire Skutt Catholic class of 2003. There was a buzz in the air. I was on everyone’s lips and I enjoyed it. I was going to remind people of my reputation. I was scared all day and wanted to scare them so I wouldn’t have to be vulnerable.
As soon as I got the microphone I yelled a PG-13 version of “Fuck the Police” by NWA. Instead of using the actual profanity I held the microphone to the crowd. My peers responded by cheering and chanting my name. I enjoyed it too much. In my mind I was a god. I can’t believe, to this day, the teachers didn’t cut me off.
I expressed how the six hours we had spent under the school’s rules didn’t match what I felt. I launched a massive assault on the Church, God, and anything I could think of that was faith-related. I insulted the faculty, calling them ‘puppets of their depraved and pathetic notions of humans being more than dust.’ “I am more convinced today then ever before that god is dead,” I said, “and I can thank this retreat for that.” I finished my speech and brought my tantrum to a violent climax. My name was chanted louder. The moments began to blur. I saw the chair I carried and recalled images of famous rebels like Kurt Cobain, Joe Strummer and Pete Townsend. I saw myself as one of these icons and I decided to follow in their footsteps.
I pulled the chair from the ground, lifted it over my head and without any hesitation smashed it into the ground. The chair remained in tact so I slammed it to the ground again. This time the legs were bent. I threw the chair at the crowd, nearly injuring a classmate. I then ran at full speed toward the nearest wall. I jumped as high and hard as I could, turning my body so I struck the wall at a ninety-degree angle and bounced off. I landed ten feet away from the wall. I was a legend for a day.
My English teacher, Ms. Upton, escorted me away from the gym. When we were alone, she yelled at me. She said I was acting like a child, I was better than that, and none of those people respected me. My adrenaline was flowing too hard for it to sink in.
The teachers and Retreat leaders assembled to discuss what to do. I sat in a chair and smiled to myself. I didn’t feel any remorse until I was told my punishment. I was to call my dad, explain the situation and ask to be taken home. Somebody gave me a cell phone and I dialed my dad’s work number. I began to cry while talking to my dad and could not finish the explanation, so my Principal did. They arranged for my Mom to come pick me up. To this day I can honestly say that was the only time I truly wished I was dead.
The drive home was the most awkward thirty minutes of my life. My mom refused to acknowledge my presence. When I asked her how her day went or if she still loved me, she remained tight lipped. Her face was set in stone. She acted like she was the only person in the car.
After yelling and questions my parents and I determined I needed to seek therapy. The conversation is one of the most memorable of my life. It was the start of the healing process for everyone involved.
“Dan,” he said “I think therapy will be good for you.”
“Why do you care? I’m such a bad person. Why do you even let me stay around?”
“Because I love you, and I always will.”
My behavior at the retreat and at school was not justified under any circumstances. My actions were destructive, unnecessary and immature. However, there was a rationale behind each one, an underlying thought process that determined how I behaved. I was aware I my behavior was harmful but chose to act out in spite of the consequences. Stevens notes that sometimes what is important to the school in terms of order and discipline is not what is important to students. When this happens the school punishes the student for what he or she may honestly think is the right thing to do. This leads to feelings of forced conformity on the student which can result in more frustration. If someone feels their deeply held beliefs are wrong, they will make a point of resisting. (Page 64)
Being the first to lose faith in the Church and God is unnerving. I denied the things my life was based on and felt isolated for it. This isolation bred fear. I wasn’t sure who I could talk to. I felt my parents were rigid authority figures, the school was maintaining the status quo, and my peers didn’t feel as I did. I felt I had nowhere to turn and was afraid of being vulnerable. I used my extreme actions to scare people away. The frustration at my situation is reflected in a quote from a journal entry I wrote in February of 2003:
“They (students/teachers) only spit out what their parents tell them and are completely incapable of thinking for themselves. Like a tape recording, always spewing out other’s thoughts, never their own.”
I also felt isolated by the administration. The rules that were in place had been there longer than I. I felt the rules weren’t in line with my philosophy at the time. I felt that since I didn’t have anything to do with their creation they should not apply it to me. The rules were a daily reminder of what I was no longer part. I felt like the administration was mocking me by telling me I was part of a group I didn’t like.
According to the article” the author, Dennis Stevens, offers an explanation as to why students feel the need to resist. “Student resistance is a product of a compelling institution’s nature, since a compelling institution establishes the policies, enforcements and goals for its members without their consent” (73).
Feeling isolated caused me to crave attention from others. I wanted to be recognized so I was not by myself. I had no sense of community in my life and needed to draw it from my classmates. They gave it to me, but only when I was acting as their source of entertainment; the rest of the time they left me alone.
I felt alienated by the institution because I couldn’t find something that was for me. I felt I was being controlled and looked over. The policies seemed so inflexible that my choices were to bend and conform or try to break them.
How does the institution remedy this problem? Can it even be fixed? I believe it can be, but as with all cases of help, the other person needs to meet the institution half way. The best thing to do is to encourage students to get involved. Explain the benefits of being around like minded people and try to get feelings of isolation to a minimum. The isolation is where it starts, but frustration is where resistance begins. If students can feel connected to others then resistance won’t seem like a viable option.
In class Stephanie Clausen brought to my attention a boy named Pete. Between in-class discussions and blackboard posting she painted a picture of a student who was frustrated with school, but enjoyed the connection he felt playing sports enough to do the minimum amount of work to graduate. Pete would tolerate school in order to gain a sense of connection. If I had found a way of connecting with others then perhaps I might not have acted so violently.
When students who already feel frustrated internally have an external mechanism like school enforcing and reinforcing a negative image of self then resistance is often only a natural reaction to feelings of forced conformity. I can say that my frustrations were often an emotional reaction to feeling trapped and isolated and I am sure that is the case for many students who resist.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Stevens, Dennis. (1985). Student Traffic Control and Resistance in the Corridors of a Prestigious High School. Education. Vol. 108. Issue 1. p62-75.
Featherstone, Joseph. (2003). Dear Josie: Witnessing the Hopes and Failures of Democratic Education. New York: Teacher’s College Press.
Clausen, Stephanie. (2005). Pete. Retrieved December 2, 2005, from Blackboard Discussion Board Story on Resistance. Web Site: http://my.unl.edu/webapps/portal/frameset.jsp?tab=courses&url=/bin/common/course.pl?course_id=_200625_1
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