Yoda: A Very Wise Man

I am getting very fed up with some of my students. I recognize they have lives, that they're busy people, that English is not their top priority. But when I assign five or ten minutes of homework for the weekend, and it's not done come Monday, I'm starting to get annoyed. Not because I care about the homework, but because it shows me just how little this student is willing to invest in learning a language. And that makes me realize just how much of a waste their lessons are--monetarily, of their time, and of my time.

One student--we'll call him "D"--is the classic example. He is a middle-aged man who takes private classes three days a week. He never does homework. He uses any and every excuse not to speak English in class. He refuses to practice by reading newspapers or watching English TV. And he's not doing particularly well as a result.

Today, he had to do a listening activity. Normally, we skip listening activities because they're frequently boring and usually stupid; this one, though, was about a homeless man in New York. I thought it would be good practice for him, since he's going to Chicago in November, and the listening exercise had lots of American money terminology.

So we listen once. He looks at me afterwords, and I ask him some comprehension questions. He says, "I don't know. I didn't understand anything."

"Okay," I say, "We'll listen again." So we slow down the speed, and start to listen again. He stops the recording halfway through.

"I don't understand anything," he says, and smirks because he thinks he's being cute. "It's Monday."

I'm not amused, in part because I'm worried that he can't understand what's going on in the exercise, but mostly because this is typical behavior from him, and I've had enough of it.

"Okay," I say, "here's the deal. You're going to have to listen to this for homework and do the exercise in your book."

He makes the usual homework excuses ('I don't have time,' to which I reply, 'Don't lie, we both know you have ten minutes to do this,') and then finally cedes with an "I'll try."

But I'm not taking his bull today. I say, "D, have you ever seen the movie Star Wars?" He has not. "Well, there's a very wise character named Yoda, and he says, 'do or do not, there is no try.' So, D, here's the deal. Do your homework or don't do your homework, there is no try. But if you don't do your homework, you will fail this level."

He thinks he has my number. "But you can't do that--there's the test," he says, and smirks.

"Yes, I can do that," I answer, knowing that he's close to failing regardless of this homework assignment. "I assign grades, and I have final jurisdiction." This is only mostly true, but I'm okay with the stretch. "If you don't do this homework, I will not pass you."

Class is over five minutes later (I spend the five minutes explaining the gist of and vocabulary words from the listening exercise), and as I'm packing up to leave, I say, "Remember, do or do not. I hope you do."

He answers, "You have a very strong character."

I respond, "Yes, and it has served me well." Then, feeling fired up and satisfied (and like I've somehow channeled my father), I leave.

Lesson learned: be not a doormat lest you be trampled on. Seriously. Reclaiming power through assertiveness feels... powerful.