Magdalena Raises Her Hand

Magdalena has always been ignored. Until now.

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Magdalena was not sure when she realized that no one paid much attention to her. Was it in elementary school, when she would raise her hand constantly to answer the teacher's questions? Her arm would ache from shaking it, but Mrs. Alexander, her third grade teacher, would rarely call on her. Why was that? She knew the answers, unlike that boy who sat in front of her, Waldo. Waldo would get called on all the time, or so it seemed. Once in a while, true, Mrs. Alexander would say, "Magdalena, what do you think?" but it was usually after the teacher had called on ten other students, students who had no idea what the answer was.

Her fellow students' ignorance astounded Magdalena. After all, the questions were not that hard, nor were the answers. The answers were in the textbook which lay open on everyone's desk, or sometimes the answers were in the air somewhere, since Mrs. Alexander had just said the answers. Magdalena wondered about those other students. Were they asleep or daydreaming or what?

The same thing happened in high school. No matter what the subject--geometry, Latin, English, history--Magdalena would have her hand up and her teachers would ignore her. Until the last minute, that is. Once in a while they even ignored her beyond the last minute. Frustrated at the bored expressions on their students' faces, the teachers sometimes answered their own questions, and Magdalena would withdraw her hand and look down at her desk, embarrassed and even sad.

She expected college would be different, but it wasn't, not much, at any rate. Magdalena now spent her time in the back of the classroom, diligently doing her work and getting excellent grades but not bothering to participate. She knew her professors knew her name, since it was so unusual. She was always the only Magdalena in her class, along with a bevy of Jennifers.

Now here she was, at a faculty meeting, and it was her first year teaching at Ashleyille College in the quaint town of Ashleyville, Ohio. It was a temporary appointment, and she longed to be hired on the tenure track. How was that to happen? She did what she thought she should do, though no one bothered to give her advice, and that, in turn, bothered her. As she sat there listening to the Chair drone on, she counted up all the great stuff she could add to her resume: she was faculty advisor to the literary journal, her student and peer evaluations were good, she never called in sick, she kept her office hours and never played Solitaire on her computer, as other faculty did. No, she was doing everything right. Then why did she feel invisible? She was so definitely not part of the English Department's inner circle. Her mind drifted back to Mrs. Alexander's class. She felt small again and ignored.

The Chair was talking about class participation. "I know," said Dr. Hendrickson, "that rarely does a college care about teaching methods, and no one teaching at the college level has to take any courses in how to teach. Still, it seems to me that there are certain things we should emphasize. I recall my own college days, yes, many years ago, when students would listen to lectures and dutifully take notes, and then take exams on both the textbook and the professors' lectures. But I don't think that's a good procedure. I've noticed that some of you still use the old lecture method. I think our students have to become more engaged. We need to ask questions and call on them to answer, even if they don't have their hands up. It will be good for them."

Magdalena had had enough. Suddenly years of being ignored culminated in a full boil, a chemical reaction, and a rush of adrenaline. She put up her hand and then realized that that was not going to work. It never worked. So she just blurted out her response.

"Dr. Hendrickson, I'm one of those people that teachers always ignored, in third grade, in high school, in college, even in graduate school. I feel invisible and have felt invisible for my entire life. Even here in this august department. I'm new, and I'm doing everything I am supposed to do, but I feel shut out. No one mentors me. Does anyone think about helping new professors learn the procedures here? Oh, and by the way, I'm fine with increasing class discussion, but please, don't ignore the best students. Don't let them sit with their hands raised while we call on someone who's looking out the window. I say it's time to ignore the students who ignore us. It's time to cater to the ones who care about being here."

Magdalena's temporary contract was not renewed. However, everyone remembered her when she was gone. After all, she had an unusual name.

By Anita G. Gorman

From: United States

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