I was a teacher’s pet in school.
From elementary school all the way to high school, I was the student you could count on to always show up to class on time, to always get the assignment done on time, and to always follow the rules.
I was what you would call a model student. The one upon which the teacher could always rely to set a good example for the other students.
Yes, I was a teacher’s pet…but then I grew up. And I grew out of it.
I know I grew out of it because the last time I was physically present in the classroom, I had no desire to endear myself favourably to my instructor. I just wanted to get the work done, get the grade, and leave, as quickly and efficiently as possible.
What happened?
I reflected back on my time in school, and attempted to pinpoint my rationale for assuming the unenvied role of teacher’s pet. I understand other people’s experiences with being a teacher’s pet will be unique, but I hope we all could find some commonality on why we condoned this behaviour within ourselves.
Advantage
I think if you were favoured by the teacher, chances are you would get more concessions than the kid that was the class clown.
Mind you, you still had to do the work to get the good grades; I’m just saying, if you made a minor gaffe, the teacher was more forgiving, and if there was a choice activity, treat, or class role available, you were more likely to get first crack or dibs.
Survival
This is less extreme than it sounds, but it relates to being thrust into an unfamiliar environment.
Say, for instance, the teacher was away and you had a substitute teacher. Ingratiating yourself as quickly as possible set the tone that you could be trusted to keep the day on track (and increase the odds that the sub would report back favourably on your behaviour when the teacher returned).
Validation
And here we come to the biggest impetus for becoming the teacher’s pet, and the main reason why I eventually grew out of it.
I think a lot of us strived to be the teacher’s pet because of the external validation we got from being praised all the time. “An excellent student”, “A pleasure to have in class” and all those garden variety platitudes that got us out of bed in the morning.
Because we loved feeling like we were special. Because we craved it. Because we got off on being “good”.
But then we get that rude awakening late in our teen years. For some, it starts in university, where the class sizes are so big and the professors are so aloof that you can no longer rely on the external validation of others to keep you motivated.
For me, the negative effects occurred in my junior year of high school, when we were pressured to determine our future career paths.
Here’s the trouble with being an overachiever and a teacher’s pet: if you’re absolutely perfect at everything, you have no idea what your ideal path would be. Which makes it all the more likely that you’ll select the wrong one.
For me? I knew from an early age that I loved writing and that I wanted to write…BUT instilled in me that most authors didn’t make any money, and with my grades, I was encouraged to go on the STEM track. So I applied to university as a Chemistry major with the intent of becoming a pharmacist.
Needless to say, I crashed and burned in my first year. I barely passed any of my classes in first semester, and I received my first failing grade ever in Physics during my second semester.
I underwent a very real identity crisis of no longer being the model, straight-A student, and mourned what I perceived as a descent into mediocrity.
But then along the way I came to a realization: I didn’t want to be a pharmacist.
I only chose the prospective occupation because it sounded good on paper, because it made me seem smart and it made my family proud.
I wasn’t acting in my own self-interest. I was still acting to please others. I still adhered to my tendencies of being a teacher’s pet.
Now every time I come across a student trying to be a teacher’s pet I want to violently kick them in the head to knock some sense into them.
I want to shake them and say that you can’t live for the expectation of others. That’s a one-way ticket to living a miserable life with no inner purpose.
I’ve learned this lesson over the years. That’s why I’ve come to take my writing more seriously.
I’m not yet at the stage where I can make a living as a full-time author. But I now recognize that this path is available to me.
I’m ignoring the naysayers, the one’s who insist I get serious and focus on a “real job”, who have their ideal life plan mapped out for me in their minds.
To put it another way: I can’t live to please other people anymore.
If I lived like that, I’d be trying to apply for med school in Grenada (honest to God, the kind of things some of these hairdressers try to talk their clients into…)
I’m done living that way.
And to all you former, recovering teacher’s pets out there: I genuinely hope you’re on the path that’s truest for you.