A Meditation on Anger

Last night I saw the movie The Upside of Anger. I thought this might be a good opportunity to write a bit about anger -- it’s a topic I’ve wanted to explore for awhile. I hope you’ll stick with me through this long essay, and offer ideas if you have them. I haven’t reached any conclusions yet.

I’ve spent most of my life avoiding anger. This is not to say that I’ve ever had many reasons to feel angry. I was lucky enough to grow up in a family where voices were never raised. On the few occasions when I lashed out against my mom (I didn’t mess with Dad….surprised, Dad?), Mom calmly sent me to my room. My remorse kicked in after a few minutes, and I slunk downstairs to apologize.

I remember Dad once telling me something like, “All families aren’t as peaceful as ours.” After witnessing a few blow-out fights between my friends and their siblings (and sometimes between my friends’ parents), I concluded he was right. And I felt happy -- grateful that I could play my way through childhood without shouting and smacking.

My calm childhood segued into an un-rebellious adolescence. Kids at Youth Leadership camp called me “Sandra Dee” (“I don’t drink or swear / I don’t wrap my hair / I get ill from one cigarette”).

Until recently, I wasn’t even sure I could feel anger. “Recently” means three years ago, when I started teaching. My first year in the classroom, Calvin S. did everything he could to disrupt order. And it made me furious.

Calvin is the product of the worst kind of incest: his parents are brother and sister. Upon learning that Calvin had been placed in my classroom, the other teachers shook their heads in sympathy. “There’s not much you can do with Calvin” was the general sentiment. Of course, I puffed up with the idealism of a first-year teacher: “Not much you can do with Calvin! Just wait! Calvin will be reciting Shakespeare by the year’s end!”

I know of many teachers and ex-teachers who might have “done something” with Calvin. Unfortunately, I had so much trouble keeping order with my other 13 or 14 students that Calvin -- who could barely write his name -- became just another annoyance. Most of the time, I let him play with toy cars during class. Technically, I didn’t have to “teach” him anything, because he received all of his report-card grades from his resource classes. I should have worked with him anyway, but I didn’t.

Ignored by me and frequently teased by the other students, Calvin sought attention any way he could. He threw stuff around the room. He made faces behind my back. He picked fights with the other kids. Once or twice he dumped the garbage can on the floor. It may have been after a garbage-can dumping that I reached breaking point. I yelled at him, and then I punished him in a truly shameful manner. I’m not going to tell you what I did -- it’s too embarrassing even to write -- but I will say that it involved physical discomfort, and it made Calvin cry.

I’d like to assure you that, after this incident, I never again lost my temper with my students. That would be untrue. Some afternoons, I left school hoarse from screaming. Several times, I grabbed students by the shoulders or arms. My anger endangered my career, and it scared me. When May 2004 came and my teaching commitment ended, I felt mostly relieved. Class dismissed. Anger dismissed.

Well, most of you know what comes next. It’s almost comical…like in the movies, when J. Lo or Meg Ryan announces, “I’ll never fall in love again!” right before Matthew McConaughey enters the frame. In July 2004 I launched a capital-R Relationship with an intelligent, charming, endearingly goofy guy. In December 2004 the Relationship ended extremely badly. The specifics aren’t very important (chances are, we’ve discussed it already). We can just say that, for the first time ever, I became a “victim” -- and afterwards, I felt really, really angry.

This anger was different from the anger I experienced as a teacher. Education gurus say that when you lose your cool with a child -- scream, yell, hurt -- it’s a sign that you’ve lost control, and it’s pretty much your fault. My anger at Calvin was a product of many mistakes I made in his instruction and discipline. I took my anger out on him, but, really, I was angry at myself for failing him.

What happened in December wasn’t my fault. I may have spent a few anxious moments blaming myself, but, deep down, I knew that the person who lovingly called me “Sister Golden Hair“ didn‘t love me in the end. Four days after my Relationship ended in Tennessee, I flew back to Pennsylvania. I no longer had a target for my anger, but I didn’t stop feeling angry.

In the past couple of months, I’ve done many things to deal with my anger. I’ve cried to friends who have been patient in listening to me. I’ve talked with a therapist. I’ve taken a few karate classes (which I’ll probably write about later). I’ve chatted with God and read lots of Anne Lamott.

I keep hoping for a deus ex machina to take my anger away, but I’ve concluded that no such miracle is going to happen. When I asked my therapist how to handle anger, she admitted that she lacked a “magic cure.” Sometimes I answer letters from Highlights readers who are angry -- I tell them to “take a deep breath and count to ten.” This probably works in some situations, but I’ve been counting to ten for a long time now. No big changes yet.

The Upside of Anger doesn’t have many answers, either. The movie’s message seems to be that anger happens, but the “upside” is anger‘s potential to transform us. Joan Allen copes with anger by drinking a lot and snapping at her daughters. After a few months, Kevin Costner stumbles into her life, and things get a little better. For a few minutes. Then they get worse for months. Then they get better. Et cetera.

Maybe “big changes” never happen. Maybe it‘s a process. Back in January, I was searching for transformation in the middle of anger. Now, I’m occasionally encountering anger in the midst of transformation. For today, that's enough.