My sleeping patterns have slowly begun to resemble those of my students. What this means is that–typically–my day ends around 12:00AM and begins roughly 5 hours later, with the moon hovering somewhere over the darkened high-rise buildings that loom outside my window. It is always cold when I wake up. 5 hours of sleep, while admittedly insufficient for a healthy lifestyle, is enough to ‘get by’. Am I well rested in the morning? Absolutely not. But I do have enough steam to get to midday, after which I’m in the clear. Sure, there are a few groggy moments here and there, but overall I perform about as well as I do with 7-8 hours of sleep. At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself.
When I began teaching one of the first things I noticed was the signs of physical exhaustion apparent in many of my early-morning students. They were slower than the late morning classes, with glossy stares. And they blinked frequently. I’ve seen girls come to class with the subtle remains of a night mask clinging to the curves of their jawline. One fellow appears to have trouble rinsing his teeth after brushing, because he comes to class nearly everyday with white residue on his lips and around the corners of his mouth. Very minty. And classy. All signs of a forced wake-up.
“Repeat after me, ” I would say, energetically, conducting a drill. A few would repeat the sentence, mumbling, eyes half-closed. The rest, though, would sit there–blank–trying to digest my command, wake-up, or do both at the same time. At first, I thought it was my fault, that I simply wasn’t interesting enough. I soon realized, however, that I was not dealing with unmotivated or bored students, but sleep-deprived ones.
The exhaustion I noticed in my early morning classes led me to ask each student–at random–how much sleep they got every night and why. The average: 4-5 hours. The top 3 reasons: 1) long hours at work, 2) excessive studying, and 3) ‘I went out drinking last night’. By and large it seemed that decent sleep–meaning 6 or more hours–was a weekend luxury.
Recently, one of my students, a professional in the financial world, told me that she averages about 3 hours of sleep per night. According to her, unpaid overtime is what usually keeps her out late. This past weekend she parted with her routine in dramatic fashion, sleeping a total of 22 hours straight, rising only to eat and use the restroom. Talk about sleeping yourself into a permanent coma.
Now, to get anything out of a sleep deprived class you have to have twice the energy, triple the motivation, and throw in a cookie every now and then to keep them focused. Of course, they will come to class–regardless–such is the desire to gain the ‘edge’ in this remarkably competitive society. But the challenge lies in getting them to internalize the material and produce results. This is precisely why my energy during those early morning hours is so critical. In short, I bring the party. To do this I must maximize the impact of my presence and energy, while minimizing any tell-tale signs of exhaustion or unpreparedness coming from my end.
Here are a few points I try to keep in mind for my early morning classes:
1) Smile frequently and use hand gestures. Usually, the only energy in the classroom is the energy I bring to the classroom. Being overly animated sometimes does the trick. They need to know that, at the very least, I am awake.
2) Do everything to conceal exhaustion and unpreparedness. I found the students can detect when my voice is a bit off, or when my eyes are slightly glossy. They count my yawns (even the ones I hold back) and note when my tie is knotted a bit looser than usual–a clear indicator of a rushed morning. If you are exhausted or rushed, fool them. Tighten that tie, straighten that collar, and swallow those yawns.
3) Energize yourself, using all-natural stimulants, like a shot of ice-cold water or a series of deep breaths before entering the classroom. If that fails, I retreat to Trucillo’s Cafe for an inspiring cup of coffee during my sacred 8:30AM break.
Intrigued with the idea of minimal sleep, I decided to try it out for myself. Consider it an unhealthy social experiment that I have yet to recover from. Keep in mind that, according to my very rough and completely unscientific estimates, the majority of my early morning students–from the second-year engineering student to the small-firm businessman; from the stockbroker to the insurance woman–function on 5 or less hours of sleep a night.
The 4-5 hour night experiment began with a bang. Oh, the things I could accomplish and the fun I could have in the evening with those extra hours! At first, it went smoothly. Indeed, my evenings were long and full; and at the sound of the alarm a few hours later, I would sit up, take a deep breath, and leap out of bed to get to the shower. No problem. There is an adrenaline rush that comes with starting your day while the rest of the world sleeps. There is even a rush that comes with operating on little sleep. Sure, I would have to clench my jaw and breath in through my nose around 8:30AM to fight those wide, hippopotamus yawns. But that was okay.
After a week or two of this I began to hit the alarm–two or three times–before finally rising and making my way to the shower, dragging my feet the whole way, adrenaline spent. The yawns grew in height, width, length, and got louder. I even skipped breakfast a few days in a row, unheard of if you know anything about what makes my world turn. Now, the awakening process has become a real chore, an exhausting battle of the will, where the mind is constantly forced to–often violently–subdue the body.
This whole sleep experiment has got to end; I need rest.
I’ve decided that 5 hours of sleep is bad, and that 4 hours of sleep is even worse. That’s why I’m going to go to bed right now.
Cheers
