In Defense of Snape (long)

[dungrollin]

No: HPFGUIDX 122375


SSSusan, previously:
>> But, see, that's my main point, Betsy. If Snape is aware of
>> their importance, then why does he not ask himself whether these
>> two are learning?

Betsy replied:
> Why do you think Snape *doesn't* ask himself that question?

SSSusan again:
Because he's never changed his methods as far as we can ascertain.
He's certainly never changed his presentation. If Harry bristles
and "shuts down" in defiance, and if Neville falls apart [more than
with other teachers, no? Snape could ask them about that, couldn't
he?], then I don't think he's asking himself what he could do to
change any of that.


Dungrollin interrupts:
Snape was never taught how to be a teacher.  Even in the RW, 
learning to be a teacher is a relatively recent phenomenon.  I would 
think that Snape *does* wonder why Neville's not learning –
or 
rather, he marks another essay that's not too bad and mutters 
rhetorically "Why can't he do it in practice?!"

Snape's got a good helping of that other endearing virtue, 
arrogance.  He is the teacher, they are the students.  He teaches, 
they learn.  He's been teaching for, what, 14 years now? He's always 
got decent OWL grades out of his students.  If they're not learning, 
they're doing something wrong.

There's another factor that I think comes into play here, and 
there's probably a technical term for it, but I don't know
what it is, so I'll call it amplifying.  If, like me, you're a
relatively talkative person, and you meet somebody who is terribly 
quiet and shy, you start to feel uncomfortable.  You look around for 
some way to get out of the conversation, but there is none, and you 
feel obliged to continue talking to this person until your bus 
comes.  In an attempt to put this shy person at ease, and encourage 
them to speak up a bit, you talk a bit louder and a bit longer, so 
that their one-word answers to your lengthy questions don't get
too uncomfortable.  Unfortunately this has the opposite effect to 
that you intend.  Instead of finding it easier to talk they find it 
more difficult, with this awful brash idiot who won't let them
get a
word in edgeways.  So they become quieter and more monosyllabic.  
You compensate again, by stepping up the speed of your speech, 
putting in more jokes, talking in longer paragraphs, and so on and 
so forth, and the other person shrinks into themselves until they 
are practically silent.

This works not only for quiet/noisy types, but other things as 
well.  I suggest that Snape thinks that Neville doesn't care
enough about potions to do it right.  Snape gets angry with him to 
make him realise that it's important.  Neville gets scared and 
panicky, which has the opposite effect to the one Snape intended. 
Snape compensates again – he thinks Neville's still not
trying hard enough to get it right, what can he do to make him take 
this seriously?  Being Snape, the obvious thing is to put the 
frighteners on him.  And it continues like that.

If Snape were introspective *at all* he might consider his actions 
to be part of the reason why this approach doesn't work for
Neville – but he's not remotely introspective.  If something
goes wrong he apportions the blame elsewhere.  It's got nothing
to 
do with intelligence, it's an entirely emotion-driven reaction - but 
he'd never admit that.  People in general (not just Snapes) are very 
good at pursuing a particular course because they are driven by 
emotional instinct, and then rationalising it logically afterwards.

Come on SSSusan, if he wasn't like that, he wouldn't be
Snape...  I know you love him really!

Dungrollin