A Little Tough Love

I cannot express how exhausting this teaching experience has been for me. By the end of the day, I feel like I could sleep for twelve hours. Tragically, this week I averaged six on my nights, three on Wednesday and four on Thursday.

Why the crazy hours? Well it all started with a think called departmentalization. In teach-speak, this means that I no longer have my babies all day long. Instead, I teach social studies in the afternoons to all three classes.

I cannot define nor adequately express my emotions regarding this transition. But I will say that this last week was rather event-filled. The first group of students had personalities that differed so much from my kids. They seemed a lot more worldly and more than one student was a bit disruptive. I really had to make it clear what I expected from them this year. I talked with them about one of the heroes of our room--MLK. I also showed them a video clip that showed images poverty around the world and tried to hear their reactions. I explained to them that it was possible to change the world and I was going to teach them how--starting with their communities.

The second group is an entirely different story. Their teacher is very, very lax and has little to no control over her classroom. There are three boys who are extremely disruptive. One I made stand for much of the period without a chair because he kept leaning back in his chair. I had to rebuke most of the class at some point or another. I made it clear in no uncertain terms that I would not tolerate disrespect in Room 170. That was the first day. The next day I saw them in the hallway, being lead by my Teacher's Aide. She was trying to get them to stand in an orderly line and they were completely ignoring. I was appalled by their blatant disrespect. I turned around and said something like this

"What are you doing? Did you not hear Ms. B? How do we walk in the hallways? I want your hands behind your back, one person in each square and in a straight line. Get your hands out of your pockets--this is not the ghetto and you are not a gangster. There--now you look good. You look real good. When Ms. B tells you something, you had better listen."

Then I walked away. Throughout the next few days, whenever I would walk into an area they were in, they would immediately stop whatever mayhem they were doing and straighten-up. Maybe its because they know I mean business--I had the entire class in for recess because of the disruptive behavior of a few students. The kids had been so unruly, I was not able to get through the material. So, I just gave the kids the test and everyone failed. Because you must retake all failed tests (must be 80% or better) I had the whole class in.

Now some of you may think I am a tyrant, but I assure that this is not the case. My babies in Room 170 certainly know I love them--some of them have requested to call me "Mom." But I think even the other 3rd graders know. I tell them every time I see them that they are good kids--but they are trying to fool the other teachers into thinking they are hoodlums, but that I won't be deceived. I repeatedly tell the disruptive ones that I know that they are good kids, but I won't take their disrespect. On one particular occasion, when I helped coach one of them to earn a perfect score on his test, I lovingly grabbed his shirt front and drew him close and said,

"Don't you ever, ever let me see you pretending to be a bad student again."

His mouth split into a huge grin. I smiled and released him. As the class was leaving, one girl ran up to me, hugged me and said "You are the nicest teacher I ever knew." The irony struck me as I was much, much stricter with that class than any other group of students I have encountered.

This week has really made me realize that love does indeed cover a multitude of sins.

P.S. During the week, I thought for sure that if one of my sisters could see me, they would liken me to Agatha Trunchbull--the wicked principal from Roald Dahl's book Matilda, seen in the above picture.