Um, I guess he was bored??

In middle school was where I found my affinity for passing notes in class. My friend A and I would pass notes in Mr. W's Latin class. Don't hate...it was Latin. My parents said that Latin would be really important when studying for the SATs. And I agree, I guess that was important...but where did I ever use that SAT knowledge in real life??

But I digress...

OK, so A and I used to pass notes in class. I don't think we passed notes like normal 12-year-olds. One of us would take the entire class to write a note, and then give it to the other after class was over to read. I think the term "passing notes" actually involves passing notes....as in, writing a note, and then passing it to the person, and then getting it back, and writing more, and passing it back, etc. etc. I guess we didn't get that concept. Be that as it may, that's how I spend most of my 7th grade Latin classes. I still did well in the subject, but I just found sitting there in class to be so BORING!! It was much more interesting to think about what was happening on "My So Called Life" or the slumber party that would be happening that weekend.

So I empathize with those who find class to be boring sometimes. In class is sometimes where I got my best writing and thinking done (not always about the the subject actually being taught on that day, but whatever). And I am trying my best to empathize with my own student who apparently found my teaching to be boring, or just not piquing his interest.

It's not uncommon for students to need to "take a break" in class. I've found that students in the particular setting where I teach aren't as emotionally developed as other students their own age. It's a regular occurrence for students to have tantrums and scream, kick desks, kick chairs, or run from the room (oh, don't get me wrong....I don't condone this...it's just what happens because they don't know how else to deal with the emotions running through them). So I've set up a "Peace Out Corner" where students can fill out a talk ticket to discuss with me something that made them upset, or write in the "I'm Angry" notebook if they just want to write about what made them upset, and not discuss it with me. They can take that cool-down time, away from the class, to keep their anger from boiling up into something more destructive. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.

Well, apparently that wasn't good enough for K on this particular day. I'm not quite sure if I said something to make him upset. Or, perhaps he was just bored with my teaching and decided he'd had enough (and remember, I DO empathize with those who get bored in class sometimes). But K apparently decided that he'd had enough, and made his way over to the cubbies (sidenote: for those who don't know cubbies are like lockers for kids...they're like little closets where kids put their backpacks and jackets). He found his cubby, opened the door, and proceeded to crawl into it. Well, K's not a small boy. He's thin, but fairly tall. So after he made his way into the cubby, he decided there wasn't enough room for him. First, he threw his jacket out of it. Then, he took his backpack off the hook and threw it to the ground. At that point, there was enough room for him to stuff himself all the way inside. Which he did. And then used his long, skinny arm to reach out and close the door behind him. And then, in Ace Venture-like fashion, opened and closed the door several times, yelling "Don't look at me!" Smart kid...yelling at others to not look at him CLEARLY did not make them want to look at all.

And what was I doing this time?? Teaching. Doing my best not to look at him, doing my best to entice my other students not to look at him (which, surprisingly, they actually did a pretty good job of), and still talking about subtraction story problems. If K has 3 things in his cubby, and takes out 2 so he can have room to fit himself in there, how many things are left in his cubby? 3-2=1. Bonus points for those who said 3-2 + K = 2.

Epilogue: He made his way out about 5 minutes later and went to lay down in the reading area before being escorted up to the office. I guess fitting oneself into a cubby is quite tiring work!

I laugh, I cry, but through it all, I do my best to try and teach.

One of my earliest memories of school is sitting in Mrs. Black's kindergarten class, and watching in awe as she had a conversation with a puppet. Yes, a puppet. It had a little home, which looked like a box covered in wrapping paper. For the life of me, I can't remember the puppet's name...but he sang, and I'm guessing taught some sort of academics. I was in awe of my teacher. I thought she was one of the most amazing people ever; she just knew all sorts of information and was kind enough to SHARE that with us, and help us learn. And she talked to puppets. What more could a 5-year-old ask for?

It's stories like this that made me want to become a teacher. My teacher inspired me, my teacher helped me, etc. etc. I wrote books for them, I drew them pictures, because I wanted my teachers to be proud of me. Yet, when I would see them out in public...say, in the grocery store....I pretended like I didn't see them. I'm not quite sure why; maybe they just didn't exist to me outside of school. Maybe I placed them on a pedestal, and seeing them NOT in their teaching environment somehow made them more real to me. Maybe I was intimidated on them, and couldn't fathom talking to them outside of school. Whatever the reason, the fact remains that I thought of my teachers as amazing beings.

That was 25 years ago.

I think that feeling of awe still remains in some schools, with some students, for some teachers. Unfortunately, that is NOT the school I work in.

This is only my second year of teaching. I'm a rookie, so to speak. I feel that I've taken a fair amount of education classes, and I know the content that I teach, and a wide variety of strategies for teaching that content. But wow...nothing prepared me for this. Nothing prepared me for kids kicking desks and chairs...on a daily basis. Nothing prepared me for kids cursing at me for giving them a "red" for the day. And nothing prepared me for what to do when a kid stuffs himself in a cubby, and then shuts the door behind himself.

So these are my stories. Real stories. Not embellished, just TRUE stories. I laugh, I cry...but through it all, I do my best to try and teach.