The Yin and Yang of Teaching
October 2014

I was a superstar twice this week.  I got difficult classes to behave and be productive. On Monday I got the worst fifth grade class to pay attention for more than 4 seconds.  When they played a song on the recorder I could actually hear, at times, a melody.  When they lined up, no blood was let.  I wanted to run up to the all the teachers I saw in the hallway and say, "Man, I was, like, you know,  da bomb today."(Insert Helen Reddy tune now) I am teacher hear me roar; I am in VIN cible.  I am teeeee -cher."  I decided I was going to write the kind of book I hate ( one that has a number in the title)  Ten Terrific Tips to Teach Tots or The Five Things Fabulous Teachers Do To Be Fabulous.

 But as I drove home that afternoon I knew what was going to happen.  The next day I would suck all the air out of the room.**

And I did.

Not only did I suck all the room, I replaced the air with the smell of failure.  My classes didn't go according to plan.  About a third of the fifth grade class twirled their recorders in the air or practiced banging them on the carpet.  The fourth grade came into my room like wildebeests.  I screamed at two kids. 

I am generally pretty patient and only have to use my stern voice to get a kid's attention, but after watching that fifth grade class murder their recorders and the fourth grade class act like clown college dropouts,  I had run out of patience by the time the younger ones came in.

 I don't remember what the first kid did to get me riled up, but the second one, a first grader who is apparently making a career out of being in first grade, was fooling around so I sent him to the time-out chair, which for some reason, seems to elicit a shouting out behavior from most of its occupants instead of coaxing out a self-reflection activity.  Why I think a hard, plastic chair facing the wall will make the child, one who's brain is busy going blahblbalbahlbah I can't hear you,  think about his actions and return to class as a new and improved model, is something I need to get reflective about.

 I guess this is the time for the rest of the class to not so surreptitiously stare and/or smirk at the time-out victim.  Looking at someone is a cardinal sin.  You can't LOOK at anyone.( I am imagining family dinners where everyone stares at the wall.) It's worse than skipping someone in the line.  This is the kind of offense that needs to be handled by either the Special Forces or the SWAT team.  So here's Mr. I - love- being- in- first- grade, calling out, "STOP LOOKING AT ME," until the last hair on my neck was sizzling.  I tried burning a hole in his forehead with my laser teacher's eyes but he just gave me a blank stare.  Then I started to move towards him in my most threatening manner.  If I were a dog, the hairs on my tail would be bristling and a low growl would be emanating from my bowels.  Still nothing.  I walked over to the desk, slapped my hand down so hard that the clasp on my metal watch unclasped.  My hand stung.  The kid repeated his vast repertoire of facial expressions, which included a blank stare and another blank stare and then...he...SMILED? 

The smile could've sent me over to the dark side, but then I thought about the research I had been reading dealing with poverty's negative affects on cognitive development in children.  It also takes a toll emotionally..   We are hard wired for emotions like love and hate, but those like  embarrassment and humility have to be taught. My students lack a repertoire of emotional responses.  This little boy didn't know what to feel when I slammed my hand down.  He wasn't being disrespectful.  He was just using his default factory setting mode.

After I got home and decompressed (i.e. drank), I felt pretty awful.  I lost control and I shouldn't have.  I fretted all night and slept fitfully.  When I got to school the next day I saw the kid in the hall  and he ran up and hugged me.  I was relieved, yet guilty.  I went back to being a superstar that day...but I know I will most likely suck all the air out of the room again.  I just hope I do it without screaming at a kid.

** It's a Jewish pessimism thing.  After you admit something is going well, you are supposed to say/spit "Ptuey Ptuey" so you don't tempt the hands of fate. Apparently I played with fire."