Tommy Blows It

I had a very bad thing happen in one of my classes today. I learned a very important lesson, one that will shape my teaching from this day forth, but I'm trying not to blame myself for what happened. I mean, there was no way I could have known, right? Am I right?

Here's how it went down:

We were engaged in a role play activity, something we do quite freqently in my class. I divided the students into groups of four and established a scenario in which two adult friends wanted to set their children up on a date with eachother. It worked quite well actually. Students used this oppertunity to shout insults at eachother (How DARE you choose my boyfriend, you witch!) and, of course, there was the added bonus of girls being forced to say things like "he is so handsome" to a boy. This kind of flirtatious comedy is gold, works every time. These details actually have nothing to do with what went wrong today, but I figured some of you might be interested in hearing an example of one of my daily lessons, albeit one of the more fun ones.

On with the drama...

As my students were acting out their role play scenarios, the audience quickly grew restless and bagan jabbering away. This is a very common problem in my class. They just won't shut up. It's not necessarily a blatant disregard of my authority, but rather that same low level murmer that fills a middle school classroom when the teacher loosens the reigns too much. Except, I have 60 students, so no matter how firm I grip the reigns, it's absolutely impossible to keep these kids in check all the time. Granted, this never seems to happen when I am the one talking, but the moment another student takes the mic, the chat rises up like a swarm of bees...nothing too distinct, just a solid wall of sound.

As you can imagine, I spend a good part of my classtime trying to rectify the situation. I make repeated requests for everyone to "quiet down and respect those that are performing." I make a specific point to quickly lecture certain students who are repeat offenders. Sometimes I get angry. Somtimes I shout. Sometimes I try to explain to them why this is very frusterating for me. I basically do anything I can to try to control the storm.

Today however, after failing miserably with my usual tactics, I tried out a new silencing weapon. If I heard a student talk, I had them stand up at their desk for two minutes. This sounds like a strange way to combat talking, but it acted as a perfect visual warning for other students. After making three students stand up, for the first time in a long while, the entire class went silent. They finally saw that I meant business. Yes, I knew there was an element of public punishment that wasn't ideal, but it didn't seem that bad. I thought it to be slightly harsher than writing a student's name on the board. I mean, you have understand, the level of noise that would sometimes erupt, made my class completely unteachable. I couldn't hear what students were saying in english. Also, those that were performing the role play lost all their steam when they noticed that no one was listening. It really felt like a desperate time.

**Note: My classes are usually a delight to teach. This type of behavior is not constant, nor even frequent.

So yes, I resorted to a tactic that was highly effective, but not very sensitive. Truthfully, I never thought this decision needed to be defended...that is until one of my students burst into tears. I can't even begin to tell you why this happened. Well, I can guess why, but that really only scratches the surface. What lies beneath, I'll probably never know. What had I done? Did I inadvertantly label this girl a criminal? Was standing up for two minutes really that humiliating? Was this a cultural misunderstanding? Was this girl just overly sensitive? Was this a huge, huge mistake by a novice teacher?

For the rest of the class, this girl buried her head into her arms. No one around her took notice, or even seemed to care. Now this is particularly strange, because I've seen girls cry in my class for other reasons and those sitting around that girl always lend their comfort and support, ignoring the class lesson if needed. At the end of class, I assured this girl that I wasn't mad at her and that I was very, very sorry that I made her feel so bad. She nodded, but I could tell she just wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. The students in her role play group gave me a note, basically apologizing to me, assuming that I was angry their group couldn't perform because of their incapacitated member. Details like this makes me think that maybe my classroom tactics were not that horrible, but somehow struck an unexplainable nerve with this girl that could have never been predicted.

I am obviously trying to convince myself that this is true. I really don't like the idea of me failing miserably as a teacher. The scary thing is that there probably is a right answer. I'm sure there is some teaching textbook that specifically warns against this kind of punishment.

This girl was shattered. I feel absolutely horrible. Yet, as I said earlier, I really do feel like I learned a significant lesson today.

**Note: This next part has nothing to do with China. It's just a childhood story that I think relates. Feel free to skip it if you're only looking for China related info.

When I was in the 6th grade, my own teacher made me cry. It was the final hour of school before everyone went on Spring Break. Many families were picking their kids up from the school early so they get a jump on traffic. Our class became so empty, the teacher decided to give the rest of us free time. Each 12 year old was hopped up on adrelanine, knowing that Disney World/Wisconsin Dells/Six Flags/Ect was only hours away. I don't remember why, but some of boys decided to get into a raging marker fight. Again, I don't remember why, but for some reason, a large number of them decided to gang up on me. This was suprising, considering that I was totally cool back then, as I am today. I think them scribbling marker on my face was their way of expressing how jealous they were of my coolness.

Anyway, having 5 guys chase me around the room with markers was a noticable sight. My teacher, Mr. Flom, a very young guy in his first year of teaching, called us over. He asked what was going on. I explained that this pack of wild boys were doing their best to molest me with fine tipped, possibly permenant markers. He then took one of the markers and made a small mark on my forehead. The wild boys erupted in applause and hysteria. They then pounced on me and continued to mark my face.

I couldn't believe it. Mr. Flom was supposed to protect me! He was supposed to be the guiding voice of reason, not the validator of anarchy. Not only did he give those boys the go-ahead to keep doodling on my face, but it also felt like he too was calling me a loser, or that he also thought that I was deserving of a massive wedgie. I loved this guy, he was one of my favorite teachers. I felt betrayed and humiliated. I left for the bathroom and balled my eyes out.

I know what he was thinking. He assumed that this was a fair game marker war and these guys were my friends. Since the entire school was pretty much already on vacation, he didn't want to come down on some kids having fun and saw an oppertunity to show them that he too could cut loose. Even back then, I knew it was little more than a misunderstanding on his part. Still though, he violated the trust and it hurt bad. Mr. Flom came out in the hall and saw the final stage of my sob session. I still remember the look on his face. He almost broke down himself. Once he pieced everything together, he was flustered with guilt and devestation. He began to apologize when the bell rang. I quickly told him that it wasn't a big deal and bolted for the door. He told me to wait, but I just kept running. I was now ashamed that I had been caught crying. My mom was waiting for me in her van, fully packed for our Northern Minnesota adventure. She saw my red face and asked what was wrong, but I just told her to drive, like I was pulling away from a heist.

I haven't thought about that story in a really long time. I don't even think I ever told anyone about this before. Today, however, I've been thinking about that story a lot, almost taking pity on Mr. Flom. I guess I can empathise with him now. I too have made a teaching blunder than caused a student to break down emotionally. I too share his guilt.