On Gaining Sympathy, But Only After Looking Foolish

Well, I've done it again. I've cried at school. Only this time it was worse; exponentially worse. I cried and let my students see it. My horrible problem of being an emotional basket case has made me look the fool once again. Nothing new there, really. I can't think of too many occasions when I haven't come out looking foolish; it's the standard order of business. But I digress. I am sure you are wondering what chain of events set me off this time? I aim to please, so here's how it all went down...

I had early lunch today; it's a staggered system, so you either have lunch at 12:35 or 1:35. I hate having late lunch, by the way. That's entirely too late to eat lunch, in my opinion. But that's neither here nor there. I had to buy a sandwich today, since I've been avoiding the grocery store due to the weather (and my subsequently feeling 'under it'). I was sitting on the stage, munching away at it, while a feeling of dread was creeping slowly into my subconscious. I'm not entirely sure why I was prematurely beginning to dread the remainder of my afternoon, but it wasn't looking good for me. I knew I was going to have my 9s directly after lunch, and something in the pit of my stomach was preparing me for the worst. I walked back up the stairs to the second floor, mumbling under my breath that the afternoon was a fresh departure from the morning (where I'd already had an issue with my bottom set year 11s). I talked myself into smiling, and tried to put on my best and brightest face. I was resolved to not let the kids sense my frustration and apprehension, as that would undoubtedly turn them against me. I was almost buying into my own false beliefs! One of the more dominate boys in the classroom, one whom I know for a fact likes and respects me, walked in early. He usually comes into my lesson early, just to chat with me. Its usually at these times that he confides his frustrations with other staff and students to me. We talk things over, and I try to leave him with a better sense of his value as a person and a student. He's a well meaning kid, who I feel gets misinterpreted by other teachers. I feel like we're allies of sorts; he helps me out by getting the unruly kids to smarten up when I want them to, and I help him sort out his issues at school. Anyways, as per usual he came in about 5 minutes early, and we discuss the most recent assignment. I talk him through it, and he runs a few ideas past me. The bell rings, and pupils start to slowly filter in.

The noise level increases slowly but surely, the more students start to enter. I try to keep them under my thumb, by repeating the starter activity over and over; Write as many words as possible that end in -CES. A few of them get their books out, and start brainstorming. Most sit around, giggling, chatting, and generally acting like children.

I do manage to get them to settle down, but only long enough to hand out the task for the day. They were to read through a rather cheeky Canadian article on people who talk at the movie theatre. I actually found the worksheet in my own high school notes, and thought it would work in terms of analyzing persuasive writing. It's not a boring piece, in fact it's quite interesting, so I had high hopes for it. There were also questions the students were meant to answer. After giving everyone a handout and explaining what I wanted them to do (which I had also written on the board, step by step), I told the students to tuck in, and get down to business.

A few did. Most did not. The level of chatter continued to be high. I walked around trying to quiet people down, individually. This failed horribly.

"Alright year 9, you need to read the essay first, then start on the questions. I expect there to be about 5 minutes of silence while everyone does the reading," I said.

A few more heads turned down to read, but again most did not. I started to get annoyed.

"Guy's, stop talking. Start reading. Let's do this!" I said loudly.

A few snickers. No more quiet. I felt the frustrations building up. You have no idea how personally draining it is to feel like you've got absolutely no control over a room of 13 year old kids. I was trying to talk over them, but could hardly hear my own voice. None of them looked at me, none of them even acknowledged my existence. A few of them started to sing loudly a song from High School Musical. When I turned to face the culprits, they would stop singing and another group behind me would pick up. It was a blatant play on my authority, and it was making me look foolish.

I sighed, and said in my calmest voice, "Alright. Since you can't control yourselves when asked, I have to take the next step. Anyone who talks in the next 5 minutes will be joining me for a detention next week."


Most students heard the threat, and decided to get down to business. The singing stopped, as did much of the tapping and rustling. A few, however, did not.


I weighed my options, and knew I had to act on my threat, otherwise I'd lose them forever.


"Great! Jimmy, thanks for volunteering to join me after school next week!" I said, enthusiastically.

The student whipped around in his seat to face me. He's the smallest kid in my class, but also the loudest. This kid puts my sister to shame, when it comes to having a naturally loud voice. When he really turns it on, it is ear piercing.

"WHAT?" he boomed. I still cannot understand how such a loud voice comes out of such a puny child. "Aw hell, I didn't do nothing Miss!" he moaned at me.

"Yah!" the kid behind him piped in.

"Awesome! Thanks for joining us as well, Billy!" I said to the interjector.

"WHAT?!" they both squealed.

"You heard what I said, the next person who spoke was going to be joining me after school. Looks like that's you!" I said.

"Aw, Miss, I didn't say anything!" the interjector said.

"Oh yes you did, you said 'Yah'. That's something."

"WHAT, that's stupid. I was just agreeing with something he said! One word!" the kid moaned at me.

"Yah, well you shouldn't have. You need to control yourself. If Jimmy says something, you don't have to comment on EVERY word that comes out of his mouth. I'm sick of this crap," I said.

"Aw MAN," the interjector said.

"Look, I will revoke the detention if you work quietly for the rest of the lesson," I said.

"Fine..." the interjector said.

"This is bullshit," said Jimmy.

"So far yours still stands, Jimmy. Especially with that language."

"WHAT? WHY? THIS IS SO STUPID, I HATE THIS SHIT. YOU MAKE ME SO ANGRY!" he boomed. Everyone in lesson was staring at us. Jimmy looked frantically behind me, and noticed the eyes of his peers on him. Grinning callously, he pushed his chair violently out of the way.

"I'M OUTTA HERE!" he screamed.

He rocketed past the door, and then made a huge scene outside my classroom by slamming his body into the lockers. Beside my door are two free-standing units of lockers. They're empty, so they're not very heavy. Jimmy ran into them, pushed as hard as he could, and sent them sprawling onto the floor. One fell across my doorway, slamming into more lockers as it did so (I have a corner room).

The kids broke into uproarious laughter. Frustrated and at a loss of what to do, I turned on the kids and snapped at them to be quiet and get back to work. They didn't listen to me, and instead started in on me.

"Miss, pick up those lockers. If there's a fire thats a hazard to our escape."

"Miss, what are you going to do about Jimmy? He can't just leave, can he?"

"If he can leave, I can leave"

"He probably won't even get punished for this!"

"SHUT UP!" I yelled, losing my temper. "I am not going to let his ruin this lesson. You all need to get back to work, while I send out a message that he's gone off his rocker..."

They totally ignored me, and started talking animatedly about what'd happened.

At that moment, the head teacher decides to walk in.

"Jimmy's just stormed out, he slammed into those lockers..." I said meekly.

"Right. I'll go find him," he said.

A few moments later, it seemed like half a second at most, he returned.

"Right. Mind if I sit in here a moment?" he asked.

I could feel the pressure behind my eyes building up, and I was fighting back tears desperately. My brain grasped onto this chance, this chance to leave the room for even just a minute.

"Can you excuse me just one moment?" I asked. I didn't get through the entire section, nor out the door, before I erupted into tears. I had tried to save it for when I was outside the room, but as soon as I opened my mouth it was over. The kids had all seen me break down, and the moment my voice cracked on 'excuse me', it was over. A hush fell over the classroom.

I stood outside, the open door behind me. No doubt the head teacher was thrown for a loop. I could hear him walkin up the room. He came out to me first, put a hand on my shoulder, and told me to take my time. Then he marched back into my room, shutting the door behind him. I spent the next ten minutes pacing up and down the hallway, trying to calm myself down. In the meantime, the head teacher could be heard lecturing away at my students. There were no comments back from them. The only tidbit that I did make out was something about how my being a 'passionate teacher' was the reason behind my tears, and that they were essentially assholes for reducing me to this. It was hella embarrassing to hear. I don't want to be the passionate crier! Now they're all going to go home and tell their parents that their English teacher broke down in class because she's 'passionate'. Great. Awesome news.

Anyways, I composed myself and after awhile walked back in. The head looked at me as if I had three heads, and asked if I was alright to continue the lesson. I nodded my head and mumbled, 'Sorry'. At him. He left.

The students looked down at their paper, and got down to business. No one talked to me for about ten minutes. I walked around the classroom, feeling the tension as thick as ever. Eventually one of the students, one of my 'helpless handraisers' put up his hand. I could feel everyone watching me, listening to how I was going to react to him. He quietly asked me his question, and I quietly helped him along. When I stood up, there was a collective sigh of relief from the rest of the class. It's almost as if they felt like my being normal with the student meant I could generally be normal with them. Hands started going up around the room, and I spent the rest of the lesson quietly answering questions. A few of the girls caught my eye, and tried to smile at me, with pity splashed all over their faces. I smiled back, not wanting them to feel like I was a complete bitch.

At the end of lesson three girls and three boys stayed behind, while the others shuffled quietly out. They all expressed their sincere apologies to me, and told me that I was a 'good teacher' and that I didn't deserve to be treated like shit.

"We promise to make more of an effort, to get everyone else to stop being idiots," one of the girls said.

"We know we were being awful, and we're sorry..." one of the boys said.

I thanked them all, and assured them that I was fine (the looks of concern on their faces signalled their worries about me). They all smiled at me, with that patronizing smile people usually give to little children when they feel extreme amounts of pity for them. I cringed inwardly at being the receiver of this look from a group of 13 year olds. I shooed them from my room, with many assurances of my well-being.

One of the boys, however, hung behind the rest.

"Miss, am I part of the problem?" he asked. His faced and tone portrayed a genuine concern, and my heart instantly melted.

"No, you're not. You don't HELP the problem any, by stopping bad behaviour, but you aren't a direct cause of it.," I said.

He nodded, as if he understood what I meant.

"I'll try harder to get the other guys to behave," he said. "I'll try."

I smiled at him, "Thanks, Timmy, that would mean a lot to me."

He smiled at me, threw his backpack over his shoulder, and opened the door to leave.

"Have a good weekend, Miss," he said as he left.

"You too."