| Biographical Non-Fiction posted June 27, 2022 |
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The disaster
What on earth just happened?
by Wendy G
This is the fourth of a series, following on from "The school with the birthday box", "How to hook them?!", and "Surviving Friday Afternoons".
It was the last lesson on Friday afternoon, towards the end of term. Students were tired, so were teachers. It was our special activities day, and it started off normally. However, some of the students seemed a bit down-hearted. I sensed an air of tension, and wondered if something had happened in their previous lesson.
Then I saw Todd in the back corner, eating a sandwich. His lunch bag was open on the desk, and he was leaning back on his chair, glaring at me defiantly. Eating in the classroom was against school rules, and he knew it.
I quietly said, "Todd, please put away your food. You know the policy."
"No, I won't! I'm hungry, and I'm going to eat!" Todd exploded, losing it completely. Anger suffused his face.
I was shocked. Students never spoke to me in such a way, and definitely never with such rude defiance. I was quite taken aback, and before I could think how best to handle it, a torrent of angry words burst forth.
"I hate this school! I hate the rules! I hate teachers! I hate Maths! We all hate Maths and we can't do it!"
With that, some of his mates joined in. "Yes, we all hate school, and we all hate the rules here! And we don't like Maths. Miss, if you want to teach Maths, you should go to Africa! They could have you as a Maths teacher. They might like Maths! Those kids would be happy to have you! We don't want to do Maths!"
They egged each other on. The tirade continued for what seemed like forever, as I tried to calm them and ask for an explanation. Nothing was gained. More of them joined in, although some students looked on in horror, like me, not knowing what to do next. It was like being in the lions' den.
I thought we had a wonderful relationship! Had I misread everything during all these months? I was totally unable to understand what had brought on all this rage. Speaking to him about a sandwich? I had not raised my voice, nor sounded annoyed …. My world shattered.
Finally the lesson ended, and they poured angrily out of the classroom. I was white and shaking, literally in shock. What on earth had just happened?
I had the weekend to brood on it, feeling very downcast and miserable. I did not have that class again till the following Tuesday morning.
I was nervous. They lined up outside and forwarded in quietly, to my amazement. Some did not look at me. I felt awkward. Did I just start to teach as if nothing had happened?
Then a hand was raised. Todd's.
"Miss, I am really sorry about last Friday! We are all sorry. What we said was wrong. It wasn't true. We didn't mean to upset you. We shouldn't have said all those things. And we do know you're a good teacher, and you are trying to help us …. " His words were pouring forth like a swiftly-flowing river.
"Thank you, Todd," I replied. "I must admit I was very shocked, and also upset. I thought we had an excellent relationship …." A chorus of responses assured me that was so.
"I didn't understand what happened … and I still don't. What went wrong? What happened to start it all?" I continued.
Todd explained. He had misbehaved in the class before lunch, and had received a detention. He'd missed the whole lunch break, and had not eaten or had a drink of water for hours. So he and some others had got angry about it in their subsequent lesson, the one before mine, and they had been in even more trouble. By the time I saw them, everything was at a flash-point. The volcano erupted – and I was in the path.
"Todd, if you had asked me, I would have understood. I would have given you time out to go and eat! You know that!"
"I know! I am very sorry, Miss." Todd seemed to be near tears.
The class erupted again – but this time with a torrent of apologies, assurances of their care for me, and their appreciation of my efforts. They literally begged for me to forgive them. I assured them of my forgiveness and of my on-going care for them. They too had had a dreadful weekend. Shame and guilt had consumed them.
This was a REAL teaching moment. We talked.
We talked about anger and anger management strategies; we talked about peer pressure, about the effects of guilt, and shame. We spoke together about forgiveness – and its healing power, and new starts. We talked about communication and openness, honesty, hope, self-esteem.
We talked about life. We talked together for the whole hour. We did no Maths – we did not even open the text-books. And none of us cared. This was important and meaningful, and these were lessons for life. The room was filled with a wonderful atmosphere; the warmth and depth of emotion were almost tangible.
Our renewed bond remained intact for the rest of the year. These tough teenagers appointed themselves as my personal guardians, and would check in at various times to make sure that all my other classes were respectful and supportive. Otherwise these, my precious students, would deal with them! Everyone in the school knew that Mrs G was "a good one"!
I loved them dearly. That Friday may have been the worst lesson I had ever had, but the following Tuesday was definitely the best, and I count it a highlight of my teaching career.
Another story soon. I'll tell you about Mick.
This is the fourth of a series, following on from "The school with the birthday box", "How to hook them?!", and "Surviving Friday Afternoons".
It was the last lesson on Friday afternoon, towards the end of term. Students were tired, so were teachers. It was our special activities day, and it started off normally. However, some of the students seemed a bit down-hearted. I sensed an air of tension, and wondered if something had happened in their previous lesson.
Then I saw Todd in the back corner, eating a sandwich. His lunch bag was open on the desk, and he was leaning back on his chair, glaring at me defiantly. Eating in the classroom was against school rules, and he knew it.
I quietly said, "Todd, please put away your food. You know the policy."
"No, I won't! I'm hungry, and I'm going to eat!" Todd exploded, losing it completely. Anger suffused his face.
I was shocked. Students never spoke to me in such a way, and definitely never with such rude defiance. I was quite taken aback, and before I could think how best to handle it, a torrent of angry words burst forth.
"I hate this school! I hate the rules! I hate teachers! I hate Maths! We all hate Maths and we can't do it!"
With that, some of his mates joined in. "Yes, we all hate school, and we all hate the rules here! And we don't like Maths. Miss, if you want to teach Maths, you should go to Africa! They could have you as a Maths teacher. They might like Maths! Those kids would be happy to have you! We don't want to do Maths!"
They egged each other on. The tirade continued for what seemed like forever, as I tried to calm them and ask for an explanation. Nothing was gained. More of them joined in, although some students looked on in horror, like me, not knowing what to do next. It was like being in the lions' den.
I thought we had a wonderful relationship! Had I misread everything during all these months? I was totally unable to understand what had brought on all this rage. Speaking to him about a sandwich? I had not raised my voice, nor sounded annoyed …. My world shattered.
Finally the lesson ended, and they poured angrily out of the classroom. I was white and shaking, literally in shock. What on earth had just happened?
I had the weekend to brood on it, feeling very downcast and miserable. I did not have that class again till the following Tuesday morning.
I was nervous. They lined up outside and forwarded in quietly, to my amazement. Some did not look at me. I felt awkward. Did I just start to teach as if nothing had happened?
Then a hand was raised. Todd's.
"Miss, I am really sorry about last Friday! We are all sorry. What we said was wrong. It wasn't true. We didn't mean to upset you. We shouldn't have said all those things. And we do know you're a good teacher, and you are trying to help us …. " His words were pouring forth like a swiftly-flowing river.
"Thank you, Todd," I replied. "I must admit I was very shocked, and also upset. I thought we had an excellent relationship …." A chorus of responses assured me that was so.
"I didn't understand what happened … and I still don't. What went wrong? What happened to start it all?" I continued.
Todd explained. He had misbehaved in the class before lunch, and had received a detention. He'd missed the whole lunch break, and had not eaten or had a drink of water for hours. So he and some others had got angry about it in their subsequent lesson, the one before mine, and they had been in even more trouble. By the time I saw them, everything was at a flash-point. The volcano erupted – and I was in the path.
"Todd, if you had asked me, I would have understood. I would have given you time out to go and eat! You know that!"
"I know! I am very sorry, Miss." Todd seemed to be near tears.
The class erupted again – but this time with a torrent of apologies, assurances of their care for me, and their appreciation of my efforts. They literally begged for me to forgive them. I assured them of my forgiveness and of my on-going care for them. They too had had a dreadful weekend. Shame and guilt had consumed them.
This was a REAL teaching moment. We talked.
We talked about anger and anger management strategies; we talked about peer pressure, about the effects of guilt, and shame. We spoke together about forgiveness – and its healing power, and new starts. We talked about communication and openness, honesty, hope, self-esteem.
We talked about life. We talked together for the whole hour. We did no Maths – we did not even open the text-books. And none of us cared. This was important and meaningful, and these were lessons for life. The room was filled with a wonderful atmosphere; the warmth and depth of emotion were almost tangible.
Our renewed bond remained intact for the rest of the year. These tough teenagers appointed themselves as my personal guardians, and would check in at various times to make sure that all my other classes were respectful and supportive. Otherwise these, my precious students, would deal with them! Everyone in the school knew that Mrs G was "a good one"!
I loved them dearly. That Friday may have been the worst lesson I had ever had, but the following Tuesday was definitely the best, and I count it a highlight of my teaching career.
Another story soon. I'll tell you about Mick.
It was the last lesson on Friday afternoon, towards the end of term. Students were tired, so were teachers. It was our special activities day, and it started off normally. However, some of the students seemed a bit down-hearted. I sensed an air of tension, and wondered if something had happened in their previous lesson.
Then I saw Todd in the back corner, eating a sandwich. His lunch bag was open on the desk, and he was leaning back on his chair, glaring at me defiantly. Eating in the classroom was against school rules, and he knew it.
I quietly said, "Todd, please put away your food. You know the policy."
"No, I won't! I'm hungry, and I'm going to eat!" Todd exploded, losing it completely. Anger suffused his face.
I was shocked. Students never spoke to me in such a way, and definitely never with such rude defiance. I was quite taken aback, and before I could think how best to handle it, a torrent of angry words burst forth.
"I hate this school! I hate the rules! I hate teachers! I hate Maths! We all hate Maths and we can't do it!"
With that, some of his mates joined in. "Yes, we all hate school, and we all hate the rules here! And we don't like Maths. Miss, if you want to teach Maths, you should go to Africa! They could have you as a Maths teacher. They might like Maths! Those kids would be happy to have you! We don't want to do Maths!"
They egged each other on. The tirade continued for what seemed like forever, as I tried to calm them and ask for an explanation. Nothing was gained. More of them joined in, although some students looked on in horror, like me, not knowing what to do next. It was like being in the lions' den.
I thought we had a wonderful relationship! Had I misread everything during all these months? I was totally unable to understand what had brought on all this rage. Speaking to him about a sandwich? I had not raised my voice, nor sounded annoyed …. My world shattered.
Finally the lesson ended, and they poured angrily out of the classroom. I was white and shaking, literally in shock. What on earth had just happened?
I had the weekend to brood on it, feeling very downcast and miserable. I did not have that class again till the following Tuesday morning.
I was nervous. They lined up outside and forwarded in quietly, to my amazement. Some did not look at me. I felt awkward. Did I just start to teach as if nothing had happened?
Then a hand was raised. Todd's.
"Miss, I am really sorry about last Friday! We are all sorry. What we said was wrong. It wasn't true. We didn't mean to upset you. We shouldn't have said all those things. And we do know you're a good teacher, and you are trying to help us …. " His words were pouring forth like a swiftly-flowing river.
"Thank you, Todd," I replied. "I must admit I was very shocked, and also upset. I thought we had an excellent relationship …." A chorus of responses assured me that was so.
"I didn't understand what happened … and I still don't. What went wrong? What happened to start it all?" I continued.
Todd explained. He had misbehaved in the class before lunch, and had received a detention. He'd missed the whole lunch break, and had not eaten or had a drink of water for hours. So he and some others had got angry about it in their subsequent lesson, the one before mine, and they had been in even more trouble. By the time I saw them, everything was at a flash-point. The volcano erupted – and I was in the path.
"Todd, if you had asked me, I would have understood. I would have given you time out to go and eat! You know that!"
"I know! I am very sorry, Miss." Todd seemed to be near tears.
The class erupted again – but this time with a torrent of apologies, assurances of their care for me, and their appreciation of my efforts. They literally begged for me to forgive them. I assured them of my forgiveness and of my on-going care for them. They too had had a dreadful weekend. Shame and guilt had consumed them.
This was a REAL teaching moment. We talked.
We talked about anger and anger management strategies; we talked about peer pressure, about the effects of guilt, and shame. We spoke together about forgiveness – and its healing power, and new starts. We talked about communication and openness, honesty, hope, self-esteem.
We talked about life. We talked together for the whole hour. We did no Maths – we did not even open the text-books. And none of us cared. This was important and meaningful, and these were lessons for life. The room was filled with a wonderful atmosphere; the warmth and depth of emotion were almost tangible.
Our renewed bond remained intact for the rest of the year. These tough teenagers appointed themselves as my personal guardians, and would check in at various times to make sure that all my other classes were respectful and supportive. Otherwise these, my precious students, would deal with them! Everyone in the school knew that Mrs G was "a good one"!
I loved them dearly. That Friday may have been the worst lesson I had ever had, but the following Tuesday was definitely the best, and I count it a highlight of my teaching career.
Another story soon. I'll tell you about Mick.
 Recognized |
In fact, another school policy was that students should not be in detention for the whole of the lunch break. Missing half was the maximum punishment. That other teacher had not followed policy. I completely understood Todd's distress.
I chose to print this in red. Red is the colour of anger - but it also is the colour of love.
I am using Australian spelling throughout, including for the subject of Maths.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. I chose to print this in red. Red is the colour of anger - but it also is the colour of love.
I am using Australian spelling throughout, including for the subject of Maths.
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