Sweet Revenge

As many of you know, I committed arguably my greatest act of insanity this last month when I decided on a whim I'd like teach. Keep in mind I have no teaching degree or license. My related work experience includes teaching at the MTC, correcting my roommate's papers in college, and the occasional Sunday School lesson. The truth is I really missed teaching at the MTC and I was willing to do anything to become a teacher again. It only took me years to admit that to myself because I always swore I would never become a teacher like my mom. Not that I don't look up to my mom, but her idea of saving the world was teaching squirly 6-year-olds how to read and mine was usually something including becoming a world-class litigator who wins legal battles fighting same-sex marriage, domestic violence, and the pornography industry. I envisioned myself as a superhero using rhetoric and legal jargin to rescue the underrepresented from the jaws of today's most toxic evils. Now as I sit back and reflect, I realize I've undertaken a much more challenging mission: teaching 29 6th graders.

Before I begin to tell you a little bit about what my over ambition has gotten me into, let me first clarify, that I really do LOVE teaching. It just happens to be about the most challenging thing I've ever done, that includes learning another language, graduating from college with honors, pursuing a graduate degree, and also the time I decided to register and prepare for the GRE in a matter of 8 days while working full-time and going to graduate school. Anyone sensing a pattern?

So I really do love teaching but the year has been quite challenging. Aside from having virtually no support from my mentors and already being enrolled in 6 credit hours for my graduate program, I happen to be teaching 6th grade at a school in a population reminiscent of the inner-city. For the sake of my student's privacy, I'll spare you the details.

Last week, one of my most challenging students was a pubescent little girl we'll call Mary. She has a very difficult time focusing in class, completing her work, sitting still long enough to write her name on her paper, and not causing complete and total mayhem while she is not on task. We had several talks about her behavior and she admitted that it may help to be moved away from other students so that she will be less distracted. We moved Mary's desk to the only solitary corner of the room (remember I have 29 preteen bodies in my elementary-sized classroom--some of my students are bigger than me!) While in that corner of the room she managed to reek several acts of havoc while she was again, not completing her work. For example, she has managed to draw messy pictures with smeared ink all over her text books and other classroom materials, she dyed her hands bright blue somehow while mixing a concoction of several cheap makeup products with water, and most recently she removed the head on the drinking fountain, filled it with a small bottle of hand soap and replaced it. After PE that day my students lined up to fill their water bottles, resulting in a chain of involuntary spews of soap flavored water across the room.

The next day at PE, after I had explained the rules of nickle football (a brilliant game Jonathan shared with me that his 5th grade teacher used), Mary lined up with the other students to play. I reminded her that because of her recent decisions she was on a red card which merited the loss of PE privileges. She threw quite a fit declaring, "Good! I don't even card about PE anyway! I hate these stupid games and I'd rather sit out! Maybe I'll get red cards more often." I ignored her dramatic decent to the sidelines. To my admittedly utter enjoyment, not more than 15 minutes later Mary approached me, "Can I please play nickle football now?" I calmly informed her that the decision was not mine but hers. I could not revoke the consequences of her actions. "Please, please, PLEASE let me play. I'll stay in for recess, I'll stay after school as long as you want." (Keep in mind this is the same student who when asked to stay after class and talk with me dramatically proclaimed that I can't make her because her mother insists that she come right home after school and will be very angry at me if I keep her). Though I pretended to be unaware of her desperate pleas, it was perhaps one of my more glorious moments as a 6th grade teacher. I wonder if she noticed the corners of my mouth were twitching to hide my pleasure.

-Jen