on being flexible

There were only three days left in my LTO teaching Grade 8. I was finding it harder to keep everything tightly organized and still meaningful - I understood that a few of the kids were letting go and letting loose. I was feeling stressed and (to quote one of my students who described me as such to another teacher) "grumpy." My hard work was coming to a premature, albeit expected, conclusion and I wanted to ensure that I left on a high note, with the students engaged, having fun and doing something that was memorable. I also regretted the fact that all the things that I wanted to teach them would have to be saved for another class. I felt deflated because this class, the first class I had started and had built, was going to miss out; they deserved the best and I couldn't do anything about it.

We were in the computer lab - the students were putting together a tourism infomercial using the concepts I had just introduced to them in Geography (site, situation, landmark, etc.). I noticed that A.'s group was hard at work, trying to find as much as they could on their assigned city and he was wandering around, making idle chitchat. A. has worn a reputation of being unfocused and a general class disturber for some time. I had worked hard with him to get him to throw away the tired and tiring skin of his previous self and make the shift towards being a committed, talented individual.

After three reminders, I had had enough. I walked over to him, ready to get really angry, but instead of yelling and calling him out in front of everyone, I let him know that I was tired and frustrated while keeping my voice reined in and subdued. "I need you to work with your group to get this assignment done. They're working hard and you're letting them down. And they need you right now." He responded with his customary excuses and I cut him short: "You're not going to start these old ways, especially not now." I let him know that I still believed in him, that I still thought he was a great student and that I wasn't going to let him slip. He knew I was angry, he knew I was disappointed, but he also knew that we were above the "yelling to get control" drama that runs many teacher-student relationships. He knew that he wasn't going to get away with anything.

When we came back from the library and everyone was rehearsing their infomercials (which turned out much better than I would have imagined), I noticed that A. was at the helm of his group, directing people, setting up props, making stage directions.

I called him over.

Wearing a sly, proud grin, I put my hands on his shoulders, looked him in the eyes and said: "Thank you for your hard work." He smiled back, and at that moment, all the stress I had been feeling was forgotten. I was still tired, and still feeling grumpy, but I wasn't letting these feelings stress me. "Now get back to your group," I grunted, like the clichéd coach telling his star player to just get the job done already, you've wasted our time enough. I nodded and went back and it was sincerely cool to watch him remember that how he was, and whatever "issues" others had labelled him with, did not mean as much as the fact that he was capable, he was in control, and he could do amazing things.

As much as I wanted to yell at A. I knew that it couldn't be the default response. This kid had teachers and parents yell at him for ages about sitting in his seat, about doing his work, about leaving other people alone. Here he was, fourteen, and yelling never accomplished a thing. I changed my approach and he changed his.