The covenant

To review with you on what happened yesterday in my last class of the day, middle school band:

I've been having a miserable time trying to get them to behave with positive rewards. Points equaling one minute for a party? They didn't care about that. Didn't care about nuthin'.

What they did care about was ending up in the AP's office, getting their butt chewed, with some paperwork documenting their bad behavior. This is something their parents might actually find out about.

I vented and strategized to my husband last night. When I could take no more and my eyelids were drooping, I slid down into bed, only to promptly lie there wide awake thinking of all the nasty things I could say to the kids and what they might do or say in response. There were some bad little voices in my head saying things like, are you really cut out to be a teacher? Are you sure you want to do this?? Remember...it's your tenure year.... what if the AP and the S/P hear you say something they don't like????

Those voices, and the awful feeling in the pit of my stomach, reminded me of when I got out of the pool and headed out on the bike portion of the olympic-distance triathlon I completed a couple of weeks ago, and I got out on the county road and felt the breeze and soaked in the beautiful blue sky, and saw the green grass and then, to my horror, saw the enormous hill up ahead that I was going to have to somehow pedal my bike up and over, and so I started cranking my gears down one at a time, and while I was doing that and realizing there was no way my legs would carry me over that big bad hill, the evil little voices of despair started in saying, what made you think you could do this anyway? You're not the athletic one! You're never going to get over that hill, much less twice, you can't hack it... Yeah, the situation in class reminded me of that, as I lay in bed last night.

But I did get up and over that hill, twice, and both times I did not do it according to the prescribed strategy, which was, to ride it. I have gained some experience in beating back those voices of despair by counteracting them with a positive pep talk, like say, with the voice of Hulk Hogan. Both times I went over the hill by getting off my bike and walking over it. And once I got over, it was smooth sailing. I didn't care what anyone thought of me walking my bike, I was gonna get over that hill.

So I lay in bed pretending I was Hulk Hogan: "you can do it! Don't be a whiner, don't give in! Just get in there and do it! Don't let a bunch of twelve and thirteen year olds make you miserable and doubt yourself!"

And it worked. I fell asleep. Ok, then I woke up thinking about it again an hour before I was supposed to wake up this morning, but I did fall asleep.

This morning I went to my AP and talked to him. I warned him that I might have a stream of students leaving the room that hour and why. He agreed, go negative. If the positive isn't working, nail 'em.

When the class time came I felt like I had grasshoppers in my stomach. I wouldn't let the students in the door. They had to listen to me talk straight with them about a deal. If they abided by my expectations, we'd have a good class. If they didn't, I'd write a referral right then and there. I got mad, and they knew it. But I gave them an opportunity to make a choice, and to ask questions. I laid it on the line.

Unfortunately for me, and for them, some very formally dressed official-looking men and women showed up at the front door, which is right next to the lobby where I was letting my students have it. (For here, "formal" means cowboy boots you've scraped clean and a nice shirt. They were all wearing suits and ties.) I had to tell the students to please move so they could pass and tell the formally-suited people where the office was. I hope I don't get in trouble for blocking their path with my rant.

Anyway, I told my students straight out--again--what I expected. And what would happen if they didn't meet those expectations.

Class was better. It wasn't perfect, but it was better. I had to pretend to nail a lot of students. Including one poor motherless child who was examining her friend's hair when she should have been getting ready to play. It just about broke my heart. The expression on her face when she left made me want to cry. I told her I didn't really want to go to referral today, but she needed to try to set an example.

I don't care if I'm fired tomorrow. We sounded like the bomb today.