I woke up feeling pretty groggy yesterday but I dragged myself to work, heroically. In the third period with notorious 5th graders, I had my TA plus another colleague who was observing my class. So, after the clamour subdued a little, with their help actually, I managed to communicate it to the students that I was feeling unwell and I beg you just be a weeny bit more quiet this one time for my sake. I’ve previously prepared 3 PPTs and a group game to keep them occupied. Still, after 5 minutes, they got out of control, talking, laughing; flashing all the items on the brat menu.
I felt my head starting to boil 20 minutes into the class so I decided not to take it anymore and stormed out of the classroom. Walking the walk of teachers’ shame, shuffling down the stairs, I was pondering what lesson on discipline this exaggerated snap of mine might possibly teach them and secretly, (desperately), was trying to deny my unprofessionalism that with all my experience in education I failed to handle a bunch of kids. Sickness there or not. Also, that I would not lose my job over this silliness. I was fuming but lunch and an aspirin had a calming effect so I came back up to my dorm to rest up for the afternoon sequence of craze in the classrooms.
And suddenly there was a knock on my door. When I opened, and I hope I will never forget this: there stood each and every student from that class, shoe gazing in front of me, looking up a bit with sad eyes, saying sorry, teacher! I will change, teacher. Sorry. They even did a little drawing in their book with the sign sorry to hold up as a kind of subtitle to their apology!
Thank you, nature. Lesson learnt on both sides.