Monday and Tuesday I left work ex.huas.ted. The 10th and last class of the day were little hellions! It’s a middle school prep class, but they are 13 years old. In the United States it would be a high school prep class. We all remember that age–think back…keep thinking. Yeah, you were a little hellion, too, weren’t cha? Last week, besides leaving work exhausted, I left work feeling sorry for the teachers and my mom who had to deal with me during my pre-pubescent years.
MONDAY: Walked into a bare looking classroom; only 4 of 11 students were in the room. “Where is everybody?” The reply didn’t answer the question; “Is today the Christmas party?” Assuming the majority of the class were absent due to big school entrance exams, I just answered the question. “No, next Monday is the Christmas party.” A boy sneered, “not today!?” Then all 3 boys in the room slung their bookbags over their tender shoulders, and proceeded to walk out of class, each kid eye-balling me like he was a bad-ass while exiting.
Stunned, shocked, and disgusted by the complete display of disrespect, I asked the one lone girl and student sitting in the class, “where are they going?” I looked at the attendance sheet I share with the Korean teacher from the previous class. Everyone was in the 5pm class. The girl just looked down at the table and shrugged her shoulders.
Walking down the hall, I saw one classroom with the light off. I opened the door, turned on the light, and there was the whole class–just chilling and playing with their cell phones. “What are you guys doing? Why are you in here?” No one could speak. Apparently, they were on strike. “What’s going on? Does someone wanna talk!?” Pissed, because they were being piss-ants, I turned the light back off and closed the door so they could get back to their no-lights strike.
I stormed into my partner Korean teacher’s room, pulled her into the hallway, and caught her up to speed. She didn’t get much feedback, either. I returned to the room, pulled out a stack of $2 KJC reward money, and tossed it to the one kid who kept her ground, thanking her for staying in class. Then left again to inform the new boss. Eventually, the kids returned back to class, but with all but a few minutes left. One boy who straight walked out of the class eyeballing me had the gall to text during the rest of class their was. Without warning, I walked straight over to his heat and snatched his cell phone right out of his hand. He got it back the next day.
TUESDAY: Test day. After yesterday’s fiasco, one would think the kids would shape up. That answer would be a “hellz no.” 2 kids always talk to each other and never do their work. I asked Harry the nice way to “be quiet;” he nodded his head. Then his pal, Looney as he righteously named himself, kept at it. “Looney! Did you not just hear what I said!?” Looney acknowledged my words then KEPT talking. Then it happened: water boiling over the pot, flying off the handle, hitting the fan, BP raising…whatever you wanna call it, the ghetto NoPo girl came out. Tuesday was know ‘trippin’ day.’ The only thing being tested were my nerves, which, apparently–work!
“Yo! How you gonna look at me after I just told your friend to be quiet and then you kept talking…after I warned you twice?? Dude, did you not hear what I said? Apparently you need to clean yo’ ears. Make sure you get that Qtip deep into your ears tonight to get all that wax out cuz’ it’s making you go deaf!” The rest of the class chuckled in their seats before biting their lips when Looney responded. “No, I can hear” he responded defensively. Game on. Green light. “Oh really!? So then you heard me but kept on talking? That’s just disrespect. You know what? Na….I aint even gonna deal with it. Get out of my class.” He paused, the rest of the class was tense, holding their breath. “NOW!” He grabbed his stuff and murmured something under his breath, in Korean, on his way out.
Oh, hell no. I went at him like a QB and pushed his wannabee hardcore gangsta ass out the door. “You wanna say that again, a little louder!?” I could see fear in dude’s eyes. I walked his butt to the front counter and proceeded to recount the past two days of this boy’s unpleasant, disrespectful, rude attitude. Every day in that class he does nothing but distract other students. The boss at the counter said, “slower,” ’cause when I’m emotionally pumped–positively or negatively–I speed talk. It didn’t make a difference anyways, he didn’t speak English regardless.
Pretty soon, the counter, my Korean partner teacher, the head elementary academy teacher, and the new boss were all exchnging bits and pieces of the past two days here and there. By the time I got back in the class, there was enough time to assign them homework and rescheudle the exam for Monday, the day of the Christmas party, which already was cancelled from Monday’s no-light strike the student’s pulled.
After all that, Harry, was fidgeting under his desk. I’m not stupid–I’m a TEACHER! Just like parents, we have eyes in the back of our heads and apparently Xray vision through tables as well. Walked over to him and snatched the cell phone out of his hand. The two boys who got caught with their cell phones and the boy who smart mouthed me under his breath, in Korean, are the three boys who straight walked out of class the previous day, eyeballing me like the bad asses that they’re not.
You better believe I kept them 10 minutes after class until the next class bell rang. Another girl had the gall to text on her cell phone. Seems as though they have cellophane wrapped around their thick heads; nothing can pass through. The girl refused to give me her cell phone, even when I literally picked up the desk and moved it. She pocketed her phone. They could have left the classroom 10 seconds after the bell; the condition to a ticket out the door was to apologize to the teacher for the past two days. No one could even bring it to their lips to apologize.
Eventually, the boss interjected the next class had to start, but the two kids on the cell phone stay. Once the boss was there, everyone said “I’m sorry, teacher,” and split. After all was said and done, the boss said the only solution is to change teachers. Not humbly, but responsibly, I rejected the proposal. “No, kids need stability. The whole thing in the meeting last week was about not giving up on the bad kids, spending more time with them.” I definitely took up two days dealing with behavior issues, not in the most loving way, per se, but I told her, “the students need stability, and so do I. I’ve had classes for months and the very last month of the course had the teachers change on me due to scheduling. It’s not cool at all, for the students or me. It’s really stressful to come into work and see you are teaching a brand new class that very same day! The solution is not in swithcing classes or teachers, but working with these students and figuring out a method that works for both of us. ” The boss seemed pleasantly surprised by my drive to persevere and not give up.
Ha, little does she know about the previous 6 months of drama in the workplace. The little kung-fu chime, “you can do it!” comes to mind. That, and Obama’s, “Change, yes we can!”
