*curtain rises*

“Are you holding a grudge against me because of what I said on Friday?”

My student walks into my classroom -- his graphic t-shirt and cargo shorts covering the tattoos he has probably gotten illegally.

“No, don’t worry about that,” I smile, both reassuringly and with a slight warning, “I’m not holding a grudge.”

*scene*

“Just draw the f****ng ship.”

“Falulah (not student’s real name), you don’t want to get written up again. Stop using profanity in class.”

Falulah looks at me, relieved that I am not writing her up quite yet, “True dat.”

*scene*

Some days, students finally understand what you’ve been trying to tell them all along.

Some days, students don’t.

“I need to go to the office.” This is not the first time I have been told something and not asked.

“You literally have three minutes until the bell rings; just wait until passing period.”

Student gets closer. “You have to let me go to the office whenever I want.”

“Do you have a pass?” I hold out my hand and raise my right eyebrow. “If you have a pass, I’ll let you go now.”

Student sits down in a huff and loudly states, “Oh right, I forgot you don’t know anything because you’re an awful teacher.”

My heart shatters. My anxiety and blood pressure rise.

“Well, you will be going down to the office because I am sending you to the principal.”

Student gets snotty look on face, “Well, then let me go now.”

I look smug -- trying to hide the anxiety I feel, “No. You can wait.”

Student rolls eyes. “Oh right, because you are a terrible teacher.”

Pieces of my heart shatter into smaller ones.

“You need to stay after class to talk to me.”

Student crosses arms, “No. I ain’t staying. You’re sending me to the principal. REMEMBER.”

I dial the number for the principal.

*bell rings*

The student doesn’t even look back as he is leaving my classroom.

It takes me an entire period after that to recover my normal heart rate and my confidence that I am still glad to be at the school where I am placed.

*scene*

I eye a student, not very stealthily texting. I mean -- come on. If you are gonna disobey the rules, at least give me a run for my money. I walk over to his desk.

“Eugene (not student’s actual name), I’m gonna need to take your phone.”

Eugene looks up at me, “Aw are you serious?!” (No I am just joking. I’ve taken about six phones this week, and you’ve watched me, but for some reason unexplained by logic, you are exempt from the rule.)

“You should follow the rules, and we wouldn’t have this problem.” I hold my hand out.

Eugene looks around frantically, “Well, you didn’t take his the other day!” Eugene points at other student.

“Well, he had it in his lap, not on.”

“Nuh uh!!”

“Well, I’m sorry, but YOU got caught today. If you are gonna disobey rules, you should really not be so obvious about it.”

Student begins to sulk, and then not do the work that is assigned to him. A few minutes later, he looks over at me.
“How about that drink.” -- I had originally told him that he could get one after he did his work.

“You done with your work?”

“Yeah.”

It had been about five minutes. There’s no way he read “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God” in five minutes. Also, he had been texting, so, “I don’t believe you.”

A few minutes later, student is now standing up, sauntering toward my desk, “How about that drink?”

I don’t even look up, “I don’t reward students in my class who back talk me. Sit down.”

Student sulked the entire rest of the period. Maybe one day Eugene will get it -- it takes a little time, sometimes.

*scene*

Another student, who I had to send down to the office the day before, came into my class in a bad mood.

“Hey Frank (not student’s real name), would you come here a second.”

Student gets panicked look on his face.

“You’re not in trouble, I just want to talk to you.”

With a sense of relief, Frank follows me to my desk.

“Frank, with the situation yesterday, I heard from the principal why you were frustrated. If you would communicate with me that you need an exception because of a circumstance, I am understanding. I need you to communicate with me, though, or else I don’t know. Does that make sense?”

Frank looks glad because someone took the time to care. “Yeah.”

“OK, I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page.”

“Thanks.” This student, who I know has a rough family life, walks back to his seat, a little happier, and I see him interact with others with a faint smile on his face.

*relieved sigh* He gets it.

*scene*

Hearing the words, “Miss Bolinger, how are you?” can be enough to brighten my day. I don’t know if these kids understand how much power their actions have over my emotions because of how much I care. I pray and hope for the day when all of them somehow “get it.”

*curtain falls*