I've run into many highly hilarious happenings during my short time as a high school English teacher. I've watched a student pull belly-button lint from his navel during class. I stood in horror during cross-dress spirit day as I spotted teenage boys with curvier figures than me. I've seen teenage brains break in the midst of high hormones. I've even witnessed a teen projectile vomit from her desk. But none of these occurrences have made me angry.
Today, for the first time in my teaching history, I lost my temper.
Looking back, today's events could easily go into the 'highly hilarious happenings' category (how's that alliteration for you!), but only after the fact. In the midst of the day's events, my only thought was, "I can't retaliate. I'm an adult."
This week has been grueling. Little sleep, high emotion, and evaluations looming have made the days drag on, so today was just a recipe for disaster.
I have one class for struggling readers. I have six high school students, all of whom read on about a 6th grade level. Keep in mind, five of these six kids are incredible, gifted students who simply struggle with reading. If it were up to them, they would be taking AP courses and plotting out college plans. But limited reading has a way of dashing great academic dreams, a concept I'm trying to correct in these students.
The sixth student, though, is a very capable, very intelligent kid. He just simply won't apply himself. By acting dumb, and acting out, he's figured out that high school can actually be a breeze with little to no effort.
Today, oh today...student #6 waltzed into class with a paper airplane, cocked and ready to go.
I simply stated, "#6, don't you dare." He looked me full in the eye, arched his hand back, and yelled, "Sean! Catch this!"
But he did not anticipate his poor ability to throw the paper airplane.
And the 8 1/2 by 11 inch paper missal missed its target, and paper cut me...in the neck.
And this would be where I lost my temper.
I could think of nothing better than strangling this kid, so I coldly stated, "Get out."
"Hahaha, very funny, Mrs. Blain."
"No. You. Get. Out."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I won't throw it again."
"Get out!"
By this point, the rest of the class had made their way into the room, and, eyes wide, echoed, "Just get out!"
I told #6 I'd call down to the office when I was ready for him to come back to class, but I had to give myself ten minutes. I don't know where the anger came from, but I genuinely had no love in my heart at that moment for #6.
After, not ten, but fifteen minutes, I called down to the office and said #6 could return to class.
He was an absolute angel.
After class, I kept #6, and made him sign a detention slip. One hour. With me. He'll be cleaning my classroom, top to bottom. And I am going to love every single minute.
I'm not mad anymore, but the slice on my neck stings a bit. I take solace in knowing that very soon, my whiteboards will be clean, my text books will be organized, and all of the desk tops will be sanitized.
Thank you, #6.
And so, for today, Mrs. Blain- 0, #6- 0, paper airplane- 1.
