I Love You, Teacher

    I snapped this week.   
    It was during dismissal. The hallway was crazy. Kids running wild. Fighting, punching, screaming, shouting. The chaos trickled into my room. Within minutes, my kids had unraveled into a scene of pandemonium.
    I could barely keep tabs on everyone. Parents were coming in and out as they pleased, papers were flying everywhere, and in the midst of everything, the intercom blasted with an announcement that I could barely hear because the noise was deafening.
    I strained at the intercom while kids ran circles around me and Daryl squealed and whined about another kid who was making fun of him. The announcement ended. I'd missed every word. I clenched my fists in anger and screamed.
    "SIDDOWN AND BE QUIET!!!!!!!!!!!"
    The words echoed in my brain. I paused in my rage and blinked at the scene around me. Harry had come back into the room wanting to say goodbye. He had taken me by the legs and squeezed and whispered, "I love you, teacher!" as the words exploded from my mouth. The scene replayed in my head:  
    I'd snapped. Screamed. Harry had jumped at the sound of my rage. The words, "I love you, teacher," were still fresh on his lips. His grandmother was standing behind me. She grabbed Harry by the hand and left the room without a word.
    I blinked and called out breathlessly, "Goodbye, Harry!" But he was gone. I could barely swallow my shame.
from October 20, 2012
    
   

Gotta Be a Bulldog

    Ms. Cannons is a big, strong, intimidating woman with a soft heart that kids don't see until 3/4 of the school year is over. She walks around with a scowl on her face all day and never smiles. Actually, come to think of it, she does smile, but only when the kids are gone. "Force to be reckoned with" is an understatement. I sometimes find myself straightening up when she rounds the corner.
    She came to class on Wednesday to help finish assessments. I sent the class to do seat work, and (surprise, surprise) they erupted in chatter. I resigned myself to another frustrating 20 minutes, when suddenly Ms. Cannons bellowed from across the room, "Shut it! Nobody talk!" The whole room went silent. You could've heard a pin drop.
    I looked around me in shock. Several kids glanced up at Ms. Cannons with guilty faces then quickly buried their heads in their work. They looked as if her eyes could shoot lasers. I was stunned. My classroom felt like a classroom for the first time since the beginning of the year. Kids were busy at tables, squinting their brows, tracing over letters, and learning.
    I spoke with Ms. Cannons about it Thursday afternoon, and she told me, "Honey, that's just what you gotta do. You give an inch, they'll take a mile. Tell 'em to whisper, they'll be screaming and shouting so much you won't be able to hear yourself think."
    I asked her for advice.
    "Honey, you just gotta be a bulldog. You gotta be a bulldog from day one. 'Cause if you ain't, they'll walk all over you. I'm mean as hell when I first get my kids, but you wanna know something? They love me for it.
    "There's two things every kid wants," she continued. "They wanna feel safe, and they wanna feel loved. You make 'em safe by being a bulldog. And when you keep 'em safe, they'll know that you love 'em."
from September 15, 2012.