Long in the Tooth and a Little Thin on Top

It was not the first time during my half decade progression from non-traditional college freshman to nearly-fully-trained student teacher that I was grateful for my age. Many times as a college student, I have muttered under my breath with regrets that I did not start college sooner. Frequently I have groaned as the load of diligent student interfered with my duties as a devoted husband and attentive father. My age has occasionally been a benefit however, and this day it was definitely a benefit. Today I was glad to be (and look) old.

Today I had the pleasure of meeting with an upset parent. This parent had told my Cooperating Teacher that she was not going to have “some student teacher picking on her daughter” and that she would “be right there to straighten this out.’’ I was terrified. My CT smiled and tried to offer calming anecdotes. This is part of the job. These things happen. She only has her daughter’s side of the story. You have been doing an excellent job, Erich. You have nothing to worry about. Appreciative as I was for her efforts, I was still terrified. The student in question (let’s call her Sara) had been a challenge since the first day of the school year. She has a big personality, a booming voice, the respect of her classmates, and perhaps the biggest brain in the 6^th grade. She has strong convictions and she is as stubborn as a… non-traditional student teacher with a job to do.

Sara has challenged me on my teaching strategies, the relevance or accuracy of content material, and on a personal level as a man dealing with a 12 year old young woman. On some occasions, her ferocity has been a tremendous ally, an agent of educational progress in the classroom. More often however, it has been a storm cloud on my picnic. Recently, her challenges have grown more frequent and more personal in nature. She’s smart and quick-witted, but lacks the self-control to use either trait to her advantage, yet. She may someday rule the world, but I will not let her rule my student teaching classroom.  Earlier this week I resorted to rotating her to the next classroom for the sake of getting through the day’s lesson. She responded in loud defiance and stormed her way directly to the office in spite in spite of the punishment she knew would ensue. After filing my first ever disciplinary report (I felt sick as I wrote my summary of the events) Sara was put in ISS the following day. Twas a Thursday she spent brooding In-School Suspension…  As she passed me in the hall after school I said to her “Tomorrow’s a new day, Sara.”

Friday WAS a new day in my mind. My age and mileage has taught me to make efforts to view life in that way. Sara had other ideas as class began. Again she made her opinions known about seemingly every aspect of the lesson, the environment, and the world. I had planned for the students to spend the class period writing the final copies of their district mandates essays. I have had success with YouTube-ing “epic video game music” and running a slide show of social studies relevant images to accompany the epic music. Her complaints drowned out the symphonic tones and worse yet, distracted her peers. I paused the music and asked everyone to stand up for a brain break. I stood on a table and the students followed my example as I stretched my back, legs, arms, and (wait for it) hands.

It was the hand stretching that set Sara off again. “My finger hurts” she said. “I don’t care.” I responded. The pin was pulled from her internal grenade and I didn’t even know. A teacher HAS to say “I don’t care” at least twenty times a week in a 6^th grade classroom. We finished stretching and students got back to writing, Sara was even quiet. I closed class a few moments early (I like to take a few minutes to ask what exciting weekend plans everyone has) and the students lined up near the door.  Sara opposed to everything everyone said until I suggested that she keep her opinions to herself for another 30 seconds until class is over. “Whatever, weirdo” she said. Her classmates laughed. The CT flew into action. “That’s it! That’s enough. You’re being disrespectful and I’m calling your mother.” Before I knew it, the bell rang, students left, and the CT was approaching me with the phone in her hand. “Mom’s coming up here to talk it out. She’s upset. She says no student teacher is going to push her daughter around.”

An hour later, the principal was asking if my CT and I could come to his office to meet with Sara’s mom. We walked the quiet halls and the CT and principal both offered encouraging words. “It’s been nice knowing you.” He said. No- that was my imagination. “I remember the gist of their combined messages was “This is part of the job you have chosen to pursue. It’s going to happen. This is a good learning opportunity.” I took a deep breath as he opened his office door. Sara glared up at me from her seat beside her mother, who also glared up at me from her seat.

My eyes met the eyes of an angry and protective mother. I watched her size me up. She looked at my inexpensive tennis shoes, my less than cutting edge fashion attire, my clean shaven face (no trendy soul patch or goatee here), my weary wrinkles and my bald head. I felt her assessment of me go from “Wannabe Teacher Jerk-off Hipster Kid” to a guy who has mileage, street smarts, social awareness, and life experiences enough to maybe even manage some wisdom. Most of all, I think that she saw an older guy who genuinely wants to be a positive influence on her daughter’s life.

As the meeting proceeded, Sara’s version of the story melted under scrutiny. Her mother grew frustrated with her daughter’s trivial complaints and reported inability to control her mouth in class. The CT and principal spoke kindly and confidently on my behalf. She warmed as I mentioned some of Sara’s great efforts and successes. Smiles were being shared by all of the adults in the room as the meeting concluded. Sara even managed to show some slight remorse for lying about me. It was a learning experience for me and I hope for her. We still have months to spend together.