It is the end of the school year. Usually around this time I start to think about what I did right this year as well as what I did wrong. I try to make it an even handed list, but I’m usually harder on myself than others would be, so the “wrong” list seems longer than the “right” list many times. Thankfully, Santa doesn’t use my list or I would never get any presents at Christmas!
I was thinking about these lists recently in a spin class. I had to think about something other than the fact that I couldn’t breathe and my legs felt like jello. This particular class was a bit annoying. One of the bikers kept shouting things out throughout the routine. You know the type. He was tall, physically fit, barely broke a sweat, able to pedal and talk at the same time. I would have hated him if he had never said a word. But I digress.
I often have one or two kids in my classes that like to blurt things out. They interrupt me in mid-sentence with a request to go to the restroom. They try to finish my sentences for me. Many times they will try to answer my questions before I finish asking them. That last one always reminds me of the old “Name That Tune” show: I can answer that question in 3 words from Mr. Childers!
As a teacher, these kids are often the first to get on my nerves. Probably because they remind me of dealing with my children (ok, one of my children, but I love her anyway). But cycling in this class was the first time I had been able to see these students as another student. It was a little weird.
At first I thought, “OK, here is someone who is trying to impress the instructor.” That thought had never crossed my mind as a teacher. Are these kids really trying to impress me? If they are, they are missing the mark by a country mile (for those of you from the North, that’s sort of like a baker’s dozen). And yet, I could see that perhaps they really are looking for some type of validation. Which led me to wonder about their home life and how that would create such a need in a child. Suddenly, my thoughts of these “constant interrupters” began to soften. Then we cranked up the evil red knob and began to ascend a hill. My compassion went downhill.
My second thought was, “This guy is just a class clown. I know the type.” But I had no more gotten that thought into my head than another chased right behind. “This guy is kinda funny.” I was irritated and chuckling inside at the same time. What did the kids in my class think about these interrupters? Do they have the same kind of conflicting thoughts? As their teacher, how can I use mental judo in the classroom and refocus their energies so that they are funny when I want them to be funny? That was a new thought to me. In my early days of teaching, I would just humiliate the kid into submission. There’s nothing quite like a teacher’s sarcasm to quiet a crowd. After I realized that wasn’t helpful, I would tell the clown..er..student to wait out in the hallway. When I had the other students working I would walk out and have a quiet talk about his or her behavior, get a promise to do better, and then hope for the best. Next year, I need to figure out how to make the kid’s humor match my own and be a teammate with me. Lots to think about there.
I’m still struggling with this one. What do you do with kids that continually interrupt you in the classroom?
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