From 8 to 3

In my first year of teaching, I had no idea what I was doing. I truly believed that I was going to "change the world" in a single year. I knew that I was the one who would "make the difference", secured with the promise of a utopia from the teaching profession: eager students holding on to my every word, ready to learn. We all know, of course, that this was not the case. Not in the least!

What I did find, were students who could have cared less about school or what I had to teach them. To make matters worse, I had absolutely NO management skills whatsoever, and to my detriment I had achieved the one thing that my methods professor told me never to do....... I smiled before Christmas! I was a goner from the very first day.

I still struggled, however, to break through to the other side. I desperately attempted to make a connection between me and my students. I tried everything that I could think of to make them want to do well and behave in my class. In a last stitch effort, I elicited the help of the only person I knew who could really impact the life of my most troublesome student. The only one who could make him behave and respect me as his teacher.

I choose this student because I knew that if I could just get him to participate in class and give me the respect that I deserved, surely the others would conveniently fall in line. So one afternoon, I stayed late after school and went into the teachers' lounge to make my "saving" phone call. ( It should be noted here, that this advice came from a veteran teacher, who told me never to call a parent from my home or cell phone because then the parent could ID my number and would have a way to contact me outside of school. She obviously did not know the caliber of parents to which I was dealing.) I dialed the number listed in the my student's information file. My stomach was in knots waiting for someone to pick up on the other end. One ring......two rings...... three rings...... yes! I thought to myself, "Perhaps I will be saved and will just be able to leave a message" avoiding the confrontation that would surely ensue from actually speaking to this parent. I wanted the problems with the student to cease, of course, but actually pleading my case to this mother, scared the life out of me.

Four rings......then "Hello?" came from the other end. OH NO!!!! I would have to explain my plight. I quickly got up the nerve and began describing to this parent the distracting behaviors her child was demonstrating in my class. I described how this behavior was not only hindering the learning process for her child, but of course, hurting other students in my class as well. I implored the parent for help to correct the interruptions from her son.

I knew that I had pleaded my case well, and surely she could hear the desperation in my voice. I just knew that she would sympathize with my dilemma saying how sorry she was and she would scold her son as soon as he got home from school. I knew that she would assure me that I would have absolutely no other problems with her son in my class.

There was a brief pause in the conversation, as I waited for her to respond to everything that I had just told her. I felt her absorbing all the information, eagerly awaiting for directions as to what she would like for me to do next.

Finally, she responded, "Well, from 8 to 3, he's your problem!" and hung up the phone.