My new job is a thankless one. Much of it involves having to continually remind the 4th and 5th graders in my care the school’s basic behavioral guidelines. Seemingly, they did not learn to respect the school’s property, themselves, and others in their earlier grades. These students are in my class because of some academic challenges, but these challenges could be remedied, I believe, with some stricter behavioral rules and expectations found outside of school. If these simple rules aren’t followed here, what rules are being broken beyond the schoolhouse doors?
Teacher burn out, want of higher pay, societal ills . . . come see my classroom for a day. It will all make sense.
I have had some mean comments made to me like: “You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not my mom!” “You’re old.” “You’re ugly.” And, “Get your wrinkly hands away from me.” All that spewed at me by an eleven year old child. A child with no boundaries about what he should and should not say. A child who doesn’t understand he is taking valuable learning time away from his classmates with his disruptive behavior. Even if I knew the intricacies of his life outside of school, I am certain I cannot give him what he needs in a class of 20 students that I manage alone since the lead teacher resigned two weeks ago.
Then there are a few girls who struggle for power. They try to control the classroom and to control their sometimes friends/sometimes not friends. They yell demanding respect while giving no respect to anyone.
I tell these children: walk down the hall quietly; respect others; don’t call each other names; treat the classroom equipment with care; keep your feet on the floor; please stay in your seat; please pick-up your trash . . .
Why can’t they get these simple rules? It blows my mind!
My body has no more to give the world when I finally reach home. Yet, I get up and do it all over again the next day.
Besides the additional income, and the thrill I experience when a child finally understands what to them seemed incomprehensible, those four hours telling kids to be quiet during homework, drilling three times nine, or learning about idioms, I almost forget my diagnosis. That alone is reason enough to keep going to a thankless job; one that I am thankful for.
