A Short Story

A Short Story…

This place is like a mad house! Papers flying everywhere, students yelling, and Principal Donovan trying to get it under control.

“Eliane! Eliane! Get a handle on these kids, or your fired!”

The same empty threat I get everyday. My class is the rowdiest class in Thomasville High School; in any school, for that matter. Everyday, Principal Donovan comes to my classroom, because they are making too much noise, yells at them, and then at me, and storms out of the room, but it is always the same. I never get fired and the kids never get better.

“You all have a detention if you don’t settle down!”

Like always, it doesn’t work. They never settle down and I never get fired.

“I’m calling your parents!”

Doesn’t work, never does.

“Get out of my class!”

That’s a new one. My class seems to think so too. They don’t know what to do. Some of them start to get up, while others just sit and look confused. Principal Donovan looks confused too.  What have I done?

Principal Donovan just sits there, looking dumbfounded. He takes me up to his office.

“Elaine, when I said get a handle on the kids, I didn’t mean get rid of them. You’re their teacher and you can’t just tell them to leave. They have to be in school. So if you don’t teach them, they could go anywhere. They could do drugs, or join a gang, or rob a bank.

“The point is Eliane, you can’t just abandon you pupils. Do you understand?”

“Sir, I think you’re over reacting

“Even so, Elaine, they are your pupils and need watching over, and you have to watch over them.”

“Obviously, I realize that, but sir, you have to realize, I have to put up with them everyday. You don’t realize what kind of effect that has on a person.”

“Elaine, I do realize, and I realize it stresses you out, but you have to take control in these situations. You can go back to your class now.”

“Thank you sir.”

As I trudge down the stairs to my classroom, I pass my fellow teachers’ classrooms. They all have well behaving children. They don’t have to put up with the torture. And it hits me. Like a rock, it hits me. What if it isn’t the student, but the teacher?

From now I will be less forgiving. I will make a new set of rules, and a harder lesson plan. I will show them what is really like to be in the ninth grade. They are high schoolers now, and need to start acting like it.

I walk into class the next day. Quite a few of my students look at me as if I am a bomb, about to explode. I will not, but I won’t put up with their disrespect.

“Hello, class.”

“Hello Ms. Tarivean.”

“I have established a new set of rules.”

This caused an interruption in the students. I had always been the nice teacher. I had always treated them like they were the kings and queens of Thomasville high School. No more.

“First, no more talking unless you are called upon.”

Another disturbance.

“Second, you will be seated in a new seating arrangement. Third, you are to hand in your homework, on time.”

These rules scared the students more than I thought. I went on through the list. The students were all surprised and confused. I had never been so strict. However, no more.

“Ms. Tarivean, this is unjust, can’t do this!”

“I can and I will.”

“But”

“No but’s about it.”

The rest of the day, when anyone talked they got a detention. If they sassed, another detention. My class went from the rowdiest class in Thomasville High School, to the best behaved. Mr. Donovan didn’t even stop by! I was so happy.

However, by next week, I was seeing the fruits of my labor. The students  hated me. It was awful. And keeping up the rules was so much work. I had to keep my eyes open and be attentive, during tests, instead of taking a power nap. By next month, I was instating new rules.

“Hello class.”

I had gotten used to the silence.

“I have decided to create a new set of rules.”

A groan from the class.

“First, you may talk, but only quietly, not across the room. Second, you may sit wherever you please, but only if you don’t sit in a place where it could be disruptive to the class. Third, I will allow you to have three extensions to your homework, but only three. And lastly, I will NOT allow you to run this classroom. I am the teacher, and you will NOT disrespect me. Do you understand.”

A cheer from the children. I still have the rowdiest class in Thomasville High School, but probably not ever school. Ever since that day my class has never been so well behaved, but still able to learn.

And they all lived happily ever after...