Monday, September 23, 2013

Tweaking the Seating Chart

The math class in which I started off the school year? I'm still there.

(No more links back. I promise. If you're coming in to this late, just scroll back for the last two weeks. You'll get the idea.)

The algebra classes were starting to get a little squirrely, so rather than let that continue, I decided to separate the little groups that were forming. I redid the seating chart. In alphabetical order.

They hated it. So, score! Bonus points: the alphabetical seating chart managed to separate the little groups very nicely.

View of the classroom, without students
Jake had been sitting right up front, right in front of me. He was a little wiggly, but pretty good, so I thought nothing of it when the new seating chart put him in the back of the room.

Day 1, I heard a bit of a commotion coming from the back of the room. Jake. He was throwing (or mock throwing) paper at a neighbor. And suddenly he was talking when he shouldn't have been talking. Playing around.

I warned him. I told him that if he couldn't handle sitting in the back, there were eight other students who would be more than willing to give up their seats to switch with him.

The next day he did it again. I knew just who to switch his seat with.

He was not pleased. "I'll be good." Yeah, after getting a couple warnings, now you'll be good? I don't think so.

Back in the front, he was more wiggly. But now I could keep a better eye on him.

The girl who switched places with him? Turns out she and the girl now sitting next to her have a lot in common. That they can't stop talking about. During a test.



  1. First off: "They hated it. So, score!" Hahahaha!

    Second: I was that kid in my high school Algebra II class. I sat in the back row, and when my teacher finally got sick of me, she didn't move me. She moved her desk to the back of the room and sat right behind me,

    I hope you're done with the math class soon!

  2. This is why I am only friends with people who have names reasonably close to mine in the alphabet.

    No, wait, I don't have any friends. But that's by choice. BY CHOICE I TELL YOU. *sobs.*

    Good solution. I like how he promised to be good afterwards. I refer to that as a double-extra-super promise. Those are the enforceable ones.

    1. He can't even be "good" in a front seat. They had a test today, and all he kept doing was to turn around and look at those behind him. Sigh.

  3. There are classes where no amount of seat creativity can keep them focused. Sounds like you're pretty close though.

    1. I don't know. They've been getting steadily worse. But, hooray, they are no longer my problem.

  4. Ah, he's one of those who needs to be in the front of the room. Good luck. It sounds like you'll be in for another round of musical chairs tomorrow (if you're still subbing there, that is).


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