I caught a week-long assignment in an eighth grade success class. And it was as bad as I anticipated. Oh well.
Ms. T left me a packet of instructions with students who were likely to be issues and places to send them to. Many of the kiddos I had met in other classes, starting with that vacant art class at the beginning of the year.
First period. Monday.
Six boys spent the period in play mode.
If I wasn't spending the period putting out (figurative) fires, I would have written down a list of their random conversations. They were at various parts of the room, so their conversations involved the whole class. And nothing would make them settle.
So, when I had them again on Wednesday, I had a hair trigger. (The school is on a block schedule, so each period meets every other day.)
Class hadn't quite started when Royce dropped an f-bomb loud enough for me to hear it. I didn't hear the conversation, but Royce had spent Monday joking with Antonio, and that was a good enough reason to send him out of class. (A neighboring teacher had offered to take a kiddo if need be.)
Once Royce was gone, Ignacio started in. Well, not started. He sat in a corner, and he didn't do all that much. I had had him in the art class, and in the times I've seen him since then, he's only behaved worse. He was on Ms. T's list of students to look out for, and I was already irritated. So, out Ignacio went.
As Ignacio was packing up, Joaquin decided it was a good time to start a rock-paper-scissors competition with Ignacio. I went to stand between them. Joaquin tilted a little so he could continue to see Ignacio on the other side of me. Okay, then, Joaquin just volunteered to go, too.
I told Joaquin to go to the room directly below the one we were in. At this point Joaquin remembered he was on the escort list. (A fact he denied on Monday.) He refused to leave the room without an escort.
Luckily, I had already called one for Ignacio (who was being sent to the in-house detention room), so I just asked her to escort Joaquin downstairs. She agreed.
Three down. The class got very quiet.
Then, Antonio started to talk...
Me: "Do you want to work in another class, too?"
I had three more classrooms to send kiddos to.
Antonio wisely decided that that conversation was not one he wanted to have.
It was amazing how peaceful things got once they were gone. Well, for a little while.
The students complained of some high pitched tone. "Can't you hear that?"
I didn't hear a thing. I closed the door. They said it didn't help.
That's when I remembered the tones that only teenagers can hear. I spent a class period playing the tones several years back.
So, I mentioned that someone was probably playing tones on their Chromebook that only the kiddos in the room could hear. As I am old, I was deaf to it.
Kiddos were plugging their ears. Complaining. But as I couldn't hear it, I couldn't determine where it was coming from.
The kiddo managed to annoy their classmates and their classmates only.
I sat back. Watched for issues I could deal with.
The kiddo must have decided that me not reacting at all wasn't any fun. The rest of the class no longer seemed to have an issue with a noise that I could not hear.
Not too terrible. Sadly, Friday did not go as smoothly.
(I'm writing this Sunday afternoon. I already got an email response from Ms. T. She is not pleased. The kiddos aren't going to be having a nice time upon her return to class.)
