The Law

In general, the problem is just that I'm just pretty laid-back in the classroom. Discipline techniques are light: calling names out to those who won't shut the hell up. Making people change seats if things are really out of hand. And once or twice I've resorted to ridiculing students as a means to show them not to fuck with me. But today...

Shorty had already been talking since the beginning of class. As a matter of fact, he's just a gabber in general. Him and Ace sit in the back, and ShyMan came in late to join them. I had explained the day's activity by the time ShyMan had joined us, so I asked Ace and Shorty to explain it to him so that he would be caught up with the rest of us.

While the other students worked diligently, I noticed that the Trio was still chatting. So I sauntered over and asked them why they didn't have any paper out, why they didn't seem to have pens writing on said paper.

"Madame, Ace is about to give me some paper," Shorty said back.

"Ok, good, because you better be writing on it by the time I swing by your table again."

I went around and corrected the other students' work, knowing full well that Shorty wasn't going to have anything on his paper and that Ace hadn't made a move to get him any. Meanwhile, ShyMan still had no idea what we were doing.

My strategy was one of force. I walked back to Shorty's table and said, "Nice work you've done there."

"Madame, Ace won't give me any paper."

"That's not true," I said. "But if I were you, I'd be sure to get some quick because you're going to be the first to go to the board. Not only that, everyone else is almost finished so you better hurry up to make up for all the time you've wasted talking with your friends."

He protested at the "first to go to the board" part, and then feigned acceptance. I don't think he actually thought I was serious.

"Ok everybody! If you're all ready, I think we have our first volunteer." I said, tugging lightly at Shorty's shirt to indicate that he was the lucky man.

"No Madame! I can't! I haven't written any sentences on my paper!"

"Oh, did you hear that, everyone? Shorty didn't do any work! You know what though? I bet his English is so good, that he'll be able to come up with three sentences without making any mistakes. So let's all wait for Shorty to go up to the board."

"No Madame! No!"

"Yes, Shorty! Yes!"

The other students had caught on to what had happened, so of course they started egging him on to go up there. That was good, because he couldn't really say no.

So Shorty went up to the board and wrote two sentences, one of which was "I kiss Snoop Dog." He didn't follow instructions, but it's ok because there was ample room for correction/ridicule in his first sentence. First, I asked the other students what the mistake was. He had intended to say, "I kissed Snoop Dog." Then I asked them what the difference in meaning was between the two, making sure to point out that the first sentence means that Shorty kisses Snoop Dog regularly, that it's something he does often and is just a general state of his life. In fact, maybe Shorty and Snoop Dog have a little something going on? It's possible, it's possible.

Anyhow, it provided a humorous segue into the serious students' work, which they did semi-diligently on the blackboard. Despite this, I had had to ask Shorty and Ace to shut up every five minutes. ShyMan was being reasonably respectful, but would occasionally get in on their discussion, even though I'm sure he'd be a better man amongst better man.

After telling the Trio to be quiet several times, there was a point at which Ace and Shorty were talking so much that I couldn't continue the class. I walked over to the desk between them and asked them reasonably politely to stop. Then I asked again. Then again. They just kept talking around me as if I weren't even there. They also pretended not to hear me and my growing requests for silence. I was appalled at how rude and disrespectful they were. It was truly beyond anything I have yet experienced. So I flipped (all of the following was said in French in a loud, firm, pissed-as-hell voice):

"If you boys want to continue your discussion then I suggest you leave the room. I'm tired of talking over you and I have had enough. So be considerate and leave your classmates and me in peace so that we can continue with the class. Please, I ask you, leave the room"

I open the door quickly and forcefully. The boys look down at their desks.

"What? No big deal. Leave. It's very simple. I won't tell your teacher, and you won't be marked as absent. But I cannot continue this class if the two of you keep talking. So I don't care where you go or what you do, I just don't want you in my classroom any more. This is how we do it in the United States: if you're causing too much trouble, you just leave. So you are both too much trouble. Leave. Get out. Go."

Shorty says, "But Madame, we're in France."

"Yes, I know, but I'm American and I'm sick of your gabbing. This is how I solve these kinds of problems. Get out of the classroom. It's all I ask."

Another students yells out from the back, "Go on guys, let's see you defend yourselves." He was obviously mocking them and I really, really wanted to go hug him at that moment.

They refused to look at me and refused to look up.

"Why haven't you left yet?"

Pause.

"You want to stay?"

Pause.

(in a low voice)"One more word and I will do more than just ask you to leave. I will make you leave."

(back to my normal teaching voice) "Please, CutiePieWho'sBeenAwkwardlyStandingBytheBlackboard. Continue."

At the time, I had been amazingly calm. Angry, yes. But 100% coherent and, I believe, effective. But as soon as I walked away from them I began shaking from realizing what I had just done. Luckily, I was in the back of the room and CPWBASBB was in charge at the point. But Jaysis. Shit, man. I laid the smack-down. Whoa.

The rest of my day was a bit of a blur, as I almost felt that I had marred my image as the cool, laid-back chick who never yells. My next class was boring and the kids didn't participate as much as I had hoped, even though their English is pretty good. They were almost bizarelly subued, perhaps a ricochet of my own clouded mindset. My last class was pretty good, if a bit rambunctious.

Luckily, however, as I was saying my goodbyes at the end of the last class, one of the students came up to me.

"Madame? It seems that you have told our regular English teacher that I participate a lot in your class."

"Yes, that's right."

He flashes a big, hesitant smile.

"That's a good thing, T," I said, mainly because I felt that he was waiting for more of a reaction or further information from me.

"Yes, Madame. I just really don't like English class at all. I make a bit of an effort, but I really don't think I'm any good."

"T. You're one of the strongest in the class. When I see you participating, I don't see that you don't like English. I see someone who is pretty good at it and is only going to get better. Plus, you're a nice kid who has a lot of respect. It's a pleasure having you in class."

The grin broadens. "Ok! I'm just doing what I can!!" he says, as he walks backwards out of the classroom.

The good times make the bad ones worthwhile.