Seven fifteen.
I climb off the bus, eyeing the adorable little boy in the front row. I am going to steal him before I leave this country. Not sure how, but it’s going to happen. I meander to my classroom and unlock the door. Erase the chalkboard. Set up my computer and try to connect to the completely unreliable internet. Straighten the desks. Satisfied with the way things are set up, I plop into my chair and review my first period lesson plan. Tenth grade means we’re reading Gatsby. I open up the jazz piece I plan on opening with. I write the lyrics out across the board. I check to make sure the song will stream decently. I write out my opening questions about the Jazz Age.
Seven thirty.
The bell rings, indicating that the school day has started. I look up at the clock, but not much else happens. I size up my handwriting on the board. It’s written with some sidewalk chalk I found in my craft box, so it’s not my best work. However, it’ll do for this morning. Marjorie walks by to check in on our social schedule for the rest of the week. We talk briefly, and then she moves onto her class.
Seven forty-five.
Two kids wander in. The other five students eventually make their way through the courtyard into the classroom. Around seven fifty, I start class.
Right, I can see that anyone knowing the basics of classroom management is going into cardiac arrest right now. How can you start class twenty minutes late? What are you thinking? Well, my friends, welcome to Tico Time. Time does not exist in this country. I’m pretty positive that’s why I have eleven periods every day. It makes up for the fact we waste so much time! Ironically, students are graded on their arrival time to class. I saw the grades of my eleventh graders- big fat E’s. They don’t care, it’s not like that’s going to keep them from passing on to the next grade. I think this is the point that really made me realize I wasn’t in America. Yeah, the textbooks are the same, the lesson strategies I use are comparable, but the classroom management, whoaaaa boy.
The first week I almost lost my mind. The eighth graders were rocking their desks back until they fell over on my second day. I didn’t have a mentor teacher so I couldn’t say “IS THIS NORMAL?” So, I dealt with the issue in the best manner I know- Sue Sylvester style.
“SIT DOWN NOW. SIT. YOU. SIT. DOWN. YOU ALL NEED TO GET QUIET RIGHT NOW. I AM SO SERIOUS. DO I LOOK LIKE I’M JOKING? NO. I DON’T KNOW HOW YOU NORMALLY ACT IN HERE BUT THIS IS MY CLASSROOM NOW AND I WILL NOT TOLERATE THE WAY YOU ARE ACTING.” (Pause to slam down a desk that is hovering mid-air) “I WOULD NOT ACCEPT THIS BEHAVIOR IN MY CLASSROOM IN THE UNITED STATES. AND GUESS WHAT? YOU ARE JUST AS SMART AS THEY ARE. YOU ARE JUST AS CAPABLE OF FOLLOWING DIRECTIONS. SO I’M NOT PUTTING UP WITH THIS FOR ANOTHER MINUTE. YOU WILL BE HELD TO MY STANDARDS BECAUSE I KNOW STUDENTS YOUR AGE ARE CAPABLE OF MEETING THEM.”
I pause. The students are taken aback completely for two reasons. One- teachers don’t DO that. Teachers aren’t big on classroom management here and never really use grown up voices. Two- half of the kids have no idea what I said because their English isn’t great. They just stopped talking because they could tell I was piiiiiiissed. One kid finally piped up, “Uh, what?” Brilliant. Inside, I’m semi-horrified that I pulled the “I’m American and I’m doing this my way” card (way to be tolerant of cultural differences) and completely relieved that everyone shut up. Five weeks later, they still know I mean business. That doesn’t mean they shut up on the first try. Dian observed me last week, and by the time the students actually came into the classroom and calmed down, we were about thirty minutes into the forty-five minute block. However, I do recognize something slightly resembling respect from them. To work on peer editing and modals, I had the tenth and eleventh graders write me letters of advice. “I like that you don’t let us be lazy.” “I like that you make us listen.” Hey, cool. They actually think it’s positive for me to call kids out for doodling. Of course, anyone reading this who observed me in our Thursday 5-9 class knows that I do not practice what I preach. But keep that on the DL.
Now that I look like a raging jerk, I will say that I adore the students here. They work SO HARD. I cannot imagine reading Don Quixote in Spanish and Macbeth in English at the same time. But somehow they truck through it all. They listen to what I have to say, and they are engaged in the material. Also- I hate to say this, but they are so darn cute! Not the eleventh graders, chill out. I mean the little ones wandering around.
Oh right, that brings me back to classroom management. Now that it’s rainy season, we get horrific storms every afternoon. You know when a storm hits, because you hear blood-curling screams from the preschool. There are usually one or two stranglers that just run aimlessly by my room screaming. Of course, they aren’t really scared at the thunder and lightning. It’s just an excuse to be SO LOUD. The first time it happened, I pretty much wet my pants. Imagine pouring rain through the courtyard and children flailing around like the world is about to end. Total and utter chaos. Classroom management. Gotta love it.
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