The Only Thing I Can Control...

I've been reading at least one "self-help" type book a month since the fall of 2020. I've been trying to apply the myriad lessons to my teaching life. I keep thinking I've simplified them, to make them easier to remember, but none have really stuck with me... yet.

This week, this is my focus: 

         I will not let a 12-year-old's words or actions dictate what I say or how I act.

I re-read a blog post from George Couros, and the line that got to me was, "Never let an 8-year-old ruin your day." Yup. And how do they ruin my day? I LET them.

You might think this is common sense. If so, you've probably never taught middle schoolers. If you've taught them, you KNOW how difficult it can be to snap at them, to yell, to grit your teeth and say something that you'll probably regret later. Only to feel like crap afterwards, knowing you weren't your best self. The pot can only hold so much steam before it blows, and 12-year-olds know how to push all your buttons. So this is my goal this week: to not let a 12-year old's words or actions dictate what I say or how I act. The ONLY thing I can control is what I think. (I'm learning this from reading about and trying to practice Stoicism.) The next thing I can (usually) control is how I act.

I still have my "pause button," and I'm going to use it.

Here's a snippet of how I did during one instance in one class yesterday... 

     We'd been reading quietly (a slice of Heaven for me), and one student had been "in the bathroom" for ten minutes. When he returned, he shouted, "Mrs. Kirr! I was walking down the hall and some boy called me Black!" Many of the kids laughed. He loves to get people laughing.

     I closed my eyes. I took a breath. I looked at him. I said quietly, "If you'd like to report this, you may head to the office. If not, you may sit down and read quietly."

     "But Mrs. Kirr! I am NOT Black! I don't like that he called me that!"

     I repeated quietly, "If you'd like to report this, you may head to the office. If not, you may sit down and read quietly."

     I don't know how many times I repeated this. Maybe two more times? When I shifted to go get a yellow sticky note as a warning (before writing this incident in a form we've been using - see this post), he went to sit down. The rest of the kids got back to reading. I felt proud of myself.

And today...

     Once again, we'd been reading quietly (a slice of Heaven for me), and one student was tickling another student. The other student laughed, or I wouldn't have even noticed. I quietly told him to get back to his seat. "But I thought it was free seating today! Why do I have to go back to my seat! I didn't do anything! I'm reading, Mrs. Kirr!" I quietly pointed to his chair. "It's not fair! I wasn't doing anything! Why doesn't anyone else have to move! It's not fair!" I quietly pointed to his chair. 

     When he finally went to his chair, I whispered, "I'll answer your question now that you're here. You were tickling ___ and we're supposed to be reading."

     "I wasn't tickling him! I was getting something off his neck!" he "whispered" back.

     I quietly responded with, "And you were supposed to be reading." And then I walked away with my book. After a few more huffs and puffs, he opened his own book.

I don't like getting riled up by an outright lie or a made-up story.

I know I can't win an argument with a 12-year-old.
I like how I feel when I stay calm and simply repeat myself.

I like how these instances are over fairly quickly, and I feel like they're small but mighty "wins."

I hope this lesson will stick with me.

Head over to Two Writing Teachers for more slice of life stories.