On Feeling Like A Failure
Some days you just wonder if you are losing your touch as a teacher. It happens to us all - even those of us who have been teaching for 20 years and pride ourselves on our classroom management. How true it is that pride goeth before a fall!
Just when you think you have got this whole teaching and learning malarky down, and have a behaviour management strategy for every occasion, along comes a child to confound you. None of your usual approaches works for more than five minutes - or at all. They laugh in the face of detentions, smirk when you tell them off and throw kindness back at you like a well aimed cow pat.
You have tried limiting the options, presenting a win-win choice, set individualised work, praised all positive behaviour choices, done tactical ignoring, tried 30 second intervention at the door, phoned home, invited parents in, consulted colleagues...you name it, you've bloody tried it.
Worse still, the class think they are utterly hilarious and start to join in.
Well that was me on Thursday. End of tether reached.
I removed the offending child to a place of safety and let the rest of the class have it with both barrels for a good minute and a half. I painted a picture of what would happen if they did not cease and desist immediately that would have made Hieronymous Bosch proud. Death, I assured them, would be preferable.
How can one small 11 year old child reduce me to the point where all I had left is shouting? I manage some of the most difficult boys in Y11 twice a week without raising my voice and all the while maintaining a sunny disposition for goodness sake.
The tirade reduced most of the class to slightly quivering creatures who then got on with some work, but that's not how I operate in my classroom. I felt like a failure. With all my years of experience, surely I could have done better?
I started the repair as quickly as possible.
I went round the room, praising individuals who were making good choices. I praised work and effort. I ended the lesson with words of encouragement about Monday's assessment. There were smiles and thanks at the door. All was forgiven.
I just haven't forgiven myself yet.
Just when you think you have got this whole teaching and learning malarky down, and have a behaviour management strategy for every occasion, along comes a child to confound you. None of your usual approaches works for more than five minutes - or at all. They laugh in the face of detentions, smirk when you tell them off and throw kindness back at you like a well aimed cow pat.
You have tried limiting the options, presenting a win-win choice, set individualised work, praised all positive behaviour choices, done tactical ignoring, tried 30 second intervention at the door, phoned home, invited parents in, consulted colleagues...you name it, you've bloody tried it.
Worse still, the class think they are utterly hilarious and start to join in.
I removed the offending child to a place of safety and let the rest of the class have it with both barrels for a good minute and a half. I painted a picture of what would happen if they did not cease and desist immediately that would have made Hieronymous Bosch proud. Death, I assured them, would be preferable.
How can one small 11 year old child reduce me to the point where all I had left is shouting? I manage some of the most difficult boys in Y11 twice a week without raising my voice and all the while maintaining a sunny disposition for goodness sake.
The tirade reduced most of the class to slightly quivering creatures who then got on with some work, but that's not how I operate in my classroom. I felt like a failure. With all my years of experience, surely I could have done better?
I started the repair as quickly as possible.
I went round the room, praising individuals who were making good choices. I praised work and effort. I ended the lesson with words of encouragement about Monday's assessment. There were smiles and thanks at the door. All was forgiven.
I just haven't forgiven myself yet.
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