I’m subbing in another English teacher’s classroom right now — kids who are juniors. I taught more than half of them last year. They’re so great. Nice kids. Respectful kids.
Except one.
This one, obviously, sits at the front of the room. He has not shut up. He has an unlimited supply of rubber bands, which he expertly flings at the faces of the kids around him who are taking a practice ACT test. I kind of want to kick him out, which I will not do because I don’t do that, and it’s weird how frustrating it is that he’s such a pain. I mean, it’s one kid out of thirty in the room.
He’s taking up way more than his share of the energy in the room, is all. He’s a vortex of the human power-fuel, and I have tried playful, I’ve tried stern, and I’ve tried my latest favorite, ignoring the crap out of it.
I am the grownup here. I can do the grownup thing. But I’m currently allowing myself to be bugged, and that might be what’s bugging me most of all.