Great Expectations

Over the summer, hope for a better year turned to obsession--everything would be different. Everything would be better.

Before the first day, I had already assigned and labeled the lockers and tables and pencils, that is, if I could fit little stickies on them. This time, when they walked in, I didn’t wait for them to measure me up, I measured them up.

 “Put your backpack at #4. Sit at table D; you should see your name. Welcome to Mr. Slaughter’s class.”

 And this time, I cornered any parents who showed up, wrote all their numbers on a master list, and I taped that list behind my desk, above the class phone. This year we had a class phone, and I was not scared to use it the first day. I was ready, ready for the Colin who might start talking, or the Sean who might bother a neighbor when there was work to do, or even the Lauren, the queen bee. I was still heavily leaning on my handbook, but the words “never again” felt like they had been tattooed on my forehead. I even followed them to their specials just to see what they act like with other teachers; I took zero breaks the first two weeks, and every time I packed a lunch, I ended up eating it on my ride home.

Those first two weeks everything went just as planned. I saw Mr. Franklin in the hallway at the end of my first week, and I smiled, “I have a really good bunch of kids this year.” “Good, you deserve it after last year.” For the first time, I looked forward to walking my kids down the hallway. We were receiving so many compliments that I told them for every compliment we heard, we got an extra minute of recess. There were days when I stopped counting.

On the 6th day, when I asked the students to come to their assigned seats on the carpet, Laila scrunched up her face when she saw who she was sitting next to. His name was Donald, and he looked like a Donald. “There is no way anyone does that in my classroom. Apologize.” She just sat there. “Well, you’re not part of the class until you apologize; go back and take a seat at your table.” She slowly stood up and walked backwards to her seat, but she didn’t sit down. She grabbed her pencil from her seat and then stood up against the back wall with no intention of sitting down; it was my first duel of the year.

 I wrote her name on the board, “Your name stays up until you apologize, and if it's still up there at the end of the day, I am calling home.” I came back to my lesson, and after a few minutes, she interrupted, “Mr. Slaughter, I’m ready.” Just as she was walking up to the front of the class, an administrator from downtown walked in with Ms. Coan. I crossed my fingers. I had been warned about Laila; I was told she was much worse than Lauren. Lauren might tear up your class in a fit of rage, but then she'd hug you the next day because she was sorry. I was told Laila would still tear up your room, but she would never apologize.

 She did apologize, and everyone was all smiles. I was beaming. Everything was coming together. I finally figured it out. Things were going to be okay.

But it wasn’t until that afternoon that I found Laila’s writing on the back walls of the classroom. When she was hanging on the back wall with her pencil, she was actually scribbling her name over and over again. I may have won the battle, but she was gearing up for the war.

I knew the first two weeks were a honeymoon period, and I also knew when it ended-- day eleven. A ten day honeymoon was better than the few minutes I got my first year. I figured it was a good sign because they kept it together for much longer than most of the other classes. So as they started to chat it up, I barked loud, trying to reign them back in. When they cut up some more, I barked even louder. When they continued to cut up, I barked so loud that I lost voice.

 By the third week, I lost my voice on Friday, but by mid-September, I lost my voice every single afternoon. Things weren’t going the way they were supposed to go, but my handbook said that I had to be very consistent with the behavior management for six weeks, and then the class would be ready to teach. How could I forget this was the same crap I believed my first year. The six week mark was right around my birthday, September 29th. It was the worst birthday I have ever had.