First thing Tuesday morning, the kids had a library special, so I walked them up to the room to drop off their coats and book bags, and then we turned right back around and walked back downstairs to the library. I was silent the entire time; I was pissed off. The previous afternoon was really bad, and there was no way I could hide how I felt about it. We had horrible afternoons all the time, and each time I had a similar attitude for the next day, “here we go again.” But this time it was different, it got to me. It seemed like most kids didn’t even remember what happened on Monday, probably thinking, “Why is he angry now? We’ve been doing this to him all year.”
However, after the huge dip on Monday, Tuesday was good. After coming back from the library, we sat down on the carpet, read a story, and I had the students copy a paragraph-long writing prompt from the board onto lined paper. I told them to take their time, write with good handwriting, and think and respond to the questions I had asked. All of these were normal teacher expectations, but I never really expected them to do it. I usually just went throught the motions. But this time, as I paced the room with my eyes burning, the students kept their eyes on their work, and there wasn’t a sound. Silence in the first five minutes wasn’t too shocking because they were only copying what I had written. When they were silent the second five minutes, I guessed they had listened to the book and knew some answers to put down. When they were silent the third five minutes, I didn’t know what to think. It was the longest moment of complete silence I had ever had over two years of teaching.
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