School Tales: Remorse

Believe it or not, there was a good moment at school this week:

One of my really cute, bouncy, popular little 7th grade girls (who is usually such a sweetie) whipped her camera out and began snapping pictures in the middle of my class. Paparazzi-like. Totally disruptive. So what do you think I did? Of course...I confiscated it. Well, in the process of seizing the aforementioned contraband, this particular student- who I will refer to as "Cindy"- gave me attitude. So what did I do? That's right...I removed her from class. On the way out, she slammed the door. Hard. It probably registered at least an 8.5 on the Richter scale. Well, unfortunately the class bell rang before we really "talked" about it. That's probably a good thing, because the most impressive thing happened later. During lunch "Cindy" came by my classroom of her own volition and wanted to discuss what had happened:

"Ms. K, I'm so sorry that I acted the way I did. I have no idea what got into me and it was wrong. I'm sorry!"

Dost my ears deceive me? A middle schooler that is admitting and owning responsibility for a wrong done? I may have picked my jaw up off the floor, but I'm not sure.

Teaching children is frustrating in general, but particularly if they are of the 11-16 year old variety. Daily frustration, lately, I might add. This was a timely reminder of why I am teaching. More important than imparting culinary, decision-making, money management skills or the like, my role is to love my students and model appropriate behavior. Hopefully they will become "productive members of society" someday. Hopefully.