To assist a first year teacher, I agreed to take her problem students into my class for a quick 10-min time out session. I warned my afternoon classes that we would be having "guests" every once in a while. They accepted the task I gave them with such glee and pleasure.
I began, "I'm helping out a teacher who has some problem students. She's going to send them here, and I want you to torture him."
The class reacted with an excited, "YEAH!!!!"
Caustic Tongue, my sarcastic student to date--he and I have a jokey yet respectful banter every once in a while--was especially excited. I gave the entire class rules on how I want them to torture the guest.
"I don't want you to insult him," I said. "I want you to make him feel bad. I want you to make him reflect about what he's done and be regretful about it. Stress the importance of school and passing classes because the bottom line is: this student wants to take a vacation by being suspended or detention in another classroom. I want you to make him see that that is not a wise decision."
Another student asked, "Can we mad-dog him? Can we get into his face?"
"No, you can't touch him physically, but you can give him dirty looks. In fact, let's all stare him down when he comes in. No laughing. Let's make him as uncomfortable as possible."
I could already see my students jiggling in their seats with enthusiasm. After setting the guidelines, I continued with my lesson. About fifteen minutes into it, a student poked her head in and asked if it was okay to send the problem student. I answered in the affirmative, and I heard Caustic Tongue add, "Yeah, send that loser in."
I continue with the lesson, and about thirty seconds later, a student walked into the room. He strutted in with that fake limp that all bad boys do, but as soon as he saw all twenty-eight of my students staring him down, I saw his shoulders slump.
"Have a seat," I said and pointed to the front corner desk near my teacher's desk.
The whole class continued to stare and got a good look at him since he sat at the front.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"[Bobohead]," he replied. [Pseudonym for confidentiality.]
I was hoping my students would start asking the questions, but they didn't know how, so I continued, "Why did your teacher throw you out?"
"Because I was... laughing." He kept looking at his two sheets of paper.
"You were only laughing?"
"Someone was making shadow-puppets on the [overhead] light."
"So, you were disrupting your class?" I rephrased.
At this point, some of my students just started shaking their heads in disappointment, while they continued to stare.
He made some more excuses, but I kept repeating, "You were disrupting your class?"
He shrugged it off.
"Do you have any work with you?"
"No," he replied with a little more gusto, like he didn't want to do any.
"Well, while you're in here, you're going to work. If you have paper, you can write a letter of apology to your teacher. You have ten minutes. Start working."
"What if I don't want to?" he threatened.
"Then you are defying a teacher, and I'll send a referral."
"Make him read it out loud, Ms. G," one of mine suggested, and the entire class agreed with nods and murmurs of approval.
His shoulders slumped again and he unfolded the two sheets of paper.
Caustic Tongue chirped, "I'll keep time, Ms. G."
"Thank you," I nodded.
My students finally pulled their stares away so I could continue the lesson. While I conducted class, I noticed Caustic Tongue kept looking over Bobohead's shoulder and reminding him how many minutes he had left. At the five-minute mark, Bobohead turned around and gave a dirty look to Caustic Tongue, like he wanted to start something. Fortunately, my student can hold his own. He towered over Bobohead and warned, "What! You're only in the ninth grade and already you're getting into trouble!"
I only nodded my approval, and Bobohead completely shut up.
My students gently reminded me that the ten minutes were up. So we all turned our attention to our special guest.
"All right," I said, "read your letter to my class."
He stumbled over the words, but his sentences were full of "I'm sorry for this-and that." There was a change in his story: he admitted to making the shadow puppets and confessed to being the cause of disruption. Because he stumbled over some words, my students said, "I didn't hear that. Can you read that part again?"
"Yeah, read that last part again."
With a sigh, Bobohead repeated a section of his letter. The best part was: "Please don't send me here again. The other students only embarrass me." At this, my students smiled with pride.
"Now, Bobohead, I want you to give that letter of apology to your teacher, and I don't want to see you again. If you have to come here again, I'll be the one to send a referral. Caustic Tongue, please escort him back to class and make sure that he gives that to his teacher."
They got up and left. As soon as the door shut, my students laughed. "He almost cried!"
"Did he?" I asked.
"He was sniffling!"
"And he changed his story, did you notice that?" someone else added.
"Yes, he did," I replied.
Thirty seconds later, Caustic Tongue returned and he was laughing his heart out.
"What happened?" I asked.
"He was about ready to cry. He said that he can't get into any more trouble because he's already in trouble with his parents for getting caught smoking weed."
My entire class burst into hysteria.
"He admitted that to you?" I asked in disbelief.
"Yes!" he laughed.
"Should we tell administration about that?" another student asked.
"Well, his parents already know, and if he's telling people about it, then I'm sure that means the school already knows also. Good job, class!" I applauded them and they applauded each other.
"This class is so fun," added Caustic Tongue. "I hope that teacher sends another one tomorrow."