I used to hate hearing this phrase muttered by some utterly disrespectful students:”He’s weak!”They usually said this to intimidate me, to shame because I had no qualms about calling security to remove an unruly student from class.
The two times I remember that phrase thrown at me:The first time, I was called upon to take over for a class in which the first teacher had quit after a week, and the second teacher had been a mere place-holder, the football coach who showed up to work early, anyway. Then there was me, and after three teachers in two weeks, the students were understandably jaded. Of course, I made the most of an impossible situation for the next six weeks. The first week, though, I found myself having to call security at least once every period just to remove unruly elements from the classroom.
At the end of the week, one of the security staff bellowed at the class:”We cannot keep coming to this classroom like this. How many of you want to go home today, instead? You are all acting like a bunch of freshman!”Of course, I took that slight personally, and from that point I foolishly resolved to try and handle everything myself — but even Jaime Escalante of Stand and Deliver fame would either have stormed off in a huff or he would have thrown out at least five students every day — In hindsight, I had the option of doing either one, but I tried to be strong in my own strength, which meant that nothing was accomplished. Fast-forward to another school. I was assigned to an unruly group of science students — the students were awful to the full-time teacher, so what chance did I have? I made a point that I would not put up with students’ disrespect, calling security whenever students refused to follow directions or refused to put away their cellphones.
One morning, as I was stationed in that same science room, I received a call from the assistant princiapal:”We are receiving a lot of calls from that room. What are those kids up to?”
I got really jittery on the inside when I heard that. So afraid was I that I would have to face off or explain myself — perhaps even get the pink slip, that hurriedly I admitted:”Oh, uh, everything is under control! I just needed someone to help me take something from one of the students.”I kept myself in check for the rest of the period, until the security personnel whom I had contacted finally arrived. He smiled broadly as I tried to reason with one student, who had refused to turn over her cellphone.”I am going to keep the phone with me at all times, but you will not get it back until the end of the period,” I told the student.”You mean that you are not going to give it to the office?””Of course no”
After the student turned over the phone to me, the security guard smiled and mentioned:” You really know how to talk to people. That’s really good!”When I was not trying to overpower people, when I used a soft word to turn away wrath, I found that I got much better results. Of course, the second time in memory when a kid shouted “He’s Weak!” — once again, in the same science class, but that day I put myself under pressure to try and keep as many students in the classroom as possible. When I was trying in my own strength to get anything done, including attempting to keep a handful of students at bay and keep them in class, I found myself fighting a losing war. The fourth period class, right before lunch, always proved the most challenging, even more than that the last period of the day, since most students had eaten nothing before coming to school that day. This fourth period class was no exception, taking advantage of me in every way. One student was particularly bad, Chris, a wannabe gangbanger who called me a member of the Crenshaw Crips, even though I lived in West Torrance. Three times the kid refused to sit in one seat and get to work. He even pleaded with me to send him to the dean, at which point I demanded that he write out the referral himself, as I was so busy just trying to keep the students in their seats for ten more minutes.
Then the little creep Chris cried aloud:”You guys, this sub is not gonna do anything! He’s weak!”He could say so because I had refused to send him out after speaking to him three times. Crazy but true, Chris should have kept his mouth shut, or I would not have remembered the cardinal rule of consistency. I remembered that from that point on. I stuck to my guns no matter what. No longer would I try to handle the classes myself. I stopped making it all depend on me to keep the students in the classroom. From then on, it would be up to the students themselves to stay! Two months later, I say Chris again in a special ed English class, at the time also recollecting that he had been sent out of another class the previous week with a partner in crime, gleefully waving the referral in front of himself, like a badge of honor. I was no-holds-barred in that English class. Chris came in late, gave me attitude, talked while I was talking, interrupted me as he felt entitled to, and then I called security and sent him away. From the moment that security rode to the classroom door, Chris started to shake from top to bottom. Apparently, he had been kicked out so many times that the school was threatening to expel him if he got sent out one more time. After the security guard chewed him out to keep quiet, I found myself standing by quietly and watching the whole drama unfold before me. It was great. Chris, the same kid who had tauntingly labeled me “weak” had gone weak in the knees himself, but this time I did not feel one bit inadequate because I called for help. Finally, I had arrived at the point where I no longer tried to be strong on my one. I was weak, but in the final analysis, I was strong, and the kid got exactly what he deserved!
