It is late April of 2016. The time is around 2:00 pm during 6th period. I've been going since 6:00 am that morning and I am waiting for that 2:30 bell to ring so I can sleep through my planning period. I am asking students to read notes off the board. The state test is in two weeks and I am trying to have the students review biochemistry. A unit that is hard to teach and hard to learn. As I walk around the classroom I see a couple of students writing the slides. I see Larry Blair laying on the counter playing candy crush. I see Myles Bradley trying to flirt with Akaiya Hunter. KaBreshay Clayton is on the phone with her mom telling her to check her out. Illelslie Allen is cursing loudly telling an animated story to Antonio Lindsay about some girl who is lying on her. And then I look down. Myisha Clayton is roughly 4 months pregnant, laying belly down with her shirt up on the concrete floor. She is eating a raw hot dog and texting on her phone. I look back at the clock and it is now 2:03 pm. I look across the hallway to my fellow first year teacher. We both give each other "the look". Only 27 more minutes. Actually only about 25. The children usually run out of class two minutes before the bell rings and we let them.
I have given up. I keep telling myself next year will be different. I know what to expect and I am going to be firm and fair. Over the summer I read Teach Like a Champion and Tools for Teaching from cover to cover. I read about seating charts that make management easier. I was determined for my second year to be better.
I started out my first year strong. I spent a whole day arranging the desks so that I would be within 8 feet of every student no matter where I was in the room. I wrote a syllabus and powerpoint that clearly laid out the rules and procedure for class. This year I was going to be hard on two things: food and phones. I followed a strong discipline leader that I held steadfast too. I took phones up on the first offense during the first week of school and took them down to the office. I wanted the word to get out that Mrs. Bamber was not one to play. Of course, I still had students that would argue and sleep during class, but far fewer than last year. The students that were defiant, I was better at knowing when it was appropriate to use consequences and that it is okay to write referrals when the behavior is unacceptable.
When I think about last year compared to this year, last year I was a baby sitter. Not even a good baby-sitter at that. This year I am a teacher. I am a teacher that is in control of her class.