A Broken Reflection

Sigh. Teaching is hard enough. Although I shouldn't have to, I can tolerate kids being disrespectful. I will not tolerate them threatening my life, however.

So I have this "I care about nothing" menace of a student in my class. She had a piece of technology that kept making noise loudly. The first time I heard it, I warned her to turn it off. Hearing it again thirty seconds later, I warned her that next time I would confiscate it. Since she doesn't give a crap, she intentionally let it keep making noise, so I grabbed it. A slight struggle ensued as we both held onto the piece of technology until I ultimately out-muscled her and pried it from her hands, putting it in my pocket.

Almost immediately after our scuffle, her friend tried to do something and her mirror fell off her desk, breaking into two large, jagged pieces. As I tried to resume my lesson, the technology-using student grabbed a piece of the mirror, stood up, and said, "I'm gonna cut your throat."

Now, I want to portray this situation accurately. She never came at me with the shard of mirror, though she did act aggressively to intimidate me. My belief is that she was trying to spook me and amuse her classmates. Fortunately, none of the other students found her threat of cutting my throat funny and I relatively kept my cool - outwardly anyway. While I never thought she would actually attempt to attack me, I had to remove her from my classroom immediately. She has been suspended for fighting, so at the same time, I wouldn't entirely put it past her. I called security and she, putting down the glass, begged me not to. I told her it was too late, and she was shortly escorted out.

I tried to resume class as if nothing had happened. Teaching is mostly performance anyway, so why not just pretend everything was fine. On the inside, I wanted to break down. I wanted to shrivel into a ball and be anywhere else in the world, with someone who could hug me and let me know everything was okay. We were doing a grammar exercise, and someone lobbed me a question about semicolons, which was about as close as I could get to taking my mind off the situation. You see, the period had only just begun, I had to teach for nearly two more hours.

While I pretended as if it were business as usual, my classroom essentially became a crime scene. Officials came back to quickly gather my account, which I gave briefly, as I had my students complete an impromptu writing prompt. Also, in the terror of the earlier moment, I failed to collect the glass from the mirror, leaving a lethal weapon (which in some circumstances would be an exaggeration, but here made sense) in the hands of other students. Then, as I continued with another activity, they pulled out a random student to give witness testimony. A friend of the apprehended student ever so wisely shouted as the witness student was taken out, "Don't tell them the truth!" Thanks for corroborating my story in advance, I thought.

I was ready to cry, but instead I had to lead a note-taking exercise. A security guard dropped by again to interrupt. She told me that it was very important that I press charges against this girl. I was hesitant, but the security officer insisted the sheriff would walk me through the steps -- after school. I agreed.

The witness student came back. Other students asked what she said. "Only the truth," she said. Another student told her that the apprehended student would surely "fuck her up" for ratting. "Never be a snitch!" another student warned. Truthfully, I'm now more concerned with the safety of the witness than me; it would be extremely stupid to attack a teacher, but she's been known to rough up fellow students before.

After the two hours finally passed, as much as I was ready to go home, I had to meet with the police officer. He ran through the details and told me what the consequences were. If I pressed charges, I was going to royally fuck this girl's future. We went over the situation, and he gently coaxed me into not pressing charges. The school would still have the power to punish her, but if I wanted to keep her out of a child detention center and the like, I shouldn't press charges. It was my call to make, a call I didn't even want to make, but I decided that since I didn't think she actually intended to attack me, I didn't want her to fall into a heap of trouble over what was probably just an extraordinarily dumb comment. Of course, this is far sweeter than I needed to be, but I am her teacher, and you know what, as much as she tested that, I do care about her well-being. So for her best interest, I declined to press charges. I can't help but keep going to the old saying that a broken mirror brings seven years of bad luck. Had that mirror not accidentally broken, it probably would have never occurred to the student to "kill" me, thus drastically altering her life path. Bad luck indeed.

The assistant principal came to me later. The Sidekick, or "piece of technology" as I referred to it many times in the official reports since I'm that clueless about these new-fangled contraptions was stolen property. During our conversation, she learned that I wasn't pressing charges, and then yelled at me/lectured me about the situation. Yes, the security officer encouraged me to press charges, but the police officer gave me new information to consider. The assistant principal wanted to expel the student, but without me pressing charges, this would be a nearly impossible task to accomplish.

As if I didn't feel like shit enough already, now I'm being chastised for my choices on a situation I'm not prepared to be in. Is everyone else forgetting that I had my life threatened? No one asked if I was okay, no one offered me support, they just gave conflicting opinions when it seems to me like there really was no "right" decision.

After a deal of paperwork and lectures, I was finally free to go home. I teared up in the car, finally having an opportunity to have some sort of emotional release. I went to Margarita Mondays by 4:30, which was early, but was already planned as such since Madeleine was going to catch a plane an hour or so later. I needed friends and I needed a drink. Several, even.

I'm safe in bed now, but I still don't know whether I did the right thing. Since I didn't press charges and because of the laws, after a suspension, she'll most likely end up back in my class. How do I deal with that? How do I deal with any of these students anymore?

I've never wanted a desk job so badly.