Yesterday I was called in at the very last minute to teach a first period year 9 English class. I walked in and hurriedly started trying to figure out what on earth I was going to teach, and not completely freak out, while looking completely nonchalant and calm. Not easy when you have 40 kids yelling at you and throwing paper across the room.
Class started with some basic English warm-up exercises and I finally had their attention after we revised how to say the numbers in English, something relatively difficult apparently. Transitioning into the real work of the day I asked everyone to get out their notebooks and pens. This generally requires going from desk to desk asking each student individually, which I diligently started to do. Reaching the end of the room I asked one student to take out his notebook, to which he flatly refused. Calmly and politely I repeated the request, to which he again refused, telling me he didn't have his English book. I replied that that was fine, no problem, but perhaps he could take out another book and later transfer the information to his English book. Again he refused. I took a big breath and asked him to please find some paper and a pen from somewhere as it was essential to the class and moved away, trying my best to ignore my rising frustration.
I continued with a basic revision of verbs and their translation, to which my stubborn student was quite vocal and knowledgeable. The idea was that when a student successfully guessed the translation, they then wrote it on the board. My stubborn student got one right, I made to hand him the marker, and he flatly refused to take it. I was now becoming frustrated because the other students were beginning to understand my lack of control and I was sure he was just being difficult. He was yelling loudly and distracting other classmates. After insisting a couple of times, I also let this slide. It was only 8am and I hadn’t even had time for a cup of coffee.
As the students began to copy the work from the board my difficult student still hadn't taken out paper or a pen, and was still disrupting those around him. Ok, action time, this cannot continue. I went to speak to him, and again asked him what the problem was, and to please take out a book, any book, just something to write on. He of course refused, and then told me that 'Maybe if you learn to speak proper Spanish then I might do something for you, but until then, no'. Taking a really big breath and trying not to lose my cool I told him I would have to call and inspector, the 'policemen' of the Chilean school.
When the inspector arrive the three of us had a conversation outside, at which time my student explained that if he used paper from another book his mother would get angry with him. I told him no problem, send his mother to me, and the inspector aggreed with me. Although reluctant and petulant, my student returned to the classroom and took out some paper.
Relieved, I smiled at the inspector and thanked him. He began to tell me that this is a very special student, to which I replied probably somewhat sarcastically, óbviously´. ´No Karen, he is very special, he has psycological problems´. Ok, I was kind of gathering as much. ´No Karen, real problems´. At this point I am thinking drugs, attention deficit or maybe a bit of Aspergers, nothing I haven't encountered before. And then he says it. 'He was abused and raped by his mother'.
I have nothing to say. I feel sick, I want to cry, I hate myself for being frustrated with him. I feel useless, I don't have the tools to deal with this. And I have to go back to my class of 40 students and continue with my completely unplanned lesson as if nothing has happened. And I have to treat him as normally as I would any other kid, and try not to stare, and not ask him how he gets through his days. I have to try and relate to him, and build a connection of trust, although he must hate women, and we really have nothing in common.
When I do return to the classroom, he is actually trying to write something down, but his hands are shaking, and he proudly shows me how terrible his handwriting is and that is why he won't write on the board. He keeps making mistakes, and then ripping the paper from his book and tossing it from the back of the classroom to the front, in the general direction of the rubbish bin. I can’t tell him off for it. I circulate around the room, trying not to think about my problem student, and when he finally manages to write a few words from the board I praise him. Thankfully the class finishes quite quickly and I get to walk out of that reality, back into something more comfortable, just the normal problems of drugs and thieving.
Every week I hear another story, and they are terrible. Every week I am frustrated in class by naughty students who are totally disrespectful and disruptive. And every week I wonder what is behind it. Now I know the story of just one boy, I am not sure if I can handle hearing the stories of the rest.
