Principal:
(Walks to the front. Smiles briefly. Speaks
firmly.)
Good morning, everyone. Welcome all - veteran
staff and new teachers. Before we begin – yes, I really mean this – I’ll
be walking around to collect your cell phones.
(Walks around holding a basket and waits for
each teacher to drop in their cell phone.)
Please hold them up now. Thank you. Drop them
right here in this basket. It’s not that I don’t trust you – it’s just that it
can be so tempting to check your phone or send a quick text, and for the next
little while, I need your full attention.
Thank you. Now, instead of the usual welcoming,
we’re going to do a little role playing. Just relax. The stage will be all too
familiar very quickly. You are seated in the classroom – but not in the front
row. You are looking at your new teacher. For the past months, you were in camp
or at the beach. You stayed up late and got up late, hung out with friends, and
never opened a book. Now, you are gazing, a bit bleary eyed, at the teacher and
wondering what this class will be like.
Principal:
(Goes into teacher mode.)
Okay, girls, please remain in your current
seats. These will be your assigned seats for the semester. No switching. No whispering
to your neighbor. If you come late, I will have to send you to the office for a
late note.
(Smiles.)
Don’t worry – that rule doesn’t start until next
week.
(Continues in stern voice.)
Also, don’t bother raising your hand for the
bathroom. If you weren’t responsible enough to go before class, you’ll have to
wait until the bell rings. And absolutely no eating at all.
We’ll have a graded drill twice a week, a review
quiz every other week, and a test once a month, and yes – daily homework.
(Points at someone.)
You. Yes, you. I notice you’re rolling your
eyes. That will not do. This is middle school – you’d better get your act
together now, because before you know it, you’ll be in high school, and they
won’t put up with this.
(Points at someone else.)
You. What did I just say? Are you paying
attention? Right – there will be a review quiz once today’s work is done.
(Bell rings. Someone jumps up to make a run
for it.)
Everyone, please sit; you have not been
dismissed yet.
(Looks around sternly.)
That bell signals the end of this period. Now
you’ve got just four minutes to run down the hall, grab your books, find your
next class, and try to use the bathroom.
Principal:
(Bell rings. Speaks to teachers.)
Okay, colleagues, let’s stop for the moment. Any
questions? No? So, resume your roles please. Put yourself in the mind of your
students:
(Speaks with empathy.)
You’re afraid – afraid you’ll be late.
Because if you are late, the next teacher will send you to the office. You’re
wondering if this teacher will be meaner or harder or stricter. You were too
nervous to eat breakfast this morning, so you’re hungry, too.
Another 45 minutes gone. And another. And
another. Each class a new subject, each class different rules. All moving like
a crazy blur.
Lunch finally comes; you didn’t pack anything
you’re in the mood to eat. You can’t find anyone to sit with. It
seems like all your friends from last year made new friends in camp. Lunch is
over; five more classes to get through. Your stomach is starting to hurt –
you’re hungry and tired.
All day long, you sit – talk only if you raise
your hand and only if you’re called on – listen and try to understand every
word – don’t talk to your friends – don’t doodle – don’t pass notes – don’t go
to the bathroom – don’t eat.
And what do you keep hearing about? Tests – quizzes
– finals – no nail polish – late notes – incident sheets….
Until finally, mercifully, it’s 4:37 and the
last bell rings. You run to your carpool only to realize that tomorrow morning it
all starts again.
Principal:
(Pauses. Shifts to a warmer tone and addresses
each teacher in the room.)
Imagine if I told you that after this teachers’ session,
there will be seven more – each 45 minutes. You cannot leave. You must sit in
assigned seat, and you must take notes. You will be tested on the sessions.
Your cell phone will not be returned to you all day.
(Audible gasps.)
Attendance will be taken at the beginning and
end of each session. Failure to comply will be a monetary salary penalty. Imagine…
(Finishes with sincere, warm, yet firm tone.)
That, teachers, is what the first week feels
like for our students. After two months of freedom, sunshine, and choice, they
are suddenly plunged into a rigid, rule-filled, high-stakes environment. If you
felt a little suffocated just listening to me, imagine living it for eight
hours a day. Every. Single. Day. For the next nine months.
That’s why this transition is so tough. And
that’s why our patience, our empathy, and our awareness of what our students
are experiencing are critical in these opening days and weeks.
It’s okay to smile; you won’t lose control of your class if you smile. But
you will lose if you come across totally rigid and unyielding. May we all
– teachers and students alike – be blessed with a happy, productive, and
successful New Year.
* * *
Dear fellow teachers and parents,
I wanted to share something I wrote while
sitting on the beach just two days before our teacher meetings. As I watched my
grandchildren laughing and playing, completely carefree, I was struck by how
different our world felt compared to the busy, structured days of school that
were just around the corner.
Please know that this was written from my own reflections
– and not, chas v’shalom, as a criticism of anyone in any way. It’s
simply a heartfelt reminder of the changes this transitions can bring, for both
our students and ourselves.
