You Know It's Been a Rough Day When....

... The first thing you do on your way home is buy a bottle of wine, and a tub of ice cream.

"Barefoot" Pinot Grigio, and a gallon of Java Chip, to be exact.

And yes. Yes, it was. It was a ROUGH DAY. Today, in fact, wins the award for "worst day so far."

It started so innocently-- like one of those summer days that begins deceptively warm and muggy, only to usher in a mammoth thunderstorm. Today, the deceptive warmth carried the seemingly benign title of "Picture Day."

Picture Day. What a nice thing. Taking pictures. Students in cute outfits. Girls with curled hair. Such a nice thing.

Except when it turns the day into HELL.

Since I'm complaining, I'll include all the little details, starting with the heat. I remembered last night that Picture Day was today. "Whaddam'I gonna wearrrr?"" I planned a cute outfit, banking on the weatherman's assurance that today would be cooler. I picked a light pink sweater, and a black pencil skirt: classy, simple, professional, stylish. But-- BUT: I woke up, and found weather reports that predicted high 70's, low 80's. My light sweater would be sweltering. I had to plan something else. I planned something else. And my last ditch effort included high-heels that were especially high. "Meh, they'll do. I'll survive," I thought. Mistake, mistake, stupid mistake.

Storm cloud #1.

Viola called me at 8:15. "Greta!! I overslept!! I'm coming!!" By the time she got to school, she was stressed and grouchy.

Storm cloud #2.

"How are we going to deal with this picture day thing...??" she thought aloud. "I HATE picture day-- there's no organized way to do it. It screws up class no matter what, and the kids milk their time out of class for all its worth." See, today is block day, which means our normal 50 minute classes are turned into 90 minute classes. This requires modifications in and of itself. Furthermore, our classes are mixed 9th and 10th graders-- and they had to go down to the auditorium to take pictures separately. Picture day required the following migrations:
1.) Entire class goes down to the auditorium to take individual pictures.
2.) Entire class trickles back to classroom, where the objective is to learn things.
3.) Ninth graders go down to take their class photo.
4.) Teachers try to help the tenth graders learn things.
5.) Ninth graders come back to class.
6.) Tenth graders go down to take their class photo.
7.) Teachers try to help the ninth graders learn things.
8.) Tenth graders come back to class.
9.) Teachers make a last ditch effort to help the class learn things before they all bolt at the bell.

Does this sound chaotic? It was: absolute chaos. There was a schedule initially, somewhere. But as things got progressively more disorganized, the schedule was thrown out and the cue to go down to the auditorium became largely based on personal initiative.

Storm cloud-- BIG, DARK storm cloud, #3.

And: Picture Day occurred with fifth period.

That'll be #4.

The going back-and-forth completely dissolved the class, and it wasn't helped by the photographers' lack of schedule and organization. The students dawdled in the halls-- we would have been helped by a couple of Australian Shepherds, corralling them back to our room. Viola was running back and forth, doing her best to crack the whip, leaving me at times alone with the class, at times, running around the school tracking students down. ALSO: our plan for class-- peer editing essays-- was largely ruined when half the students showed up without a draft to edit. SOME of the students showed up waving a thumb drive: "It's on here! It's written, it's just on here!" They know they're supposed to have it printed by the time they come to class, but we made a concession anyway by letting three girls go next door to print their papers. After five minutes, Viola asked me to go check on them.

The class was locked. The room was empty. The girls were nowhere to be found.

I reported this to Viola. "What?? I'm going to read them the riot act. Can you go find them?? I'm only asking because I know you don't want to be in the class..." Well, THAT was true. I walked all over the school-- each step a stab of pain, thanks to my stupid heels, and looked for the girls. I found one.
"Relia, get back to class."
I found a second. "Diana, guess what I've been doing for the last five minutes? Looking for you. Get back to class."
She protested, and then fell apart, crying. "I just (sob) got a referral! (sob) Because this guy (sob) was leaning back in a chair! (sob) And I tried to make him sit up in the chair (sob), and instead he fell out! (sob) And a teacher said (sob) that I was being AGGRESSIVE!"
I took a deep breath and tried to calm her. I chided myself inwardly for being such a hard-ass. Where was the empathy I had promised myself I would show the students? The third missing girl showed up, and I tried to explain to both of them why we couldn't just have them wandering.

I took the non-referral girl back to class, and Viola met us in the hallway, giving the girl, as predicted, the riot act. Two boys in a different period scooted across the hallway and darted guilty glances at me, hiding behind a doorway. When Viola and I walked back into class, I called, "Stephen! Kyle! Where are you two supposed to be right now?" They both darted back into their History class. Seriously-- this is how the whole day was, it was just NUTS.

Viola left me in the class again to go crack the whip down by the photographers, and I was alone with fifth. One of the girls began to leave. "Ellen, where are you going?"
"I'm not feeling well, I need to go to the bathroom."
"Well, get a pass, and I'll sign it." She ignored me and left. I rolled my eyes in exasperation. The front table snickered. Another group of students migrated back into the classroom.
"Okay guys, take a seat and get out your drafts." They continued chatting and milling around the class.
"Guy, take a seat and get out your drafts." Chatting. Milling.
"You should be quiet and working on your drafts." Chatting. Milling.
That's when I lost it. It flew out of me before I could stop it, completely unbidden and completely huge.

QUIET!!!!

They all froze, and looked at me, eyes wide. Thank God for that, because if they hadn't-- I would have been absolutely up the creek. This is the cardinal rule of classroom management: you NEVER, EVER, EVER lose your cool. You NEVER yell. Because once you're on the ropes, once you've played the last trump card-- if they still don't give you their attention at that point, you're doomed. You've lost the battle. Your ship has gone under, and your coffin is nailed shut.

THIS is what I wanted to talk with Viola about, at the end of the day-- this, more than the hurting feet, the heat, the chaos of picture day-- was what warranted the wine and Java Chip. "How did I become this anti-teacher??" I asked her. "I broke every rule I'd made for myself-- I ordered the students around, instead of showing them that they could expect respect from me. I yelled in class, instead of keeping my cool. Things got chaotic, and my first instinctual response was the total opposite of what I've told myself I'll do. I LOST it."

We talked about it, and she was supportive. "Understand Greta, that, as the intern, you basically have a big target on your forehead." Apparently this is normal-- her previous interns went through the same thing. "Matt experienced this!" she told me. "And he's a GUY! He's a muscley GUY! And HE would tell me, 'Dang Viola, they showed me absolutely no respect today.' That's just what's going to happen this year."
"So-- but honestly Viola-- how am I going to keep them under control when I start teaching??"

We discussed it, and she gave me some good advice... Her management style is very authoritarian, and she admitted that-- but her personality is big enough to balance swinging the hammer with joking around. "You're a much gentler personality," she said, "And I don't know if it's a good idea to try doing things exactly the way I'm doing them, because, as you discovered today, that sets you on edge." I do have a major backbone, which I'm not even sure Viola's experienced yet-- my petite stature and blonde hair typically get people assuming I can't be tough. In fact, people are always surprised when I say I'm doing high-school, they always think a girl like me would do elementary, at first. But damn it, I DO have a backbone, and I DO get feisty, and I DO know how to be an effective leader. But... I also come across soft at first. Somehow, Viola told me, I'll need to figure out a management style that works with those different parts of my personality.

Anyway... I'll figure it out eventually, I know. But on Picture Day? Well, that was doomed from the beginning. And until I get it all together?

I'm pouring another glass.