No Sleeping in My Class!

There was once a girl named Sarah in my English class who refused to listen to me. Twice I kindly asked her to wake up and stop sleeping during my lesson. I mean, the work we were covering was complex and important for her to learn, and there was no way for her to learn it if she was sleeping in the back of the room. Yet each time she apologized and then fell right back to sleep.

And so the third time I caught her sleeping, I calculated that it was time to lose my cool a little and make sure she understands how serious I am about staying awake in my class.

And so I yelled at her.

In front of everyone.

Loud.

She woke up and stayed awake, and I couldn't help but think that I am a highly effective teacher who has this classroom management thing figured out. "Sometimes I have to stop being Mr. Nice Guy and make an example out of students to make a point. Maybe the professor in teaching college was right, and that I cannot smile until Christmas."

Why Sarah Was Sleeping

At the end of class, I approached Sarah, and asked her why she keeps sleeping in my class. I said, "Why aren't you working, Sarah?"

She responded, "Sorry Mr. Muir," and I replied, "No, you keep telling me you're sorry, but then you keep doing it. I need to know why you're not working."

She looked at me with tired, wet eyes and quietly told me that her little sister had an asthma attack the evening before, and that her inhaler had run out. And since her dad works third shift and her mom hasn't been around in over a year, she had to call 911 and ride in the ambulance to the hospital with her little sister. Sarah told me that her dad picked her up that morning from the hospital and dropped her off at school.

Her response took the wind out of me.

Every Student Has a Story.

You can imagine how I felt in that moment. This girl who experienced hell the night before, who practically raises her little sister and desperately needed rest, was shamed by her teacher in front of everyone. It was a punch to the gut, and all I could say in that moment was that I was sorry. Sorry for what she had to go through, but also for how I treated her.

There isn't a bright little ending to that story that day. Sarah forgave me, but I still feel sick sharing it. However, this moment early in my career was a catalyst for me. I became aware of the reality that students are not just blank slates when they walk into our rooms, but instead are more like characters living out stories with very real conflict.

Sometimes those stories are traumatic, like Sarah's. In fact, almost 50% of children experience some form of trauma every single year. That's 35 million kids who have more going on in their lives than meets the eye. However, for some students the conflict of their stories is just the pressure, temptation, and distraction of being a child growing up in the 21st century. 

Behavior is Communication.

As educators, we see the effects of the stories students live. These effects are manifested in student-behavior. Or another way of phrasing it is: "Behavior is communication." How students behave and misbehave is almost always indicative of stability or instability they experience in their lives. It's communicating what's beneath the surface. Student-behavior always has an explanation. This does not excuse negative behavior—just because things are rough at home does not mean you can be disrespectful to me—but it does explain why it exists. And this understanding is the first step at helping students engage in school despite their circumstances.

There's so much power in learning your students' stories.

With Sarah, learning a bit about her circumstances gave me more empathy for her and all of my students. I became a little more patient and graceful that day. I started viewing my students more fully, or holistically than I did before. I realized they are living out stories, and I am being invited into them.

And while the part we play can seem short and temporary, our words and actions can have a monumental impact. While this story about Sarah is hard to want to remember and not something I ever want to repeat, it was the start of a relationship with her. I started learning more about her life, her family, and her story. I learned she needed more grace from me on those tough mornings when she was flat out tired.

I'm reminded of the great teachers from my own story. Yes they were great at teaching content and skills, and could talk beautifully and design great lessons. But their real greatness started with relationships.

Keep an eye out for the Sarah's in your schools. Give grace. Use patience. Build relationships, and learn their stories.