Dear Readers,
Most new teachers struggle mightily during their first year in the classroom; I was no exception.
At the end of every day teaching — well, trying to teach — language arts to 120 seventh and eighth graders, I felt frustrated, depressed, and desperate for the Panera pumpkin muffin tops I consoled myself with on the way home.
I doubt there are any 14-year-old boys reading this column, so I don’t believe I will offend anyone by saying that eighth-grade boys can be a teacher’s worst nightmare. On one particularly challenging Friday afternoon in late fall, I had had enough — ENOUGH!
“That’s it!!” I blurted out between clenched teeth. “I’m tired of your _ _ _ _!” I started to say a word that began with a “c” and ended with a “p,” but I caught myself and in the fraction of a millisecond, before the word escaped my lips, I switched from saying the word to spelling it.
“I’m tired of your ‘c’ – ‘a’ – ‘r’ – ‘p’!!”
Room 204 in St. Isaac Jogues School suddenly became very quiet; the students had never seen me that angry before. No one moved, no one made a sound — including me.
“Oh, my gosh!!” I thought, “Is it possible they didn’t notice I had misspelled that word?!?!”
Only one little girl in the back of the second row covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. I had gotten away with it — for now. The class settled down and became almost human for the remainder of the hour. But I knew I had to do something different.
I doubled my daily intake of Panera pumpkin muffin tops (I gained a lot of weight that year), but I also doubled my efforts at attending daily Mass.
Not long after the “carp” incident, the mother of a boy who routinely fell asleep in class every afternoon asked to meet with me. I really thought she wanted to apologize for her son’s disruptive behavior, but she didn’t. Instead, she wanted me to allow her son to take a nap at his desk “just until football season is over,” explaining that the little dear was extra tired because after his school football practice every afternoon, he had practice for his traveling elite club football.
‘I’m sorry’
My first thought was, “I’m sorry if you think it’s my job to help secure a college football scholarship for your son,” but I didn’t say that. Instead, after a long pause, with the help of what could only have been divine intervention, I simply said, “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry” was what I said and “I’m sorry” was what I meant. I actually was very sorry that youth sports had become so all-consuming, so outrageously competitive, and that parents in this affluent suburb felt such a huge obligation to do whatever they could to make sure their kid won the Heisman.
We worked out a plan for the remaining two weeks of the season where this boy would eat a large snack during his morning study hall so instead of going to the cafeteria for lunch, he would go to the nurse’s office for a 25-minute power nap.
Over time, without compromising my standards and principles, and without affecting the rights and needs of the other students in my classroom, I used the words “I’m sorry” whenever I could. I think it made a positive difference in my classroom management and, more importantly, in my relationship with these young adults . . . and with their parents.
‘Thank you’
Later that year, I added the words, “thank you” to my magic words repertoire.
Veteran educator Eileen Doherty taught literature down the hall from me and I noticed how often she told her students, “Thank you.” (Well, actually, with her Irish brogue, it came out, “Tank you.”) She used those two words very often, very sincerely, and very slowly — never throwing them away. She thanked the kids for being polite in the hallways, she thanked them for opening their books, she thanked them for singing during school Mass — she seemed to thank them for everything without overusing or diluting the message. Her students loved her.
As time went by, I was often able to diffuse tension, break down barriers, ease emotions, and communicate more effectively simply by employing those four magic words.
Pause here for a moment, dear Readers, and think about all the times in life when you yourself would have benefited from hearing those words from a rude store clerk, an unappreciative boss, or an annoying in-law. Or, think about a time when perhaps you yourself used those words and were able to transform a very difficult situation into a very manageable one!
The magic words aren’t really “magic words,” are they? They are powerful words imbedded in a powerful prayer, THE prayer that Jesus taught us to pray. In The Lord’s Prayer, we’re instructed, after praising God, to thank Him and then tell Him we’re sorry. A perfect prayer.
And so, let us be prayerful this holiday season — prayerful and grateful, and repentant. Happy Thanksgiving, dear Readers! (I’m sorry this article was so long and thank you for reading it).
Linda E. Kelly is a member of Blessed Sacrament Parish in Madison.