A fight + an act of kindness = my emotional breakdown

“Errol” came back from a ten-day suspension two days ago. He got suspended because he pushed his way through me to get out of my classroom. Because I wrote him up, he took his suspension personally. Whenever I say “hi” to him as he enters my classroom, which I do with all of my students, he says “don’t talk to me.”

Since coming back from his suspension, Errol has refused to do any work. I give him a handout, he throws it on the floor. I ask him to stop talking so he doesn’t distract any other students, he tells me not to talk to him, sometimes adding “I ain’t doin’ this shit,” or “I don’t have to do this shit,” or “I can say whatever the fuck I want, you can’t stop me,” or, if I happen to be standing near him “Get the fuck outta my face.”

Errol is a tense and unhappy young man who has serious anger management issues.

So when “Tyrone” walked into class late, and Errol made a comment, and Tyrone decided not to back down, I knew it was only a matter of time before both of them were standing chest-to-chest, each daring the other to throw the first punch, the act that would legitimize fighting back.

I knew Errol was spoiling for a fight, and I knew Tyrone was getting baited, so I walked over to Tyrone to try to get him to back down long enough for me to tell Errol to back off. I knew Errol would probably walk out if I reprimanded him, but I wanted to get Tyrone calmed down first. I might was well have been invisible, though, because while I stood right next to Tyrone saying his name over and over again in a firm but friendly tone, he just kept trading variations on “I ain’t afraid of you, you ain’t shit, you ain’t gonna do anything” with Errol.

Not wanting another fight to break out in my classroom (I’ve have enough of those this year, thank you very much) and realizing that I wasn’t going to be able to stop it, I poked my head out of the door and called for Mr. Henry, our security guard. No fight had broken out, but I wanted to be ready when one did. I was hoping Mr. Henry would take Errol out of the class, since he had instigated the shouting match, but since Tyrone was standing, Mr. Henry ushered him out of the classroom. Tyrone didn’t want to back down, and resisted Mr. Henry a little at first, but eventually went out with him. I walked the two of them to the door. I wanted to let Tyrone know I knew he hadn’t started it. Maybe that would calm him down. But when I turned back around to go into my classroom, there is Errol, blazing mad and trying to get past me and at Tyrone.

I put my arms out to the sides, trying to block Errol. I told him to go back into the classroom and sit down. He pushed his way past me, but I kept backing up and yelling at him to go back into the classroom. Now about half my class was following. They smelled blood, and wanted to see the fight.

Errol kept trying to push me out of the way, screaming at me to get the fuck out of his way, and then Mr. Hooker, another security guard, showed up. He thought Errol was attacking me, so he grabbed Errol by the arms and tried to subdue him. Errol started pushing and swinging. Mr. Hooker had to shove Errol back into the wall to try and restrain him, but Errol was fighting back like a madman. Students from my classroom and from other classrooms were gathering around, like lemmings or sheep. I yelled at them to get back into class. They ignored me. Some shouted back. Errol was still fighting Mr. Hooker. Mr. Henry was on his radio, calling for backup. Errol only stopped flailing when more security arrived.

No one was hurt. Tyrone had been quickly ushered into a nearby office when Errol had come out into the hall. Errol was taken to the discipline office, where Mr. Hooker was going to press charges against Errol for attacking him.

I went back to my classroom and found most of the class’s textbooks and all of my lesson plans and transparencies scattered across the floor. Someone had obviously decided to take the papers on my overhead projector cart and toss them on the floor. I was upset, and screamed at my class in a fit of incredulous rage. At least Reeza, who is always helpful, and often reminds me of a puppy in her eagerness to please her teachers, was cleaning up the mess I knew she hadn’t had any part in creating.

I stood in the doorway, fuming at the chain reaction of chaos that had started when one student walked into my classroom late and another had made a comment about him. Some of my co-workers came up to me and asked me if I was OK. I was touched by their concern, but it didn’t abate my anger and disgust.

Mr. Hooker came back, asked me to write up a description of the incident. I was happy to be able to focus my anger on something constructive. While my fingers flew across my keyboard, most of my students stayed relatively quiet. A few even kept reading their books.

I finished, gave the write-up to Mr. Hooker. He left. Mr. Henry came by, told me I was wanted in the discipline office. I went, gave my input, and walked back to class. As I went up the stairs, I saw the building police officers leading Errol out in handcuffs.

I got back to my room with two minutes left in class. I stood and watched my students. When the bell rang, I excused them, and they handed me their folders on their way out the door. Jorry decided to turn the lights off as she left. She thinks it’s funny. It was just one more thing to add to my list.

My students were gone. My classroom finally quiet. I turned on the lights. I went over to my overhead cart. Reeza had put my plans and handouts and transparencies back. They were in a disorganized pile, but she had helped me out, and I was grateful, if still angry.

And then I saw the folded piece of notebook paper sitting on my cart. I picked it up, unfolded it, and read:

“Mr. Richardson Jorry dropped all your paper and book about 2-3 times while Shauna and Reeza try to help.
From Ariel Martin”

And this is where I finally lost it. I wept like an infant.

All day, I had been frustrated with my classes. Students not paying attention. Students being disrespectful. Students being jerks to each other. Then Errol getting into a fight with Mr. Hooker. I was furious and pissed off and disgusted. I wanted to quit. I wanted to walk out and never come back. I wanted to write everyone in this Godforsaken school off completely.

And then Ariel had to go and do something that showed she and Reeza and Shauna, at least, cared.

It was more of a roller-coaster than I could take, and I lost it.

I eventually got myself pulled together. I cheered myself up by surfing the web and listening to Def Leppard and “Dirty Rotten Scoundrels” on my ubiquitous iPod. I should have left school earlier than I did, but inertia kept me there. I left about 5, and hit average-slow traffic. By the time I got to Lisa’s place an hour later, I was again too frustrated to do anything but collapse on her couch. She didn’t try to help my by doing anything other than just being there, which was just what I needed, even though I was too emotionally drained to tell her that in a coherent way. I drove home before I got too tired to drive.

I ate some dinner. Watched an episode of “Firefly.” Wrote these blog entries. I can’t say I’m back at 100 percent, but at least tomorrow is a professional development day, which means I don’t have to deal with any students and ride the roller coaster they put me on. I prefer my rollercoasters to be literal, not metaphoric.