I have a student who continuously tries to get out of work in class–asks to get a drink, asks to go to the bathroom, asks to make phone calls, gets up out of his seat and walks around, tries to leave the classroom, tells me the work is at home, tells me he’ll finish it in another class.
When he’s not trying to get out of work he sits and stares at the ceiling, puts his work in his notebook and closes it, places his notebook elsewhere in the room, “forgets” to bring a pen or pencil, talks to other students, picks fights with other students, picks fights with me, bring up arguments that have no place in the classroom, and tries to start discussions about racial inequities and favoritism between students and teachers.
When he’s not doing any of the above, he just doesn’t show up to school.
While I was gone, it seems he was given after-school detention for refusing to do any work in any of his classes. Today, he refused to do work in mine. I talked to him about this, and this is our discussion:
Why aren’t you doing your work?
“Because you wouldn’t let me call my mom.”
And why did you need to call your mom?
“Because I need to tell her I have detention after school.”
She should know this, shouldn’t she? Weren’t you given this detention on Friday?
“Yeah.”
So, you had the whole weekend to tell her. Why didn’t you do it on Friday or Saturday or Sunday?
“Because I didn’t know it was today.”
From what I know, you were told your detention was today. You already knew on Friday.
“No I didn’t.”
Still, that doesn’t get you out of doing work right now. You can call your mom at lunch, and I already offered that to you.
“I’m not going to call her at work. She can’t talk to me at work.”
That’s funny, last time I talked to her, I called her at work.
“I’m not going to call her at lunch. And she needs to know I won’t be home right after school.”
Isn’t this the reason you have detention anyway?
“What?”
Because you won’t do work in your classes?
“That’s none of your business.”
Why’s that?
“Because what happens in my other classes has nothing to do with you. You shouldn’t worry about what goes on in other classes; that’s not your job.”
That’s totally my job. I worry about how well you’re doing in all your classes.
“No it’s not. You only have to worry about Language Arts. Anything else isn’t your business.”
But if I know you’re not doing anything for me, and I know you’re not doing anything for your other teachers, either, then there’s a problem.
“Yeah, but it’s not your problem.”
So, I shouldn’t worry about you at all. I should figure that you’re doing just fine everywhere but my class.
“Yeah.”
Ok. Why aren’t you doing the work in my class?
“Because it doesn’t mean anything. The grades don’t count, so why should I do the work?”
What do you mean?
“I can go on to 9th grade, even if I fail, and it doesn’t matter.”
And how well do you think you’ll do in 9th grade?
“I’ll do just fine.”
And how do I know that?
“Because I listen. I pay attention. I know what you’re talking about.”
And how do I know that? You haven’t shown me that you’re too good for this stuff. If it’s so easy, you should be able to show me something that makes me say: “Wow! This guy is great! He knows everything!” Right?
“I’m not going to do that.”
Why?
“Because it’s work. I don’t do work.”
Reeeeally.
“Yeah.”
And why not?
”Cause it doesn’t count.”
And next year? When it does count?
“Then I’ll do work. This year doesn’t count for college.”
So you’re definitely going to college then?
“Yeah.”
That’s great! I want you to. But I think I see a problem.
“What.”
You think that after taking a couple years off from doing work, you’ll be fine with working much harder next year?
“Yeah. I’ve been working since I was a kid. I know what work is like.”
Well, let me throw a question at you. You know this essay we’re doing, right?
“About the dream job?”
Yeah. Your dream job is to play in the NFL, right?
“Yeah.”
Well, I’m wondering what an NFL coach would say if you, during your first team practice – - I’m talking pre-season stuff here – - said: “Yeah, uh, I’m not gonna practice, and I’m not gonna participate in any of our games, and I’m not gonna show up to the games, and I won’t do any sort of promotional stuff, and I won’t talk to any reporters about our team or how we’re doing, but if you guys make it to the super-bowl, I’m your guy. Then I’ll play” What do you think your coach would say then?
“I don’t know, I guess we’ll see.”
You don’t think he’d kick you off the team?
“Maybe, but that’s his problem.”
That’s HIS problem? What about you, then. You’d be out of a job.
“Well…I don’t know.”
Well, I’m saying, that if you’re not willing to do work now, then you might not be willing to do work in the future.
“That’s your opinion.”
Yes! You’re right. That’s what I think will happen. I think you might be heading down the wrong road.
“We’ll see.”
But what about right now?
“I’ll do work at the semester.”
Why then?
“‘Cause then I start with an A.”
But at the end of the year, your semester grades are averaged. If you ace the next semester, the best you can get is a C.
“Yeah. A C is fine.”
Ok. I’ll admit, a C is fine. But if you can do the work, why haven’t you done it yet? Secondly, how do I know you’ll live up to your promise? I gave you a chance at the quarter to do extra credit, and the deal was: Do Extra Credit AND Do the Assigned Work and You’ll End Up With An A. What happened to that?
“I only did that because my mom made me do it.”
But this is the fourth or fifth time this has happened. I called your mom a couple weeks ago, and you’re still doing nothing. What am I supposed to do now?
“Nothing. Just let it go.”
And you’ll be just fine.
“Yeah.”
I’m not making any deals. I’ve made several with you, and you don’t live up to them. You don’t live up to what you promise yourself. You promised to do extra work and show off your skills and you won’t do it. You promised to get your grades up so you can play basketball for the school, and you failed to do that. You told me that you’ll do work at the start of the new semester, and somehow I don’t believe it. You need to show me that you’re willing to live up to the promises you make to yourself, and that’s when I’ll get off your back. Until then, you have an assignment to do. And I’ll make sure you get it done.
Honestly, though…the knot in my gut tells me no amount of discussion, help, or calls home will make any of this come true. In fact, I foresee teachers at the high school level calling the middle school teachers asking: “How are we to teach this one?”
And what are we to answer?
Filed under: Questions, Rant, Reflection, Teaching
Reading this made me want to bang my head on the wall. As both a former middle school and a high school teacher, I can tell you where he’ll be — and you know it too. He’ll drop out after flunking freshman year the second time, once he’s sixteen. Years later, when it’s too late, he’ll have regrets. He’ll have regrets when he can only earn minimum wage doing hard work that he never envisioned himself doing. NCLB is supposed to fix this, right?
In thirty or so years of teaching, I suppose I had somewhere between 3K and 3.5K students.
One of them got a tryout in the NBA.
One of them is a teaching pro at a golf course.
Both were excellent students, meeting every academic challenge so they could stay eligible to pursue their dreams. Your young man is missing the boat. But you already knew that…
I teach in a DAEP everyday. So this type kid is my regular student. I would suggest that you talk too much and let him get you off topic. This kid loves attention and you are feeding him big time.
Next time try this: He asks to go to the bathroom. You respond, as soon as you finish your assignment. He argues, you respond, what did I say? He argues some more. You say, You have your answer, let me know when you are finished. Walk away. Stay on point. His future employers will not care about why he is not producing and neither should you.
Thanks for the responses.
I agree, I let this kid get off topic too much. But what I’m trying to get him to do is make some statement that pulls him back to the classroom. I generally refuse to let him use the restroom because he misses out on assignments and discussion. But keeping this from him also makes him throw more fits, during which he pulls more students into an argument- -he is my most difficult student in my most difficult class, and his fits allow his friends to join in the mix.
I have a feeling he’ll never make it to the NFL, and I think he has the same thoughts. He knows he’s not willing to do much, and he knows he’s not going to get very far with this attitude, but he’s also afraid of changing his perspective- -it might take away from who he is.
Some teachers say: “If I only reach one student, then my goal is fulfilled.”
My goal is to get this most troubled student to turn around. If I can get him (and believe it or not, I think I’ve helped a few others like him change their perspectives and attitudes toward school) to turn around, I’ll feel like I’ve really made a difference.
Again, though, this will likely not happen. And there are only five months left in school. And this is only 8th grade. And 8th grade doesn’t matter.
50th Carnival of Education
The Carnival midway is open! Reading through the submissions has become the highlight of my Wednesdays. A couple of the entries …
The Curmudgeon is right. He is making HIS problem into YOUR problem. He doesn’t have to worry about his future; you are diong that for him. This kid is good at passive-aggressive behavior. Don’t let him run things through his own inertia. The more you struggle, the heavier a weight he will become. Back off. Really.
You said, ” . . what I’m trying to get him to do is make some statement that pulls him back to the classroom . .” He won’t, not as long as that is clearly what you want. Do what The Curmudgeon says — that’s the best way to get him on task.
I just read ‘Teaching with Love and Logic’. Have you read it?
In a nutshell it suggests giving the problem back to the student
to solve and walking away. Don’t argue, don’t discuss.
The book makes a lot of sense. One of our district’s middle schools is using it and my good friend really likes the results she is getting.
You’re right, Curmudgeon and Graycie.
It’s just difficult to admit defeat.
Here’s how I would do it…
Why aren’t you doing your work?
“Because you wouldn’t let me call my mom.”
That’s hogwash, son.