I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March. You should do it too! Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!
“What part of quiet do you not understand?”
“What did I just say?”
“There is no talking during a fire drill!”
The fire drill pierces the quiet conversation I was having during my planning period. I can’t help but roll my eyes.
I get my drill folder, and walk with the kids
It’s March, so I’m in noticing mode.
The street is wet with rain.
The feet all around me stomp,soldiers marching behind me,
or chasing me.
A few students whisper.
A few teachers shush.
We walk down and around to our drill area.
Someone talks again, and is yelled at.
I notice I bristle.
I notice I think of my own kids, my home kids.
I notice I am a softy, never wanting kids to feel the sting of being yelled at.
I remind myself that I have yelled almost the same words to kids during fire drills before. After all, it’s a fire drill! These drills are meant to keep us safe. The kids have to take them seriously.
This is a non negotiable.
I notice I am still thinking of my own kids, my home kids.
The way their faces would fall if they got yelled at in front of 800 kids.
I know that sometimes kids should know the rules but don’t.
I know that sometimes kids know the rules but don’t follow the rules.
I know that it’s our job to remind them of the rules.
I know these things.
There are kids whispering in Social Studies, they are supposed to be working, when I overhear a conversation between two boys:
“What kind of slice are you going to do?” One asks and my heart does a little teacher-slicer-dance.
I can’t hear the answer, but I’m glad I didn’t yell at them for talking.