yell

I yelled at a class today.



Some teachers have a good yelling voice. They have a tone or an octave that they can get to that, when students hear it, let's them know things just got serious. I don't have that. When I yell I just sound frantic. So I rarely yell.

I was in a bad mood already, and this class came in full of vigor. This in and of itself is not a problem; God knows a lethargic class isn't favorable either. But it's only a good thing if their energy isn't directed at each other. In this case I tried several times to begin the class and get everyone to open their books. After being interrupted and talked over a half dozen times or so by a couple girls, I yelled, "Are you serious shut up!" This worked, in that they did shut up. However their silence was accompanied by stifled laughter and sideways glances that betrayed their thoughts, which were this: Oh shit Sim Teacher just freaked out.

I don't handle yelling well, either. It's probably akin to how a man feels after murdering someone in a fit of rage. I come back down, and think, "Oh God what have I done?" I try to play it cool, like it was no big deal. I immediately swing back to the other direction, like nothing happened, and I overextend myself. By this point I'm flustered, and the entire period is thrown off kilter and nothing goes to plan.

(And though I'm relaying this information to you in the simple-past tense, I don't mean to come off like this happens all the time. Sitting here now I can think of 3 times in 5 years that I got to this level.)

Now, some people might think that since I can't yell well, it counts against me as a teacher. That it's an imperfection or deficiency; that all good teachers must be able to yell. I would disagree with that. I don't see how yelling at students helps anything.

I remember 8th grade algebra class. I wasn't the most attentive student. I was more prone to throwing Skittles at people than actually taking notes. In this class I sat front and center, though not by choice. One day, I wasn't paying attention to the class. In fact, I can tell you exactly what I was doing instead of paying attention: I was drawing, in my notebook, a model of a football stadium. I was drawing it section by section, and then tallying up what the capacity of it would be. Suddenly, my algebra teacher, who shall remain nameless, snatched my notebook and textbook off my desk, and threw it against the wall at the back of the room. Shocked for a moment, I then looked to my friend, Luke, seated next to me, and we shared a glance not unlike my own students did today. I got up to get my books and the teacher yelled at me to sit down and called me retarded.

I don't mean to blame this incident for the fact that I never excelled as a math student. Some subjects just don't come easy to some people. However, this incident certainly didn't ignite in me a passion for algebra. I wasn't inspired to be better. It probably just made me resent the class more.  The fact that I can recall this incident in detail nearly 20 years later is worth noting. As an educator now, I keep this story in mind. I've even told it to classes when they were starting to piss me off. It's worked. Instead of me losing control and doing something crazy, I tell a story of how a teacher did just that to me once. Engaging with them in this way tends to get their attention, and I think they appreciate not being subjugated by force. And if they aren't going to learn anything from my class, at least I'm not turning them off to the subject entirely.

All this being said, one of the girls did come up to me after class and apologize and say she'd be better next time. So who knows? Spare the rod, and all that.