If You're Not Having Fun, You're Not Doing It Right!

I learned very quickly that a little humor goes a long way in the middle school classroom. And that you simply can't avoid it. Pre-teens are hilarious, so you may as well go with it.

La Cucaracha

Anyone who has ever known me knows that I am scared to death of giant cockroaches. They are creepy, crawly, disgusting creatures, and if there is one anywhere near me, I am so out of there. Students have seen me stand on a desk, fly to the other side of the room, run down a hallway screaming, and even bribe kids with candy to come kill a giant roach. Now, please don't think I'm weak. I can handle snakes, spiders (well, maybe not giant ones, but whatever), all kinds of creatures -- but cockroaches are clearly the work of the devil.

A few years ago, I had some 7th-grade students who took advantage of my roach hatred to have a little fun. I can look back on this incident with adoration now because enough time has passed. It must have been near the beginning of the school year, because my desk was still somewhat clean, but I already had a great relationship with my kids because I looped from 6th to 7th grade and already knew these kids. Anyway, one morning, as I was welcoming students into the room, an organized clan of three deftly slipped a live cockroach onto my desk. You gotta hand it to them -- they were quite clever. One of the perpetrators had obtained the cockroach at her (yes, her) home and placed it -- live -- into a Ziploc bag. She then transported it with her on the school bus and into the building. The group then schemed to distract me while the leader delivered the Devil in the Ziploc bag to my desk.

After the morning greeting and smiling and hand-shaking was done, I glided merrily and worry-free to my desk to begin taking attendance. When what did my peripheral vision behold but a giant cockroach in a Ziploc bag (thank heaven they did not release it from the bag!), perched precariously at the edge of my desk, obviously ready to attack.

Needless to say, I screamed, jumped five feet back, and darted to the other side of the room, heart pounding madly. All the while, the entire class was doubled over in laughter. To her credit, the female perpetrator did zip to my side to check that I was not having a heart attack before commencing her own laughter. And I guess that my reddened and frowning face spoke volumes, because she quickly seized the bagged cockroach and disposed of it in some faraway trash can.

The point of this story is twofold: While it sounds like a nightmare scenario, sure, I am touched that my students felt close enough to me to dare such an outlandish prank. I also admit to enjoying planning my revenge. (I knew that one of the perpetrators was deathly afraid of clowns; sadly, with the busy chaos that is the seventh-grade school year, my evil plans never came to fruition.) Secondly, I feel strongly that such distractions are necessary from time to time. Although I don't recommend involving cockroaches, a little laughter and silliness is a must.

La Cucaracha Part 2

Fast-forward a few years, and we come to a different kind of La Cucaracha, with not roaches, but dancing. I cannot take credit for the idea -- I read about it somewhere and decided to try it. I read about a teacher who, when things got tense in the classroom, settled stand-offs with a dance-off. Sounds crazy, right? Perfect reason to try it.

I was feeling a bit desperate due to a certain student in a certain class. This was a student who ran hot and cold. She was either in such a nasty mood that she would blow up at the slightest thing, or she was in such a good mood that she would disrupt class and not allow any work to be done. As she was most often the former, I began to walk on tiptoe around her because I didn't want to set her off. She would often put her head down and refuse to work, then snap at me if I even looked in her direction. Of course, over the course of the first quarter, there had been phone calls home, private chats with the student, referrals to the counselor, detentions, etc. But nothing -- I repeat, nothing -- worked better than the dance-off.

On one particular day, this student was in one of her hot-mess moods, and I did not have the patience for it. I felt my blood pressure rising as the student displayed her disrespect one time too many. There was that split second when I knew that I was about to lose it, shout, say something I would regret. But somehow in that split second, I remembered the dance-off guy I had read about, and I resolved to do this as a last-ditch effort. I took in a deep breath, I placed my hands on the corners of her desk, and I said, " All right. I didn't want to have to do this ..." The class became silent and the student's eyes widened in fearful anticipation. "Clearly we are at an impasse. And we are going to have to settle this with ... (pause for dramatic effect) ... a DANCE-OFF!"

The student was thrown for a loop. The scene played out in slow-motion: A confused student who didn't know whether to continue being a miscreant, to talk back in defiance, or to rejoice in the turn of events. And every emotion played over her face until finally, her face widened in an excited smile.

At this time, I became nervous for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which was that I really hadn't thought about what the results of the dance-off would be. How would we know who the winner was, and what would happen if she won, and how would this actually solve the problem? And above all, what if an administrator walked in during the dance-off? I actually started scheming ways to get out of it. But only for a minute, because what I found was that the entire class was now angelically behaved, eager to get to the last five minutes of class, when the dance-off was to take place. Even Hot Mess student was changed -- it was like I had just opened a window into her soul, releasing the negative Hot Mess feelings and replacing them with joyous Hot Mess feelings. And I decided that really was the point of the whole thing anyway, to alleviate the tension between me and Hot Mess, to keep me from exploding at her and ruining any chance I had of gaining her trust and respect.

Finally it was time for the dance-off. I cleared some space in the center of the room. Hot Mess stood at one end of the center, I at the other. We stared each other down. And then I twirled like a ballerina and leaped across the dance floor. Applause or roaring laughter -- I don't remember which -- filled the room, and I nodded soberly for Hot Mess to take her turn. She did something spastic with the shaking of things that I did not comprehend, and then it was my turn again. I summoned M.C. Hammer, recalled the glory days of Moonwalking and Robocopping. Again, raucous applause (or laughter), and I knew in my heart I had won.

And the thing is, I really did win -- maybe not with my stellar 40-something-year-old dancing abilities, but with capturing kids' hearts. Because I can guarantee that none of those kids had ever had such a thing happen in an ELA class (or any class), and all of my students (even the shy ones) were smiling, laughing, enjoying themselves -- especially the ones who were taking video, but whatever. I made a complete and utter fool of myself, but in doing so, I let Hot Mess know that I cared about her, I understood her, and that I wanted happiness in my classroom. And while this one silly event did not magically fix all problems, it allowed me to turn a corner with Hot Mess. She opened up more to me and we began to communicate better. I also learned that I really need to work on my rhythm.

The Joke's on Me

Humor and fun isn't always orchestrated. Most of the time, it just happens. Like the time I overheard a conversation (between a group of Mexican students):
Student 1 -- When is Cinco de Mayo?
Student 2 -- Cinco de Mayo? Oh, that's sometime in September, maybe.
Student 3 -- What! You don't even know when Cinco de Mayo is? (Student 3 admonished the others but never clarified exactly when Cinco de Mayo is. I decided to just laugh inside and let them continue their conversation.)

My favorite funny times are those things that only I know about. One year early in my career (but late enough that I was feeling confident that I was an awesome teacher), my students were working quietly, and I was walking around the room helping individuals, and one sweet little girl flagged me down. I walked over to her desk, and she handed me a note, all folded up into a tiny square. "Don't open it right now," she ordered, a serious look on her face. So I tucked it in my pocket and continued on down the aisle of desks, wondering what on earth the note was about. That particular student was one of my favorites (I know, we're not supposed to have favorites, but come on, we all do), so I suspected the note was one of adoration: Dear Mrs. King, you are my favorite teacher in the whole world. You are the most awesome teacher, and it is because of you that I live.

Before I knew it, class was over, students were scrambling out of the room, and I was grabbing my purse and heading to the lounge for lunch. It wasn't until I sat down with my too-hot Hot Pocket that I remembered the secret note in my pants pocket. My heart warmed as I began to unfold the paper, layer after layer, planning in my head how I would thank her for her lovely letter.

Here is what the note actually said: Cynthia has gum

Love it or leave it

You gotta love each moment in teaching -- the scary ones, the silly ones, the out-of-control ones, the disappointing ones, and of course the hilarious ones. If you don't allow yourself to laugh and enjoy each moment for what it is, you will not make it. Laugh and have fun, each and every day, because if you're not having fun, you're not doing it right.