The backstory: I have a study hall with 9th graders. Though they started the year with an anxious look, they have by now settled in and no longer feel fear when I look at them. The other day I had to remind them what the silent part of the silent study hall meant. To my right, two students played football with a folded piece of paper (that timeless game of adolescence). They were silent, but it was a bit of a distraction. And then I realized that one of the students is enrolled in my Civilization class, which has its first test today.
Me (looking incredulous at student X as he's about to launch the football): Dude, this is study hall. Don't you have something to study?
Student X: No.
Me: Really? Because you have a test in my class on Wednesday. And it will make you sob with misery and bleed from the ears. Unless you study. Now.
Deafening quiet as the whole room stared.
Student X: Can I go to my locker? I need to get my Civ book.
We spent the rest of the class period in silent splendor.
2 comments:
Ah, sweet, juicy fear.
The poetic magic of your command presence, the articulate lift of your eyebrow.... exquisite.
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