Member-only story
How I Learned to Manage a Classroom of 50+ Students
And stopped being the fun teacher
As a kid growing up in 1990s Nampa, Idaho, nothing depressed me more than attending our city’s public schools. I remember pulling up to my massive, military compound of a Jr. High filled with bullies, indifferent teachers, and some of the meanest girls I ever met, and begging my mom not to make me go in.
“Honey, you have to go,” she’d say, touching my shoulder. “You can’t skip school.”
After a few minutes of this, I’d wipe the tears from my eyes and force myself out of the car, knowing she was right. Even though I was a nerdy, awkward girl who read too much, (according to my classmates), I knew she was right. I didn’t have a lot going for me, but at least I got good grades.
Through all the darkness in jr. high, I had one bright spot, my English teacher Mr. Tailor. Mr. Tailor had a huge personality, loved creative writing, he even let me edit a small publication for the class. Plus, he had a long-standing rivalry with Mr. Baker, the hated art teacher, which made us love him even more.
“Yesterday I ate Mr. Baker’s birthday cake with the other teachers,” he’d confide in us as we sat on the literal edge of our seats. “He doesn’t know yet — he took the day off to ski. I’ll be sure and tell him he missed…
