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Back in the first grade

During my second year in law school I was involved in an automobile accident. At that time my financial cushion was threadbare. Meeting the insurance deductible abraded the fabric. Having no patch, I had to go to work.

I became a full-time sixth grade teacher in Grosse Pointe Park during the day; a part-time law student in Detroit at night.

The school where I taught had a teacher’s lounge. I would occasionally drop by. When I did, I would tell those assembled how hard I had it teaching such sophisticated sixth grade students. I would note how comparatively easy it must be for those instructing in the lower grades.

A first grade teacher, Connie, would smile patiently until one day her patience ran out. She decided to teach me, a fellow teacher, a lesson.

Arrangements were made with the principal for a class exchange. I was temporarily assigned to the first grade. Connie presented me to a coed aggregation of over 30 six-year-olds all of whom had name tags pinned to their uniforms.

She left me there.

I soon discovered that routine plays an important role in a first grader’s day. I had no idea what that routine might be and as a consequence began committing multiple procedural infractions. With each violation two or three appalled young ladies would come up to my teacher’s desk.

They would unabashedly inform me that I had done something their teacher would never have done or that I had not done something their teacher would always do. They made it clear my noncompliant behavior was unacceptable.

During these confrontations several of the boys were on the verge of tears. They had not previously experienced a male teacher. I don’t know what they expected but evidently it was not good.

The boys who were not on the verge of crying demonstrated keen insight. They refrained from any involvement in the girl’s interventions recognizing – even at that tender age – the futility of it.

Some students raised their hands. After a while they would frantically wave them – I never did figure out why.

As the pressure caused by my procedural ignorance built I sought a diversion. I announced a spelling test. I told the class I wanted to see how smart they were and directed them to take out a piece of paper and a pencil.

Having 30 six-year-olds simultaneously take out a pencil and a sheet of paper is a proposition requiring the smooth interaction of a number of complex variables, none of which I understood.

The boys, both those who had been on the verge of crying and those who weren’t, now were. They had no idea where any paper or pencils might be found.

But my directive to take out these materials had an unanticipated benefit. It redirected the focus of the girls’ attention from me to their area of primary responsibility – the boys. So off they went to help them find their pencils and paper providing me with a much needed opportunity to think.

It was an opportunity lost. Instead of doing something reasonable, I forged ahead with the ill-conceived spelling test and announced the simplest word my dazed mind could conjure: “Spell Fig.” I said.

The response was instantaneous: ” We don’t know Fig!” all the girls indignantly replied.

So, that was that – the end of the spelling test.

Mercifully, Connie returned – not a moment too soon or a moment too late. Not so soon as to not teach me a valuable lesson but not so late as to do irreparable harm to my self image as a teacher – and as a man.

There are two takeaways here:

1. Never get yourself in a position where you have to front a first grade class.

2. The ladies are in control and it begins at the very beginning.

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