Meet The New Boss

A number of people have asked me if this year was any easier than the past few, when I struggled to maintain control over a room full of fourth graders. My return to the computer lab hasn't kept me from dealing with a room full of fourth graders, but they only come in shifts now. Fifty minutes is a fairly discrete amount of time, and doesn't allow for much shennanigans. The other thing that has made a difference is the fact that last summer I actually received some training in classroom management. Instead of simply borrowing bits and pieces from other teachers and channeling my own personal "style," I now had a framework on which to lay my expectations for students. That made this year easier.
This wasn't always the case. I have a fond memory of a birthday cake my older brother had made for me way back when I was named manager of a book warehouse. It featured a picture of Spiderman in a business suit, web in one hand, briefcase in the other, necktie flapping in the breeze. In lovely frosting script it read: "Happy Spidermanagement!" At that point in my life, I had managed to be a manager at most of the jobs I had. It was a matter of course. I tended to show up as "the responsible one," and eventually my employers would hand me a key and a clipboard. The fact that I knew the job so well somehow qualified me to be in charge of a group of other guys just like me, only apparently less responsible.
Like the guys I managed at the video store. There were two of them, in particular, who didn't need the job at all. They needed it to fill the time between business classes at the university. Like the time they called me ten minutes after they were supposed to be starting their shift on a Saturday night: "Hey, we just got out of the game and we're pretty wasted. Do you still need us to come in?" It turned out that they were calling from a pay phone around the corner. They just wanted to see what I would do. For the record: I huffed, and I puffed, and when they showed up moments later, snickering at their cleverness, I didn't speak to them for an hour. It was my management response.
Year later, when an employee from the book warehouse failed to report to work for seven days, I asked him why he hadn't called in. He told me, "The place where I was staying, the phone didn't have any sevens." Nothing in my management training told me how to respond to this. He lost his job. Hopefully wherever he landed, his new employer had a number without any sevens in it.
When I became a teacher, I imagined that I would at the very least have a height advantage over my elementary charges. While this was true, it didn't grant me immediate respect. That was, and continues to be, hard won. Even though one of the first tips I received as a new teacher was "you don't need any ten-year-old friends," I still felt compelled to relate to every one of those kids. Over the years, especially the most recent one, I have learned to temper these relationships. I have learned to be the boss, because sometimes the situation requires one. Since I'm the one with the teaching credential, that would be me. And that's okay. It makes all of our jobs easier.