I cried. I almost quit.

I changed the seating chart today. I reviewed classroom management. I told them that tardies are getting out of hand. I told them that cell phones must be put away through the entire class and that they will be taken away. I told them this is a school policy. I told them that of the 36 people, only 13 people turned in their essay. And then... they raged...

They told me I go too fast. They told me I'm being put in a mold, that I WAS cool turning a blind eye. Two of them informed me that it was ok for them to be late to work so, it should be ok to be late to school. They don't get fired for being late to work. Why should there be consequences for being late to class? And what about a warning? And I had no response. I was suddenly overcome with emotion. I don't know if it was the stress of everything they are asking of us at UCI. I don't know if it's the fact that I absolutely loathe disciplining them. But I suddenly broke down.

Mortifying. I left the room and asked my master teacher to take over.

After calling my fiance and blubbering like an idiot for 15 minutes, I had convinced myself that the best thing to do was quit the program. Why am I doing this? There are no jobs. I should apply for a financial advising position at Smith Barney (they are hiring again) and go back to that. I'd make more money. Sure, my soul slowly dies every day I put on a power suit and prospect clients... Sure, I've discovered that I actually want to make a difference somehow. It would be easier to quit.

And then I took a deep breath, composed myself and returned to my classroom. My master teacher was going through Chapter 5 of Gatsby. I took a moment to just sit and look at my students. And I knew I would never quit.

I took over. I played "Lost Generation" for them. I heard the familiar gasp as they realized how cool it was in reverse. And I smiled. I showed them a model of a superior-6 EAP essay and a model of a poor-1 essay. Another audible gasp. I gave them an EAP prompt. And they finished the period writing. Quiet and sweet as can be.

And then they left. And I looked at the "Empty the Trash" papers that they requested to write while I was gone. (Yes, they actually wanted to write.) And I read them. And they were letters of apology and encouragement. They asked me to please not quit. They said things like "Miss B, please don't give up on us," and "I hope you don't think worst of us," and "People just like to abuse freedom they've been given. We don't want to take the blame and consequences at this age, but everyone has to learn at one point to just know when it is their own fault," and "I can see the determination in your eyes when you start off the day; the warmth in your voice when you give us corrections; how excited and proud you are when you see us doing well or learn something new."

And then I cried again.