WHY I TEACH-Part 7: My Seven Rules

I walked cautiously into the Media Center. A smartly dressed man in a black vest and paisley tie stood behind a large counter. His name tag read: Mr. Collins - Media Specialist.

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully. “How can I help you?”

“I need a projector,” I replied.

He cocked his head to the side, “Is something wrong with your SmartBoard?”

I laughed. “I don’t have a SmartBoard, but I’ve got a portable white dumb board.”

He smiled. “Which classroom are you in?”

“107B.”

“Oh, that’s right, he didn’t want a SmartBoard so they gave it to 107A.” Mr. Collins said. He emphasized the word in a vile way.

I started to say something but just shook my head.

“Let me see what I’ve got.” Mr. Collins departed into the back room. Several minutes later he emerged with a small black case. He blew on the top and dust filled the air.

“This should work,” he said. “Do you have a PC or a laptop?”

“Laptop,” I replied.

“Docking station?”

I cocked my head and looked at him. “I don’t think so.”

He smiled. “I should have a VGA-to-USB adapter around here somewhere.” He began rummaging through drawers. “Ah, here you go.” He handed me a short cord with two different connectors.

“Thank you,” I said as I took the case and the cord, not really sure what to do with either one.

It only took around thirty minutes for me to get the projector hooked up. I had to find an extension cord and devise a makeshift stand consisting of empty boxes and a broken desktop.

My 7 Rules displayed dimly on my mobile dumb whiteboard.

“Welcome,” I said to each student who entered my class. “Take a seat and get out a pencil and a piece of paper.”

“I don’t have…” so many students replied.

“Pencils are on the shelf, next to the paper,” I droned back.

When everyone was situated, I began. “Welcome to my class, we are going to start with My Seven Rules. You will be quizzed on these rules, so take notes. In fact, the quiz grade will be the first grade you receive in my class, so take good notes.”

Groans abounded.

“Rule number 1.” I tapped the spacebar on my laptop. “Bathroom.”

The students looked around the classroom at each other.

“So put down a number 1 and write bathroom,” I instructed.

“That’s it?” a boy with long wavy brown hair asked.

“Yup,” I replied. “But let me explain.” I held up a bright blue laminated card with the words “BATHROOM PASS”. I don’t care if you have to go to the bathroom. I don’t want to know what has to come out of you.”

“I have a friend who is an elementary school teacher,” I continued, “she had a rule that all the kids had to raise either one finger or two, in order to let her know what they needed to do. It worked well until a kid raised three fingers. When she asked what that was, the kid replied that it was a combo. I don’t need to be informed of whether it is number one or two.”

“Or a three,” someone called out.

I smiled. “Or a three. Just come and get the bathroom pass, go do your business, and return with the bathroom pass because no one else can go when you have the pass. You are all adults. Just go and be considerate of others in the class. Understand?”

There was overall head nodding in understanding.

I hit the spacebar, Hand Raising appeared.

“Oh, oh, oh,” I said as I went behind a student and aggressively raised my hand. “Hey, hey, me, me.” I waved my hand wildly.

Laughter. It was beautiful.

“Now, I don’t know which teacher severely ignored you,” I said and then paused. “You know who they were.”

Several nods.

“Somehow you learned that making noises in addition to raising your hand would actually make the teacher notice you. Not in my classroom. If you raise your hand and call out my name you will receive detention.”

“What?” several blurted out.

“Well, calling out in my classroom causes a disruption and in order to make that right, you will come to my classroom after school and clean up,” I replied.

“So not a real detention?” the wavy-haired boy asked.

“You have three days to serve my detention before I turn it in to the office for a real detention. A detention for not showing up for a detention is pretty bad. Did you write it down? It’s rule number two: hand raising.”

I hit the spacebar, Food appeared.

“If you are hungry, eat. If you need to run to the cafeteria during class to get food, go. Take the bathroom pass and bring it back. I only ask that you DO NOT eat over the computers and clean up after yourself. Failure to do so will remove this privilege from all of my classes for a week. Got it? Write it down.”

I hit the spacebar, Gum appeared.

“I do not allow gum in my classroom, mainly because I had to scrape 1,476 pieces from the bottom of these tables.” I paused to grab a large insulated drink container. “Instead, if you are worried about bad breath, I have peppermints. They’re free, take 1, as the sticky note says, and throw away the wrapper.”

“Can I have one?” the wavy-haired boy asked.

I placed the drink container on the shelf and pointed to the sticky note. “It doesn’t say ask the teacher for one, it says to take one and throw away the wrapper.”

The boy jumped up and retrieved a mint. He popped it in his mouth and threw away the wrapper. Twenty-three kids followed.

“Just take one,” I heard a kid say and I smiled.

“Alright,” I said, now that you’ve gotten to practice rule number 4, let’s practice the other rules. Who knows rule number 2?”

Several hands shot up.

“Very good,” I replied. “Hands down.”

The students looked at each other. “Oh,” the wavy-haired boy said, “Because it’s hand-raising.” I nodded.

“Now we are going to practice rule number one. I need you to sit alphabetically by the second letter in your last name, so we can each take turns. We’ll finish the rest of the rules tomorrow.”

Chaos ensued as the students began asking names, getting to know each other, and laughing.