A Lesson Learned From the Past

So I'm sitting here in 5th period, which is almost over, having just finished teaching an exhausting lesson in Excel. Required me to walk around a lot, check kids' screens, help them get caught up or fix their mistakes. Made me pretty parched. I came and sat down and went to take a sip from my mug--the big one you get at the hospital when you have a baby. I'm almost out of water. I should refill it. But the drinking fountain outside my door only fills it up so far, since the mug is too big. And I don't have time to walk down to the faculty room and fill it up myself. Maybe I should have a student do it for me.

And then I remember.

Mrs. Densley. 5th grade. She had this ten-minute close-of-the day routine that we did every day. Every person in the class had a job from picking up paper, erasing the board, and other such stuff. My job was to fill up Mrs. Densley's water mug. I had to walk down to the main office where they had ice and water, and fill it up for her. I liked my job. I liked getting to leave the classroom. I felt that Mrs. Densley must really trust me to give me a job like that. I liked Mrs. Densley. She gave out "good working pills" which was like jolley ranchers and stuff. Used to be smarties until some brilliant boys crushed them up and started to sniff them.

Anyway, 5th grade was also the year that I tried really hard to be popular. Totally failed at it, by the way. 5th and 6th grade were the WORST years--except for 7th, which was pretty much the worst year of my life. Anyway, one day while I walked back from class with Mrs. Densley's water, I thought how the girls I was trying to be friends with would think it was SO hilarious if I spit in the teacher's cup. So I did. And then I bragged about it to them after school. I remember feeling really guilty when I watched Mrs. Densley drink that water. But my desire to be popular totally trumped my guilt.

The next day, I can't remember how I rigged it, but I managed to get two other girls to spit in the water too, before I gave it to Mrs. Densley. I watched her drink it. I felt bad. The moment of triumph and attention I got was long over. I'm sure those girls don't remember. Mrs. Densley certainly never knew. But I remember.

Little did I know that one day I'd be a teacher myself, and I'd remember that action every time I ask a student to do something for me. I can't fool myself that they wouldn't do something mean, like steal or lie or cheat, just because I'm a "cool" teacher and they like me. They might have some friends to impress. And then no matter how cool I am, I could be drinking their spit. I'm sure Densley never would have guessed I'd behave that way--how many of the students I trust would spit in my cup if it benefited them?

Yesterday when one of my 9th graders asked me to try some salsa he made, I remembered Mrs. Densley. And I immediately refused. It has to be in a wrapper or I won't take it. Who knows what he put in it? Well, turns out its a good thing I declined--he'd put all kinds of hot peppers and jalapenos in it, and some kid had thrown up after trying it at lunch. So, lesson well-learned I guess.