There are some days that you just don’t expect. You go to work like normal and teach the lesson you meant to teach, and it goes about as well as you expected it would, but then something happens that turns it all into something else.
You teach the lesson about pronouns to the class (and when you are called out to speak to some parents the VP comes in and messes the lesson up by telling the kids that “us” is third person plural) and then you teach it again to the next class. This time it seems to go fine, and you are impressed by them ~ they are so eager and engaged.
Having completed your obligation to English education, you start the fun door decorating contest project. You hand out freezer paper squares and scissors to everyone and you teach them to cut paper snowflakes. You decide that evidently this is not a skill taught in elementary school because not one seventh grader knows how to do it. So, after they all finally figure it out and they’ve cut about a hundred of them, you decide you’ll teach the ones who are interested how to make folded paper stars. You call them “Ninja stars” and then they really want to know how to make them. They gather around you in the front of the class, eager to learn. Suddenly the air of the room explodes and out of the corner of your eye you see the little girl who doesn’t always get along well with others running after a little boy ~ she holds a large pair or scissors above her head and he looks terrified.
You quickly yell, “STOP!!!” and make your way across the room to where she stands glaring at you, still holding her implement of destruction. For a moment you question your safety, then you ask her rhetorically whether she just can’t be trusted with scissors. It is obvious that she can’t, and your anger fizzles as quickly as it arose.
In a moment of clarity you realize that this is a big one. You can’t just send her outside the room to cool down like you’ve done before. Today’s episode is a deal breaker. You must follow through with the action that will undoubtedly change her life profoundly. And you wonder if you could’ve prevented it if you’d been more vigilant, all the while realizing that it had always been just a matter of time.