Response to Prompt #72, Serendipity Doo Dah.
I don't think any of this damaged me. To the contrary, I think these kinds of games were actually good character builders and help put some perspective around the difference between little annoyances and actual affronts. I'll explore and unpack the psychology of this all later. For now, I'm going to play with the synonyms/related words and idioms for aggravation--some brand new to me.
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You know that person who seems intent on ruffling your feathers? We all have (or have had) at least one in our lives. This person delights in rubbing you the wrong way, making you lose your cool.
While these hair shirts may seem like thorns in our sides, I have come to believe they are placed in our path to teach us something, that their irksome behaviors provide opportunities for personal growth.
I had a couple of students like that in back-to-back periods one particularly horrible year. They were hell-bent on perturbing not only me but their classmates as well, actively looking for any chance to throw a monkey wrench into the well-planned activities, engaging in devilry at every turn. Both of them had gotten the best of me on several occasions; just seeing them walk down the hallway filled me with a sense of exasperation.
It occurred to me one day that this is exactly what they wanted, to be the albatross around my neck. What I needed to do is take away that power, reduce their behaviors to fleabites instead of reacting as if I was facing some massive tribulation.
And so began my social experiment. The next time each of them were absent from their respective classes, I announced that from now on, when anyone in the classroom tried to disrupt the learning with annoying behaviors, anyone who reacted was getting a referral.
"That's not fair!" a few chimed in.
"What's really not fair is certain people are taking away your right to learn. That should be the thing that bothers you the most," I replied.
I let them sit in the silence for a moment to reflect on that simple fact. Then I let them whisper to the people in their groups. I'm sure they were convinced I had lost my mind, but most of them trusted me, so they finally conceded.
Magic happened after that. Every time the offenders tried to cause trouble, the other kids either shrugged them off or just flat-out ignored them. Some even asked for the person to be removed from their group until they were left to do the work alone (which they often did not). Everyone else in the class was learning, following our Accountable Talk discussion rules, building on each other's ideas respectfully, even when they disagreed.
It came to pass that without an audience, these two former menaces had zero power. Unfortunately, they didn't get on board with the rest of the class, instead choosing to come in and put their heads down when I denied their almost daily requests to be sent to ISS for the period.
One day, the principal walk in and made a beeline for one of the sleeping beauties. I caught his eye and shook my head, pleading with my eyes to let the sleeping bear lie. Thankfully, he just sat down and did his observation, waking the student at the end of class to rebuke him for sleeping.
"Come see me after school, Mrs. Ferry," he said as he left.
Some students' eyes got large, "Are you in trouble?"
"Don't you worry. I have this covered," I assured them. "In my opinion, it's worth it if 24 out of 25 of you are learning."
Needless to say, I didn't get fired that day. My principal got my position--he didn't love it, and quite frankly neither did I--but how can you argue with the logic?
Maybe all those snowy nights being systematically irritated by my family really did pay off after all.
