The Pleased Parents: Part 1

My deductions are simple and few: the parents are psychotic, the co-workers are stupid, and the manager, well, I actually find her pretty nice.

I like some of my classes more than others. Some of my students are great! They try so hard to learn, and they are so eager to participate. And they laugh and sing and they love the games. They are just a joy.

But other classes suck. And some of my worst students have parents that complain the most. Psycho. One kid literally yells and screams when he doesn’t want to repeat things. And he’s like 10 years old. He blows spit bubbles and then somehow falls asleep. But when you try to wake him up, he just starts screaming all over again. All the while his mother sits there, coddling him and letting him scream into her ear and I am at a loss.

My second day with him was my first time teaching him. It started off brutal, as expected. There was a lot of screaming; there was drooling and tussling, but we carried on. Please repeat: My brother is twelve years old. He opened his mouth to repeat. It felt good to not have to fight for his participation, then he sneezed and his spit flew all over the computer screen and a smile crept across his face. We waited a moment as we all gathered what had happened. Then he laughed. And I stared at him.

“Oh, so you think that’s funny? Ahhhh hahahaha!!” I burst into maniacal laughter alongside him. I started and it was like I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. Adrenaline pulsed through my veins. I quickly found myself on my feet and filled with strength. I flipped over my chair and reached to topple the nearby table, watching the snotty computer tumble to the floor. I flung the door open behind me and motioned to them with a menacing smile. “Get out.” I spoke. I didn’t know if they could understand, but I assumed the message was clear. “Out!” I raged, and watched them scurry from the room. I sighed and smiled. Peace.

You know how you have those movie-like moments where you imagine an elaborate scene in your head and then flash back to reality. I left the room and found Windex to clean the screen, but mentally, I felt defeated. That was easily my least favorite class. This student had only contracted for a 4-week period, and I was kind of glad. I only had two more weeks with him. I didn’t want to feel that way, but I did. But I guess I wouldn’t have been upset if he’d stayed either. I would just think he was somewhat disgusting.

The next week his mom complained that I didn’t let him touch the computer enough. Tough I thought. But poor kid, he probably can’t control himself. I should figure out how to be more understanding and help him have a wonderful time.

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