Attack of the Adult Tattle Tale

I have some great students. They are really lovely, hardworking, wouldn't-say-boo-to-a-fly types of kids. Today, during our homeroom "silent reading" period (think of "study hall" from your high school years), I had some kids finishing up a group project, while other kids were trying to work on their silent reading response journals. I tried to separate the kids (talkers and readers) by placing them on separate sides of the room. Eventually, however, the volume of conversation swelled to a point that it was difficult for the readers to concentrate.

One of my nicest kids, D, asked me if she could place a chair outside the classroom door to read.

I was, right then and there, struck with a great idea. Our school is brand spanking new and it is beautiful. There are massive, airy areas that are drenched in natural sunlight for most of the day. There are quint little window seats that afford the kids a view of the vast field below, and comfortable but practical benches built into walls across from the library. The real piece de resistance is a huge, high-ceilinged, floor-to-ceiling windowed atrium on the third floor of the building. There are two sofas and a rocking chair stationed in this thing and NOBODY ever uses them. The atrium is located catty-corner (is that right?) to my classroom, so my window looks square into the thing. The couches and rocking chair are placed square in front of the atrium window, which means that, to all intents and purposes, they are basically an extension of my classroom furniture. I can see (and hear if the windows are all open) every single thing that goes on in the atrium.

So...the grand idea was that I would allow these four studious, responsible, hardworking young ladies the opportunity to take advantage of some of this beautiful space in this marvel of architecture we call a school. I assigned D to the little window seat ten feet away from my classroom door, K to the bench opposite the library (in plain view of the librarian's circulation desk), C to the sofa in the atrium, and L to the rocking chair in the atrium. These girls were delighted with the opportunity to spread their little wings a bit and to experience a little bit of independence.

I could see L and C the entire time through my windows, and I knew that D and K wouldn't even think of moving from their spots until I sent somebody to go and get them to return to class.

The kids were so pleased, and I was really happy with how well they did. I checked the amount of work they had done before they'd left the room, and the amount of work they had when they returned to the room. I was more than convinced that they would have done the exact same amount of work had they been sitting right under my nose. Not all kids are like this, but these few are.

I was chatting with the principal later and I even mentioned to her that I was really glad to have given the students a chance to really appreciate the true beauty of the building, and to enjoy the functionality of some of the neater sitting areas. She was really glad to hear the news and (as a former 8th grade teacher herself), commented upon the much-needed independence that many kids this age need to feel. She totally gets it.

Fast Forward to five minutes after dismissal. I'm sitting in my classroom when the phone rings. The caller is identified as "DR" my principal. I thought nothing of it. I picked up ready for a pleasant chat, but was greeted, instead, with tales of an email that she had received from LM (another teacher) complaining about my kids. The principal said LM claimed the kids were (and I quote directly), "rolling around on floors, lying down, disrupting people, purposely trying to trip her as she walked by, and generally causing problems."

My stomach sank. WTF? I had watched L and C through the window, and they were the only two working anywhere near each other. D and K were totally isolated from any other kids. I was gobsmacked, and totally embarrassed. Recall, if you will, the fact that just moments earlier I had been telling my principal how beautifully my little arrangement had worked.

I expressed my discontent with the fact that this woman didn't speak to me directly, but rather involved the principal immediately.

The principal readily agreed and told me that she was relaying the information so that I could speak to my colleague directly and put this issue to rest.

So, that's exactly what I did. I found my colleague and asked her what she had seen. "Well," she said, "There were kids everywhere and I didn't know if they were supposed to be all over the place like that."

I asked her what she meant by "all over the place." Did she mean that they were simply in different locations, or that they were literally rolling and running around.

She said that "all over the place" was her reference to the number of locations in which ALL FOUR of the kids were sitting.

I asked her then to recount for me exactly what she had seen the kids doing.

"Well," she said, "one of them was sitting on the floor and had her legs extended out in front of her. When I walked by I almost tripped over her because I only saw her at the last minute."

Ok, granted, the kid should have been on the bench and not the floor, but still...

So, I asked if she had thrust her legs forward when the teacher had approached. "No." Then I asked if she was otherwise misbehaving or what the rest of her body posture was. "Oh, she was sitting up straight with her back against the wall."

Ok.

Then I asked what else she was doing while she was sitting there.

"She was reading her book and writing in her notebook."

Ok. What about the other kids. What were they doing?

"Well, they were sitting there reading."

Hmmm...now I should ask if they were talking and carrying on.

"No, they were reading."

So, were they running, loafing, lounging, or otherwise doing anything with their bodies other than sitting there?

"No. They were just sitting there."

When she heard herself basically admitting that the kids were doing NOTHING wrong, she back pedaled and said, "Well....I just didn't know if they should be there. I mean, they were in the HALL!!! I didn't know if that was OK."

I then asked her if she asked the students what they were doing.

"No."

I asked her if she knew whose class they were in? Did she know they were my kids?

"Yes."

And yet, I reminded her, she never bothered to come speak to me directly about this. But rather she went directly to the principal.

"Yes. Well I didn't know."

I then reminded her (with a hurt and scorned look) that I thought we were friends and that we had always enjoyed a pleasant, collegial relationship.

"No. Yes. No...we are. We are friends. Yes. We are."

I asked her if I had ever proven to be impenetrable in terms of discussing work-related matters or if I had ever been off-putting about discussing work with her.

"No...of course not!"

Then I asked her why, then, had she gone to the principal over my head rather than come to me in a spirit of collegiality to discuss an issue of concern.

She kind of stammered and did a lot of staring at her feet.

I also reminded her that these young ladies were sitting in highly conspicuous locations around the school with novels, notebooks and pencils, freely writing and flipping through their books. They weren't lurking, hiding, or cowering in dark corners. They were there, out in the open, for all to see. Why the F would anybody think they were there on anything other than a teacher's authority????

Jesus.

I told her, "Look. I get it. I get that in this school we have somehow embraced a culture of tattling to the principal rather than approach our colleagues in a friendly spirit of professional discourse. But I assured her that although I fully get it, I just can't embrace it.

I reminded her that I have to watch her homeroom dismiss themselves every day in a wild frenzy (because she doesn't walk them to the door so by the time they charge past my classroom to the stairs, they are in a fever pitch) and yet I've never opend my mouth to the principal. Why? Because I'm not 3. And I just don't want to have to get my principal involved in stupid crap that she shouldn't have to tend to. Hello...the woman has a school to run.

Whatever.

The woman was all apologies, and I backed off. But still. One more person at work to trust as far as I can fling.

I don't get it. Maybe working around kids keeps the tattle tale alive in all teachers.