KM is a bright, exceptionally moody student whose mom switched her from my first period class to my third period class in order to avoid certain of her friends. Before the change, KM was often defiant; since the change she only infrequently isn’t.
She hates after-school detention, so recently she’s done pretty good at keeping her tardies in check, but her grades are record low and I dare not try to awake her or tell her to stop talking and do her work or anything of the sort unless I’m up for a stream of belligerence and further noncompliance.
Example:
Me: “KM, please stay after class a moment” (to talk about that thing you just did).
KM to the world in general: “No. I’m not staying after anywhere to talk to him.”
Bell: “Ring.”
Door: “Can I slam closed in front of students trying to walk out of the room without permission, or is that against the rules?”
Me: “Sigh. Here goes another office referral.”
The other day KM’s mom came in for a conference with KM and me. Her math teacher dropped by, too; KM said, “Oh look, here’s my favorite teacher.” (And the math teacher had good things to say about her, too.)
Anything having to do with English or me, though, brought out a stubborn glare. While her mom maintained a polite and supportive appearance about being respectful and doing classwork, KM said, “I don’t get it” or slouched lower in her chair or let her bangs fall over her eyes.
Her mom reassured her: “I didn’t enjoy English, either, until I had a really good English teacher.” (Ouch.)
A bit later her mom reassured me: “Just to let you know, it’s not just you. I get this all the time at home, too.” (Figured.)
I did what I could. To KM I said, “It would be great if you liked me. I think you’re a great kid, and I like you. But it’s not about me; it’s about you. And these failing grades don’t show well for you; you are completely capable of straight A’s in my class.”
She listened respectfully while I explained the work she needs to do to bring up her grade.
Her move.
