7 March 1998
A floppy, bouncy, English sheep dog-kinda boy in my 4th hour American Literature class comes in every day and says,
"Miss Coughlin, may I please use the bathroom?" I always say yes, even though that means he'll come in
after the bell has rung and disturb everyone padding to his seat, tossing his hair around, grunting and such.
After he is situated and his feet are properly splayed on the row of chairs in front of him, he usually ignores the fact that I have begun teaching, and passes out, fast asleep.
"Yoo hoo..." I'll call. "Dave...please return to class."
"Huuhhh...I'm awake...." He'll open his eyes and glare at me.
Dave is crabby after his nap!
So Dave bounced into the room one day and did his routine.
"I'm going to go to the bathroom, OK?" He made moves to head out the door.
I decided to take a stand. "No. You'll be late and I'll give you a tardy, which will be your third and that means a letter home."
Dave begged and pleaded. He groveled and whined.
"Please! Please let me go! I've had to go since 2nd hour!"
"No," I said. "No. Sit. Sit."
More begging. More groveling.
"LOOK!" I finally snapped. "Sit in your chair and shut up! You'll be asleep in a few minutes anyway and you'll forget that you even had to go!"
The students who had been listening to this exchange gazed at me silently. I don't think they had heard this logic from a teacher before.
But it worked...because Dave hasn't fallen asleep in class since that day.