Authority or Lack There Of
Mr. P is preparing for the Performing Arts practice again, and I’ve taken over his homeroom, which includes his apparent designated helper, Emma*. Anyone who does not recognize Emma as an authority in some shape or form gets her ire.
Emma is in the hallway. She’s supposed to be in her seat, working on homework or reading or even chatting amicably with a friend. But mainly, she is supposed to be IN the homeroom.
After asking why she’s in the hall — multiple times — (“I’m supposed to be helping Mr. P.”), I manage to get her to the doorway. I check over the radio (because Mr. P hasn’t told me anything about the students in his homeroom other than that they’re going to try to walk all over me): “P—-, did you forget somebody?” Instead of waiting for the response, she shoots out down the hall to remind other instructors rounding the corner that she’s supposed to be with Mr. P. It turns out he hasn’t started and thus, doesn’t need her assistance yet. With the other instructor there, I tell her (again) to get back in the homeroom and, after telling me off as to why she knows where she needs to be better than I do, she finally gives me the look of death and turns to sit in her seat with a parting remark:
“Whatever, you’re such a bitch.”
Mr. J was coming in for snack just in time to overhear. “Whoah. Show some respect.”
“I don’t respect her.”
I add my two cents: “I respect you, and I’m the authority in the classroom right now -“ (As opposed to Mr. P; I’m not sure why I thought pointing that out would do anything, but because Mr. P started in the room and left me to it while I was working with a student I thought maybe she didn’t actually realize I was now the homeroom instructor.) Before I can tell her that I’d appreciate respect in return, she flips her hand up at my face pointedly.
“Good for you.”
For some reason, I feel like this is easier to deal with on the Elementary level. I mean, I’ve had fifth graders spit in my face and felt more like I knew what I was doing than here — though I’m sure that has something to do with support, knowing one’s own place in the school/program, etc.
And yet, I still loved being there today. I won’t say it’s an ideal situation, but I love being with my students whatever kind of students they may be, and I’m not taking a second of this job for granted, even when I have no idea what I’m doing or what is needed of me, because by the end of June I won’t have this opportunity anymore, and I don’t know when I’ll have it again.