The Ins and Outs of School, or Rather Outs and Ins... by rlc

So here is a two part story that could be used for professional development in perspective taking, reflection or even a 'what would you do'.  I hope you enjoy these accounts based on true stories.

Part 1: Asked to Leave

There was only one time I was asked to leave a location.  It was when my social studies teacher Mr. W asked me to leave school and “just go home”.  That type of situation in the teeny tiny rural school with graduating classes around 30 was pretty rare. Typically teachers wanted students to stay in their classroom if for nothing more than to have great attendance records for those who stopped caring about true education. 

This event unfolded as such:

While quizzing us about information we were to have integrated through reading and listening to lecture, dear Mr. W called on a student we’ll call Kyle.  Now Kyle was often called on in this class.  It was rare for him to volunteer participation and most other classrooms had a more averaged rate of each student participating.  In Mr. W’s class though Kyle was a beacon for inquiry.  It was not that he was a star student, that his voice was so melodic or because it was a behavior intervention to pre stack attention.  No, it was often so that Mr. W could point out how much Kyle did not know.  Often questioning him directly after he said something his words would be in a pattern of “Oh didn’t you hear me?  I just said it '', or “Do you want me to repeat it for you a little slower this time Kyle?”. A generally degrading process that led to Mr. W getting his bushy mustache into a broad smile while the rest of the class just watched.  Years later I found out that supposedly there was some tension between Mr. W and Kyle’s parents.  This I did not know about at the time.  

I like to think of myself as a caring person and I think the pattern started long ago.  Typically quiet but caring.  This class was my least favorite.  I didn’t care for Mr. W in general let alone his torture of Kyle, who was a special education resource student and indeed displayed alternate needs for information retention.  Each time this baiting of Kyle followed by the broad mustached smile occurred it gave me a pinch in my stomach.  One day I just couldn’t be quiet any more.  As he began the third display of mockery I interrupted him and asked him if he knew what his job was.  This took him incredibly off guard.  I was typically a quiet, perhaps odd student that did not volunteer much.  As he just looked at me and didn’t answer I decided to tell him what his job was.  

“Your job is to teach students, not make fun of them,” I said.

He looked a few seconds more, got a little red in the face and then pointed to the door declaring that I should just go home.

No problem I walk to school anyhow.  Wordlessly, I left.

As I gathered my things from my locker outside of the school office the secretary asked what I was doing.  I simply let her know that Mr. W told me to just go home.  Her head cocked and I gave further information that she could ask him about it but since it was the last period anyhow I was going home.  

That was the first and so far only time I have been asked to leave a location.  So far.. I guess I should end with that as the future is unknown.

​Part 2: Asked to Come Back

There was a time my presence was highly sought at school so much that I was asked to do an encore performance by my principal.  It was a regular day.  On this day my last hour was an enrichment class.  This was an absolutely enjoyable time where we were able to do projects that quite honestly every student should have access to.  It happened that our regular teacher was absent (a fun lady that would allow us to shock ourselves with the crank electrical generator when we were in her science classes).  Today the sub had no plan so we were left to our own creative devices.  Harmless enough for our enriched group.  Surely we would find something novel, creative and amazing to do to make use of this time.  

Of course we did.  My best friend at the time and I gravitated towards some harmless crayola markers.  40 minutes later we had utilized them in a way that was complimentary to our imaginative nature that enrolled us in the class.  Yep, my nails were colored nicely, hers too.  She had the best blue eyeshadow you’ve ever seen.  The blush on my face was so raspberry that Edwin Binney would have been ever so proud.  Nice bold circles.  Both of our lips were infra red and I can’t even describe the eyebrows.  Yep, time well spent.  Conspired creativity consummated.  

The bell rang and although enjoyed ourselves immensely in the confines of our classroom we were a bit shy heading into the hallway.  Heads slightly bowed, we made our way to the lockers.  That is when we were spotted by the ever cheerful Ms. Dannering.  She was always hoping to win the students’  hearts by touching our hair (despite some of our comfort regarding personal space), complimenting us and even having a make up day where she brought in samples and showed willing participants how to use them.  Yes, there she was, her super shiny smile glowing as she protected the fate of so many students with her bare hands hands and caring heart.  Her eyes drifted our way and if a face could pop I think I have seen the closest thing to it.  She asked us what we were doing.  We, looking down, replied that we were going home.  She asked us what class we came from.  My friend and I told her as we continued walking.  She walked with us.  Suddenly came the charge.

“I can’t believe that you are disrespecting the school system and making fun of the classes,” she said.  “I will be calling both of your families and will be expecting to see you both back here at 5:00”.  My friend and I were confused.  If anything we made fools of ourselves.  As clever as we might have been accused of being, it didn’t occur to us what she meant until we were halfway down the sidewalk outside of the school.  Adorned as we were with such cheerful faces we began our concerned conversation.  My father immediately bristled when he had to go to the school (there was a standing conflict about the education of my younger sister between the school and my father).  My friend knew her mom would be annoyed as well but was sympathetic to me since she knew my father’s frustration was a little more severe.  

We each made it home.  I went to wash my face off and… surprise… washable markers don’t wash off so easily.  After many failed attempts I rang up my friend.  Her first utterance was, “It won’t come off!”.  I concurred and we both rattled off the soaps at our disposal that we used.  After a bit of a laugh we hung up and awaited our parents’ annoyed dispositions.  When my dad’s truck rolled up I mentally ran through the explanation.  I could hear his quick steps and the door shut heavily.  I walked into the kitchen and luckily he burst out laughing when he saw me.  He asked what the *@# happened that he has to go up to the school.  I explained the situation and he seemed quite calm.  Shortly after we headed to the school.  My friend and I sitting with our colorful visages trying our best not to laugh as the principal explained her position of frustration.  It didn’t take long and eventually we got to leave.  

On the way out of our encore performance my father asked, “How the hell are you going to get that off?” before he lit his cigarette.  I just shrugged because I had tried everything.  Next time I get an encore I certainly hope I can present face, without marker.

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