Troublemakers (Part 1 — My bad apple)

At the start of the academic year, many teachers return from their time-off refreshed and reinvigorated. If they are lucky, any problematic classes from the previous year have now become a distant memory, or at least a half-decent anecdote.

But, of course, the game is about to begin again. The fates will roll the dice for us teachers, and thoughts begin to stir in our minds: What kind of classes will I get this year? We ask ourselves who the troublemakers will be and what shape they might take: the chatty student, the silent student, the self-entitled student, the aggressive student, the inappropriate student, the never-does-their-homework student, the overly-keen-teacher’s-pet-who-the-teacher-secretly-loathes student…

Because, as plenty of teachers will tell you, troublemakers come in many varieties. Their behaviour and personalities may have been shaped by a range of complex factors, but that doesn’t change the fact that they have the potential of becoming bad apples with the ability to spoil things for the rest of the class (teachers included!).

There is no such thing as a bad student, only a bad teacher. Yes, well, while there may be some truth in this well-worn adage, i.e. that the burden of teaching a successful class lies more with the teacher than the student, this cliche is often used as a stick to beat teachers with, i.e. you’re the one failing to do your job properly. The danger is that this ignores the reality that, in life, some people are just harder work than others. And this is as true of the little cherubim as it is of us mature adults.

Troublemakers appear at every age. In the staffrooms of primary schools, high schools, universities and private language schools, there are teachers venting about that bloody student. Teachers, like me, who see more than one class a day have more chance of getting a troublemaker, but have the benefit of not being stuck with them all day, every day, as a primary teacher would.

The fates were kind to me last year. I had ten classes and only one real troublemaker and he wasn’t even all that bad. At the start of the year, as teachers often do, I tried to figure out where my problem student (and problem class) would be — I was teaching the youngest age I’d taught in a long time and thought it would surely be one of those little monsters.

But the little monsters turned out to be little angels and gave me no real trouble at all. No, my troublemaker was to be found in one of my teens classes — an age group I often claim I enjoy teaching. Obviously, he wasn’t my first teen troublemaker. He, like the ones before him, caused me problems through his general laziness, attitude and sense of entitlement. Thankfully, my language school teaching experiences have been far removed from the world of intimidation and physical violence that too many state school teachers have to put up with.

An example of a typical class last year would see my troublemaker come in, with no apparent appreciation of the distinction between the corridor he had just left and the classroom he had just entered. He would continue to chat to his friends in Spanish wherever he sat or was sat. His books and equipment would be the last on the table. He would talk over instructions and then ask what we were doing or simply sit there writing nothing. Also, despite being in an intermediate class, he would often respond only in Spanish: Yes, one, two, three, and ok, were replaced by si, uno, dos, tres, and vale.

Bear in mind, I wasn’t sitting, passively letting all these things happen, I was throwing all my classroom know-how at him — but still, he managed to break me… In one class, his behaviour was bad enough that I told him he’d be getting extra homework, to which he Entitled Teenager Mode and demanded to know why (in Spanish). This questioning of my authority is very much a rojo rag to a toro, and I told him to stand outside so I could speak with him. At this, he re-engaged Entitled Teen Mode: why should he have to stand outside!? And I’m afraid to say, I shouted.

Of course, in that moment, he had won. I mean, in the end, he stood outside; he listened to my admonishments; and I got an apology out of him. But, still, I shouted. I lost.

So at the end of the academic year, as I reviewed my classes, considering what had worked and what hadn’t, despite all my successes, I couldn’t help dwelling on the troublemaker. As is unfortunately sometimes the case, it’s the failures that stick in your mind. What could I have done differently?

Common wisdom (and plenty of online career articles) will tell you that if you have high levels of empathy, teaching is an ideal profession for you. Many teachers care about their students, and educational authorities often place an emphasis on inclusion. How could we adapt our classroom, our teaching style, our lessons, to be more inclusive and bring the outlying student into the fold?

The efforts being made here in terms of special needs education are sometimes nothing short of heroic, and it’s something that private language schools are only now playing catch up on. But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m not talking about personality disorders, so much as just plain old personality. These are students who, as far as we know, have no mental health problems, but whose personalities and attitudes are causing problems in our classes. If solutions for these students can then be applied to special needs students, or vice-versa, then that’s surely an added bonus.

So as I considered my classes last year, a question began to form in my mind… One benefit of teaching in a language school is often that there is a degree of flexibility when it comes to your classroom, your teaching style, and the content of lessons. As such, my teen troublemaker was coming to the academy for one hour, twice a week, to classes that contained very little writing, language presented in a way that I did my best to make engaging. He and his classmates would also get to play some kind of game, at least once a week. In fact, the whole approach we follow is known as the eclectic approach.

So, in light of all this, wasn’t I already doing everything I possibly could to create an accommodating and inclusive environment? Perhaps there is an answer to that question, and I will continue to look for it, but I’m afraid my next question went in a different direction— a less empathetic one.

What if he hadn’t been there?

Because I think most teachers will tell you, that their classrooms provide an ideal controlled experiment that often turns up the result:

Troublemaker was in class today = bad lesson

Troublemaker wasn’t in class today = oh my god! what happened? It was a totally different lesson! I can’t believe it! I actually enjoyed teaching them today. What was the difference (glance down at the register). Oh…right…

Sometimes it even takes a while to identify the troublemaker. They seem to have a certain quality that begins to pull down other students, and it’s only by their absence that you realise who the true culprit is. This is the idea that is encapsulated the phrase one bad apple can spoil a barrel. I have my own favourite version of this saying. I won’t repeat it here, but let’s just say it’s more lavatorial.

To some, this line of thinking may sound vindictive or uncaring, but that’s not my intention. In fact, my care is for the other students, which, in net terms, is a lot more caring: I’m putting the needs of the many, over the needs of one.

Reviewing my classes with the troublemaker, I began to feel guilty about the time I’d spent with him. I’d focused so much energy on trying to design activities and give him attention, and by June I had absolutely nothing to show for it. His English was still poor and we clearly hadn’t made any progress in terms of creating a better teacher-student relationship. Wouldn’t my time have been better spent on the other students? The ones who were happy to participate, or what about the ones who occasionally dragged their heels, but who would still work and behave when I told them to. Had I missed an opportunity to dramatically improve the class for them?

This may be hypothetical, but is this something to consider as a real option? Should I be prepared to chuck a disruptive student out my class in the future? Because, compared to some teaching contexts, that’s a real possibility when working in a private language academy. These are after-school classes, not their primary education. They don’t actually need to be there.

Or maybe that’s too harsh, a failing on the teacher’s part, something that should stay firmly in the daydreams of the disgruntled teacher. Either way, I wanted to look at the subject in more detail. I set myself a mission for the new academic year: dealing with troublemakers via a topic which I’d often considered, but hadn’t often heard discussed in my teaching contexts: group/organisational psychology.

So what did I uncover? And has it led me to empathetic, inclusive solutions, or have I become a hardened authoritarian teacher, ready to banish the first student who crosses my path? Find out soon in Troublemakers (Part 2 — Givers and Takers.)