The Tyrants of Ten-Year-Olds

I remember the first time I was ever humiliated in front of a room full of people. I was ten. My fourth grade teacher was Mrs. Sweet. For a homework assignment I wrote out a draft on lined paper. I thought that was all I had to do.

“Josh, where is your finished card? This was supposed to be typed out. Are you telling me you didn’t even finish this assignment?”

Everyone in the class stopped talking and stared. 

I froze, I didn’t know what else to say, “Oops.”

“Oops!?” She slapped my paper on the desk, “Joshua, I am fed up with you, and I’m sick of seeing you in my class.” She then gave everyone in the class recess except me. I was to type out the project on the class computer while the other kids played.

The project, by the way, was an appreciation card for the teachers and faculty. The Principal made all the classes do it. My card was for a bus driver. I never took the bus. 

I worked on Microsoft Word 98, adding clip art happy faces to this card while I wiped my own tears with my shirt. I was afraid I wouldn’t finish on time. 

I finished the card and the other kids came back in from recess. Then we went to the lunch room so we could hand our appreciation cards to the faculty we wrote to. The bus driver never showed. I guess the bus was late.

Mrs. Sweet wasn’t the only teacher I’ve had that was this bad, but I never told my parents about what happened. I was the stupid one who was wrong, so why tell them and get ridiculed again? 

Teachers have total authority over the most vulnerable people, young children. When I was scolded by a teacher, I recoiled. After all, this is an adult who isn’t Mom or Dad. They must be right. Further, they control the record of what happened. Mrs. Riskin, another teacher who simply did not like me, sent me to the principal’s office. My offense? I scribbled my pencil on a desk because the tip broke and I wanted to smooth it down. The principal said she had no choice but to call my parents. I was hysterical. I don’t know what the principal said about me, but Mom was mad when she picked me up.

I wonder how Mrs. Sweet or Mrs. Riskin would have reacted to me if my parents could see how they treated me, or if they had an accurate record of events. 

My fiancé Michelle and I plan to have kids soon after they are married. My job is not just to give them a better life, but to make them better people than I was. There’s hope that this cycle of humiliation can be broken. It is my job to make sure my kids can: 1) Understand what is appropriate behavior from a teacher or an adult in general; 2) Understand what assumptions are and how they can affect our reactions; 3) How to pay attention to what happens so you can defend yourself, and finally; 4) How to calmly, maturely and effectively present your side of the story. 

This doesn’t have to be all at once. It starts with small tasks. When I ask my kids how their day at school was, my job is to inquire further than the inevitable “fine.” “What did you feel about this class?” Is a simple question to ask to make them more communicative and more aware of what’s going on. It’s also an opportunity for me to learn about their life and monitor for problems that need to be addressed or areas of success that can be encouraged. 

I was an obedient kid, but my kids will be respectful and confident kids. Hopefully, this can help you and yours as well.