Tantrums

Over the course of my thirty-three years in education, I have witnessed a myriad of student tantrums, each driven by a variety of emotions and situations. Whether I was instructing young children in elementary music or guiding college students in writing, I have observed students expressing frustration over seemingly minor issues. I consistently aimed to address their grievances with calmness and empathy, yet I occasionally found myself perplexed by their behaviors.

During my first job in Corsica, the atmosphere in my music classroom was electrified with the enthusiasm of third graders anticipating the upcoming spring concert. However, amid the joyful commotion, a little boy stood firmly with his arms crossed and his face contorted in frustration, resolutely expressing his desire to sing "Jingle Bells." His fervent declaration resonated throughout the room: "But I love Christmas! It’s the best song ever!" I attempted to calmly clarify that the concert was intended to showcase spring-themed songs, but the child remained steadfast in his preference. With his classmates looking on in astonished silence and some suppressing giggles, I felt helpless witnessing his emotional storm. As a novice teacher with limited experience, I knelt to eye level and spoke to him soothingly. I recalled the cheerful new music we had been rehearsing for the spring event and inquired if he had any flashy Easter attire he could wear. The youngster eagerly shared stories of his new blue shirt and his tie decorated with dancing Easter eggs. This approach eased the tension and sparked an animated conversation about our concert outfits. I hoped my response made him feel acknowledged while fostering a sense of teamwork for the event.

Later in my career, a bizarre twist of college drama occurred during a regular day of teaching writing at the University of South Dakota. My use of journals to teach the value of daily reflection transformed into a stark lesson about the repercussions of trivial revenge. It began when a student, feeling overlooked and misunderstood, chose to articulate his emotions in an unusual way. In a fit of anger, he took his journal, found the perfect spot, and burned a hole right through the pages—a stark visual representation of his feelings of hate. Not content with this alone, he escalated his act of vengeance by filling the scorched hole with feces, potentially intending to serve as a grotesque symbol of his disdain for the class. He brashly turned it in to me thinking it would deliver his message loud and clear; instead, it led to his immediate expulsion. This incident not only stained his reputation but also served as a reminder to classmates about the importance of managing emotions and addressing conflicts in constructive ways. It became a cautionary tale teaching everyone in my class that actions have consequences—especially when they are fueled by anger.

Eventually, I found myself teaching at a private school in Omaha named Brownell Talbot. One Christmas, I chose to share my joy of the season by offering my students a charming variety of homemade cookies, vibrant candies, and playful pencils featuring festive designs. Their excitement was evident as their faces illuminated upon seeing the treats, and for a moment, the typical classroom noise transformed into a joyful symphony of appreciation and happiness. However, the joy quickly turned to chaos when one particularly angry child snapped his festive pencil into bits and threw them in my face. Silence blanketed the room as I stood face to face with the culprit. Taken aback, I was at a loss for how to handle such an unexpected response to my thoughtful gift. In an unusually quiet voice, I directed the offender to leave my classroom and go to Mrs. Nordin's office. Once he departed, I turned to the remaining students, who were left in astonished silence. "I suppose he's just having a rough day," I remarked, "let's not allow it to spoil our enjoyment." Following that, I played some holiday tunes, and we spent the rest of the class indulging in cookies and sharing our Christmas break plans, which were coming up quickly. In the end, it became an unforgettable day that beautifully captured the unpredictability of teaching and the heartfelt bond I have with my students.

One more memorable event took place at South High School, where a 300-pound student chose to express his frustrations by climbing on a table in the classroom to kick and hit it in anger. The other students, caught between laughter and concern, watched as I navigated the delicate situation. I approached him calmly, maintaining my composure, and validated his feelings by saying, “I can tell you’re really upset about this assignment. How about we brainstorm some solutions together?” By making this suggestion, I positioned myself as a partner instead of an authority figure. Slowly, his tight fists began to loosen, and the fierce glare in his eyes diminished. I urged him to step down from the table so that we could tackle the assignment as a team. The other students shifted their focus back to grammar, reassured that I had regained control of the situation. To my relief, the student responded positively, stepping down and redirecting his energy into a constructive dialogue. What had begun as an eruption of chaos transformed into an engaging brainstorming session where everyone shared ideas on how to tackle the assignment at hand. This collective effort not only diffused the tension but also reinforced a sense of community in the classroom.

As I reflect on these moments, I realize the profound lessons they imparted—not just to my students, but to me as well. Each incident showcased the importance of empathy, patience, and communication in navigating the unpredictable world of education. Through tantrums and turmoil, I learned that behind every outburst lies a deeper story waiting to be understood. It reinforced my commitment to creating a safe space for students to express their emotions, encouraging them to channel their frustrations into creativity rather than destruction.

Now that I am retired, I recognize that my thirty-three years in education weren’t just about imparting knowledge; they were about fostering emotional intelligence and building connections. My journey as an educator has been anything but ordinary, yet each challenge added a beautiful note to the symphony of my teaching career. As I correspond with past students on Facebook, I feel proud knowing that I played a small role in shaping their hearts and minds, helping them to become not just better students, but better people in an ever-changing world.