The Problem Child

Some students, I never forget, simply because they’re a pleasure to teach. I won’t forget you, but not for that reason. Every day was a trial, a pain, a day that I didn’t want to wake up because I knew that I would have to spend the whole day dealing with you. Another day, another problem, that’s how it was. You never did your homework, you didn’t listen in class, and you did your damn best to drive me to insanity. Whether it was a gluestick, rolled purposefully towards me in hope that I would trip and fall, a hard shove at your classmates, often injuring them, or the constant talking, you were the problem child. I tried to help you, I really did. I talked to you after class, sent you to the principal’s office, even talked to your parents multiple times in hopes that they would make you stop your behavior. Yet no matter what I did, you wouldn’t stop. I tried to find out why you acted this way- I asked if you had problems at home, or psychological issues, or were experiencing a stressful event. Everything I did, everything I tried to do, every way that I tried to help you, amounted to nothing, There was nothing I could do, no underlying reason that you acted out in class. I suppose, what I really wanted to ask was, why have you chosen to torment me so, when I’ve only ever wanted to help you?