Dispatches From A Second Year Teacher: Teaching with a ruptured Achilles

by MOSE WILLIAMS

It’s easy to get into a rut as a teacher. By the time March rolls around, the classroom can become a fairly predictable place, even if what’s predictable is the chaos. 

The personal life also develops a rhythm, knowing when and how to get food, exercise, and be social. It was at this point in the year during a game of basketball that I realized a most important rule for all thirtysomething hoopsters: don’t play serious defense in a pick-up game with strangers on a dark night. I ended up crawling off the court and hopping home with a ruptured Achilles tendon.

The diagnosis was, No school for four weeks. Doctor’s orders. I left rudimentary sub plans for the next two weeks while I had surgery and caught up on email.

Meanwhile, all the news from school was bad. Things weren’t going well with the subs and I was getting some pretty bad reports from co-workers. So when I disobeyed my doctor’s orders and returned to school two weeks later, I was concerned that teaching my rowdy sixth graders was going to be a near impossible task given that all I could do was sit in a chair with my leg up. The rut was up and it was time to find a new way.

Upon arriving at school, a group of kids gathered around me and I realized I was back where I needed to be. My teacher partner came by and gave me a stack of handmade Get Well cards which felt great. And a lot of kids told me they would help me. When it came time to begin the opening routine, almost every student rose their hand when I asked for some help. 

The true test however didn’t saunter in until well after class began. This student had stood with his chest puffed out, challenging my authority a number of times in the previous months. When he saw my cast, he laughed and said something slightly mocking like, “Damn, you got busted, Mr. Williams!” I smiled, knowing it was going to be a long two hours. He didn’t sit down. 

Instead, he propped himself up on the teacher desk I was seated on. I didn’t say anything; I didn’t want to fight. I needed to pass out some papers and he was the man for the job.  I needed to set up the overhead projector and he took care of it. I needed someone to stamp the completed assignments, which he did while reminding the students who had slacked off to stay on task. The day went incredibly smooth thanks to this student who was to begin a dramatic turnaround. 

Now I’m still in a cast and I can’t move around to survey the students’ work as much as I would like, but there has been a silver lining: the students participate more in directing the class. They write on the board, make notes, correct each others’ work, stamp good work, set up the projector, and in general keep the ball rolling as I sit on a desk watching it all happen. The students know what to do. They had been watching me do it for six months and it required almost no instruction for them to mimic my previous actions. 

A couple of students have excelled at being my helpers, some of whom are the same students who used to give me the most problems. I have the opportunity to speak individually with students way more often which is great. Before I would always approach the student while they sat in their desk, which I think was a bit intimidating.  Now I call them over while I’m seated and we have a much more private chat.

I’m not suggesting you go out and snap your Achilles. What I am saying is that sometimes our need for control means that we push the students into smaller and smaller boxes and fall into a rut without knowing it. For me, it took an injury to take a step back and let the kids own the space more.