The line between collaborative learning and chaos is a fine one and I was pretty sure I had crossed into chaos about fifteen minutes ago. As a teacher, one of the first acts of balance you learn to tackle is recognizing when to scrap an activity and move on. The volume of the room mixed with the squeaking chairs seemed to be whispering that now was that time.

 

“Let’s wrap up what we are doing. You have two minutes to put all your supplies away; starting now!”

 

I watch as all my fourth graders go into a mad dash, frantic to complete the task at hand. I contemplate for the umpteenth time how endearing it is that any task can be cranked up to the highest level of importance as soon as a stopwatch gets involved. The scene unfolds before me; Samiyah stuffing an array of broken colored pencils into a pencil box so broken it can hardly be considered a box at all, Jaylen tucking all chairs in at his table with jarring authority, Shayla struggling to zipper her backpack, each tick of the timer adding pressure to the usually menial task. I begin to count down from 10, as my mind ponders whether adult household chores would be more effective with the presence of a timer.

 

“Three”

 

Jaylen tucks his last chair in. He realizes this is the chair he must sit in and rips it back out, falling hard into the plastic before hastily folding his hands. He shoots a serious look in my direction just to hammer home the point.

 

“Two”

 

Shayla tosses the bookbag on the rack, half-zippered. She will deal with that later. She scrambles to find her chair.

 

“One”

 

Samiyah drops the pencil box impersonating chunk of plastic into her bookbag and swings her head around so fast I worry for her safety.

 

“And zero!”

 

I look out at a fourth-grade class silent, anticipating a compliment.

 

 Well, not quite the whole class. I look to the back and see Rakeem talking to his neighbor. He is laughing, oblivious to the rest of the class ready to learn.

 

“Rakeem,” I say, doing my best to voice conviction without confrontation, “we should be at a zero-voice volume now as a class.”

 

Rakeem ceases to talk, and looks at me in bewilderment.

 

“I wasn’t talking” he says.

 

I begin to wonder whether I left the confrontation in my voice. It seems I must have.

 

“I was watching your lips move, and I could hear you. So yes you were”

 

“No,” he says, with more bravado now, “I wasn’t. That wasn’t me”

 

“So you were just moving your lips for fun?”

 

“I wasn’t moving my lips”

 

There is a voice in my head telling me to give up on the argument. It takes every inch of restraint and all the lectures and teaching books I’ve ever read up to this point to get me to stop.

 

“Alright,” I say, switching my attention to the rest of my class, “I want everyone to get their ELA notebooks out and begin to answer the questions on page 83. We have talked about main idea the last few days so nothing should be new. This is a silent, independent activity. You will have 10 minutes and then we will go over the answers as a class. You may begin.”

 

They all snap into action. It’s a race against the clock once again.

 

“Rakeem, can I talk to you by the door please?”

 

Rakeem gives a sigh, looks for to his friend for help. His friend flashes him a defeated look. Lifting himself from the table as if he has a vest of rocks on, he ambles over to me.

 

“I don’t appreciate you lying to me” I say.

 

He tries to insert himself in before I’m finished but I stop him by raising a hand, letting him know I plan on continuing.

 

“In our classroom we respect all speakers. I respect if you’re talking and I expect the same from you.”

 

“But I wasn’t talking” Rakeem says again.

 

For a moment I feel myself getting angry. He is boldly lying to my face, not even the decency to realize he has been caught. And yet, as I wait, gathering my words so that I phrase them the way I want, I consider something. How strange it is, to be young and believe you can speak things into existence. Say it enough and it becomes reality.

 

“I watched you talking, and next time, coming out and being honest will save you a whole lot of trouble. But for now, you have work to do.”

 

 I can tell he wants to argue more but I flash him my newly acquired “don’t-try-me” teacher look, and he heads back to his seat.

 

It’s Thursday but I tell myself it’s Friday in my head; trying on the idea just to see how it feels. I think it a few more times.

 

I walk over to Jaylen who has his hand raised for help. Teaching on a Friday always feels a little better. I answer his question all smiles.