The New Kid is a Bully

It's hard to believe that I have been in education for nearly 36 years.  I've taught all the grades 1-5 and various combinations of "split classes" and "multi-age groupings".  I've worked as a substitute teacher, an interim teacher, and a curriculum specialist from inner city to, well, Brentwood.  I can certainly say that it has been a ride . . . a ride I wouldn't want to have missed.  There are memorable moments, to say the least, but one in particular inspired the following poem.  The details are most definitely fictional, but the inspiration was real.  I had the perfect class.  You will probably hear of some of them one day.  They were polite.  They were bright.  They were motivated.  And then . . . 

The New Kid is a Bully

By:  Julie Schuh

The children in Miss Harper's class

Are smart, and good, and kind

Miss Harper never has to yell

To make her students mind

I'm not saying they are perfect

For indeed, that cannot be

But I overheard Miss Harper say,

"They're the perfect class for me."

Lizzie in the first row

Well, she tends to chat a bit

But when Miss Harper stops and stares

Immediately, she'll quit

And though Alex is quite smart in math

He does fidget in his seat

He often drops his pencil

And has to find it with his feet

But Miss Harper doesn't fuss at him

She'll simply stop . . . and wait

Until she has his full attention

And then ask, "What's 9 x 8?"

So, Miss Harper's class is wonderful

We all just get along

That is until this morning

When our "perfect" world went wrong

At 9:08 exactly

(I was looking at the clock)

Miss Harper paused while teaching

When she heard a gentle knock

And then in walked Ms. Stepanek

She's a volunteer office aide

She said, "This is Wesley Vandersnoot,

A new student in third grade."

The boys were all excited

And the girls were happy too

The class was finally even

We had exactly twenty-two

Miss Harper smiled at Wesley

And showed him where to sit

And though he was a little large

It seemed that he would fit

He sat in the seat beside me

I would get to be his friend

I offered him a pencil

And I grinned my biggest grin

Having finished up our spelling

We turned next to work on math

When Wesley burped (a little loud)

The class began to laugh

Miss Harper paused mid-sentence

And peering o'er her readers

She cleared her throat effectively (UH-HMMM)

Then called on Nicki Peters

To read the next word problem

And asked her to decide

How she thought the class would solve it

Should they multiply or divide?

It was time to go to specials

Today was P.E. day

Wesley walked in line behind me

And he thumped me all the way

I glanced back over my shoulder

Wesley smirked and cocked his head

So I turned back and ignored him

The way Miss Harper always said

I always trust Miss Harper

'Cause she gives us good advice

And, it's hard to be a new kid

So I determined to be nice

In P.E. our class played dodge ball

It's our very favorite game

But when Wesley threw the ball at me

It wasn't quite the same

He caught the ball and searched the gym

Then pointed straight at me

Rared back and launched a side shot

That whacked me in the knee

My good friend Jamie Kendall

Shouted, "That's not how we play."

But Wesley shrugged and answered back

"We play the way I say."

Coach Wapner blew the whistle

It was time to head for class

Wesley quickly stuck his arm out

And he wouldn't let me pass

He said, "Jamie Kendall's creepy.

Don't you play with him no more."

"He's been my friend since first grade."

I said, "Let me through the door."

We entered class a bit late

And Miss Harper asked us why

Wesley said that I had tripped him

And I wouldn't let him by.

I turned and gaped at Wesley

"Say what?  It wasn't me."

"It's science time," Miss Harper said,

"I'll see you both at three."

He bothered me in science

Even though I turned away

And I really couldn't understand

What made him act that way

At lunch, he ate my cookie

And he made me drop my tray

Then Ms. Stump, the lunchroom lady,

Said that I would have to stay

And wipe up all the tables

And throw the trash away

Wesley laughed as he was leaving

"Cause he didn't have to stay

I was starting not to like him

Well, perhaps just one more chance

Then I received a wedgy

When dear old Wesley yanked my pants

The day was almost over

The clock said ten 'til three

I loaded up my backpack,

He threw spitballs constantly

When all the other students

Had gone to catch the bus

Miss Harper looked up from her desk

And spoke to both of us

"Because you both were tardy,

You'll need to clean the room."

She handed me the dust pan

And pointed Wesley to the broom.

"I have to run some copies.

I'll be gone a little while."

But just as she was leaving

She winked at me and smiled

At first the room was silent,

But then I thought I'd try

A little conversation

To help me get to know this guy

Say, Wesley, where'd you move from? 

What brought you to our state?"
"The last place was Atlanta

We moved there when I was eight.

Before that was Ohio

And before that Delaware,

We've moved around an awful lot

And that's why I don't care

If anybody likes me

Or if I have a friend

'Cause every time I'm happy

It always has to end.

It's been that way since Dad died

My mom is always sad."

And just like that, I understood

What made him act so bad

We cleaned the room and chatted

Miss Harper soon returned

The room was looking as it should,

And a lesson had been learned.

As for me and Wesley Vandersnoot?

You've guessed it, we're now friends

And Miss Harper's perfect classroom?

Well, it's perfect once again.

If you read the whole thing, thank you.  One thing I've learned is that there is usually a reason for the behavior we see.  If only every problem was solved as easily as Wesley's