Leaving the classroom unattended is never a good idea. There are no limits to the trouble that can ensue when a group of 16-year-olds are left unattended. As a teacher I often find myself in a position where I really need to leave the classroom. But I never do. Because it’s a liability. One fight while I’m gone, one angry, litigious parent, and I can kiss my meager retirement and free summers good bye.
But, one time my third year teaching I left the classroom. The copier was literally right down the hall, it would be a 30 second trip, the students were working. Martin Brown was a new student, and I still didn’t know his capabilities. Martin Brown was a sophomore, he had gone to our school back in 7th grade, then his family moved, and now they were back. Martin was fat. There’s no point mincing words. He was a large kid whose pants never fit. He was loud, disruptive, brilliant, and bored.
So anyway, I needed copies, and Martin was new, and I made the decision to leave the classroom. Heart pounding, I hustled down the hall made my copies, and I’m standing by the copying machine, and I hear Martin Brown’s voice over the intercom in the office. “Testing. Testing. Yo, who’s there?”
I should add that our school didn’t use the intercom. At least not any more. We used our phone system for annoucements. It was all computerized. We never used the intercom, so I had no idea that it was still functional. But standing there making copies, I heard Martin’s voice, and I ran back to my classroom in a hurry to stop him before my principal heard. I walked through the door and Martin was standing by the wall pressing the button for the old intercom. The boys were laughing really hard, and the girls looked like they’d seen a ghost.
I was furious–partly at Martin and partly at myself for leaving the classroom. I got the class quiet, and I asked ”What is going on?” Silence. The boys were still trying not to laugh, the girls still looked like they’d seen a ghost. 30 blank stares. Finally Janice answered. She was a smart girl, the teachers liked her, none of the students did.
“When you were gone, Martin was pressing the old intercom button. And that’s not all.”
“What else.”
“Martin stood in front of the class, lifted up his shirt, and licked his nipple.”
The girls shrieked at the memory, the boys laughed, and Martin was proud of himself. Out of all the things I thought I would hear, that statement was not even in the top 100. Martin was a large kid, and I’m not going to get into the physics of the situation, but I will say that I instantly knew Janice was not telling a lie or exaggerating.
What do you say to that? In the 30 seconds I was gone Martin Brown figured out the old intercom system and licked his own nipple in front of the class.
I don’t remember what I said or did. I’m sure I kept him after class. I doubt I sent him to the office–doing so would reveal that I left the class unattended. Somehow the day and the moment passed without notice, I never heard a word about it from my principal or any other staff member. Later that year, Martin would manage to run off one of our English teachers, forcing her into early retirement and would have the lead part in the Spring Musical. Looking back, he was probably my favorite student I’ve ever taught. But that day he was not, and that day I vowed that I would never again leave my class unattended.
