How I lost control of my class by asking the wrong question.
Date: October 29th, 2013
I’d just finished taking attendance in my high school language arts class for pregnant teens with special needs.
Everyone was settled in their orange plastic seats, eyes front, and I was about to start our first activity when Tiffany walked in late with a pass.
I took it, silently, placed it on my desk, and continued my instruction to the class. That was Monday.
On Tuesday, Ramona was late. Unlike Tiffany the day before, she did not have a pass. Again, I was in the middle of instruction.