Surprises in the Classroom

One of the greatest things about teaching is that no day is predictable. Surprises- good and bad- inevitably await. Just when everything is “going to plan,” a surprise pops up in the most unexpected ways.

When I think about surprises in my classroom, I always think about Jasmine, a student from my first full year of teaching in 2003-04.

Everyone at Fairfax knew Jasmine. From the time she came to Fairfax as a freshman, Jasmine was every teacher's and administrator’s nightmare. Jasmine always dressed in short, skintight yellow shorts with a skimpy top exposing just about everything. She, and five other similarly-dressed friends, paraded around school with absolutely no regard for classes or bell schedules. They also had the foulest mouths I have ever heard. “Fuck that. I’m going to shit on your daddy’s grave,” I once heard them say to each other as I passed by.

Over the four years, her friends dropped out of high school- probably having failed to earn a single credit in high school. But not Jasmine. Somehow, despite Jasmine’s ditching, foul language, rudeness to teachers, and constant violations of the “dress code,” she had managed to stay in school- much to the disgust of fellow teachers. One of the teachers had enough. “I can’t take her anymore. I’ll do anything to get her out of my class.” Out of compassion (or just plain stupidity), I offered to take her. Often, moving students to a new environment with a new teacher can do wonders. But my colleague was skeptical, to say the least. “Thanks a lot. If you can handle her, you’re a miracle worker.”

A few days passed, yet Jasmine failed to show up- despite her having being officially assigned to my class.. About a week later, Jasmine finally came to my class- about 15 minutes late. She sauntered in wearing those tight, bright yellow shorts and a white shirt with black speckles spelling “Princess” across the front. 6 inch high heels provided the finishing touch. She plunked down her transfer slip on my desk and then jiggled her was to the back of the room where there was an empty seat. The rest of the class looked at her with a combination of amazement and horror- realizing that they would have to put up with Jasmine for the rest of the semester.

She sat down. It couldn’t have been more than 20 seconds when she raised her hand. With everything I knew about Jasmine, I was genuinely surprised by her even having the courtesy to raise her hand. “Mr. Stryer, I don’t want to be called Jasmine. I’m Princess Diana, OK?”

Here it was. Twenty seconds in my class and she was already testing me. If I said “no,” I would bring on a confrontational relationship. If I say “yes,” I’d be seen as a pushover and would be condemned to calling her “Princess Diana” for the rest of the year. Also, calling her “Princess Diana” was clearly inappropriate and disrespectful, All of the other students’ eyes were on me.

“Princess, was a World History book given to you in the other class?” I asked her. She pulled out a book from her backpack, rolled her eyes slightly, and waved her book. She never asked me again to call her Princess Diana, but “Princess” would remain her name in my classroom. I never called her Jasmine again.

The next few classes were surprisingly uneventful. Princess came to class on time and remained quiet in the corner. “So far, so good,” I said to my colleague when he asked about whether Jasmine had turned the class upside down yet. “God Bless you,” he muttered as he walked down the hall shaking his head. Still, something told me that I was in for some major surprises with Jasmine. I would not be disappointed

At the beginning of one class, I asked the students to talk about the major tenets of several Enlightenment philosophers. It was a subject that I had covered a few months before, so I wasn’t exactly expecting detailed answers. Princess raised her hand. I was standing up at the front of the class near the whiteboard and called immediately on her. I was expecting something like, “we didn’t do that in my other class,” or perhaps her first of many sarcastic answers. Instead, she asked, “So, who do ya want me to talk about? Voltaire, Hobbes, Locke, Montesquieu or Rousseau?” “All of them,” I replied.

Princess cleared her throat. You could have heard a pin drop in the class- as every student was fixated on Princess. “Well,” Princess began with a smirk and an exaggerated, slightly mocking emphasis on proper grammar and pronunciation, “let’s start with Voltaire. As you know, the philosophy of Voltaire forms the basis for important parts of the Bill or Rights. As a outspoken critic of the French Government, Voltaire was a champion of freedom of speech and freedom of religion. He is supposed to have said, “I may disagree with what you say, but I will defend to death your right to say it.” This philosophy is expressed in our First Amendment, which provides for freedom of speech and protects the rights of everyone to express themselves- even if their views are fucked up. Voltaire also supported freedom of religion. We also see this in our First Amendment, which provides for free expression of religion and freedom from the Government telling us which religion or practices to follow.”

I quietly took a seat as Princess continued. For the next 15 minutes, Princess went through all of the Enlightenment philosophers, talking about their main beliefs and relating them to our world today. After initially proving her ability to speak in queen’s English, she switched back to her everyday conversation style “And Hobbes, like he said that we like need a strong government cuz without a strong government it’s like a jungle out there. Like only a strong government can really have our backs, ya know…” And on she went through Rousseau, Locke, and Montesquieu- beautifully interweaving their philosophies with our contemporary world with teenage slang.

At the end, there was only stunned silence. For whatever reason, Princess had provided a crystal-clear window into who she really was- a brilliant student who had successful hid her intelligence and talent from teachers, other students, probably her friends, and even herself. After an extended silence, there was just muttering from other students, “Are you fucking kidding?,” and “puta madre.” I, too, was at a loss for words. “Outstanding,” or something like it, was all I could manage to say.

For the next couple of months, Princess showed up to every class, on time, with homework completed- maintaining something like a 99.5% in the class. Then suddenly, sometime after Spring Break, her attendance and homework were sporadic and her grade starting plummeting. I spoke privately with Princess about it. She responded politely, but evasively. I had no idea what was going on. I persisted, but without any success or understanding. Over time, I came to know the many daunting obstacles she faced just in making it to school.

In the final weeks of semester, Princess seemed to pull it together- attending class regularly and showing her astounding potential. On the final exam, she received the highest grade I have ever given in my 7 years of teaching. By passing my class and her other required classes, Princess fulfilled her graduation requirements.

As Princess walked across the stage and received her diploma, I was in awe of the obstacles that she had overcome to graduate and her amazing tenacity. After the ceremony, Princess made it a point to find me.

“You was one fucking pain in my ass,” Princess said to me with a smile. “You’re welcome, Princess.” I said, “I expect great things from you.”