Hi there! Thanks for checking out my blog. In case you’re behind on my blogs, this year I’m in seventh grade (though I started this blog when I was a lot younger). I’d like to think that I’ve grown wiser in the time that I’ve been writing you these updates. But every now and again, I slip up. That’s when I realize I still have a lot of growing up to do.
Take what happened in study hall a couple of weeks ago as an example. A lot of kids were behaving badly—including me. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I was the only one who got in trouble. That didn’t seem fair to me at all. Even though I thought it wasn’t right, I learned a tough life lesson from the experience: it can feel unjust to be the only one who gets singled out. But if you’re actually guilty of misbehaving, you’re still in the wrong—no matter what everyone else is doing. While there are other factors and circumstances to be considered, it’s important to be accountable for your own behavior rather than blaming others. Being honest with yourself shows maturity; admitting your mistakes is one of the best ways to learn and grow.
Here’s my story…
Minding your p’s and q’s
A lot of my friends are in the same study hall class this semester. We can’t help but be a social bunch. Usually, we’re chatty at the beginning of class until the teacher, Mrs. R, shushes us. Since study hall is a great place to get as much homework done as you can, or study for any upcoming tests, we’re mostly quiet for the period. Emphasis on the “mostly” part.
A few weeks back, we were days away from winter break. We’d just had a bunch of tests that morning, so we didn’t have much to do during study hall. It was hard not to be excited about our vacation. While looking for a pencil, my friend, Jeffrey, had found a bunch of rubber bands at the bottom of his backpack. He and I decided we’d make a rubber band ball. We started collecting rubber bands from other kids who had extras. We were being pretty quiet. At least it seemed that way. Mrs. R may have looked up at us once or twice, but didn’t object to our “rubber band project.”
It wasn’t until Mrs. S got an important-sounding phone call and was briefly distracted. And then, study hall went south.
Instead of passing me his rubber band, Jason shot one at me.
“Ow!” I shouted reflexively. Even though it didn’t really hurt, I rubbed my head where the rubber band had hit. Soon enough, others were throwing and shooting rubber bands at each other.
I guess you could say that’s when the rubber(band) met the road. Mrs. R, who was still on her call, waved her finger at us to calm down.
Shooting yourself in the foot
After a few minutes, Mrs. R finished her call. She told us to settle down. (I should mention she looked right at me.) We were quiet for a few minutes. But I think we were still a bit riled up with pre-vacation anticipation.
That’s when the twins, Poppy and Penelope, who were sitting next to each other, started giggling about something. My friend, Pete, who was sitting near Poppy, threw a crumpled paper at her. I’m not sure if Pete was trying to quiet her down or get her attention. But it set off another round of misbehaving. Jeffrey tried to shoot a rubber band at me, but missed.
I loaded up a rubber band on my finger and was about to shoot back at Jeffrey. At the same time, Poppy threw a marble at her sister Penelope. She may have been aiming for Pete, but the marble hit Penelope with a plop on the back of the head. Throwing a marble from such a short distance couldn’t have hurt, but Penelope screamed anyway. She and Poppy were always fighting.
Just as I was about to get back at Jeffrey and Jason for their rubber band shots at me, I was caught mid-aim. Mrs. R shouted my name.
“Noodle, stop that at once!” Mrs. R motioned for me to come up to her desk. I tried casually slipping the rubber band into my pocket as I got up. Hiding the evidence, if you will.
“Oooh,” a bunch of the kids in the class teased as I walked towards the front of the room. Mrs. R shot them a lock that shut everyone right up. In that moment, the rubber (band) had really hit the road.
Facing the music
I slunk up to Mrs. R’s desk.
“Noodle, I think you need to finish today’s study hall outside in the hallway.” I guess I’d be studying in the hall. Literally. “I’ll also be contacting your parents to make them aware of your behavior.” Uh oh. The rubber (band) had hit the road. Hard.
“But…” I began to say. I was about to point out the bad things the other kids in class had done. I wasn’t the only one who had acted out of hand. Like Poppy and Penelope’s marble-throwing, Jeffrey and Jason’s rubber band shooting, or Pete’s paper-throwing. They were disrupting class, too! But if I said anything to complain, I’d basically be dragging my friends down along with me.
Sure, we had behaved badly. Though in all honesty, our actions weren’t really that terrible. As in, no one was in serious danger. Especially since Poppy didn’t throw her marble very far when she hit Penelope. Was it worth being a tattle tale so that I felt less bad about getting in trouble? And hey, maybe Mrs. R would realize we were just excited about vacation and let things slide after she calmed down.
Though the stern look on her face told me that the rubber (band) had indeed met the road. I decided that I’d be better off owning my actions.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. R.” I looked down at my shoes, suddenly feeling awful.
Mrs. R nodded seriously, acknowledging my apology without words. But she still pointed to the door. The class was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. I quickly grabbed my belongings and sat outside the study hall door. Instead of finding something to do, I stared glumly at the other classrooms. The ones where kids were hard at work and not misbehaving.
I heard some laughter from down the hall. Harrumph. They can be silly in music class, I thought to myself. Even though I knew perfectly well that you could talk in Mr. U’s music class. I guess it took more for the rubber (band) to meet the road before Mr. U got upset.
Blame game
I’m happy to report I was perfectly behaved for the remainder of the day. Too bad it was only one period. I was hoping Mrs. R had forgotten about the rubber band incident or maybe realized that the whole class’s getting out of hand wasn’t so bad and hadn’t taken any action. Unfortunately, later that night, I learned that Mrs. R had indeed sent a note home to my parents, just like she said she would.
My parents, as you’d expect, weren’t pleased with Mrs. R’s message. To make my situation seem less awful, I told my parents that everyone was acting badly, not just me.
“Poppy threw a marble at her sister Penelope’s head. That was way worse than what I did.” I was hoping my parents would realize that even though I was in the wrong, I wasn’t the only one. Surely, that made my actions less bad, right? Wrong. My dad wasn’t having it.
“Noodle, as you know, we care the most about your behavior. It’s not an excuse that everyone else misbehaved too. And I’m sure not every single person in the class was acting badly. Bottom line is you were in the wrong. To your credit, you’ve sort of admitted as much.” My dad had a point. Then my mom, who’s also a teacher, stepped in. Darn it! I wasn’t off the hook yet.
“If I had to guess, Mrs. R was probably trying to get the class under control quickly. Your actions were probably the most visible. Or, you were the most disruptive. Either way, it’s nothing to be proud of.”
“For the record, I did apologize to Mrs. R before I was sent into the hall.” I hoped that would get me some positive recognition. Wellllll, it turns out, my mom had more to say.
“It’s a start, Noodle. But here’s the thing: by behaving appropriately, you give yourself and your classmates a better environment for learning—regardless of what class you’re in. That way, the teachers can do their jobs better. Make sense?” I nodded, understanding exactly what my mom and dad were saying. The rubber (band) had finally hit the road with me.
I was out of line, and I’d need to try harder to stay focused. Even if some people around me aren’t acting the way they should. It’s an easy lesson to grasp, but I’m sure it’ll be hard when I’m put to the test. And it might not even be a test like the kind you get graded on at school. Ugh! Being a kid isn’t easy.
Until next time, be your best you.
Do you have any stories about learning an important lesson from an experience? Please share with them me in the comments section!
