The disruptive student (Singapore)

I was 19, teaching a class of 14-year-olds English Language as a temporary teacher waiting for my A-level results from the University of Cambridge.  

As if that was not daunting enough in itself, one of the students was a cocky, arrogant boy who took the mickey out of every teacher and out of everything the teacher said.  Whatever you said, he’d either parrot it in a funny voice (which made the class laugh), or make some kind of smart-aleck remark (which made the class laugh).  Most unnerving for any teacher, never mind one who was only five years older than he and inexperienced in teaching mainstream to boot.

After a number of these disruptive wisecracks, I decided to send him out of the classroom, to stand in the corridor.  I don’t know what it’s like in Singapore these days but luckily in those days students were at least a little respectful of authority, so he accepted the exile with equanimity.

I carried on with the class, and said things which the students found entertaining, so they laughed a lot.  The exiled boy couldn’t resist sticking his head into the classroom again and again to see what the fun was all about.  I told him, “You have forfeited the right to being a member of the class with your disruptive behaviour, so you have also forfeited your right to any enjoyment that comes with the lesson.  You cannot participate in the fun.  If you wish to, you’ll have to promise you won’t be disruptive and I’ll let you back in.”  Silence from him, obviously refusing to compromise.

This went on for a few more times, and eventually he caved in and promised to behave, as the class seemed to be having such fun which he was missing out on.  I let him back in, after which he freely enjoyed the laughs his peers had with my teaching and never again disrupted the class.

No caning, no scolding, just a few words.  

I wonder where he is now, and how he’s turned out in society.

(Singapore, 1973)