"It’s faster that way. It’s just not better."

I’m standing in the hallway of Franklin Middle School because all 6th grade teachers monitor hallways during passing periods. You know why.

Middle school students make weird choices between classes. 

I’m good at hallway duty. I’m good at fixing things. A kid forgets a pencil, I hand them one. A kid loses a permission slip, I print another. A kid can’t open a locker, I open it for them. It’s faster that way.

Looking to my right I see Matthew rummaging through his locker. He’s frantically searching for homework due in three minutes.

To my left are Andre and Tyree. They high five over last night’s basketball game.

Then I look down and see Tianna. She is smiling up at me. Because of that I am now worried and a bit afraid.

Tianna’s smile is a mischievous one.

She’s an entertainer. We’ve all had this kind of student: objectively funny. It’s hard to hold back your laughter—even as a teacher.

This year she has tested a variety of creative ways to enter my classroom.

One time she came in with snacks—for the whole class—Skittles, M&Ms, and Gatorade. Then she tripped and spilled it all over the floor. That’s how we started class that day.

Another time, she came in carrying her backpack. No stunts or objects in hand. “We’re safe,” I said to myself. Boy, was I wrong. Tianna took her backpack off, unzipped it, and pulled out a live bunny for the class. “Mr. Fluffy!” Tianna said. That’s how we started class that day.

Last month Tianna celebrated International Mr. Bauer Impersonation Day. A holiday celebrated by exactly one child in the world. And on that day, Tianna strolled into class, walking like me, wearing my signature khakis, polo shirt, and Air Jordans. She even sported a fake beard. And that’s how we started class that day.

So I’m looking at her big smile, wondering what’s next. But to my surprise, she hasn’t planned a thing. She wants my help. Her locker won’t open.

I know my line. “Tianna, I’d love to help …” I’ve said it a thousand times through clenched teeth and a smile. 

But as I open my mouth, my brain is off and running:

Tianna, you know how to open your locker. And if I walk with you down the hall to help you open the locker … what if a fight breaks out in my class … and what if it’s 20 vs 1 in an epic classroom brawl … that’s right, twenty-eight kids gang up on Steve (the board president’s kid) and he gets a black eye … then his mom calls the news … Oh God! The news is coming to campus and I’m not even wearing my favorite outfit … and my shirt is wrinkled … Great … The news is coming to campus, I look terrible, and I’m getting fired … Tianna, you know how to open your locker!

I close my mouth.

Last weekend I learned something new on a podcast and today I’m going to try it.

So I gather all the empathy in my heart, look at Tianna and say, “Oh no, Tianna! What are you going to do about your locker?”

Then I wait.

Tianna and I are locked in a staring contest. For this to work I can’t be the one to break the silence. The ball is in her court. 

Finally, she sighs and says, “You’re right, Mr. Bauer. I know how to open my locker, but I was afraid I’d be late and get another tardy. If I get another tardy you’ll probably call Grams and then I’ll really be in trouble.”

I stare at Tianna. She continues, “Can I go back to my locker and try to open it? And pretty please with a cherry on top, if I’m a little late, will you please not call home this time?”

“Sure thing.”

And off she goes to her locker. I begin class.

Three minutes later, Tianna appears at my door. Smiling. 

Twenty-eight heads turn. Somebody might as well pass out popcorn. We all know what happens next.

But nothing happens. Tianna gives me a thumbs up, walks quietly to her seat and gets out her materials. 

I can’t believe it. Neither can she.

Her smile tells me how proud she is of solving her own problem. And the smile on my face tells me something too. 

All year I’ve been opening lockers for kids. It’s faster that way.

It’s just not better.

Keep Making a Ruckus,
Danny

P.S. I shared a version of this story as a keynote speaker at Conscious Discipline’s ELEVATE event in Orlando last week. I wanted the audience (and you) to reflect on all the ways “I’ll just do it myself” gets in the way of building real independence on campus.