The Princess Bitch Problem: Solved?

The Princess Bitch Problem: Solved?

I begin every Monday afternoon by giving the Princess Bitches the benefit of the doubt and treating them like they’ve developed into respectable human beings within the past week. I’m always wrong. It usually takes about 30 seconds before all Hell breaks loose and I’ve lost my smile for the hour. Today, Hell broke loose in the form of wood bugs (woodlouse. Or something appearing as such. Entomology has never really been my thing).

The Bitches danced into the classroom, glaring briefly in my direction before putting on fake grins in the hopes that today might be the day their asshole behaviour earns them a game. They were wrong to hope for this. The plopped into their chairs and immediately broke into conversation in Korean. I was confused as to why they hadn’t bothered to take their books out and take aim at me yet, when I noticed that Bitch, The Younger (BTY) had brought a friend for show-and-tell. Sadly, nobody had informed me that today was show-and-tell, so BTY putting her bug-friend on the table and watching him squirm struck me as random. And obnoxious. I hate bugs. Of course, Bitch, The Older (BTO) didn’t want to be one upped, so she pulled out her bug for comparison.

I hate bugs. I especially hate bugs in the hands of horrible people who are liable to throw them at me when they don’t get their way later. This shit was not going to fly. After being complete ignored when asking The Bitches to put the bugs outside where they belong, I grabbed a tissue so that I could remove them myself. The Bitches either thought I was going to kill their bug friends, or didn’t want to part with their only friends in life, and absolutely lost it. Much screaming and yelling ensued. Finally, BTO put both of the bugs in her backpack, thinking that this was an acceptable solution. She was wrong. I asked her to remove her backpack from the classroom on account of total grossness. Not wanting to give up her title as the most spoiled seven year old ever, she pitched a fit, clutched her bag and curled into fetal position with it. None too amused, I flung open the door of the classroom and told her to get out. For once, she listened. BTY followed, because at some point in life somebody told her the merits of learning from the best (of the worst).

I read a few pages from my book before stepping outside to find out what The Bitches had gotten themselves in to. While I may think they’re horrible, horrible children who will grow up to be terrible, terrible people, I still consider myself responsible for them for 45 minutes per week and don’t wish to see them get hurt on my watch. The Bitches hadn’t gone far before finding The Boss Man, who was already in the loop as to what was going on. He sifted through their backpacks for their books and pencils so that they could return to my classrooms without being gross. I thanked him for his fulfilling his weekly obligation as mediator between The Bitches and Barbie Teacher, and led the girls back to class. I had a plan.

The Bitches had made it very clear in previous weeks with me and the other teachers that they have minimal interest in learning from us. Countless complaints to The Boss Man have led to countless calls home to their mother, which has resulted in no positive behavioural modification whatsoever; if anything, they’re acting worse. I’ll be the first person to admit when I screw up. Nobody loves riding The Train of Self Loathing more than I do. Sadly, in this case, I’m clearly not the cause of the problem; I simply can’t find reason to beat myself up over it. While I’ve done little in recent weeks to improve things, it’s unlikely that children who can’t muster up a modicum of respect for any other present elders are going to suddenly have a change of heart and think that it’s due time they start listening to Barbie Teacher. Hence, my solution is to give up on them.

When they returned to the classroom, without their bug friends, I opened their student books to the correct page and turned on the accompanying CD. Intermittently throughout the lesson I would change the track on the CD and check that they were still on the correct page. Once this was complete, I put some worksheets in front of them. All the while, I enjoyed listening to my MP3 player and reading a book. Sometimes one of them would look my way and say something in Korean, which was barely audible over my tunes, and I would grunt in response. Oddly, they actually seemed to work better when I completely ignored them. Perhaps being obnoxious is less fun when they don’t have an attentive audience.

I imagine that some people may find my behaviour terribly unprofessional. I’m not going to disagree. In fact, I’m open to suggestions as to what might suffice as a viable alternative to barely falling short of refusing to teach them. Just keep in mind that the other two teachers that deal with The Bitches have the same issue; the only difference is that I now refuse to waste my energy getting upset with them when I could use it during the hours of time after this class spent with students who actually want to learn.