The Boys in My Study Hall

The boys in my study hall think I hate them.

Because I am constantly demanding silence, because I am constantly reminding them to be courteous of those who are trying to work, because I don’t let them leave the room at will, the boys say I hate them.

I can honestly say I have never hated any student. But this combination of boys is so disruptive and thoughtless in the way they behave, that they do drive me crazier than I’d like.

Middle school boys are funny. They can’t resist touching the stuff on my desk no matter how many times I insist that they don’t. Though many of their female counterparts dream of romance, many boys still write poems dedicated to their moms, or baseball, or a chili cheese hot dog. The girls’ work is mostly precise and detailed, thoughtful and visually appealing. The boys’ work often appears hastily scrawled, perhaps on the bus ride to school or, more likely, in the morning’s homeroom class, minutes before the bell rings.

I’ve always felt that I had an affinity for teaching middle school boys. In fact, the students more likely to visit me once they leave middle school are overwhelmingly male.

So what’s with these boys in my study hall?

To be fair, there are a few things working against me. The study hall is the last period of the day, and most kids have already found time to do whatever homework they’ve gotten. Also, there are no penalties in our school if a student comes to class late (a maddening situation that begs for school-wide resolution), so when the boys wander in well past the bell, there’s not one thing I can do about it except firmly remind them to be on time. Possibly the biggest factor of all is that of the nearly 30 kids in my study hall, more than 20 of them are boys.

A few years ago, I had a similar gender imbalance in one of my classes. Out of 16 students, only two were girls. For the boys, it was their favorite class. And though the girls were great sports, for them, the class was only slightly less painful than a root canal. That many adolescent boys contained in one space simply can’t be calm. They giggle at the slightest thing. The tiniest piece of lint can be a dizzying distraction. Potty humor looms large. More than once, a seemingly innocent statement became the inspiration for a classroom-wide gigglefest. I couldn’t help but laugh with them. But when it came time to work, they worked.

For my current crop of guys, I decided to assign seats in study hall. I noticed a slight improvement in behavior. But the biggest change came when one student asked if he could clean the windowsills. What? He wanted to clean?

He cleaned the windowsills and then the ledges and the desks. Ten other boys raised their hands and asked if I had a job for them. They cleaned and dusted my computers. They hung student work on the classroom walls that I hadn’t had time to hang myself. OK, it might have been a little crooked, but it was still one less job I had to do.

Watching their enthusiastic efforts around the classroom, I realized that without something to do, these boys were positively devilish. I had been under the mistaken impression that these boys didn’t want to help the teacher. But I’ve got the cleanest room in the school thanks to the boys in my study hall.

Sofen is a middle school writing teacher in New Jersey.