Start with a deep breath. Let the rawness of your voice chafe at the saliva slipping down your throat as oxygen floods into your lungs. Then, thank God for having a prep period next hour so you can rebuild. Remember your desk structures: six columns of desks, four rows across. Realign their disjointed angles back into place. Lift them gently after having been kicked and shoved today by moody prepubescents. Let yourself remember that math class is the place for children to run around, knocking their papers across the floor. Appreciate the playground that you have made for them. Your pencils have been shredded into woodchips while you watch as a yard stick is slapped against the whiteboard. Take it all in, then begin to restructure your expectations. Think about where your things could be better hidden for the next class. Count the twists and turns they take around the room as the minutes pass: Clockwise, counterclockwise, clockwise again. 

Clear your last row and appreciate that their hour of chaos has been fixed by you in two minutes. Next, pick up their worksheets. Notice the rubber shoeprint on one of the pages and tell yourself how interesting. Collect the sheets and turn them in to be graded later. It is okay for students to struggle with their work. Nobody should expect a passing grade on every worksheet. Even on your hardest days, remember to be grateful in moments like this. Recognize that you didn’t have to confiscate their phones today. Be proud that you didn’t have to call security this time. Know, deep down, that you are the one that handled this breakdown. That is something you can be proud of.

Here comes a knock on the door. Your favorite student is back asking for his Chromebook again. Tell him to wait outside while you go to retrieve it from the desk where he couldn’t stay seated. Remember how you tried to keep the laptop confiscated during class, but he crawled under your desk to swipe it back. Complex feelings are okay, and you have the power to control them. Hold back the urge to throw his laptop against the wall. Instead, simply pass it to him through the crack in the door and see him on his way. 

Now that he is gone, return to the silence of the classroom. Now that you finally have everything put back together, step back and admire your work. Remember this feeling. This is exactly what your classroom is meant to be. Not a place to learn, but a place to explore the limits of your psyche. As we wind down from this exercise, let yourself sit back at your desk and enjoy the rest of the time you have. Stay here in deep reflection and let the bell wake you up to do it all again.