Shannon Costello

By the time I ordered the sixth person to put their gum in the trash I was getting irritated. Somebody said, “Man, she’s catching everyone” and I started ranting, dishing out vague threats in order to vent my frustration without actually promising punishment.

Gum is gross. I passed a great glistening glob of pale green gum on the office staircase the other day. Too repugnant to pick up, too disgusting to blithely abandon.

We teachers do a pretty good job of policing gum chewers, but it is impossible to apprehend all violators. Our quarry is alert to the danger. They thrive on intrigue. Students know to stop chewing until the teacher looks away. When a kid gets nabbed, he looks chagrined while his fellows mock his lack of finesse. When I catch someone, I feel smug. I like to make it appear very casual, pronouncing sentence in the same tone of voice that I have just issued instructions. Once a year I can do it with class participation.

Me: Clase, ¡repitan! Katie, !pon el chicle-
Class: Katie, ¡pon el chicle-
Me: -en la basura!
Class: -en la basura!
Me: Which means, Katie, put the gum in the trash!
Katie smiles sheepishly as she complies. The class laughs appreciatively, like sports fans cheering an exceptionally good play from the opposing team.

I used to be a very poor player. Students could repeatedly blow enormous, brilliantly colored bubbles (blue seems to be a favorite color) directly in front of me and I would charge on through my lesson, completely oblivious. Even now I still have plenty of room for improvement. I rather suspect I crossed the line when I lost my temper and starting threatening. Being provoked by exceptionally sloppy play is no excuse.