Article September 6, 1999 Issue

I learned to love all my pupils

How one teacher answered a cry for help

By Helga Janesch

I was a young schoolteacher working my first job at a small country school. Most of my pupils liked their new teacher, and I loved my pupils and my work. All of that changed when I met Roger. He was a pupil who did everything he could think of to make me feel utterly miserable and helpless. He had a large repertoire of tricks he used to distract and amuse his audience. His behavior was so disruptive and rambunctious that it seemed almost impossible to teach when he was around. Before long I felt perhaps I had chosen the wrong profession.

One day I sent a note home with him and asked him to have his father sign it. When I learned that Roger had forged his father's signature, I felt I had reached the end of my rope. Furthermore, on my way home from school, I had a terrible toothache.

I thought about going to a dentist. However, I felt that the main problem wasn't really the tooth, but my own thinking. I had lost my peace of mind, and I was afraid of going to school again. So I called a practitioner for help. He didn't say much but assured me that he would pray for me.

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