There are some students you need to push in the right direction to show them their true potential. I would suggest not literally pushing them, as I did yesterday.

One of my students, Xander, is a smart kid. He is held back, however, by his talkative, uninspired and unmotivated friends in my 5th period Civics class. The urge to laugh and distract his fellow classmates has resulted in a solid F. So I’ve been getting on his case about it.

“Xander,” I’ll say, tapping his head with my pen as he laughs at a friend’s quip. “Focus on the lesson.” The tapping will annoy him to a point, but he’ll compose himself and face forward for the next few minutes.

Yesterday, however, my tapping-pen was on my desk, and I was instead carrying a folder of ungraded quizzes. Xander once again did not follow my directions. I called his name a few times but he did not respond, so I grazed his face with the folder.

Or at least, that was my intention.

Something grabbed my arm, some unspeakable force of repressed aggression and frustration with my failing students. I didn’t graze his face. It was a sturdy whack. I heard the sound, felt the force, and my heart melted in embarrassment and shame. Xander’s face morphed into something different altogether. He tried for a few seconds to compose himself but the rage took over. “You better get out of my face Mr. Pepper!” he exploded as he leapt out of his chair. The class went silent.

“Sit in your seat, Xander,” I requested firmly. I was quaking in terror. This 9th grader could knock me out with one hit.

“Naw, you get out of my face or you gonna see what happens!”

As I do with any class problem, I told him to step outside and cool down. He stormed out of my class, throwing his binder on the floor and felling a pile of papers on my desk. The class erupted in laughter and gossip. I quieted them and reminded them of their assignment.

Handling this situation was difficult. I had done something wrong, and there was no way to deny it. I couldn’t tell him that a mysterious force took control of my hand and made me slap him with my folder (although that sounds like something my students might use as an excuse). I had to apologize and maintain authority.

I also had to maintain my aura with the rest of the class. If I did nothing to punish Xander, his behavior would appear acceptable.

Worst of all, I feared that this kid I had worked so hard on, in whom I saw so much potential, was lost forever. Had I sacrificed this kid’s education because I couldn’t hold back my anger?

I told him to look at me as I talked to him in the hallway.

“I was wrong in there, Xander,” I told him immediately.

“Yea, you were,” he replied, indignant and on the verge of tears. “Whatever, man, I don’t even care anymore.” Worst case scenario.

I continued, unfazed by his attitude. “I embarrassed you in front of all your friends, I hurt you, and I was wrong to do that.” He started to look away, but eventually I caught his glance again. “Repeat after me: ‘Mr. Pepper made a mistake. He was wrong.’” He followed my instructions.

“Today, I disrespected you, Xander. And one thing I hate is disrespect. Right now, I hate myself for disrespecting you. And you have every right to not respect me today.” He just stood there, lower lip quivering.

“Xander, I’m not talking to you as a teacher. I’m talking to you man-to-man.” I saw him start to glance my way.

“I don’t deserve your respect today because I didn’t show you my respect for you. And I respect you. You know why?” He shrugged. ”Because you’re one smart guy. I see it everyday. I see it in your eyes when you raise your hand. You get this stuff.” His lips curled.

“Yea…” he started to say.

“I’m going to work harder to gain your respect, Xander. But I need your respect in return.” I thought for a second. “And now, you can say whatever you want to me.”

Xander did a double-take. I repeated, “Whatever you want to say.” He thought for a few seconds, still noticeably angry, and shook his head “no.” “Nothing, Xander?” I asked.

And he replied, “Thank you.” There was no reason to thank me, I told him. I messed up.

“Naw, Mr. Pepper,” he said. “Teachers don’t say that stuff. That’s all.”

I sent him to the bathroom to cool down and returned to my lesson. When Xander showed up, he was fuming, and he sulked throughout the class.

But today, Xander raised his hand for every question and answered every one correctly. And he was the one quieting his loud friends in class. And when someone became unfocused, he told them, “Pay attention, man!”

That being said, I would never recommend slapping a kid in the face with a folder. I almost peed myself. But I guess some good came out of it. And all it took was a real conversation between two people.