As a teacher, I have felt completely unprepared to deal with mid-year transfer students, especially those that have been placed in my high school Spanish classes. It’s an immersion class unlike anything I ever experienced during my education. We act like idiotas, linking actions with phrases – a method called Total Physical Response (TPR) – and telling interactive stories completely in Spanish – Teaching Proficiency Through Reading and Storytelling (TPRS). Some students were not in my class for the first few weeks, during which I established a firm vocabulary base and the rules for my interactive stories. They’ve had to play a giant game of catch-up, and they’ve had to embrace the craziness and excitement characteristic in my classroom.

Michelle came into my classroom just before the second nine-week period began. She’s an excitable student, and in a class of 17 students – my largest – she has quickly become one of my most reliable voluntarios. Using student actors in class stories has helped invest students in my class, and on most days, students will moan and groan if they are not chosen as a story’s star. I often choose Michelle because student actors must respond to my Spanish commands, and it serves as wonderful listening practice.

She’s worked her hardest to learn all of the material she missed. I’m very proud of her, especially when I read her brief apologies on tests or quizzes: “I tried my hardest, Mr. Pepper!” I know you did, Michelle.

But this past week, during finals period, Michelle was late to class. I noticed immediately; she’s usually one of the first to take her seat. I glanced in the hallway and saw her speeding toward my class behind her meek mother, a woman as least a head shorter than me. “Sorry, Mr, Pepper,” Michelle’s mom explained. “I had her detained.” She sped past my classroom and left the school.

Michelle was red-faced, her eyes filled with tears. She fell into my arms and sobbed. I was dumbstruck. I rubbed her back and calmed her down, asking if she wanted to talk about it. She nodded yes, and I told the class to review their study guide for five minutes.

Michelle explained: “I got home last night and my mom was upset. I think she had taken something.” My throat tightened. “She started yelling at me, telling me I wasn’t worth anything, I wouldn’t make anything of my life…” She faded into sobs, but quickly composed herself. “I left my house and went to my boyfriend’s place to calm down. But my mom called the police and told them I had run away from home. They came and arrested me.” She paused and looked up at me with her bloodshot eyes.  “I spent the night in jail, Mr, Pepper.”

I was not trained for this.

All I said was, “Michelle, I’m so sorry. But now you’re here, and you’re in my class, and you’re safe. Go for a walk, go to the bathroom and put some water on your face and cool down. We’ll wait for you to start.” She nodded and walked down the hall, shuddering from sobs and wiping her cheeks clear.

The review session before our test consisted of an interactive story covering all vocabulary from the semester. Although Michelle was not in a state to be my star, she participated and reviewed with energy.

I’ve surprised my students with a loco class culture. They’ve surprised me with their daily lives.