Information, Not Truth

Behavior is communication. I know this.
But some days, it’s hard to stay anchored there.

When students roll their eyes, talk back, refuse, mock, or openly ignore me, it doesn’t feel like communication.
It feels like disrespect.
It feels personal.
It feels like a challenge to my authority and dignity.

And here’s what I’m still learning to remind myself in those moments, even when I don’t want to:

Feeling disrespected does not mean I’m failing.
It does not mean I’ve lost control.
It does not mean I don’t belong in this work.

It means a boundary was crossed.
It means the moment matters.
It means this work is human.

When I slow down enough to name what’s happening in me, I’m learning to call it system pressure, not truth.

I’m a first-year teacher. I don’t have all of this figured out yet. What I do know is that the pressure is real.

It’s one adult and twenty-three children.
It’s the push to keep pace with curriculum when kids need more time, more movement, more support.
It’s the expectation of quiet, stillness, and compliance layered onto developing nervous systems.
It’s holding high expectations inside systems that don’t always give us what we need to meet them well.

That pressure shows up in me as tension, impatience, and the quiet fear that I’m getting it wrong.

On days like this, I have to pause before I let the story harden.
Before I decide the behavior is intentional.
Before I decide consequences are the only language left.

I’m learning that behavior being communication does not mean the behavior is acceptable.
It means something underneath it isn’t settled yet.

I can hold boundaries and stay curious at the same time.
I can name disrespect without turning it into a verdict about who a child is or who I am as a teacher.

When cynicism shows up, I try to treat it as information.
A signal that the system is pressing hard.
A reminder to slow down where I can, tighten routines where I must, and choose teaching over reacting.

I’m still learning how to do this well.
Some days I do it better than others.

But even on the days I get it wrong, I’m still building something stronger than compliance.
I’m building safety, trust, and the conditions where respect can grow.

And tomorrow, I get another chance.
Not to do it perfectly, but to show up and try again.

That’s enough to come back.