by Alicia Rudnicki, Library Mix

Life has its thorny problems both in and out of the garden. The other day, I was looking (not kindly I must admit) at a rosebush in my flower bed. It’s tall and should be at the back of the bed. But it is at the very front, like a big kid butting his way into the front of the line.

How the rosebush got there is unknown for it came with the house. Could some bird have dropped a seed? Was it the last vestige of a formerly glorious garden of tall rosebushes? Or did a former owner simply not know that you plant the tall flowers at the back of the bed and each subsequent row in front of the tall ones contain flowers that are shorter and shorter? The concept is the same as that of a class picture. Tall kids stand in the back row.

Ghost of growing seasons past
Some years ago, I dug the rosebush up and transplanted it to a better spot at the back of the bed. But it didn’t take. Instead, some ghost of growing seasons past had its way. Part of the bush must have remained deep in the soil of its original spot and, after biding its time for a year or so, sprang up tall, gangly, and demanding attention.

As I thought about the bush, I also thought about one of my students who often seems to go out of his way to disrupt instruction by talking…loudly…at all the wrong times. He has little self-control and a strong desire to demand everyone’s attention.

 Redirection does little to quiet him. Threats of phone calls home are shrugged off. Actual phone calls home only make him obstreperous. He is unmovable in his behaviors just as the rosebush is unmovable in its location.

Meeting them where they are
 So I’m working on a head adjustment. I’m attempting to meet them where they are and appreciate their finer qualities while trying not to provoke their thornier ones. The rosebush can stay if that is what it wants. When I have some money, I’ll purchase some other tall ones to balance out the back and middle of the bed.

 As to my mouthy student, he just isn’t a hands-up kind of guy when it comes to class discussions. So I’ve decided to acknowledge any good ideas he blurts in an effort to let him know that I appreciate his thinking.  Perhaps this will assuage his need for being the center of attention. Perhaps he will learn how to share discussion time with the entire class as I give up my old-fashioned notion of being head gardener.