At my high school one of the most well-known and popular teachers was Alison John, a 24 year old math teacher who was in her second years of teaching out of college. Being as young as she was, she was really easy to relate to, and it made taking her math class incredibly fun. I never had her myself but a bunch of my friends did and to this day they still say that she is one of their favorite teachers. However, in the last semester of our senior year my friends began to flirt with that fine line between teacher and friend (due to copious amounts of senioritis), and her math class became more of a recess than an actual class. Sure she did her best to control the situation but you try teaching a remedial math class to a group of ADD seniors about to graduate high school and let me know how it goes. Anyways, when our senior year ended she told one of my good friends where she lived so that he could come over during the summer so she could help him with the calculus class he was taking at the local community college. Two words: huge mistake. She lived right down the street from our school, it was like Christmas. This was a very common conversation that my friends and I would have that summer.
Friend 1: What do you feel like doing tonight?
Friend 2: I don’t know, I haven’t really heard of much going on.
Friend 1: Yeah me neither. Hey how about we all go over to Ms. John’s?
All in unison: How about yes!
The thing about going over to Ms. John’s was that we could never ring the doorbell, we always had to make our presence known in the most ridiculous way possible. Everything from walking in the front door and making ourselves comfortable like it was our own home to setting off enough fireworks to make it seem like the fourth of July had come early in her back yard. At three am one night one of my friends even went so far as to throw rocks at her bedroom window then held up a boom box playing “with all I’ve loved, I’m so lost without you” when she came to the window. It was absolutely hysterical for my friends and I, she was not as fortunate. Sure she’d initially start by being incredibly angry with us for disturbing her peace and quiet, but eventually she’d invite us in and we would raid her kitchen and post up on her sofa like it was our own home. She pretended like she hated having us over, but each time we visited her she couldn’t help but smile. So unless you want your annoying immature students coming over to your house at inappropriate hours, pulling some ridiculous prank on you and your home, and then sitting on your sofa and demolishing a small mountain of your food, learn from Ms. John’s mistakes. Don’t live in the school district you teach in and above all else, don’t tell your students where you live.