We had finished the notes. They had finished the practice problems. Four students were talking on the far side of the room in voices that were gradually getting louder. One of them cursed.
I looked up. He looked at me. His hands were clasped.
“Sorry,” he said.
I smiled but shook my head slowly.
“I’m sorry to your grandmother.”
There is one rule about language in our classroom. I teach it on the first day: I expect them to speak as if my grandmother is in the room. Because, I tell them, she always is.
“You’re grandmother is in the room?”
“She is.”
This turns out to be an effective way to frame things. I am not the bad guy. And without knowing her, they somehow know her well enough to regulate their own language.
“Mr. Hasan’s grandmother!” I sometimes hear one of them whispering to another.
She is always in the room.