“Sam, what do you have there?”

“Nothing?”

“You using your phone?”

“No,”

I knew he lied to me, but I let it pass for the moment and got back to reading the riot act to the class in an “unriotous” way.

At the end of the class period, as the students were filing out, I caught Sam by the arm

“Using your cell phone before?” I quietly asked.

“Yeah,” he admitted.

I merely said, “You know the rules. Four dozen donuts. Next class.”

Then, his challenging sassing session began. “I’m not buying them.”

Students stopped, looked, and listened. “Were you were using your cell phone? I asked quietly. “Did you break the rules? Worse of all, did you lie to me? Four dozen donuts”

“I don’t have the money.”

“Then you shouldn’t have taken the risk of being Caught. Four dozen donuts.”

“I’m not bringing them in!”

“You know the rules about cell phones. They’re in the syllabus. I told you about them first day of class. I tell you everyday to shut those suckers off. And, when mine went off in class last week, I brought in donuts. Four dozen donuts.”

With an in-your-face posturing, he loudly said, “I’m paying your salary. I sure as hell am not going to feed your mouth.”

Calmly I responded, “Four dozen donuts. Next class.”

“And if I don’t bring them?”

“There are always consequences to breaking the rules.”

“They’re not my rules.”

“They’re mine. Four dozen donuts. Next classroom.”

“What are you going to do if I don’t? You gonna kick me out of the class? You gonna lower my grade? Huh? Huh?” The gauntlet lay on the ground.

I kept cool but firm All eyes were on me. I had a slight smile on my face, shuck my shoulders a bit, and replied with a nod of my head, I picked the gauntlet up by quietly saying, “That’s for me to know and for you to worry about for the rest of the semester. But, you don’t really want me to be an unhappy camper. Four dozen donuts! Next class!”

“I can still drop this course without you hurting me.”

 “That’s your decision, but that will cost you a lot more than four dozen donuts.”

He stumped out with a muttering, “I ain’t bringing in no donuts.” The other students left buzzing. That wasn’t the end of it. As I walked home, Sam was sitting on the lawn surrounded by three young ladies. He yelled out to me with a smirk on his face and a sarcasm in his voice, “I still ain’t bringing in no donuts.” Then, everyone laughed.

I stopped, turned, walked over to him, swatted down, and with a firm voice and a stern face replied, “You don’t want to try me.”

“I’ll go to your department head or dean,” he said with another snicker as he turned to the giggling girl.”

I knew he was showing off. Again, coolly and firmly I merely responded with a less than happy look on my face, “I told you at the beginning of the semester that I have had a hooded Klansman threaten me with a loaded shotgun when I was protesting a Klan meeting in Durham back in the sixties. What makes you think I’m quivering in fear at your meager threat? Like I said, ‘you don’t want to try me.'”

The snicker left his face. The girls quieted down. He wrote in his journal that evening, “There sure are some disrespectful professors on this campus. They tell you they care about you and then show that they don’t care.”

I wrote back, “Somehow I think deliberately breaking the rules, distracting other students, not listening, refusing to accept the accepted consequences, sassing a professor in front of others shows that there are some students on this campus who are disrespectful to others and, more importantly, to themselves.” That still wasn’t the end of it.

I got a call from his mother. I suppose talking with her violated federal privacy laws, but I knew her call was at the instigation of her son. She told me her son’s version of the incident. I told her my version. We got into a “he said, he said” exchange. Finally, I said, “The bottom line is that he knew the rules, deliberately broke them, and has to bear the consequences. He challenged me in front of other students. He did the same thing outside class. Worse, he disrespected me and lied to me. I’ll not have it. If I cave in, which I’m not going to do, your son’s respect for me is gone and so is that of the other students’. You’re a teacher. How would you react if a student openly did that to you.”

We talked some more. She said she was surprised since “yours is his favorite class….what if he brings in the donuts. You still going to look unkindly on what he had said and done to you?”

“If he brings in the donuts, he will have learned a life lesson that’s far more important than cell phones, donuts, sassing, and even a history class. He’ll learn something about responsibility. And, that’s what is most important. Look, I know he’s a teenager and maybe he was testing me. But, I expect things like that. My ego isn’t in this and I’ve got a thick skin. For me, this is a critical teaching moment for him and all those who saw what had happened. I can’t control Sam, but the situation gives me a chance to show him and others how I would respond. And, that is what matters most: not that he had challenged me, but how I reacted. He accepts his responsibility and brings in the donuts, it’s over as if nothing was said and done. He doesn’t even have to apologize. The donuts will say it all.”

Next class, Sam came in with four dozen donuts and a cautious smile on his face. As the students munched on the goodies, the two of us went out into the hall. All I’ll say is that he offered a sincere apology, a very sincere apology, that I accepted it, that we talked, that he “killed” himself in class for the rest of the semester, that he got his “A” at the end of the semester, and that we became the best of friends.

Louis