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The first time I met Libby*, I knew I was in for a rough time. 

Libby was the type of teen you hear about on Oprah and Dr. Phil.  She was full of anger and attitude and all of it was directed at her parents, who hauled her to my school completely against her wishes.  They said she was hangin’ with the wrong crowd, drinking, and messing around with a boyfriend.  I was asked to come to the principal’s office to meet and greet her.

When I came into the office, I saw a girl in torn-up jeans and a low-cut shirt curled up in a  chair with her back to her father.  Her hair fell across her face, covering one eye completely and if looks could kill, well, then we’d all be dead.  I said “Hello,” to her and her father.  Dad said “Hello” back.   Libby ignored me.  I asked her to turn and face me.  She ignored me again.  With the firmest teacher voice I could muster, I told her we were not going to get anywhere until she turned around and spoke to me face to face. 

She finally turned around.   

“So Libby, what’s going on here?  Why are you here?” I asked.    

“I don’t want to be here.  My stupid father over there made me come.  I am not going to school here.”

“Why do you think he brought you here?”

“Because he’s a jerk and I hate him."

And so began our relationship.  The next day Libby came to visit without her parents.  She seemed really excited and had a much better attitude.  She sat in the classroom with me and we talked about safe topics, such as school and her favorite subject.  I told her about the rules and expectations at our school, including the dress code—of which she happened to be in violation.  I said her arrival in the middle of the year was a chance for a fresh start in a new building, to go after the person she really wanted to be.  After an hour and a half she asked if she could go home for lunch and come back later.  To my surprise, not only did she return but she changed her clothes to comply with our dress code.

She seemed ready to make a change.

Well, change comes slowly, especially for a teen girl.  Libby told all sorts of outrageous tales in order to fit in and be cool.  Her classmates knew she was lying, especially when she made up doosies, like telling everyone she was late for school because she had just been in a snowboard competition.  And, of course, she’d have to add that she took second place.  Students looked past her fibbing and saw a girl who could be fun to hang out with.  Nevertheless, she continued to speak poorly of her parents and manipulate the truth between home and school in order to have things her way. 

The teaching staff frequently discussed how we could positively impact Libby and support what her parents were trying to accomplish.  Her mother felt that God had great things in store for Libby.  As teachers in a parochial school, we all felt the same way and agreed she needed a firm set of hands to guide her in the right direction.  So, we kept up daily email messages with the parents to communicate her academic progress and any concerns we were experiencing.  We held Libby to a high standard of behavior, immediately addressing any lies we thought she was telling and expecting all of her homework to be done daily.  We also tried to help her develop healthy relationships with all the students in her class. 

It wasn’t easy.  Libby was always full of excuses, coming to school late after faking a headache or stomachache so she could miss religion class.  Her school work fluctuated but showed signs of improvement.  Through it all, we, her teachers never gave up on her.  We counseled her, pushed her and backed off when necessary.  No matter what, we tried to show her we loved her. 

Libby was in our school for 1½ years.  Over time, she lost a lot of her attitude without losing her personality.  She seemed to genuinely enjoy talking with us and developed several good friendships.  Her grades improved and she complained less and less about her parents.

At the 8^th grade graduation ceremony, Libby was selected to give a graduation speech.  The tough, attitude-filled girl from 17 months earlier stood on the altar of the church sobbing hard and thanking her parents and her teachers for sticking by her as she moved away from her troubled past and into a brighter more directed future. 

It would be easy to say that we as teachers made a tremendous impact on Libby and helped to reshape her path – that the power of love and consistent discipline won the day.  However, I often think of all the mistakes I made with her:  I wonder if I was too hard or too soft on her?  Did I let my irritation with her get the best of me so that I copped an attitude with her? This girl pushed my buttons.  And though I knew better and tried not to react, I often failed.  I was short with her or outwardly acted frustrated.  I would always apologize but knew, often, that I had hit my mark.    

Ultimately, the best I can do is be fair and consistent with my expectations and hope that Libby, or the next student like her, chooses to follow a straighter path than the one they were on. Every day that I go to school, that is what I try to do: be consistent and fair.  I try to hold my tongue and think about the student's well-being and self-esteem above my own need to be right or have the last word.  

Libby taught me that.     

It has been a few years since I have seen or spoken to Libby.  Her circle of friends has changed several times since she left my school so I have not been privy to any of the intimacies of her life.  The few kids I know that still see her don’t have much to say about her and I take that as a good sign. 

Bad news travels fast, you know.  So no news must be good news.  And for Libby, I pray that it is all good news.

*Margaret Andersen is not her real name.

*Libby is not her real name.

 Margaret Andersen is the mother of three teenagers and a middle school teacher somewhere in the Midwest.  She is a regular ShareWIK.com columnist. For more Margaret Anderson articles, click here. 

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