SATURDAY THOUGHTS: TATTLETALE

When I was teaching children, among the hundreds of Kindergarten through 6th grade students, would be those who tattled incessantly—and passionately. Their reporting always began with startling choruses of “Awwwwwwwww! I’m’a telllllllllll!”

Every now and then it was “Ooooooooooooo!!! You’re gonna get in trouble! Miss Williams! Look at what _____is doing!”

Everything with them was an emergency; a crisis; the worst thing, EVER. Everything, to them, needed my immediate attention. The notion was that I must be informed, become outraged, and act. Further, why hadn’t I seen or heard it first? The tattler saw him or herself as an assistant, a watchdog, a help, and my eyes and ears. Surely, if I weren’t so busy, I would have noticed the chaos unfolding, myself. Wouldn’t I?

The constant tattling, itself, about what someone had said or done, was often more exhausting to endure, than whatever alleged wrong had been done. I knew the way I was approached: the shrieking tone, flailing hands, juvenile indignation, and anguished face, meant there would be pint-sized bad news, that I “NEEDED to know”, and was expected to do something about it ALL. 

It occurred to me that my exasperated, “Sweetie. Calm down. It’s really not that serious”, was perhaps dismissive, confusing, or condescending. 

 “If it was wrong when she said it, why would you repeat it?”, was a question that always stunned them. 

Saying, “Look. I don’t want to HEAR it. Do you understand?”, as I’d try to redirect the class, and stay focused on what I thought was more pressing, was a soul crushing statement. “Stop broadcasting ignorance! It’s not important! Why are you focused on that? You’re supposed to be focusing on your work!”

The way their outrage and indignation broke through the quiet of the class, was often more annoying than ANYTHING another child was up to. 

Disturbing the peace, for me, was a no-no. Tattlers, however, felt obliged to spotlight every wrong. My stern, “If you were paying attention to me, you wouldn’t have even seen what he did!”, always left the tattler speechless. 

How dare I make them the bad guys? They were eyewitnesses, breaking news, weren’t they? They didn’t have a better way to alert me, other than to be disruptive themselves —although they never saw it that way. No one was deathly ill. The room wasn’t on fire, but that “Awwwwwww! Ms. Wiiiiiiimmmmssss! Did you see what he did?”, was worse to my ears than the fire alarm.

Informing me that someone was talking, looking on someone else’s paper, not following directions, or eating candy, was more important than the lesson I was teaching, or the concentration of their classmates. 

“What’s worse?”, I’d think to myself. “Them sneaking cookies, or you yelling out like a maniac every 8 minutes? Now, I’m looking at YOU.”

The coattails of adults, that tattlers chose to yank, to get attention to perceived problems, and rapid punishment for their unruly peers, was strategic. In their little minds, some adults cared, were principled, proactive, and didn’t tolerate infractions, so they were  sure they’d see swift justice served. When their keepers of law and order DIDN’T become as enraged as they were, ignored, or dismissed THEM and their reports, they did NOT get it. You were supposed to share their indignation, not be mad at THEM, for merely bringing to your attention what you were obviously too distracted to notice. 

“Didn’t you hear what I said? She isn’t following your directions! He brought a game to class! She took somebody’s pencil! He’s here, but he’s playing in the hallway! They took more than one sheet of paper! She wrote on the table! He’s using too much glue! She said the b-word! He broke a crayon! Don’t you care? Don’t you want to know EVERYTHING wrong that’s going on? Don’t you want up-to-the-minute-play-by-play? You have authority. Why aren’t you doing something about it? Why are you letting it slide? Why are you upset with ME? You should be THANKING me! I’m helping you to stay informed!”

Refuse to act, and the tattler lost faith in you, your integrity, and willingness to right wrongs. They concluded that you’re more disgusted with their doom-and-gloom tattling, than the actions that prompted them to tell you in the first place. So, they became fluent in “I told you so”, or “I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen”. 

They saw so much wrong being “allowed”, and the “wrong” people being punished, admonished, bullied, ridiculed, or silenced, that they figured “Why bother trying to be good?” 

They soon stopped seeing, noticing, and reporting—at least to YOU, anyway. Afterall, you shot them down, mid “Awwwww!”, one too many times. They took offense to your misguided offense. They never saw themselves as annoying tattlers. They thought they were doing a public/classroom service. The tattling ceased, not because they were suddenly self-aware, but because they figured, “If the people who are supposed to care, DON’T, or get upset with ME for boldly pointing out everything that’s wrong in my world, why bother? 

It never occurred to them that it wasn’t so much about the content they shared. Perhaps they were right to be outraged, but it was the volume, nature, timing, urgency, and consistency of their announcements, that made the tattler so nerve- wracking, stressful, and easy to dismiss.