The Curious Case of the Children Who Couldn't Stay Seated

I've recounted this "cultural experience" to a number of people already, so if this recap is a bit repetitive, I apologize.

Last year in my 23-student 2nd-grade class I had a lot of kids who spent the better part of the first trimester sitting on the floor. Now, this wasn't some kind of punishment, nor a behavior-modification practice, nor anything imposed on the students by me. Simply, the kids fell out of their seats frequently. Not just because little Pierre is fidgety or because little Marie-Claudine is clumsy but instead it seemed to me little Jean and little Brigitte and little François and little Clotilde and little Louis and little Juliette and little René and little Véronique (shall I go on...?) just didn't know how to maintain their center of gravity in such a way that they could make it through a class without toppling over like defective Weebles and plunking to the floor.

Though my memories might be a bit fuzzy, I certainly don't recount having lived this same experience during my elementary school days. I definitely never fell out of my chair from tipping back, which I assume is the most common American cause for suddenly ending up on the floor. And when someone did take a spill in this manner, it usually caused quite a classroom disruption - the class would usually go up in a roar of laughter and the teacher would say something sarcastic, like "and that's why we don't tip in our chairs, boys and girls."

However, it's not chair-tipping that would cause my students to hit the ground last year. In fact, (fortunately) it's impossible to tip the chairs in my classroom, since they're either connected to the desk in a single unit, or even connected to a pair of desks with the seat being a bench, instead of a single chair. No, my 2nd-graders didn't have this excuse to explain why, when I turned back from the blackboard, there was one less head in the row and little Sylvie was sitting in the aisle, looking only vaguely phased by her suddenly acquired, new surroundings. Surprisingly, though, and different from my own elementary experience, when my French students fell out of their seats, it was one (perhaps the only!) event that did not break up the silence, concentration or focus of the class. They would see a classmate go down and hardly bat an eye, continuing to color, to answer questions or to take part in a class activity. Likewise, the student who had temporarily lost control of his or her body would (maybe) look surprised for only a fraction of a second, before popping back up into his or her seat. And things would proceed as usual.

I think I had about one kid falling out of his or her chair each class through the better part of November, with things ebbing by the time the holiday break rolled around. This peculiarity continued, minimally, through the rest of the year. I never really made any remarks to the students, first from an utter lack of something to say, and then so as not to draw attention to the distraction. Also, I feared to encourage like behavior. Plus, I figured, if the kid just got right back into his or her seat, and no one said anything, it must not be something on which it was worth wasting my time. So in addition, I know the continued floor-sitting wasn't a product of trying to get my attention. Nor was it a product of "the naughty kids" doing what they do best in trying to cause a distraction. My best students fell out of their seats. My worst students fell out of their seats. It was an equal-opportunity event. Though this bizarre affliction didn't seem to touch my older students. I had maybe one or two 3rd-graders who toppled over throughout the whole year, but nothing like the 2nd-grade epidemic.

What makes this story noteworthy (aside from what seemed to be a cultural phenomenon) is the perspective I'm getting in year two. This year, my former 2nd-grade-tumblers are now properly-seated 3rd-graders. And in my new batch of 2nd-graders, I've had not a single incident yet. (Knock on wood.)

What prompted this whole analysis?

Today, Ludivine, one of my more-frequent 2nd-grade floor-sitters from last year (not enough to be excessive, but enough to be memorable) toppled over during 3rd-grade English class. I couldn't help but remark, "are you okay!?!" as she picked herself up off the floor. Aside from looking a bit sheepish, nothing was out of the norm: no one else said a word, nor even lifted their heads, and class continued as usual.