Teachers are human and, like all humans, can get angry and frustrated—sometimes with an individual student or sometimes with an entire class.

Especially during the first years of my career when that happened, every ounce of my being wanted to lash out and punish. However, I knew nothing good would come out of acting that way. So, I would immediately try to think about what would doing the exact opposite look like. Though I didn’t often go that far, more often than not, my thinking and action would move in that direction, and I’m sure the results were far, far better than if I had acted on my initial impulse.

As I gained experience and more maturity, I tried to remember two old adages:

* There were no bad students, only good students who were having bad days (or weeks).

* None of us knows what battles another person may be experiencing.

Remembering those sayings usually was enough to calm me down ...

Of course, I also sometimes had my bad days, too. On those, I might raise my voice in anger with the entire class or send a student out to the hallway. Since I so seldom took those actions, and since I made such a high priority of maintaining positive relationships with my students, seeing my reaction usually prompted some self-reflection on their parts. Combine that with a quick apology from me for losing my temper, and things would “blow over” for everybody fairly soon.

Here are some ideas from other educators on how they handle things when they get frustrated with their class.

‘Stepping Back”

Michael D. Steele, Ed.D., is a professor and the chairperson of the Department of Educational Studies in Teachers College at Ball State University. He is a past president of the Association of Mathematics Teacher Educators, current director-at-large of the National Council of Teachers of Mathematics, and former editor of the journal Mathematics Teacher Educator:

Every teacher has moments when they’re displeased, angry, or frustrated with a student in class. This situation is always challenging to manage. When I think about these situations, I find it helpful to use the framework of the didactic contract to get to the reason for the frustration and anger. Violations of the didactic contract generally relate to one of three areas: the norms of the classroom, knowledge and learning, or pedagogical transparency.

If the issue with the student or class relates to a violation of the classroom norms, the first question a teacher should ask themselves is, are my norms clear and evident to everyone? Sometimes, our classroom norms are posted publicly in the classroom, but often, even with a set of publicly posted norms, there are implicit norms in the classroom that may be violated in these situations.

If the anger stems from violation of an explicit norm, pausing the class and engaging them in a discussion of what has happened, why the norm exists, and collective problem-solving over what to do about it going forward can be helpful. If the norm is an implicit one, teachers should consider whether that norm needs to be made explicit and do so, following up with a conversation about the need for the norm and what following the norm looks like.

Sometimes, anger and frustration can come from a teacher feeling like their students are not learning what they intended students to learn in the classroom. For example, I experienced this as an early career teacher when I was attempting to explain an idea or understand student thinking and I couldn’t come up with alternative ways to talk about the mathematics idea or to connect to the student’s thinking.

In these cases, it’s helpful to step back and have a conversation with the student or the class about what is difficult in this situation. Is it a lack of prior knowledge that is standing in the way? Are students implicitly sharing that this is a topic that they’ve already learned and understood and thus feeling like the lesson is wasting their time? Having a conversation about the content-related stumbling blocks can help in this situation.

A third category that can engender anger and frustration is pedagogical. As a mathematics teacher, I wanted my students to engage in productive struggle, a key pedagogical practice for learning mathematics. Sometimes, they interpreted this as “not teaching them” when I asked questions back to them in response to their own questions. My goals were to put them in a situation where they would grapple with the key ideas and build their own understanding rather than me telling them what to think.

In these cases when they pushed back and I felt angry about that move, it was helpful for me to be transparent with them about what I was trying to do pedagogically and why it was likely to benefit them. For example, I might say that I’m not asking questions back just to be coy, but that I’m trying to get them to think about something and build on their own understanding. It also helped to remind them that it was my job to get them to where we wanted them to be in a lesson with respect to learning. I would help them develop their understanding together, and a part of that was that they needed to wrestle with difficult ideas.

A common theme across all of these scenarios is that when we’re feeling angry with students or a class, there’s an underlying cause that relates to our intentions to support students in learning. It could be about norms, prior knowledge, or our pedagogical approach. Stepping back and having an explicit conversation about the scenario takes class time, but it helps us resolve the situation in a way that leverages student assets and builds trust for the future.

‘I Am Human, Too’

Laleh Ghotbi teaches all 4th grade academic subjects at Mountain View Elementary in Salt Lake City. She began her teaching career over 30 years ago, working with middle and high school students in Iran:

When I become extremely displeased or upset with a student or the entire class, how I respond depends on how emotional I am in that moment.

If I’m feeling overwhelmed, I’ll often ask students to quietly engage in an independent activity, such as reading their library books or completing a page in their idioms booklet, while I take a short break to regulate my emotions. I usually tell them honestly, “I’m upset and need a moment before we continue.” This models emotional regulation and healthy communication.

If I’m very upset and the situation involves many students or the whole class, I pause instruction and call for a community-building session. If time allows, we push the chairs aside and sit in a circle on the floor; if not, we talk while seated at our desks. I begin by expressing my feelings and what led to them, using “I” statements. Then, if they feel comfortable, students share their perspectives on how we reached that point. They describe behaviors that contributed to the situation, without naming individuals, and offer their feelings and suggestions for improvement.

These moments are often the most meaningful part of our classroom experience. Students show maturity and empathy; some even tear up as they express their frustrations or concerns. Occasionally, they hug me when I’m upset or in tears. The students involved in the issue hear the impact of their actions without being directly blamed, and they feel seen, heard, and held accountable by their community. It’s powerful.

If the issue stems from my own personal hardship, like when I lost my dad overseas and couldn’t be there, I let students know I’m having a hard day. Depending on the situation, I may or may not disclose the reason, considering whether it’s a teachable moment and whether students can relate.

After I shared my loss with the class, one student who had also lost her father wrote me a heartfelt note. She shared her pain and told me that because I had opened up, she felt safe enough to do the same. That moment reminded me how important it is for our students to see us as human beings with feelings. When we allow ourselves to be vulnerable, we give our students permission to do the same, and that trust strengthens the classroom community.

At times, when students are repeatedly disruptive and do not respond to typical strategies, I may use a firm and elevated voice to convey the seriousness of the situation. If that happens, I take responsibility by calmly apologizing and explaining why I raised my voice. I also take the opportunity to model the difference between being loud and yelling, demonstrating the difference in tone, intention, and control. I want students to understand that setting firm boundaries can be done respectfully and that even adults reflect and course correct.

I rarely send students to the office, as I believe in solving problems within our classroom community. However, if a student poses a safety concern to themselves or others, I take appropriate steps and involve the office as needed.

In all situations, I try to approach each moment with empathy, honesty, and a belief in students’ capacity to grow and make things right. And just as I extend grace to my students, I remind myself to do the same, for I am human, too, and still learning alongside them.

‘Anger ... Is Often a Message’

Ruby M. Decker is a K–12 art educator, author, and speaker with nearly a decade of experience in high-needs public schools. Her book, Supporting Classroom Management for Art Teachers: Effective Strategies for K–12 (Routledge, 2025), offers practical, research‑informed tools tailored to the unique challenges of art rooms. You can learn more about her work at www.manageartclass.com:

After eight years teaching in high-needs art rooms—from students living in their cars to those navigating trauma or neurodivergence—I’ve learned that anger in the classroom is often a message. It’s telling me that a line has been crossed: a boundary, a value, or a moment of genuine overwhelm. I used to take that anger personally. Now, I treat it like a smoke alarm—it deserves attention but not panic.

When I feel myself getting angry, the first thing I do is pause. I stop talking, take a breath, and ground myself with small, calming movements—like slowly stepping over to straighten a stack of supplies or quietly wiping down a table. This gives me a moment to settle my nervous system and model calm. I might also dim the lights or put on soft music, signaling to students that we’re resetting the tone of the room without needing a lecture. Silence can speak louder than yelling.

Then, I narrate reality: “I’m noticing that the room is very loud, and people are out of their seats.” Stating what’s happening, without judgment, helps defuse tension—for both me and the students.

If my anger is tied to repeated disrespect, I wait to address it until I’ve cooled down. I might say later, “When you called out like that, it interrupted others’ focus and disrespected the space we’ve worked hard to build. What’s going on?” This creates room for conversation, not confrontation. Some of my best breakthroughs have come from those moments.

When it’s the whole class, I might pull everyone together and say calmly, “Something isn’t working today. I’m going to give you a quiet five minutes. After that, we’ll try again.” I use that time to model regulation—not control. It’s not punishment. It’s a reset.

Ultimately, I’ve found that anger is best managed when I’ve already built a classroom culture of predictability and trust. Students rise to meet expectations they understand and feel invested in. That foundation is what turns a potentially explosive moment into a teachable one.

Reflection

Millicent Williams is an ESL teacher of 10 years and the podcast host of My Adventures in ESL:

Last year, I noticed I was having a lot of problems with a group I was teaching. They seemed irritated every day with me, and there were times they would even groan if they had to come to my class. To say the least, I was heartbroken they didn’t want to come to my class. There were times they were disrespectful, and it was one of those times I reached my breaking point.

The first step was taking a step back and reflecting. I reflected on how I built relationships and connected with the students. During the reflection, I realized that I did very little to connect with the students and took the necessary actions to correct it. I also had a very vulnerable conversation with the students. I let them know it’s not OK to treat other people with disrespect.

Soon after taking the time to rebuild relationships, I noticed a huge difference. One thing I did was before they came into the classroom, I asked if they wanted a high-five, hug, fist bump, or a wave. I was shocked at how many of them wanted a hug. I have some of the same students, and it is like night and day. They always run up to me in the hall to say hello and are eager to come to class every day. In the end, some self-reflecting, adjustments, and listening to their needs completely transformed the classroom.

Thanks to Michael, Laleh, Ruby, and Millicent for contributing their thoughts.

Responses today answered this question:

What do you do when, for whatever reason, you get extremely displeased/angry with a student or an entire class?

Consider contributing a question to be answered in a future post. You can send one to me at lferlazzo@epe.org. When you send it in, let me know if I can use your real name if it’s selected or if you’d prefer remaining anonymous and have a pseudonym in mind.

You can also contact me on X at @Larryferlazzo or on Bluesky at @larryferlazzo.bsky.social

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