A recipe for school chaos. (In Real Life).(classroom interruptions)

THE BRONX, NEW YORK -- As a fresh Teach For America recruit in the South Bronx four years ago, I learned that the way a school was run could be the most important factor determining the success in my classroom. Here's why.

For the first hour or so every morning, most of my fourth graders would sit quietly, work diligently, and strive for praise from the teacher. As the day wore on, though, they would get jumpy. Our routines got weaker and weaker as lunchtime approached.

Any slight interruption, any disturbance in our delicate momentum, could cause heads to swivel around and an inexplicable murmur--it actually sounded like "mrmrrrrrr ..."--to erupt and swell throughout the room. That's why announcements on the public address system could be so exasperating. I would be leading a discussion on a story, or explaining a math problem, and suddenly I couldn't hear myself:

"Mrs. Bright, please contact the main office. Mrs. Bright, please contact the main office." It was all my kids needed. "Mrmrmrmrmrrrrrrrr...."

"I need to see everyone's eyes up here. Troy, let go of her hair. I like how Tiffany is sitting quietly--nice job. Maurice, those chips are off limits until lunch. Who can tell me another way to write two fourths?"

"Mrrrrr ... mrrr...."

This was an inner-city classroom, and the children needed to be left alone to focus. Couldn't my school's administrators see that? Apparently it was easier for people in the main office to disturb the entire school of 1,500 students in order to track down one person. All day every day we were beset by inane announcements: