When a Student Tried to Speed run a Practice ACT and I Accidentally Broke a Soul

There are days in teaching when you feel like a pillar of wisdom and grace. And then there are days when a student walks out of a practice ACT test mid-session, declares that being on student council grants diplomatic immunity, grabs a bag full of who-knows-what, and struts out like it's a casual Tuesday at the UN.

Guess which kind of day I had?

Yes, this is a story of simulated high-stakes testing, adolescent overconfidence, and the moment I—an allegedly functional adult—uttered five words that launched an emotional catastrophe:

“I don’t accept your apology.”

Let’s set the scene: Practice ACT day. The vibe is serious. Pencils sharpened. Bathroom breaks limited to one student at a time. Monitors in the hall. It’s not the official ACT, but we’re running it like it is, because we’re trying to prepare students for what the real day will demand: focus, rules, protocol.

And then, like a disruptor in a silent heist movie, one student stands up mid-test, invokes student council status like it’s a diplomatic passport, grabs their bag (with active test materials still out), and walks out.

To be clear: this is not just “poor judgment.” This is “testing environment violation with leaderboard consequences.” Had this been a real test, the entire room's scores could’ve been at risk. Test security is a sacred cow in education. This? This was setting the cow on fire.

So I emailed admin. With the subtlety of a flamethrower.

I expressed, in no uncertain terms, that someone exhibiting that level of disregard for procedure probably shouldn't be representing anyone, let alone the school. Was it professionally worded? Technically. Was the tone more “factual concern” or “seasoned teacher at the end of their rope”? Let’s just say: the tone was... present.

And then came the unexpected twist.

Later that day, the student came to apologize.

And here’s where I took my righteous indignation and turned it into a learning moment for absolutely no one. I looked this student in the eye, already braving what I imagine was a very awkward walk down the hallway, and said:

“I don’t accept your apology.”

Apparently that hit hard. I’m told there were tears. In the admin office. Possibly enough to short-circuit a desktop computer.

So… let’s talk about that.

Was the behavior unacceptable? Yep.

Was it frustrating, disrespectful, and disruptive? No doubt.

Was I still trying to stay composed while mentally setting test protocol guidelines on fire? You bet.

But did I need to respond like I was starring in a made-for-TV courtroom drama? Maybe not.

Here’s the hard truth about teaching: you can enforce the rules without erasing the kid. You can be firm without being final. When a student apologizes—especially one who probably had to chew through layers of pride and embarrassment to do it—sometimes your job is to recognize the effort, not just the infraction.

Next time? I’ll try something like:

“Thanks for coming to apologize. This was a serious issue, and we’re not brushing it aside, but I appreciate the step you’re taking.”

That keeps the door open without pretending everything’s fine. That’s the kind of adult I want to be—even when I’m furious, tired, and tempted to throw ACT booklets out a window.

We're all learning. Even the ones in the teacher’s chair.