Some classes are feisty, some docile. A few are dull, and others on the verge of insurrection. Teachers know not to predict class personality based on socio-economic data or time of the day or what other teachers have reported. When students arrive, they are what they are.

My two interdisciplinary “Senior Seminars” meet at the same time on alternate days, are drawn from the same pool of Oakton High School students, yet are as different as night and day. One is fairly predictable: terrific students, arriving to class prepared and ready to learn.

The other class is different. It has — how shall I say? — a split personality. One day it’s Dr. Jekyll, and the next Mr. Hyde.

This past Wednesday the class was attentive for awhile, but when we started on James Joyce’s Dubliners, Mr. Hyde’s ugly head reared itself. Half the class had not bothered to bring their books. Of the half who had brought the book, many were sitting before empty desks because it was still in their book bags. I had to ask them to take out their books and notes three times, and even then several students were pretending that a Soduko puzzle contained their Joyce notes.

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Did I mention that this is an Advanced Placement course, with the big test May 10?

I rarely show frustration, because after thirty years there is no set of behaviors that surprises me. Most classes can be cajoled out of temporary misbehavior by a kind or humorous word.

But on Wednesday, I had the fleeting vision of this class as hard core. This went beyond normal senioritis. Many of the students were proud of their intransigence. I solved the immediate crisis by deciding not to continue with my lecture. I turned it over to them, requesting a paragraph analyzing the epiphany at the end of the story. Once I had given them a hands-on task, we were no longer on collision paths.

We met again on Friday for a seminar based on Dubliners and the flaws Joyce exposes in 1905 Dublin. It is an interdisciplinary activity designed to show students that neither literature nor government exist in a vacuum---private vices have societal consequences.

Students were asked to write brief monologues from the perspective of someone who suffers from one of the major vices exhibited in Dubliners. Their prose adopted the complicated psychology of Joyce’s characters. Dr. Jekyll appeared as though Wednesday’s Mr. Hyde had never existed.

What they wrote was so powerful that all listened in silent awe as the monologues were read aloud. Their words showed empathy and an understanding of the roles denial and self-castigation play in the lives of those who commit crimes against themselves and others. I recognized that equal to my frustration on Wednesday was my admiration on Friday. They are compassionate, intelligent human beings. I am proud to be their teacher.

What will happen on Tuesday? I will hope for Dr. Jekyll, and remember that Mr. Hyde lurks in the shadows. But Mr. Hyde can never erase my memories of Friday. Student ennui may come and go, but writing is immortal.

Erica Jacobs teaches at Oakton High School and George Mason University. E-mail her at ejacob1@gmu.edu.