The Seating Chart
(Notes from the Teacher's Lounge of Nations)
Lady T taught middle school for 27 years. And every teacher knows: there’s always That Kid.
Not every term. But often enough. The one who can’t stop making everything about himself. The one who, the moment you step out of the room, starts something. The one whose name your spouse learns at the dinner table because you come home exhausted, again, from managing him.
When I started hearing the same name over and over at dinner, I knew Tami was having a rough term.
Here’s the thing about That Kid: everybody knows. The other students know. The administration knows. The kid himself knows. It’s not a secret. It’s just... the situation.
And here’s what 27 years of teaching teaches you: you don’t yell. You don’t make a scene. You don’t try to reason with him in front of everyone.
You just rearrange the seating chart.
You put him where he can’t do damage. You put yourself, or your steadiest student, right next to him. You change the structure so the behavior can’t happen. The seating chart is the message.
A few weeks ago, a leaked call transcript revealed Finnish President Alexander Stubb warning European leaders: don’t leave Zelensky alone in a room with the American negotiators.
Read that again. A NATO head of state, telling other NATO heads of state: don’t leave the Ukrainian president unsupervised with... us.
That’s not diplomacy-speak. That’s teacher-lounge talk. That’s “don’t leave him alone with That Kid, you know what happens.”
In the standard format, the United States talks directly to Ukraine. Europe learns what was said secondhand, and only then begins to assemble a response. That lag creates asymmetry. It gives room to apply pressure, frame choices as faits accomplis, make promises or threats that can’t be immediately verified.
Stubb wasn’t questioning anyone’s intentions. He was reading the room. He knew what happens when the teacher steps out.
Yesterday, Ukraine-Germany-US peace talks concluded in Berlin. Chancellor Friedrich Merz sat next to President Zelensky throughout the meeting.
Not across the table. Next to him.
He didn’t make a speech about it. Didn’t issue a statement. He just... rearranged the seating chart.
With Germany in the room—physically in the room, at the moment pressure would normally be applied—the range of available tactics narrows immediately. Any suggestion that the United States might halt air-defense missile deliveries runs into an obvious problem: Germany is the buyer. These are European contracts. With Merz right there, any attempt to freelance gets complicated. He can clarify claims directly. Instantly. And Berlin’s presence removes deniability. If pressure is applied in ways that cross a line, Germany can say so publicly, as a statement of fact, not a rumor.
The format mattered more than anything that was said. With Merz in that seat, the structure itself prevented the behavior.
Every teacher knows the silence that follows The Move.
You don’t announce it. You don’t explain it. You just change the seating chart, and the room goes quiet. Because everyone understands what just happened. Even That Kid. Especially That Kid.
The Berlin talks ended with complete silence from all three delegations. No leaks. No spin. No one rushing to frame the narrative.
That’s the silence after the seating chart changes. Everyone understood.
While the adults were rearranging the classroom, Ukraine reminded everyone they’re not just sitting there waiting to be managed.
Ukrainian “Sub Sea Baby” underwater drones hit a Russian Varshavyanka-class submarine in Novorossiysk harbor. A $500 million submarine, disabled by a drone costing under $250,000. Cost ratio: 2,000 to 1. The first successful underwater drone attack on a submarine in history.
That’s not desperation. That’s the quiet kid in the back row who’s been building something while everyone else was focused on the drama. The one who actually does the assignment while That Kid is acting out.
Here’s what I learned from all those years of hearing about Tami’s classrooms:
The goal is never to fix That Kid. You can’t. That’s not your job, and it’s probably not possible anyway. The goal is to create conditions where learning can happen for everyone else. To route around the disruption. To build a structure where the behavior can’t derail everything.
Merz didn’t try to fix anyone. He just changed the seating chart.
Stubb didn’t give a speech. He just passed a note in the teacher’s lounge.
Ukraine didn’t wait for permission. They just kept building drones in the garage.
That’s what functional looks like. Not dramatic confrontation. Just... adults, doing adult things. Rearranging the room so the work can get done.
The silence from Berlin tells you it’s working.
Beò an Reàbhlaid!
SO RIGHT! I would call it plowing around the rock in the field. Yea to the sanity of the teachers in the teacher lounge.