Band-Aids vs. Thugs

I swear I get asked for assistance with completely pointless "injuries" at least 15 times a day.  "Miss, my eyes feel weird."  "Miss, my thumb is all tingly." "Miss, just now I thought I saw my grandma in here and she's dead."  Of those 15, probably 5 ask to go to the nurse because of their plight.  And then I tell them that the only nurse passes I write are for ebola or loose teeth.  Most of them have learned to stop asking me because they know I am heartless.  

Except Tre'shawn.

Tre'shawn thinks he is a giant thug and I think Tre'shawn is a giant infant.  Our difference in opinion came to a head today.

Tre'shawn: Miss, can I have a band-aid?

Me:  (Without looking up) Probably not.  

Tre'shawn: I'm bleeding.

Me: Show me.

I examine his pinky finger.

Me: There's nothing there. Get back to work.

Tre'shawn: Aw Miss but there's blood--

Me: Nope.  

Tre'shawn: BUT MISS--

Me: Nope.

Tre'shawn: MISS I'M SHOWIN' YOU--

Me: DID YOU OR DID YOU NOT DESCRIBE YOURSELF AS "HOOD" IN YOUR OWN ACROSTIC POEM.  

Silence.

Me: Band-aids are the opposite of hood.  

I'm thinking of getting that statement copyrighted (copywritten?).  Let me know if you'd like it on a t-shirt.

Love,

Teach

Sunday Evening Revelation

For each one of my students to leave my class a little better than when they came in.

This is my goal now.  One of my students cried in my arms on Friday because her cracked-out mother left her family the night before and told my student that it was her fault.  

Making my job solely about standardized test scores will leave my students handicapped and me disappointed.  From tomorrow on, it's still about learning, but it's way more about the people in my classroom-- getting them to be self-disciplined, motivated, considerate, confident.  If the student I mentioned earlier fails her standardized tests but leaves my class in May knowing that it's not her fault that her mom left, I've done my job.  I don't even care if I get fired.  You can quote me on that.  

Love,

Teach

*(You actually can't quote me on that because my name is not on here.  Joke's on you.)

Characters

Earlier this week I did a lesson on characterization with my 8th graders.  As a warm-up I showed the class pictures of celebrities and asked my students. to summarize his or her personality or character in one word. 

First, I showed a picture of Lil' Wayne.

"SEXY!" 
(Vetoed.)
"Successful!"
(Debated.)
"In jail!"
(High-fived.)

Then we did the same for Buzz.

"Brave!"
"Helpful!"
"Bilingual!"

I gave out a piece of candy for that one.  If you haven't seen Toy Story 3 you won't get it.

Then I showed a picture Queen Elizabeth II.  Big mistake.

"Oo, she instigatin'."
"She look like she two-faced."
"Triflin'."

ALL my students agreed.  When I asked them why, they got defensive and irrational ("Miss. Don't try to tell me you would let this lady anywhere near your personal belongings.")  They were so upset I thought they might start throwing things.

I was expecting stuff like "blingin'" or "boring" or "serious." Who knew my kids had such deep-seated hatred for QEII?

Love,

Teach

Substitute

Today I spent all day in the library for a professional development seminar while a sub taught my classes. Though I was originally looking forward to the opportunity to  a) sit in a comfy chair all day, b) learn c) hang out with all the other new teachers also required to attend the seminar, I soon discovered that the idea of someone else teaching my kids was almost as stressful as the idea of me teaching them.  

I've never had a baby come out of me, but I imagine that the way I was feeling today was a lot like leaving a newborn with a babysitter for the first time.  During training I kept glancing at the clock behind me.

8:40.  I wonder how the sub is dealing with Julio.  Oh, God.  I forgot to tell her not to let him use the bathroom.  Julio will be in there all day if she doesn't set the timer. I wonder if they'll let me run upstairs for a second and yell threats into the boy's bathroom.

9:25.  Did I lock my desk?  I should have taken inventory of my pens and snacks.  If I feel like a single one of my Uniball Vision Elite Micros or Apricot Clif Bars are gone, I will request a camera investigation.

10:10  If I were a sub during my 3rd period I would jump out the window.

By lunchtime it felt like my skin was crawling right off my body.  During our lunch break I ran upstairs.  I half-expected to see a dead substitute sprawled out across one of the tables, thousands of papers strewn across the floor, my personal belongings burning in a ceremonial fire in one corner.

Instead, a sweet-looking old woman was sitting at my desk, eating a sandwich.  The room was spotless.  The chairs were even pushed in.

"Oh, hello!" she said.  She brushed the crumbs from her hand over the trash can.  "Listen, your kids have been a delight.  Just a delight.  Your 5th period comes back when?  1:00?"

"12:45," I said in a daze.  "Really, though? They were OK?  They did the worksheets I left?"

"Yes ma'am.  I stacked them by class for you right here."

I felt like frowning.  

"Ok.  Thanks."

First of all, I think it's safe to say I have a control issue.  

Second, I'm still suspicious.

Love, 

Teach

Exercises in Style

Writing has always been a coping mechanism for me. Since my 8th graders are learning about different writing styles and techniques this week AND because I had a meltdown this afternoon, I thought I would address my current sentiments on teaching in a sort of technical showcase.  Are you ready?

Stream of consciousness/free association

"I can't do this I suck at this and all these kids are going to fail all their tests and the principal is going to say "why are they failing all their tests" and I'm going to throw up in her face from stress and I don't understand the lesson plans for this week which is hilarious because I made them and Why am I teaching I can't do this I wish I was married I would totally choose cranking out children over what I do now I need to get married but NOBODY WILL MARRY ME WITH THIS NASTY HAGGARD STRESS FACE there is no physical way I can make it til May I still need to change the seating chart for 6th period and Devion is going to hate me for putting her next to Lorenzo to which I will say something like "type up your SOB STORY and I'll GRADE IT" I need a way out of this I wish I could just write all day I wonder if I can get a job being a copywriter somewhere I wonder if it's too late this school year I can't do this my head hurts I can't do this... Mommy."

Point of view: letter from inanimate object

My dearest,

I miss you.  Baby, I miss us.  Remember the nights you used to hold me close for a full eight, sometimes ten hours?  Now, I'm lucky if I get you for a solid five, but even then all you do is yell out various ethnic names while dreaming.  Are you cheating on me? 

Maybe I need to change.  Maybe I need to be more supportive.  Am I too soft?  I want to be there for you, but I need YOU to be there for ME.  Please come back to me.

Love always,

Your Pillow

Vignette

Every day at 6:40 AM, the teacher unlocks her classroom door.  The day hasn't even begun, but she is exhausted.  This is a room she left a mere 11 hours ago. 

Just before entering, she is eye-level with the nameplate indicating who teaches in that classroom.  It is printed in italics on white computer paper.  The last name is misspelled, an "a" instead of an "e."  Underneath it reads "Science."

She teaches English.

Dialogue

Friend:  Hey, do you want to do something [weekday]?

Me: No, I'll be at school.

-------------------------

Friend:  Hey, do you want to do something [weekend day]?

Me: No, I'll be lesson planning.

-------------------------

Assistant Principal: Did I see you yesterday after school in the parking lot with your head on your steering wheel?

Me:  You sure did.

This has been very therapeutic!  I feel much better even though nothing has been accomplished.  I'm going to go make a can of soup now.

Love,

Teach

Me vs. Mother Teresa vs. Pablo

Last night I read the Time commemorative issue of Mother Teresa in honor of what would have been her 100th birthday.  Like anything written about Mother Teresa should do, the magazine made me want to be a better human being-- live more intentionally, seek justice more ardently, love deeper, etc.  As I fell asleep, I prayed to be more like her example in my interactions at school as a teacher.

By 9:10 this morning I had chucked that prayer very far away from my proverbial window.

One kid, Pablo*, was really pushing it.  I had scheduled a library orientation for the whole class, and after having to redirect his behavior twice for running his mouth while the librarian gave her presentation, I parked myself right next to him at his library table.  For 20 minutes he said nothing, and I was impressed.  Maybe I'm an effective disciplinarian, I thought.  Way to go, self!

"Can anyone think of some other things you can check out from a library?" asked Ms. Barcenas*.

"Magazines," said one of my students.

Pablo suddenly perked up.  He decided to speak directly across the table to the student on my left.

"DERRR, I wonder if we can check out porn."

Bad choice.

I slammed down the pen I was using to grade papers and whipped my head so that I was eye-to-eye with Pablo, maybe a foot away.

"REALLY?" I said, feeling one eyebrow arch dramatically higher than the other on my face.  I pointed to myself.  "I'm sitting RIGHT next to you, pal."

I let my sassiness sting for a few moments, especially the flavor with which I said "pal." Then I saw a gold crucifix around his neck.

"He heard that, you know."  I said, motioning to his necklace as I went back to my stack of papers.

And that was as close as I got to pious today.

Love,

Teach


*All names on here are changed, obviously.

Bitch.

It’s my third week as a teacher. I teach 7th and 8th grade at a low-income school at one of the largest public school districts in the country. 100% of my students are on the free lunch program.

It’s been a good morning. I was only called a bitch twice, but both times the kids were under the stress of learning about quotation marks. Honestly, I can sympathize--if you’ve never seen them before, they’re a little bewildering. Plus the example sentences were absurd.

“Would you like to go tubing this weekend after the clam bake?” asked Catherine.

Apparently they got Elle Woods to write the textbooks.

Anyway, one of the kids who called me a bitch apologized after class without being prompted, which was about as mind-blowing for me as quotation marks were for them.

“Sorry,” he said.

I just stood there.

“For calling you a bitch.” He clarified.

“Ah.”

I wish I’d had something better to say, but I didn’t. The thing is, even the roughest of these kids know when they’ve pushed it, and I know he felt bad about it. So shaking my finger and saying “And that’s the last time, mister!” would have probably undone any guilt he felt. I almost put a hand on his shoulder out of gratitude, but this was the same student who threatened to “f*&k me up” last week, so I opted out.

Another reason this morning was great was because I had a SuperSonic breakfast burrito before school, which, if you’ve never had one, is something you should invest in tomorrow morning or at your earliest convenience. Eggs, sausage, jalapeno slices, diced tomato, onions, and –take a deep breath—tater tots. The only bourgeois part was the tortilla, but other than that, the SuperSonic breakfast burrito is for the elite.

Anyway, I’m keeping this blog to remember my first year of teaching. I know it’s only going to get harder for a while, and I know that there will be days when I come home crying, and I know that there will be days when I want to write a dramatic farewell note and put my own head under a guillotine. But I want to start out on a good note. And today, that note is apologies and breakfast burritos.


Love,

Teach