Haters

Earlier this week, one of my students was brushing his hair with this little baby brush, so I took it up. I normally wouldn't do this and would instead say, "Stop brushing your hair, diva," but Tyrell brushes his hair in place of doing work. He's been warned, so the brush was mine. As expected, he turned into a baby. I just sat down at my desk and pretended to fluff my hair with his brush.

"I hate this class," he said, pouting. For real-- he had his lower lip stuck out and his arms folded. I laughed.

"No, you don't," I said. "You're fronting."

"No I ain't-- and I hate you, too," he said with a complimentary Sassy Eyebrow. The rest of my students gave me the What are you going to do now? look. The girl who usually retrieves office referrals for me pointed at herself, like, "Should I go?"

I looked at Tyrell. I could tell he was actually having a bad day. He was staring at his hands, and he just looked really tired. So, I did what any sympathetic inner-city teacher would do to a student who obviously has pent-up anger from a place I can't control or even fully understand.

I serenaded him.

"Alright, you guys," I said, standing up and smoothing my skirt. "I'm going to need you to give me a beat." As usual when I ask them to do anything, every one of them just looked at me like I had three heads coming out of my neck.

"Like this." I started clapping slowly. A few of my teacher's pets joined in.

"DO IT OR I WILL FAIL YOU," I shouted. Everyone started clapping along to the beat. Tyrell sat in his chair, still pouting. I let the suspense build as the class clapped together, laughing nervously. Then I parked myself right in front of Tyrell and started singing Jill Scott's "Hate on Me", pretending like the baby brush was my microphone.

If I could give you the world
On a silver platter
Would it even matter?
You'd still be mad at me

My class went ballistic. It was like I had fed a pack of hyenas a wheelbarrow full of Pixie Stix. If there was a pie graph of reasons why my students were laughing/participating, it would look something like this:

 Nevertheless, I continued.

If I can find in all of this
A dozen roses
That I could give to you
You'd still be miserable!

I forgot the rest of the verses, so just skipped to the chorus. Three students were standing on chairs at this point.

Hate on me, hater
Now or later
'Cause I'm gonna do me
You'll be mad, baby
Go 'head and hate on me, hater
'Cause I'm not afraid of
What I got, I've paid for
You can hate on me

Despite the fact that song has a few lines that are absolutely not applicable to a student/teacher relationship (i.e. "What I've got I paid for"), I got the first standing ovation of my life, followed by several "she trippin'"-like comments. Tyrell laughed. Still didn't do a SINGLE piece of work, but he stopped the fat lip.

I love winning.

Love,

Teach

Punk updates

I thought Juan Carlos had ebola or something because he didn't show up to my class for a week after the vomit incident, and I left several increasingly worried voicemails on his home answering machine.  Turns out he just got switched to a pre-AP class the day after he filled my recycle bin with his bile.  Thank goodness (that he's not dead; not that he switched out of my class).

Leroy made the basketball team!  If I had to estimate, I would say that Leroy is four feet tall.  I printed out the Wikipedia article for Muggsy Bogues and drew a big smiley on it and gave it to him-- his brother said he carried it around all day.  Also, he brought a pencil today.

Marlin is a COMPLETELY different kid :)  Smirking is 100% cured, and he is a straight-up honeychild.  He's always asking to help, raising his hand to participate, saying nice things and giggling like a little baby-baby.  I might get a cavity.  Or adopt him.

It was Pablo's birthday today, but I told him that the crucifix on his neck means that the first shall be last, so I made him throw everyone else's trash away and pick the dirt off my welcome mat.  Then I gave him an Oreo.  Pablo found this all hilarious and so did I.

Tre'shawn is still trying to prove to me that he's hood, and I'm still trying to prove that he digs Sesame Street and dry Cheerios.  But we've come to a strange agreement that one Ultra Soft Kleenex with Lotion tissue is an appropriate daily reward for not throwing a tantrum (right?? Ultra Soft is DEFINITELY the opposite of hood), so for now this has curbed his 'tude.

It's been a good week.

Love,

Teach

Leroy

Leroy has two big life issues facing him: 1) he never brings any supplies for anything in my class, ever, and 2) he literally sounds like Mickey Mouse when he speaks.  Literally.  On the first day of school, I nearly sent him to the office during roll because I thought he was being funny.  

Forty minutes into class today, I made an announcement.

Me: Remember, your rough draft is due in about ten minutes.

Leroy: I didn't do it.

Me: Excuse me?

Leroy: Don't have a pencil.

I fought back the urge to flip over my desk. Students letting me know that they need supplies more than 5 minutes into class fills me with an almost unspeakable rage.  (The cynics, i.e. my own mother, are probably saying "Oh, you cruel and insensitive teacher!  Maybe he can't afford supplies!"  ERRRRR.  Wrong.  Mom told me 3rd week of school that they have an old pretzel container filled with pencils and pens at home, but that Leroy refuses to bring a pencil bag/backpack because it's "gay."  I said, "Ask him if Ziploc bags are gay." She hasn't gotten back to me yet.)

Me:  Leroy.  Please tell me that didn't just happen.

Leroy: What?

Me: You just said, with ten minutes left in class and with ZERO work on your paper, "I don't have a pencil." 

Leroy:  So?

Me:  Come over here.

I got out my phone.

Me:  Leroy, I'm taking a video.  Please explain what just happened.  I want this played at my funeral, when people ask how I died.

(Keep in mind Leroy's EXTREMELY high voice.)

Leroy: AW, NAWW!

I didn't really take a video, but if I had, it would have been of Leroy stomping directly out of class while remarking that I am (among other choice words) "straight trippin'."   I laughed out loud like a heartless supply nazi.  Then I chased after him.

Bet he doesn't bring a pencil tomorrow, either.

Love,

Teach