Week 36: May 18-22

090522: Day 162
Jeff and I drove to Pittsburgh last night. I called in “sick.” We took today to meet with our photographer (two-plus hours to plan family portraits, cuz my family’s a little complicated), meet with the judge, and apply for a marriage license! We also had a lovely lunch en plein air in Shadyside. Tuna salad is particularly tasty with pickled jalapenos. Then we had dinner on the patio at the Sewickley Cafe with my dad and I embarrassed him a little by repeating the things my students routinely say in the classroom. I am ready to leave New York for good.

090521: Day 161
Magical realism must be working because GL—king of the depressives—entered class today, came specifically to the back of the classroom to talk to me and showed me the narrative he had started writing!

Also, I officially gave up on seventh period today. I told AP A that they were unteachable (true), and she suggested showing them Pixar movies. Though it tees me off that these kids can treat me like shit everyday and be rewarded by watching movies, AP A said it wasn’t about learning anymore so much as surviving. I’m still coming to terms with her being right.

The pieces have finally come together as regards the department that cried wolf story and the mysterious meeting that AP P requested of Ms. Po (see Day 152). AP P met with Ms. Po—last week, probably—to gently scold her for downplaying JR’s sexual talk in her class. Ms. Po included JR’s name in the email that started everything simply to introduce the much dirtier comments made by SC and MN in response to JR’s asking if they “eat pussy.” During a conversation with JR’s mom, Ms. Po said that while JR was inappropriate, she wasn’t concerned about it because it’s not a pattern with him and he’s not normally a problem. AP P made the “bending over the backwards” comment to Ms. Po, too, and I assume she was embarrassed to have called a parent unnecessarily.

Fast forward to today, when Ms. Po has a copy of a letter that the administration plans on putting in her file because she made a “false accusation” against a student and if she makes another false accusation, she is in danger of being terminated. (For those of you uninitiated in the ways of the DOE, administration puts letters in your permanent file when you do something good or something bad. Usually it’s something bad, like taking too many absences or being “insubordinate” for forgetting to go to a meeting and reporting to hall duty instead—ask Ms. L about that one.) The administration is saying Ms. Po made a “false accusation” when she downplayed JR’s one isolated sexual comment. I cannot connect the dots between what Ms. Po said and “false accusation” logically, so I’m just laying out the facts of the situation here. Hopefully you can connect your own dots.

Now if any of us—not just Ms. Po—starts making noise about how no one has helped us all motherfucking year, the administration can simply point to the letter in Ms. Po’s file and show how they had a teacher making false accusations. How could they do anything when they knew they had a liar? The way I see it, Ms. L and I could end up with similar letters in our file pretty easily. They don’t seem to be based on much other than covering up a prolonged mismanagement of a hostile and potentially dangerous situation. What’s to stop anyone from giving me one of those letters? Not much. The bottom line here is that we have all been unofficially—or officially—silenced.

Mr. P was pleasantly amused that I was surprised—and that Ms. Po was surprised—by the administration’s nefarious plot to fuck Ms. Po up the ass. It’s not that I’m surprised that this happened; my cynical, tough-skinned hide that spends eight hours a day in this school knows this shit happens all the time. But the part of me that is still human is outraged. What kind of place is this that it destroys its own staff to keep a clean front?

According to Mr. P I have until around my fifth or sixth year for this to happen to me. Fortunately, I’m not planning on staying that long.

090520: Day 160
This week, we are working on magical realism. I love this assignment. I cannot take credit for the idea, as I stole it from two of my grad school classmates. Here’s the idea: have kids write a narrative about something in their own lives. Introduce them to magical realism by providing a sample text—in this case, “Flying” by Stephen Dixon (an old professor) and a clip from “Like Water for Chocolate.” Instruct students to rewrite their narrative to include just a couple “magical” details. So far, the kids have been doing awesome. They enjoyed “Like Water for Chocolate,” which isn’t surprising because I picked a clip wherein dozens of people vomit by the side of the river, and are excited to start magicking up their narratives.

090519: Day 159
I had four students removed from fourth period today: DS, GA, JCr and JC. I’m telling you: I called home for DS last week—because he never has a writing utensil—and since that moment he has been an unbearable asshole. He’s started up with the trashy sex-talk all the other boys enjoy so much. Some highlights from my dean’s report:

DS came to class late and loudly demanded that I write him a pass to go to Ms. L’s room because he doesn’t like me right now. I told him no because he has work to do in my class if he wants to pass it come June. He continued to demand I write him a pass and then became involved in the constant talking and laughing. He is one of four students in this class who often call out FR’s refrain (spelled phonetically): “ALL-lo FO-kay.” DS’s persistent use of this phrase today made it impossible for me to finish a sentence.

At one point, JC bragged about insulting Ms. Po: “Remember what I said about her? That she has a dirty clit? . . .that was funny.” JC brought this up in response to FR saying something about “smells like Ms. Po.”

GA laughed very loudly and inappropriately at whatever other students said or did. His laughter also seems timed to come at the instant I am about to attempt to teach again. He had a brief encounter with DC, again, in which the two of them threatened each other. GA got out of his seat to threaten DC. He also called out “lesbo” at least two times if not more.

All four kids are in the SAVE room for the rest of the week. Though my (ever-growing) vindictive side wishes they were suspended, the SAVE room at least gets them out of my hair for a moment.

On a related note, remember when AP P was going to set up meetings with parents, assistant principals a police officer and all our students who are sexually over the line all the time ? (See Day 142) Apparently those meetings have happened, but one of the teachers in the special ed department said in the middle of one of the meetings “oh, that didn’t really happen.” I can’t figure out exactly what couldn’t have happened or who would have taken something back, as I’ve read all the emails and everything we’ve said is true. So now AP P is furious with our department because she “bent over backwards to help” and according ot AP A we are the department that cried wolf. Now no one is going to help us or believe us or anything.

Of course, I had this conversation with AP A in the two minutes before the end of second period, so I’m pretty fuzzy on all of the details. Though it’s pretty clear that the administration is going to continue to do nothing while we eat shit.

090518: Day 158
When I unveiled the second writing topic in the Writing Workshop unit, seventh period accused me of trying to make them fail. They claim it is too much work for ninth-graders—having to write one five-paragraph narrative per week. Furthermore, RQ was upset that he did not win Student of the Month for Best Effort in seventh period. In point of fact, there was no student of the month in either fifth or seventh period. There was not effort in either class; exactly one student in fifth and one student in seventh passed the fifth marking period, each with a 65% D. RQ thought that just because he was the kid who managed to pass, he should win a prize. In my book, best effort does not mean doing the bare minimum of work and giving the teacher attitude about copying the notes or writing fucking five paragraphs over the course of a week.

This evening was my last ever class at Mercy. I have finished my second master’s degree. Though I am sad I will never have Saul Brodsky again, I will not miss the industrial park or the repetitive curriculum.

Week 35: May 11-15

090515: Day 157
Fifth period has been pretty well neutralized by the presence of Para B. AP A sent him into the room a couple months ago—around the time they all made me freak out for the jillionth time. Fourth period, however, remains a zoo. When I say zoo, I mean it pretty literally: the kids make animalistic sexual noises and throw shit at each other. OK, maybe not actual shit, but paper balls and gum—I’ve picked gum out of the hair of two kids in that period. From my dean’s report:

I have a group of boys in my fourth period who are getting progressively nastier to other students and more disruptive in the classroom. These boys are GA, FR, DS and LF.

GA, DS and FR have been picking on LJS for the past week or more about the infection he seems to have in his earlobe. They call him “infection” and loudly tell him that his earlobe is nasty or disgusting. LJS seems to be ignoring them well enough, but the insults and jeers are becoming ever more frequent and disruptive. To my memory, LF does not participate directly in the insults, but he laughs very loudly at all of them.

These four young men also have developed a new habit of making sexual noises when I turn my back. I have variously seen most of them in the act, and I recognize their voices. They moan and groan loudly and then stop when I turn back around. GA went so far as to make a slapping noise and then say, “Yeah, take that shit.” FR is particularly fond of saying a phrase in Spanish, which I can only spell phonetically as I don’t know Spanish—ALL-lo FO-kay—which sounds very obviously like “I love fucking.” He defends himself by saying it’s a rap and he’s just singing. But he knows full well what it sounds like in English and that when he sings it very loudly throughout class it is very disruptive. LF today claimed he was not making the sexual noises, he was only singing to drown out the sexual noises. LR’s singing was also very loud and disruptive.

Also today in class there was a lengthy exchange between GA and DC. GA was making loud noises—laughing and making noises like he was having very pleasant sex (see above)—and DC told him to shut up. GA then said, “I’ll slap the shit out of you.” I’m pretty sure DC threatened to slap him back. Then GA continued, “I’ll spit on your face, pussy. . . . Beat your little ass up.” DS then chimed in by saying, “Pussy ass nigger” to DC. GA, when he saw me writing things down, once again told me to write down whatever I want because he will still do whatever he wants. DC had an issue with FR today, too. I didn’t see it, but I saw FR walking away from DC and he said DC hit him. I have seen FR hit many students in the classroom up the side of the head. I have also seen DC lash out so I cannot say where this began or even if someone really hit someone else. FR does not often tell the truth about what he has just done.

Students in this period regularly ask me to kick these students out or say they cannot concentrate because of their behavior. I have made phone calls for all these students before—three of them this week alone. In fact, I just called home for DS on Wednesday and after that his behavior became worse. I am particularly concerned about LJS and DC. LJS has told me he has an anger management issue, as has DC. And they are outnumbered and frustrated as it is.

thanks for your attention to this matter.
Ms. G

That was one period, by the way. And pretty much every day is like this.

090514: Day 156
Yesterday I called home for FR—because I hate him. Today he didn’t make it into school until the middle of fourth period; he was still wearing his pajama pants. The day was going OK until the very moment he arrived. Almost from the second he walked through the door, the assholes in the room went nuts. Anyway, I talked to his mom last night and the first thing she said to me was, “I know Frankie doesn’t do anything in school.” So, there you go. I’ve spoken to her before, and this was by far the best conversation we’ve had. She doesn’t speak fluent English, but I could have been fooled last night. At the end of the conversation she said she wanted to talk to someone in Spanish about FR. I told her I would arrange it at school the next day. So, Ms. EV and I sat down with the house’s notes about FR’s assholery during eighth period, and she left a message in Spanish. We’ll see how that plays out, considering she made her request about eight months too late.

090513: Day 155
It is sadistic that we still have a month of classes left. My entire fifth period has given up on class. Today only one students was on time to class. The Do Now was to pick up a copy of one of the paintings we’re writing about. After the first ten minutes of class, no one had copied the aim and no one had picked up their painting. How am I supposed to teach when so many kids have absolutely given up? DG, DK and SP slept through the entire class. I tried to wake them up a couple times and then I stopped. As they wandered out of the room with sleep in their eyes I informed them I wasn’t going to keep waking them up and telling them to work. If they chose to sleep through class and do nothing, they would simply fail. I am worth more than rapping on kids’ desks and telling them to get to work. They want to fail? Fuck them.

During sixth period, JRe came to see me. He failed last marking period and he was in my room to ask me to change his grade. Turns out he can only fail one class and stay on the baseball team. He failed two. He wanted me to change his grade and then he would turn in the work he was missing. I said no. If he turned in the work he was missing, then I would change his grade. Mind you, JRe misses on average one day a week and comes two to five minutes late on the days he does come. He sits in my lawn chair and talks endlessly to NH, despite my asking both of them repeatedly to stop as I feel disrespected by their actions. And this kid wants a favor from me?

Luckily for JRe, Ms. L came into the room just after this happened. She proposed that I write a letter to his coach saying I would change his grade once I got the work he owes me. Ms. L had a sit down with his coach at some point in the recent past because it turns out JRe is quite talented. Baseball could be his ticket out of the Bronx. A couple months ago I might have cared a little more about this. But now that so few of my students care about school anymore I’m finding it really hard to care about them. I hope JRe makes it out of the Bronx. I hope more he grows the fuck up and starts doing what he’s supposed to.

My job is not to babysit. It is not to clean up messes. It is not to do things for students that they could do themselves. Everyday I wake up hoping I will have a chance to do my job, a chance to teach a lesson and guide students to making discoveries. Everyday, instead, I come in, eat students’ shit and go home defeated. At least I don’t feel guilty anymore about letting them hang themselves.

090512: Day 154
I left two candy bars in one of my desk drawers on Friday. These candy bars belonged to JM, winner of the Poetry Slam in fifth period. I came in today and they were stolen from my desk. I pretty much expected this. I know the kids steal from me—probably everyday. I also suspect someone likes to move things around my desk drawers to drive me crazy. Obviously, the plan is working. I thought someone stole the lock from my teacher closet, then I found it at the bottom of the file drawer in my desk. I was looking for my lip gloss in the pen drawer of my desk and couldn’t find it, then I found it in the right-hand scrap paper drawer. I swear one of them is doing it to fuck with me. I blame fourth period: my money’s on FR because he’s always lingering a little too close to my desk and he’s an asshole.

I was thinking about the decorations for my wedding in July. We’re going to have wild flowers and framed pictures of our friends and families all over the tables. Then I had this insidious little fear that I couldn’t take any good pictures because someone would steal them from me. I’m afraid my closest friends and family are going to steal framed photographs from my wedding.

On a lighter note, I made cakes for the winning teams in the Poetry Slam: six-inch chocolate layer cakes with vanilla bean buttercream. First and third periods only. Needless to say, fourth, fifth and seventh periods do not deserve cakes. JK ate his entire share of the cake—a full quarter—all by himself. He was the only student who didn’t share. Then he came back to find me to tell me he dropped his cake in the hallway. I had to go clean it up for him. Because my kids don’t even know how to ask for a paper towel to pick up their own mess. At least he wanted to clean it up, I guess.

090511: Day 153
I took the day off. Around one o’clock on Sunday I realized I could not work anymore. I had a big paper and presentation due for one of my grad classes and a debate to prepare for in the other. I had to plan a new unit—Writing Workshop!—and grade a bunch of papers. I feel perilously close to a “major depressive episode.” I managed to get my work done today. But in the middle of reading about social justice and social studies I found myself crying in my lawn chair in the sun. I take comfort in the fact that most of desperation is driven by my immediate situation as a teacher in a failing school. How much longer my psyche can take that situational stress is a lingering question mark.

_____________

Update: new film pictures on Day 144 and Day 149

Week 31: April 6-8

090408: Day 137
Oh, how I hate the day before a vacation. I opted not to give a midterm and gave a “midterm” instead. Students had to complete a research poster outline in preparation for their final project for Aliens and Americans. I graded them on effort. (This was an awesome strategy, by the way, for getting me out of pretty much all grading for spring break). The longer the day went, the less the students worked. I understand; I can’t imagine how I would feel if I had taken six midterms in a day and then still had one or two left. I’d slow down, too. But oh, how they didn’t even try after third period!

In other events, BR made an off-color joke towards Ms. Po. They were talking about the fact that Ms. Po lives in the Bronx, and BR commented, “Good. I’m going to come to your house and rape you.”

Take a second with that one.

When BR made it to my room, he was outraged that Ms. Po took it so seriously. You know, because it was just a joke. When he retold the story to seventh period, including AR, RQ and SC, they all laughed. My heart sank. These are mostly nice boys and they are laughing about raping a teacher. I tried to explain that rape jokes aren’t appropriate in mixed company; they ignored me. Word on the street is that BR is also going to be suspended and is not allowed to return to Ms. Po’s classroom. Once again, I’ll believe it when I see it.

But wait, it gets worse. For Ms. L, this time. During her midterm in seventh period, BJ and NR were having some sort of argument. According to Ms. L, it looked like BJ was about to storm out of the room, but instead he doubled back behind her, grabbed the recycling bin and slammed it over NR’s head. As Ms. L turned around to see what was happening, the recycling bin slammed her in the jaw on its rebound from NR’s head. When she came to my wedding shower on Saturday, her face was still tender.

Ms. L, because she is a kind soul, thinks our school is poisoning BJ. Quite frankly, I blame NR more than the school. That girl could make anyone throw a trashcan at her. Anyway, see Day 61 for the day BJ punched AP L in the face. Obviously, though BJ seems quite sweet, he has a crazy-explosive anger problem. Ms. L had to fill out an accident report and AP L is going to try to get BJ a superintendent’s suspension, which would take him out of the school for up to 30 days and put him in an alternate site. Ms. L has to go to a trial for this. Given that Ms. L has already filled out official paperwork, this is one suspension I do believe is going to happen.

090407: Day 136
I almost couldn’t remember what happened today. That’s how banal sexual harassment and breathtaking displays of misbehavior have become.

I remember now, though. And boy does this memory come back with a bang. I had four kids removed from fourth period. Four! It was one of those incidents that I couldn’t even fully recreate for the dean’s report, so widespread and obnoxious was it. From my dean’s report:

Today in my fourth period, FR, LF, JCr and JC were not working and carrying on quite loudly. I asked school security for a dean because I could not hear the voice of a student who was sitting directly in front of me over their joking around.

FR was out of control for the entire period: he didn’t stop talking from the moment the lesson began through to when he was removed. JCr had moments of being on task, but was also talking throughout the entire lesson. Early in the lesson, a remark was made about “lefty,” which was clearly sexual in nature though I cannot exactly explain what it meant. Both JCr and FR repeated this lefty joke many times.

JC came in at 11:00 with a pass, but did no work when he arrived and began immediately to trade “your mother” jokes with JCr. During the trading of “your mother” jokes they began insulting the way people smell. LF got in on the act here and FR joined in as well. The four of them were laughing loudly and saying who smelled like what, including at one point saying that someone smelled like “LJS’s neck” referring to LJS, another student in the class. The conversation at another point shifted to include jokes about rape–I think in the context of how someone’s mother smelled. I wish I could remember exactly who was joking around about rape, but I cannot. My best recollection is that it was JCr, but I also heard the word rape repeated a lot in a couple of different voices.

JC consistently makes off-color jokes about other people’s mothers or sexuality. FR also consistently makes off-color remarks about people’s sexuality. Last week he asked CP if he had “popped that cherry yet” in reference to SA, who was just added to the class. LF as well often makes inappropriate sexual remarks, including calling out “Do you want a quickie” or simply saying “dick” and “pussy.” He has been better with this until today when he got in on the what-does-he-smell-like routine. JCr was only recently added to my roster, but he has done little work and a lot of disrupting since he has been in class.

I don’t find rape jokes funny. Particularly from fucking fourteen-year-old boys. Anyway, once these boys left the classroom, it was so peaceful. It was like when an asshole leaves the room and you feel the collective release of breath from everyone left.

Later in the day, I went to AP A’s office to make some photocopies for my kiddos’ research posters, and JC was there. JC is always in her office because he has decided he isn’t going to go to class anymore. AP A allows this, by the way. JC says to my face, “You are a liar,” and then asks to have some of AP A’s birthday cake. I shit you not. He called me a liar to my face and then got a piece of cake for it.

Later that day, Ms. Po copied me on an email she sent:

As an addition to Ms. G’s Dean Report, in regards to JC, JC came into my room yesterday (he has me after Ms. G) and was talking about how he got taken out of her class and said, “She’s lucky I don’t slap the shit out of her.”
While I recognize it was an “in the heat of the moment” comment, I thought that I would pass this information along.

Rumor has it JC is suspended, but I’ve received no suspension notice. I’ll believe it when I see it.

090406: Day 135
My dad and stepmom came to see me teach today. As anyone could have predicted, the kids were much better behaved than usual. JM went so far as to say that everyone had to be calmer because my dad and stepmom were there. He sounded disappointed. I bit my tongue so as not to offend him by telling him that, really, all students should be that respectful of all teachers ALL the time. Not just when our parents happen by the classroom.

My parents were amazed by the high expectations I have in my classroom—I often am, too, given the level of effort put forth by certain periods (fifth period: I’m talking about you).

I was afraid my parents were bored. They did see the exact same lesson three times in a row. But they said they had a good time. Hell, they got to see SS do some of his magic tricks. And they’re proud of me. Yay.

Week 28: March 16-20

090320: Day 124
For the record, it snowed today. It was the first day of spring and it snowed.

I got another runaway notice in my mailbox this morning: SF ran away as of February 28. Of course, we already knew she ran away because Ms. L tracked down SF’s mom (by asking GW if she had SF’s phone number) when we hadn’t seen SF in a couple weeks. SF’s mother said SF had run away. She just didn’t tell the school or anything because, you know, SF has done this before. It took her three weeks to report it to the school. Think about that for a second. I would add an exclamation point but I fear it would ruin the severity of the statement.

On a lighter note, I had to cover Ms. L’s eighth period class because she took ten of our kids ice skating today. It was me and CD, quietly writing for 46 minutes. I wrote many haiku, of which this is the finest:

Nigga please with that
obnoxious pussy talk you
must be a virgin

090319: Day 123
I’m still photocopying the entirety of When the Emperor Was Divine. Me and the rizo have gotten real friendly these past couple weeks. According to Mr. W, we don’t have much ink left in the entire building. So I closed the door while me and rizo got real friendly. I need the copies. What else can I do?

090318: Day 122
In our house meeting we discussed the fight SP got into last week, in which he had his two front teeth punched out. According to Mr. P, SP didn’t even understand what was happening as he prepared to rumble. He knew a dude was running at him, which meant there was going to be a fight, but he didn’t know why the dude wanted to fight him. He didn’t realize this dude was going to cream him because he had been shittalking him and his girlfriend for a week. Hello, McFly. My favorite part is SP’s initial reaction to said dude running at him was to remove his jacket. Picture it in your head: dude runs at SP, with the intention to fight, and SP takes a second to remove his jacket. As he is removing his jacket, his hands are behind his back. And dude takes his opportunity to crunch him in the face.

Also on the list of completely ridiculous and confusing incidents of the day was LS’s purported running away. I got a memo in my mailbox this morning saying she had been reported runaway/missing as of the day before. Then I got a phone call from Ms. S, her related service provider, at the end of third period asking if LS’s para was in my classroom. I replied yes, and Ms. S said, “Oh, you’re kidding . . . Can you send her down here. LS is here, wondering where she is.” I had that weird feeling you get when there are giant holes in the official story. Did Ms. S know she was “missing”? I talked to AP A later that day to report that LS was in the building—not missing, as previously thought—and AP A had no idea she was in school. What the fuck, people? Either which way, LS was not at home the night before, so who knows where she was? She did make it to school, though.

090317: Day 121
I passed out grades for the fourth marking period today. The number of students who are confused to be failing is more upsetting than the sheer number of failing students. I find myself explaining the class requirements everyday. “Your Aims and Answers sheets count for points. If you are not doing them, you will lose points. The behavior rubrics count for points. If you are not doing them, you will lose points. There is a vocab quiz on Friday. Do not be surprised on Friday when I tell you there is a quiz. . . . Everything counts. If you are not doing classwork, you are losing points. Everything counts. Let me repeat, everything counts.”

That is not an exaggeration, for those of you who were wondering.

090316: Day 120
Turns out the Designs for Learning series of courses at Mercy isn’t just frustrating when your professor is crappy. Even with a decent professor, it is pointless. I understand how to lesson plan and how to unit plan and how to evaluate student work. You know, I pretty much get how to teach at this point. Everyone else does, too. As a result, we spend at least an hour of class bitching about one thing or another while our professor tries to assuage our anxieties nigh on the end of our Mercy career.

I make phone calls during the first half-hour of class now. We’re not talking about anything, and I try to sit next to the door because there’s also an outlet there for my computer (which has a bum battery, by the way: Apple please take notice). It’s very easy to just slip out the door and make a few phone calls to various parents. The fourth floor corridor more often than not has at least one teacher-cum-grad-student on a cellphone talking to a parent, so I know I’m not egregiously out of line.

The purpose of my phone calls this evening? DJ and CM’s incredibly dumb face-off in fifth period wherein they called each other ugly and asked each other to suck their respective dicks. For the record, CM is a girl. The best part of the fight was when DJ got louder and louder as he was taken out of the classroom and away from any chance of CM’s physically harming him.

Also called home for LF because he is failing hardcore and says really, well, hardcore things in the classroom.

Week 27: March 9-13

090313: Day 118
JW wandered into my fifth period today. I asked him to leave, which he took his good sweet time doing. On his way out the door, he told me, “I’ll be back . . . in two hours . . . next week . . . next year . . . and the year after that . . . and the year after that . . . butt naked, with a saddle on my back, and butter all over me.” He rubbed his chest to demonstrate where the butter would be. In case I didn’t understand.

090312: Day 117
ML continues to get under my skin. Not even under my skin, really, but certainly under the skins of the students in my third period. MB in particular is pissed off; he wants me to kick ML out. ML spent his day in my class trying to steal everything that wasn’t tied to down—you know, everything. At one point, he put six copies of When the Emperor Was Divine under his jacket and denied that he had taken any. I know him to be the student who stole my hall pass (which still hasn’t been replaced, by the way) and a student who has walked out with more than one of my markers. I think he also stole one of my whiteboard erasers, though I can’t be positive about that. I’m not real into taking my eyes off him if he has something that doesn’t belong to him in his hot little hands.

Near the end of the period, he sat down behind my desk and would not move when I asked him to. I specifically told him that if anything was missing, I was coming after him. He accused me of threatening him. I told him I was absolutely threatening him as he was not allowed to sit behind my desk, a policy I had made very clear to him previously. At the ringing of the bell, I counted my books and not so surprisingly discovered one was gone. I reported him to the deans and now he has been suspended. My book remains MIA, which is unfortunate because I have a limited number (see below), but at least that kid will be out of my hair for a second.

I ran into AP A just minutes after I sent the Deans report. Our conversation:

AP A: I don’t think that kid belongs with us.
Me: What the fuck is wrong that kid?
AP A: You know, sometimes I love talking to you.
Me: Well, really . . .
AP A: Something about him bothers me—Not bothers me, but he makes my antennae go up.

AP A has been assistant principal of special education for at least five years. If she is freaked out, there’s something to worry about.

090311: Day 116
I went to the Teacher Tax man this evening. This year I shall have an itemized tax-return, or something like that, and hopefully should get more money back in my refund. Because, after we broke it down, I spent over $8,000 dollars out of my own pocket on my job last year. That figure does not surprise me at all. I rant into Ms. F there; hers was the appointment before mine. We gossiped a touch about SP, who got into a gang-related fight and had his two front teeth knocked out. Not that I’ve seen him sans teeth as he cut my class today.

On my way out, I decided to take the stairs because I was on the second floor and it seemed a waste to call the elevator for just one floor. I entered the stairwell and went down one flight to discover it was an emergency exit only. I went back up only to see that the door on the second floor had locked behind me. Re-entry on floors one and five only. I already knew floor one wasn’t going to let me out, so I climbed up to floor five. When I opened the door, I found the floor under construction: exposed beams, light bulbs hanging from extension cords, cement floors. I called an elevator, but none of the three came. They were set to pass the fifth floor because it is under construction. I kind of freaked out, called Jeff, and wandered the floor a little. I found a freight elevator, fortunately, and that worked. I came pretty close to having to call the Teacher Tax Man to say I was stranded on the fifth floor and couldn’t get an elevator and could he please call the front desk so someone could come get me? Très embarrassing.

090310: Day 115
One of the few things I failed to consider when planning our new unit, Aliens and Americans, was how many copies of the novel the school owns. I blocked out three and a half weeks of in-class and homework reading for When the Emperor Was Divine only to discover that we only have 25 copies of the book. So I’m photocopying it. The whole thing. Sixty-seven packets. I’m doing it discreetly, just in case photocopying an entire book is considered a poor use of resources.

In other news, my fourth period has been unbearable. Do not mistake this fourth period with last semester’s fourth period: they are almost entirely different. LF, GA, JC and DD. These are the boys who are trying to destroy me and their peers who care.

On the upside, DD was suspended today for insubordination. I like to think I had something to do with it—he in fact believes I had everything to do with it—as I sent two deans reports in two days and had him removed from class for being disruptive today. More likely it was the fact that AP V, who is the assistant principal of physical education, reported his insubordination. Also, Dean A reported his insubordination. The next three days will be much quieter.

GA is a different problem altogether. While DD is simply immature and lacking self-reflection, GA is a malicious troublemaker. He is one of those kids who says, “I wasn’t talking” when he’s been talking nearly nonstop for the entire period. I spoke to his sister yesterday, and she referenced the fact that he is on probation for graffiti and that his probation officer threatened to lengthen his probation if his school behavior didn’t improve. Then she made it sound like she was going to try to protect him from such a lengthening. (Grr.)

So I called again today, because his behavior did not improve at all. I heard her will to protect him break—or possibly change—and she told me she was going to call the probation officer because she just doesn’t know what else to do. I would argue that telling the probation officer that he is a menace to his own education and to the education of others is actually protecting his best interests, but you know how it goes. Hopefully, she came to that conclusion herself.

090309: Day 114
A conversation from my Monday after-school help session.

CP: Miss, how do you spell “let”?
Me: (slowly and clearly) L-E-T.
CP: L . . . E . . . T?
Me: Yes, L-E-T.
CP: (writing) L-E-T.
Custodian R: (quietly, to me) Lucky you.

Week 25: February 23-27

090227: Day 108
My brain is methodical and systematic, and so is my writing. My students are not so methodical and systematic—and neither is their writing. This makes teaching them to write an organized, five-paragraph essay a bit of a challenge.

I’m learning that in order to teach them how to write, the only way to get it done is to rush through the mini-lessons—outlining, writing introductions, writing body paragraphs, writing conclusions—then provide ample class time for them to struggle through it at their own pace and ask as many individual questions as possible. Today was the first day this week the kids had a big chunk of time to work on their essays in class. I had a chance to talk to everyone and give them individualized help on whatever phase of the essay they were in. Thank god. I saw so many more smiles as kids were writing than ever before this year.

090226: Day 107
SC was officially recommended for a District 75 school for students with emotional disturbances. Of course, he won’t actually go to a D75 school unless a seat in one opens up. AP A has her fingers crossed we can ship him out in the next couple weeks. Not so coincidentally, SC was much better behaved today.

The call-home campaign continues, with a new fear-inducing strategy (see Day 94 for more on phone calls and the culture of fear). Today, AP A emailed the department its second “Daedalus phone log.” Every week now, we receive a spreadsheet with the names of every member in the department and the respective number of phone calls they have logged into Daedalus. I will admit that the strategy is effective: I have made more phone calls this week than the last two. Of course, I’ve been sexually harassed in my classroom and thrown out five or so kids for egregious misbehavior. But there’s nothing like a public shaming to motivate people to do their jobs.

Someone please explain to me how my principal is confused as to why she is alienated from her staff.

090225: Day 106
A note on the sexual harassment of teachers: I received NO written response to my email about SC and his sucking seed comment from anyone in the administration. Ms. L, Ms. Po and Ms. H responded to the email, adding some more names of students involved, but nothing from any assistant principal or dean. According to Ms. L, AP A made a police report. I have received no confirmation of this, though, and certainly not in writing.

Even more exciting, this afternoon we had SC’s educational planning conference. Students have EPCs every three years when they are in special education. The school psychologist retests and reevaluates the student to ensure s/he is in the correct placement. Students can also have reevaluations if a parent requests it. SC’s mom requested a reevaluation—at the request of AP A—when SC knocked the wind out of me (see Day 63). Now, normally EPCs are not very well attended: school psychologist, a teacher or two, the parent sometimes in person or sometimes on the phone (a lot of the time nowhere to be found at all), and then counselors drop by for a few minutes. SC’s conference was so well attended that we had to switch rooms. Attendance included: Mr. P, Ms. L and me; the school psychologist; SC and his mom; Ms. E, his related service provider; Ms. G, the guidance counselor; and—wait for it—Ms. N, the principal. Every EPC should have this many attendees, by the way, and it’s sad that it takes a disaster like a kid almost knocking over a teacher to have things happen the way they should.

I didn’t get to stay to the end of the meeting because I had to teach seventh period. But it was pretty clear that SC is now heading toward a more restrictive environment. Ms. H, the school psychologist, reported that his tests show he is a sensation-seeker. He loves taking risks and the feelings they give him. Who knows how far he will go in seeking his sensation? Will he endanger himself or others? Not to be hysterical about it, but I would guess yes. The fact that he failed every single class last semester didn’t help him either. We’ll see how it shakes out, but I foresee a District 75 school in his near future.

090224: Day 105
I was driven out of the room in tears again today. But whatever, I’m already over that. NR came to see me later in the day and she listened with real sympathy and sincerity to what I had to say. It was one of the nicest moments of the school year—almost worth the crying and flipping out.

The real outrage was when SC made me the butt of a sexual joke in class. My boys in seventh period were talking about sex as usual and then JC said something like “Oh, ask Ms. G.” So, SC did. He asked me, “Miss, do you suck seed? Do you succeed in all you do?”

I’m confident that my facility with the English language can trump any student’s at any given time. As to who understands more about figures of speech, including puns thank you very much, and who has the larger vocabulary, it will always be me—as long as I teach high school special education students. So, I cracked the code on SC’s little joke pretty quickly and called him out on it. The class was fairly surprised I was that quick.

I reported the incident and made some phone calls. I also compared notes with Ms. L, who had had the exact same question asked of her earlier that day. Ms. Po responded to my incident report to say that she, too, had had the same experience. Nothing says safety in the workplace like a pattern of sexual harassment.

090223: Day 104
Ms. L had a meeting with Ms. N, the principal, after school today. Ms. L has a sweet summer gig lined up being a camp counselor at Greek camp—in Greece, no less—but it starts before our school year ends. Being the responsible employee she is, she asked if she could go instead of just taking a bunch of sick days at the end of the year.

This isn’t the real story, though. The real story of this meeting is when Ms. N almost poured her heart out to Ms. L. Apparently, she began to bemoan the fact that she feels alienated from her staff and doesn’t know what to do. I, for one, cannot imagine what this conversation must have felt like to both parties, being a person who does not share any feelings with coworkers unless the situation is dire.

Ms. L wasn’t too into pursuing the conversation of why the staff was so “alienated”—not too surprisingly—but she did mention the letter she got in her file last year for “insubordination.” For the record, no one really thinks Ms. L was insubordinate, not even Ms. N, but the letter was a formality and thus had to go in her file. Ms. N’s response? She didn’t even remember giving Ms. L that letter. Ms. L said, “Yeah, teachers remember those things.” It would seem the only person who doesn’t understand why there is a great divide between staff and principal is the principal herself.

Oh, before I forget again: remember when we were supposed to meet with the Principal to discuss the behavior problems in our class? And the meeting was canceled and rescheduled? Then canceled and rescheduled? That meeting never happened.
—–

Update: New film pictures on: Day 80, Day 97, and Day 99.

Week 16: December 8-12

081212: Day 69
Today, my lesson plan consisted of a longer-than-usual quiz and independent work finishing up a creative writing assignment from Thursday. I haven’t been so in the mood to actually teach, recently, given how I hate my job. So I attribute the following miracle to assigned seats.

Fourth period was well-behaved for an entire period. Moreover, they sat in complete silence for a good five minutes or more during their quiz. I was in the back of the room, wondering to Ms. D about it—”They’re so quiet!”—when Ms. N popped through the door to watch my worst period working diligently. It was one of those moments of convergence where you can sense the underlying mysteries of the world coming to light.

Ms. D and I had the same thought at the same time: I can’t believe this just happened. These kids are never quiet and well-behaved. Until this very moment, and this is the very moment Ms. N happened to see them.

I was positively humming with excitement. It was like being in the presence of a god.

081211: Day 68
There’s something about assigning seats that goes beyond simply separating the talkers and misbehavers. It has to do with an assertion of will, which is to say my will.

Day 1: The talkers and misbehavers bitch and moan. They refuse to sit in their seats. I write their names on the board under the heading “Zero for the Day and Phone Call Home.” A minute or so later, everyone is sitting in his or her assigned seat.

Day 2: Students sit in their assigned seats automatically. Students talk less, work more, and swear less. They know who is in charge, and it’s me.

Bitches, yeah.

081210: Day 67
We talked with Mr. B today, briefly, during our house meeting. He reported that it’s not just us having severe discipline problems. Teachers school-wide—from first-year teachers to 15-year veterans—complain of the vulgar language and lack of self-control among the student body. They also complain of the all but missing disciplinary consequences. I believe the word Mr. B used was “disgust”: disgust with the behavior and, furthermore, disgust with the administration’s failure to do anything. This, not so surprisingly, does not make me feel better.

My USB drive—on which I store everything from my gradebooks to a spreadsheet that contains the names, parents, phone numbers and emails of every student in our house—was stolen from my computer yesterday after second period. Mom says I need to lower my expectations, and I have. Ms. V pointed out that I need to lock everything up, which I do. But it’s too hard to lock everything up all the time—I can’t help but forget something once in awhile. And the second I forget, some fucker steals it from me.

So I was standing there after class, talking with Ms. L and Ms. V. And Ms. L is very kind and optimistic, so she kept offering solution after solution. Hell, I came up with some of the solutions, so I’m familiar with them. But I don’t really care anymore. I feel unsafe in my classroom. I hate going to work. I hate teaching these kids. No solutions are going to assuage my recurrent feelings of desperation or the dehumanizing effects this year is having on me.

Ms. V accused her of being a man for offering so many solutions and hugged me instead.

081209: Day 66
In my dream, my fourth period refused to sit in their assigned seats. They ripped the note cards from the desks and rearranged them so as to sit very close to one another. I was crying and crying. And then I was naked, huddled on the floor, weeping in the back of the room. Ms. D, the paraprofessional, kicked me in the ass to make me teach them. I refused and continued to wail.

I woke myself up crying.

081208: Day 65
An email I received last week, presented for your amazement and enjoyment.

Thanks for the information.
am glad SS is improving it is good to hear from you guys it makes it wearthwhile, lets keep communicating with one another so he can achive his goal. in another note we just found out yesturday that im going to be a mommy again not that i was never but your a mom like for ever,ha-ha but that theirs going to be a new member in our family and SS very supportive. You are the first tcher to know in sharing this news so you can pass it on.

mrs g.

Week 15: December 1-5

081205: Day 64
After watching an episode of “Supernanny” on the internet the other day, I was reminded of the importance of praise. Supernanny was just being her usual, awesome self, advising sad/crazy mom that she needed to use ample praise to encourage her kids when they were doing well, but it was kind of revelatory for me.

I am embarrassed to say that it took “Supernanny” to make me realize that praising the good kids will probably improve class morale and functionality better than yelling, and take less energy to boot. So many of the kids are abominable, but even more of them are sweet, want to learn, and hold strong in the face of the chaos that is our classrooms.

Sadly, rewards remain canceled (see Day 46), at least partially because I got injured this week due to my kids’ poor behavior, so I photocopied the following note onto florescent paper:

Dear _____________________________,

Thank you for your excellent work today! Let this note show that I recognize and appreciate your effort in class.

best,
Ms. G

I personalized them during class, added a smiley face next to my name, and passed them out at the conclusion to the kids who deserved them. BU was ecstatic–if faces could really glow, his would have been on fire–so I consider the idea a success.

081204: Day 63
I was physically harmed during class today. SC has been sexually harassing SF for an undetermined length of time: he was making sexual remarks about her and her grandmother today in my class and he showed her his penis in the cafeteria earlier in the week. SF finally had enough and she chased him, presumably to hit him. SC ran full bore into my gut, knocking the wind out of me.

SC is suspended for the sixth or seventh time. SF filed sexual harassment charges against him with the school and with the police. AP A called SC’s mom into the school and pressured her to have him reevaluated: he cannot deal with a community school and needs a specialized setting. At least, that’s what we hope the reevaluation will determine.

81203: Day 62
Leaving school directly after the last bell rings is much different than waiting twenty or thirty minutes: all the students are still outside. Busting through them all waiting at the bus stop to get up the steps of the footbridge can be a little challenging. Today it seemed unusually hard. I had made my way through the crowd at the foot of the steps only to find that the crowd was moving with me.

When I went to South Africa with my dad and stepmom, our game ranger drove our Land Rover directly into the middle of a herd of water buffalo. We sat there in wonderment as hundreds of water buffalo rushed around us, parting around the vehicle’s back and closing back together at its front. I could have reached out and touched them.

That’s what I felt like walking to my car as a tens of dozens of students streamed past me, jostling against each other to get through. I saw a number of my own students–one actually paused briefly to say hi–in the crowd. It wasn’t until I got to the top of the steps that I heard a student say there was a fight, between two girls no less.

Hive mind is the only explanation I can find for the affair. The teenagers were like bees–or the Borg. Once one knew about the fight, instantaneously they all knew. They swarmed in unison to the epicenter of action with barely a mention of the event itself.

081202: Day 61
I had to skip school to complete my graduate work. I sat at that study carrel from a little before 10 this morning until 4:45 this evening. Oh, I peed a couple times and went downstairs to buy a Pepsi, but that’s it. I am still not done, and my integrated unit plan is due Wednesday at 6:30.

While I was away from school, at least one of my students was suspended for behavior in my class. According to Ms. LATR (in the ATR, bless her), BJ stole my metal ruler–stupid, I thought I put everything away–and then refused to give it back. There is some question as to whether he actually had it, but either which way the end result of his defiance was Ms. LATR’s calling security. Then everything went to pot: BJ refused to leave, swore at Ms. LATR and took a swing at AP L.

Yes, he punched AP L in the face. Apparently, he’s a lousy punch, though, so AP L was unharmed. BJ’s been suspended for only three days because AP L took off his jacket before escorting him out, which could be considered “provocation.”

081201: Day 60
I am a special educator. I teach students with IEPs who are variously classified as learning disabled, ADD, ADHD, speech and language impaired, and emotionally disturbed. In fact, more than half my students this year are ED. I make this clear so you will understand the context that surrounds today’s installment of “God, get me out of here!”

Earlier in the year, Mr. C complained to me about the drumming that goes on in my classroom. He is in the room directly below me and was bothered by the rhythm section that is my fourth period. I expressed my empathy by pointing out that I have to be in the room with the kids so I understand how annoying they can be–all the more than he does. I also said I can’t really do anything because the kids themselves cannot stop themselves. It’s called ADHD and it’s real.

Today, he sent Dean B up to my room after third period to complain for him about the drumming. I suggested to Dean B that perhaps it was my walking around in heels that was doing it. Apparently the drumming was rhythmic and thus my kids, not I, were implicated. I then mentioned to Dean B that there was little I could do to control it as I teach special education. It is in fact against the law to deny a kid his right to an education based on disability (see IDEA and NCLB), so I don’t consider removing students who drum from my room a viable option.

Fourth period is far away the most ADHD of my classes–DJ and SS truly cannot control the energy in their bodies–and is also filled with students who have what one could call Oppositional Defiant Disorder. (I find the “diagnosis” of “oppositional defiant disorder” rude and probably politically motivated when it shows up, but it is a good descriptor). Mr. C called up to my classroom–interrupting my class, by the way–and asked that I ask my class to stop drumming. Not sure who pissed in his Wheaties this morning, but such was his request. My fourth period did not take kindly to some dude they don’t even know yelling at them over the phone for their disabilities. So they stomped on the floor and picked up their desks to drop them a little. In short, it was a disaster.

Oh, but it didn’t end there. I don’t know what your experiences are with yelling at outraged students who in the best of situations say “fuck you” to authority figures, but I can tell you it isn’t a good strategy. I myself was going the “do it for me” route, which tends to be much more effective. I had just told them that I don’t care about the drumming, but Mr. C seems to be in a bad mood and I have to work with him, so please, for me, stop being extra loud and stompy, etc. Then they all yelled at me! Fucking ODD bastards. But they’re my ODD bastards, not Dean B’s or Mr. C’s–a distinction both my students and I appreciate. So when Dean B came back and yelled at all of them, their anger only spiraled and the stomping became worse.

I’m pretty sure Dean B came back another time, but I kicked him out. He wasn’t so much helping when he told my kids with disabilities that they needed to grow up. I do that all the time and they don’t care. He offered to take out any kid doing the least bit of drumming, but I won’t let that happen. I understand they were doing a lot of it on purpose today, but I think they were in the right. They have a right to an education, ADHD and ODD notwithstanding. Who is Mr. C to tell them to stop being themselves?

This interlude wasted about fifteen minutes, which, on top of the good ten minutes fourth period wastes daily, pretty much killed more than half the period. Fortunately, my lesson came in a good ten-fifteen minutes short today when done with minimal discussion. We were still able to get everything done.

———-
Update: New film picture on Day 56.

Week 11: November 3-7

081107: Day 47
I could barely teach today. I gave them a quiz (as promised) and then we discussed “What To Do In Class” and “What NOT To Do In Class.” I read them my letter about canceling all rewards. The only students who complained were those who are the worst offenders in all of our classes. And the students who deserve rewards–and there are many, I know, and I feel for them–were sympathetic and understood my position. CA stayed behind after first period to tell me, “I understand why you can’t do it anymore.”

I feel much better. Lighter. The heartbreak is still there, but I’ve let myself off the hook for rising above the chaos.

Ms. P told her mom about the cookies, among other insane stories from the week, and her mom commented that it was hilarious. And the year is comedic in its exaggerated proportions, unless, as Ms. P told her mom, you feel responsible for teaching these students.

I’ve come to some sort of temporary peace with the idea that I will teach my students but no longer go beyond my bare bones responsibilities. No more treats and privileges. No more lending pens and pencils to have them stolen or vandalized. No more lawn-chair-lounging for a relaxing period.

Lessons, worksheets, quizzes, projects, and I’m done.

081106: Day 46
I make homemade cookies for students when they win Student of the Month. Today I brought the cookies in for students who won for being “Most Respectful of Peers and Teachers.” Kids in my fourth period (KC? TE? BR? JK?!?) stole student-of-the-month cookies from my desk. I know it happened during fourth period because CG confirmed for me that she saw LFo’s and JR’s cookies sitting on my desk during the period and that they were gone at the end of the period. I suspect she knows who took the cookies, but being a “snitch” is worse than stealing from the teacher and your classmates.

I have canceled all rewards in my classroom. There will be no more cookies, candy bars, homework passes, raffle tickets or grab bag prizes. Student of the Month is suspended.

I pulled down just about everything that makes it feel homey. The fucking flowers won’t stay up anyway, and the thought of any of my students–even the kind and sweet ones–sitting in my lawn chair with their backs squishing my handmade pillow as they nod off or refuse to take notes is intolerable.

I cannot hold onto the idea that all of my kids are honorable and worthwhile. Believing in them has once again opened me up to heartbreak. They have proven time and again that they will not change their behavior. I don’t know what else to do other than change my own behavior, hold myself at a distance.

This means I will be a worse teacher. I have to be a worse teacher in order to save myself from stinging betrayals and continual disappointment. This week, this month, this year: the good I do is not worth the emotional price I pay on a daily basis.

081105: Day 45
Mr. L, the assistant principal of security and safety is doing us a huge favor; he has created conduct sheets for our worst offenders to help us control their behavior. The boys (they’re all boys) have to ask their teachers at the end of each period to initial the sheet under “proper behavior” or “improper behavior.” We have no idea what the consequences of these sheets are–it’s possible Mr. L doesn’t know yet, either, because it seems like he’s kinda doing the job of our departmental AP (ahem) and afraid of stepping on toes–but they have certainly pissed off certain of our kids. Whether this translates into improved behavior has yet to be determined.

081104: Day 44
Chancellor’s conference day: Ms. P, Ms. L and I went to the American Museum of Natural History for our professional development. We checked out African animals and dinosaurs, ate a tasty lunch and drank some afternoon tipple. Ms. P treated us to the Manhattan’s largest, tastiest cupcakes at The Little Red Hen, where she used to work. I spent most of the day in a daze.

I lost my shit on the subway ride back to Grand Central. A woman tried to stand on top of me despite the copious amount of room to her opposite side. Then I moved away from her and a man put his arm in front of my face. I can acknowledge now that this was normal crowded-subway-car behavior. But in the moment it was the latest in a string of incidents of being treated like I’m invisible and have no needs.

So I took a step backward, off the train. Then Jeff held me while I sobbed on the platform.

081103: Day 43
My despair is great. My mom came with me to school today and watched my fourth period treat me inhumanely. Again. I think she is the only thing that stopped me from screaming and crying at them. I do not like them. They are not kind. They make me hate teaching.

Behavior is not improving. It is getting worse. Worse and worse. I don’t think it is going to get better. I do not know how I will be able to keep teaching these kids day after day.

Dad gave me the speech about the greater good. And I’m all about the greater good and how the results of my labor may remain invisible for years before they are apparent. I get that. But that doesn’t mean I can stand in front of students on a daily basis and have them insult me.

I don’t have words for the hole in me about this.

Week 4: September 15-19

080919: Day 16
We read Bush Makes Surprise Visit to Work, from The Onion, which was met with mixed reactions. JC, who has Asperger’s, had a bit of a hard time picking up on the sarcasm and exaggeration. MN, however, had already made my day near the end of first period when he said, “I think I know what satire is now.” Fourth period was a meltdown. Fifth period, once again, renewed my faith in students. And seventh period was blessedly easy without the bipolar presence of EH.

080918: Day 15
AP A joked at the beginning of the year that our kids need more attention than your average high school students: “They’d follow you into the bathroom if they could.” It’s worse with the 9th graders than ever it was with 10th or 12th. I’ve taken to covering the windows on the doors to my classroom with paper in the morning and hanging a sign that says “I will not open the door until the 5 minute bell rings.” Still, LE and CT (sweetie, from last year) knock of my door. LE yells, “Good morning Ms. G!” and knocks again. I ignore him.

Almost as bad, but not quite, at the end of the day CP comes in to “fix his binder.” (This has happened more than once this week.) I tell him, straight out, he can’t stay because I’m trying to leave. Usually I have more work to do, but it’s better to go home anyway.

080917: Day 14
Shattered glass as visual metaphor: our students are coming into ever more dramatic relief. It’s almost impossible to believe that there was ever a time I couldn’t tell them apart.

Ms. L has had a dean intervene in her seventh period because DJ and AR were about to get into a fist fight. Seventh period, incidentally, was the period that she invited the police officer into so the kids could get a lecture about proper behavior.

I had an incident with DJ as well when he was escorted into my class 20 minutes late by another police officer. How we ever believed DJ when he told us that he was anxious to do well, to get on our good side, to be student of the month . . .

080916: Day 13
Few things as beautiful as a newly made bed at the end of a long day.

080915: Day 12
I am bereft of goodwill and interest in my Designs for Learning class at Mercy. The professor is perhaps the most boring man alive. Also ineffectual. My classmates have taken to smacktalking one another. Worst of all, they are shittalking their students like it’s funny. I have three more months of it.