Week 38: June 1-5

090605: Day 171
I love computer lab days: I don’t need much of a lesson plan. And according to the kids, today was “cut day,” “national cut day” or, my favorite, “international cut day.” As a result, the longer the day went, the fewer the kids.

NR told me how sad and upsetting it was the Ms. L and I got excessed. She’s angry that it has to be the two teachers she likes the best that get let go first. I thanked her for telling me that. Despite her at-times toxic rudeness, I think she has a sweet heart. Part of me will miss her a lot.

Coming to school has become nigh-on impossible. I hated it here before, now it’s abhorrence. I have a couple leads on open positions from my teaching fellow colleagues. I would rather be working on my resume than watching kids type, but at least it’s not so challenging today.

090604: Day 170
Few things as hideous as the staff development day. I got to learn about how to write a good aim and facilitate effective group work. And then we got to do a scavenger hunt to build school spirit! I wasn’t really into building any sort of team spirit, seeing as how I’d been kicked off the team but two days prior. According to AP A, we only have 537 incoming freshman for the 2009-2010 school year. I think this school year we had around 1000. And five years ago, there were 200 incoming freshman in the special education department alone. I’m pretty certain the administration is trying to keep a school going that the city is trying to close. It looks like the city is winning.

I spent my lunch with Ms. B, Ms. L, Mr. B and Ms. M. We talked about the blog and how excited they—Mr. B and Ms. M in particular—get when they’re on it. So I’m putting them on it again. Hello!

During the afternoon meeting, the teachers of the year were awarded. Ms. L won for special education. I wrote many lovely things about her and expected that she would win. It was enough to make a person cry, seeing as how she’s been excessed, too. But I also feel like I’ve never worked so hard for so long with nothing to show for it. Last year, I was on the list for every official observation—as a first-year teacher—and got an apple-shaped tablet as a thank-you. This year I have absolutely busted ass and pretty much only had one nice meeting with the principal about it. It’s hard to not resent Ms. L at least a little (sorry if you’re reading this—it isn’t personal) as huge amounts of what we’ve accomplished this year have been because we worked together.

It all goes back to the horrible feeling I’ve had over and over this year that I might as well not be here. I stand in front of classrooms—seventh period, fifth period, fourth period last semester—and it’s like I’m not even in the room. As a house we ask for help from the principal and she cancels three meetings with us. I try my best to do something about the behavior problems in the classroom, and Ms. Po yells at me about it. I am excessed in a meeting where I am an afterthought, not even worth the time to hang up the phone or show up on time. I am the cellophane man.

090603: Day 169
Oh what a good mood I am in. I am just giddy to find a new teaching job. I don’t feel guilty about neglecting to tell potential employers that I may be leaving in a year because I have no other choice but to look for a new job. And maybe this time I can find a school that won’t kill me with purposeful inaction and scare tactics!

Periods one, three, four and five are in the computer lab today and Friday (Thursday is a staff development day), and they are so far doing awesome. No one fucked around too much, and they all actually worked on typing their narratives. I think it’s the rainy weather: keeps them chill and calm.

Then seventh period came in. Late as usual. MN accused me of being unfair because everyone else got to go to the computer lab and they didn’t. I explained that I had to cancel the Writing Workshop unit for seventh period because no one listened to me. NO ONE completed the assignments or listened to the lessons or wrote in class. And I pointed out that I begged and pleaded with them numerous times a couple weeks ago to try in class, all to no avail. It was definition of fair that they didn’t get to go to the computer lab. One day, MN will understand cause and effect. I won’t be around to see it, but I’m not so sad about that.

090602: Day 168
When I arrived at school this morning and began to grade the work in my homework basket, I noticed that my gradebooks were entirely gone. It was as if they had never been on my USB drive. All that grading I did yesterday is gone. My most recent backup was Thursday, so that’s not too bad. But it’s not too great, either.

And then I lost my teaching position. During fourth period, I received a hand-delivered memo from AP B asking me to meet her in her office at 12:25. As I was walking to her office, she was walking away. Of course. So, I sit in AP B’s office for about fifteen minutes, with Ms. LATR and Ms. L. We pretty much figured out we were all getting excessed, as we are all the junior members of our department. And Ms. LATR was already excessed once, so she knew the deal. Finally, AP B came back and our “meeting” began. When I say began, I mean I sat in her office looking at the letter on the desk with my name on it while she talked on the phone for about three more minutes. Three minutes is a very long time to wait to be excessed, particularly when you can see the letter with your name on it. I made the meeting as short as possible, beginning it myself by saying we pretty much figured the situation out while we had tons of time to sit there. (The manners of it all!) She told me it was the worst budget she’s ever seen in her career.

Before I go further, let me explain what it means to be excessed. The UFT is a mighty, mighty union. Though I have lost my position, I have not lost my job. Basically, my school doesn’t have enough students for the number of teachers it has, so I had to go—along with Ms. L, Mr. B and Ms. Bo from my department alone. So I have to find a new position in another school. Even if I do not find another position by September, I will report to my current school and be a full-time substitute, or an ATR, which I think means Absent Teacher Reserve. Or Available Teacher in Reserve. But I will still have a salary. It’s crazy.

This is both the final kick in the pants of one of the worst years of my life and the biggest blessing I’ve been given since the year began. It wasn’t a surprise, either. Ms. L and I have watched the administration’s furious struggle to keep attendance up this year with the understanding that they’re trying to hold onto their faculty as much as the kids themselves. But a failing school is a failing school.

Of course I had to go teach seventh period after being told I was no longer needed. And they were the assholes they always are. Except RQ. Small victory.

090601: Day 167
Ms. L threw me a bachelorette party on Saturday. I was still recovering this morning. AP A suggested that perhaps I am getting old if it takes me days to recover. I retorted that it had been a twelve hour party, and she understood where I was coming from.

Seeing as how I always bring my grading home over the weekend and never do it and I had house guests on the futon, I finished exactly no grading. This morning I put Jeff to work on the multiple-choice vocabulary quizzes (which he did even though he didn’t want to) and starting busting through the homeworks and writing assignments myself. Once I got my photocopying done at school, I sat in my classroom and continued grading, grading, grading! I managed to finish the grades in time to print out lists of missing assignments for the kiddies and write their current grades on top. Given that I show them their grades at least once every week or two (depends on the period and how often they ask me), it was shocking how many kids were surprised to see they are failing. Don’t they see the homework chart? How many stickers they don’t have? How many quizzes they fail?

SP was made of attitude when he saw his 30%. Poor kid. We sent a guidance email awhile back saying we thought he should be reevaluated because he cannot keep up with the classwork. Even when he is trying and paying full attention, he is struggling. So guidance scheduled a meeting during a period when none of us could attend and told the mom she should try to transfer him to a smaller school. That was frustrating. SP did not get into a smaller school and the reevaluation process was never started. So he will spend at least another year falling more and more behind. If he doesn’t drop out, it will be a miracle. Or because of football. But he can’t play football with failing grades. Yet another slow-burn tragedy in the making.

Ms. L and I met with RQ’s mom this afternoon to discuss his shit attitude and declining work ethic. I now realize she is actually his aunt, as she made reference to RQ’s mess-up father, her brother. Fortunately I already learned the lesson that just because they have the same last name does not mean they have a parent/offspring relationship. We shamed RQ pretty good, so hopefully he’ll shape up.

—-
Update: New film picture on Day 166.

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 32: April 20-24

090424: Day 142
Ms. L took a dozen kids on a school trip to Washington, D. C. I would kill myself if I did that. Anyway, despite the fact that only twelve kids were going, I pretty well planned on attendance being shite. The kids get it into their heads that everyone is going to be gone so there’s no reason for any of them to come either. So we took a day to write hate poems based on this one. Easy, peasy.

I overheard GA telling another one of his classmates that he was “holding it in” while he was working on his hate poem. Truth be told, he was doing an OK job of holding it in, too. By “it” I mean the excessive swearing and sexual vulgarities. He had good reason to make an effort. One of the many phone calls I made yesterday was to GA’s sister—that poor woman. Turns out Ms. Po had already talked to her before I phoned because GA threatened to bring Ms. Po’s mom into class and make her suck his dick in the back of the room. Sister is planning on taking out a PINS petition on him. Long process short: if a judge finds GA to be “in need of supervision,” he can put him in a foster group home or assign him a probation officer. Guess GA does have some fear in him.

Regarding Ms. Po’s shot across the administration’s bow: we have a sexual harassment action plan. AP P, AP L and AP A are going to bring the offending students’ parents into the school to have a sit-down with their kid and the world’s scariest police officer regarding the harassment. I’m thrilled with the idea of bringing the parents in. Anytime you make parents come into the school they know it has to be serious.

090423: Day 141
Boy howdy did I make some phone calls today. I called home for DD, because he’s shouting out “pussy” and “tossed salad” (not the kind with greens and dressing) all the time and blaming it on his “Tourette’s.” For the record, DD has no such ailment. I called home for FR because he sucks at least as hard as DD does. I called home for KCh because he was a little bitch in class about answering a question I already knew he had answered correctly on his worksheet. I also called home for EB, who often does nothing in class, but today was awesome! I told his sister who passed it along to his mom (who only speaks Spanish) that EB did very well on the quiz we had, volunteered some great answers and even smiled a little. That phone call was fun. Makes me smile just remembering it.

In related news, Ms. Po sent a mighty email to the Principal, AP L, AP A and the deans’ office about the persistent sexual harassment that goes on in our classrooms. She called out the lot of them: SC, GA, FR, LF, and DD. Among the best stories she told on them was DD standing in her doorway with his pants around his ankles saying goodbye to her over and over until she looked up to see he had his pants down. It looks like we may see some actual administrative action on these issues.

Oh and I cried again: during second period.

090422: Day 140
Stopped teaching again in fifth period. I can’t handle the homophobia anymore. If I have to hear “faggot” fifty times a class period for the rest of this year I do not know how I will finish. It’s hard to explain the toll the hate language is taking on my spirit. During the last ten minutes of fifth period, after I’d totally given up on the motherfuckers, TE was standing next to me. Some background: TE has a tendency to be a little gassy. Anyway, I was sitting there in my misery when TE lets out a deep, gurgly belch. He then says, “Ewwww, Ms. G! Gross!” TE is 15 years old.

I had to throw GA out in fourth period. He was doing marginally better, but his entire demeanor is class-stopping. He was so angry about removed that he threw his paper to the floor and spat on it. Then he spat on the late log. I didn’t tell fifth period about the spit. Ha ha, assholes!

And I cried again. This time during my lunch.

090421: Day 139
I had a marker thrown quite forcefully at me in fifth period today. From my dean’s report:

At one point, I threw my overhead marker down in disgust. It was at lest two feet away from any student. Later in that period, I was writing notes on the overhead with said marker and saw something fly dangerously close to my face and heard a loud popping noise (almost like a glass bottle breaking) as it slammed onto the floor beneath the Smart Board. It was a marker. After much discussion and some help from a dean, NR told me and the dean that it was WR who threw the marker. Another student, CM, also came very close to being hit and was upset.

As WR was being escorted from the room, he said to NR, “You gonna get shot.” NR isn’t scared, per se, but she was definitely upset by this comment. She said she was going to 144 to file her own report of this incident, and I hope she did.

I have attempted to call home a couple times over the past month about WaR’s attitude, language and academic progress, but we do not have a working phone number.

Dean T, whom I don’t know from Adam, came in to help with the situation. Not surprisingly, I wasn’t so into teaching after being (again) physically threatened in my own classroom. Ms. L was also in the hallway and told me that Dean T was talking smack about my classroom management skills behind my back and in front of SS. Fucking getting it from all sides here. The dean problem was one I could handle, though. I hunted Dean T down and asked him to kindly not speak about my teaching in front of my kids. He was quite apologetic and there was also some miscommunication involved.

After talking it out with Dean T, I went down to 144 to return WR’s hat to him. He was quite adamant that he did not throw the marker. But he wasn’t in trouble for the marker—no one really cares about anyone threatening me—so much as he was in trouble for threatening to shoot NR. We ended up having a really nice conversation. WR explained his anger management problems (he is so not alone with that problem) and how the only thing that helps is listening to his music. I suggested that if he felt like he was going to explode in the future I would be OK with his slipping his headphones on and listening to his music. He said the signal would be him raising his hand. He was starting to smile by the time I left. I think he had to talk to police after that, though, which was probably less fun. I myself returned to my classroom to teach another period. Didn’t even have a chance to cry until eighth period.

The nastiest part of the whole marker-incident was certainly JM. I’m pretty certain JM was the actual pitcher in the room today. He went so far as to suggest I was to blame for having a marker whipped at my face because I threw my overhead marker at the floor. Then he did that thing he does when he presumes to know what I’m thinking. “You scared, Ms. G? You scared?” And he says it with such glee he clearly enjoys seeing people scared. Which does scare me at least a little. If a kid ever takes a swing at a teacher this year, it’s gonna be JM.

090420: Day 138
The Poetry Slam unit began today. I love this unit, naturally. We read and analyze poems–love!—and at the end the kids have to deliver a dramatic interpretation of a poem of their choice. I started the unit off with my own dramatic interpretation of “This Be The Verse,” by Phillip Larkin, which drops the F-bomb. Nothing like a rhyming poem that blames the misery of the world on parents to hook kids into poetry.

Like any other day, things were fine until fourth period. Both GA and LF loudly announced to the class (or to the universe at large, it’s hard to tell), “I have to take a shit.” I spoke to both of them after class about it. I suggested to GA that a better strategy would have been simply to ask for use of the bathroom pass. GA replied, “Are you crazy? Who shits in school?” I shot back, “Are you crazy? Who talks about their pooping loudly in the middle of class?” And LF? Well, he’s another sack of crazy. The kind of crazy that suffers from echolalia. Or faked echolalia anyway.

Remember last week when I was skeptical that any students would ever be suspended again? BR is suspended! JC is suspended! JC’s suspension is particularly gratifying because it was me who he threatened to “slap the shit out of.”

—–
New film pictures on Day 126 and Day 137

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 17: December 15-19

081219: Day 74
There is magic in snow. Period after period, as students came into my classroom they ran to stand on the chair by the window to get a better look at the fluffy flakes coming down. FR noticed the second the snow began and announced it to third period. Every eye in the room turned to look, wide with wonder. FR himself applauded.

(Alliteration is awesome, as is assonance).

081218: Day 73
Ms. Pe, Ms. L and I spent a couple hours after school setting up the new house bulletin board. (Ms. Po, where have you gone?) The board is beautiful, filled with graffiti fonts and our new house name—as voted by the students—The Newcomers. I think it’s supercute.

I’m feeling a little victorious now that the behavior plan is taking, we have a house name, and, at the least, far fewer students are coming late to class. So I called Jeff as we finished the bulletin board and asked him to happy hour. Energy is good. I miss it. It lets me talk to my boyfriend.

081217: Day 72
A selection of student remarks, made during class time:

BR: (upon entering the classroom late, escorted by a dean, and being told, by me, to keep it down) What the fuck’s wrong with you [me, other teachers] niggers?

DD: (yelling and slamming his fist on my desk) That’s a lie! That’s a damn lie! . . . No, no, no. I’m just playing.

KC: (of CG, as JK borrowed a pen from her) She’s going to rape you up the ass.

WR: My mom’s gonna tell you some shit. . . . I’m about to blaze you up right here. I’m gonna blaze this school up at the end of the year.

081216: Day 71
Forged by Fire is the melodramatic tale of Gerald Nickelby, a young man who has a drug-addict mother, a sweet half-sister, and a stepfather who physically abuses him and sexually abuses his sister. My kids are so into it.

Usually, Monique, the mother, excuses Jordan, the stepfather, and his abuse by claiming that he deserves respect and he loves them all. But in today’s chapter, Jordan slaps Monique full across the face, giving her a bloody lip. As if by magic, she declares to Gerald, “No, I didn’t like that at all.” The moment she said these words, RW began to applaud and whoop in the back of the room, with a giant smile on his face, so amazed was he by the character’s transformation. The rest of the class just missed it, at least partially because RW was clapping and whooping. We played it again so everyone could celebrate.

081215: Day 70
At the suggestion of Saul, my Mercy professor whom I adore, I put together a behavior modification plan for the entire house. At the beginning of each week, students receive a sheet that asks them to rate their behavior in their core classes, on a daily basis, in these six categories:

Lateness: Were you in class before the late bell?
Preparedness: Did you come to class with a pen/pencil, notebook and homework?
Participation: Did you work from the beginning of class to the end of class to the best of your ability?
Language: Did you speak to peers and teachers respectfully and appropriately?
Physicality: Did you keep your hands and feet to yourself?
Maturity: Did you respect your learning environment and everyone in it?

At the end of class, they are to give themselves a check ONLY if they can answer yes to the question. At the end of the week, we as their teachers will review the sheets, award five points for each check, and plant our John Hancocks on them to certify their legitimacy. The points will determine if students can go on field trips with us.

We had an assembly during fourth period to introduce our students to the program. In a happenstance that surprised none of us, the students were horribly behaved. AP A was appalled and took down names of students for whom she had designs on calling home. She had such a shocked look on her face that I couldn’t help but wonder why she thought we have been talking about the behavior problems so much. We are not wusses; these students, en masse, are horrible. How could she be so shocked when we have been discussing this problem—to pretty much the exclusion of all others—since mid-September?

Week 13: November 17-21

081121: Day 56
Yesterday and today, I had the laptop carts in the room so my kids could type their short stories. I want to publish them into a big anthology–I’m really excited about this–and letting them type their stories kills two birds with one stone: I don’t need to lesson plan AND I don’t need to type their stories. As usual, fourth period was a bit of a zoo, but they were getting good work done in the midst of it. Conversation devolved into a discussion of virginity, and DJ proudly announced he was not a virgin. I immediately put my fingers in my ears and began to sing. Cuz, ew.

NR, JG and LMS–three of the nine girls on my roster, all of them in the above mentioned fourth period–finished their math tests in fifth period and came back to my room to keep working on their stories. My fifth period is probably why I can continue to teach: every kid in the room was working quietly, either typing or writing their story. NR looked at me, declared, “Yo, miss, our class would never be like this.” She was baffled by the good behavior. It was like she was observing animals in the wild and didn’t want to disturb them for fear they would vanish forever. And then she bowed her head and got down to working on her story. It was awesome.

On an unrelated note, Ms. P shared with us an exchange between MG and JW, both of whom are in my first period. (Only technically: MG comes 2 days out of 5, and JW hasn’t come once since the first week of school.) Apparently, they were talking about me in her science class, and JW was teasing MG about how much he liked me. You know, how MG goes home every day after school and thinks about me, “Oh, Ms. G . . . Oh, Ms. G . . .” I think there was pantomime involved.

081120: Day 55
I had a fight in my classroom. Let me quote from my Dean’s Report:

During my third period today, FR and RQ got into a physical fight. At the beginning of the period, I saw RQ hit FR in the back of the head. RQ claimed that FR hit him first, but I didn’t see it. I wouldn’t excuse it either way, so I asked RQ to apologize. RQ refused, so I asked him to move his desk away from FR’s, which he did.

FR continued to demand RQ to apologize, I asked him to stop and said I would talk to RQ after class about. FR then got in RQ’s face, putting his shoulder against RQ’s and pushing him in circles, demanding RQ apologize. RQ told him he wasn’t playing anymore.

Then they began to genuinely fight. One of them had the other in a headlock (I’m not sure who was holding whom) and the two of them went down in the room. They ripped posters off the wall of my room with their feet as they fell, knocked the LCD projector askew and almost knocked a laptop off a desk (we were using laptops today).

SQ and CP broke up the fight. Dean B then came in and settled the situation.

FR is a continual behavior problem in class. We (the ninth grade house) have contacted his mother on 10/17, 10/21 and 11/19. We have also made a guidance referral. But the behavior problems persist. He was bragging about the fight after he returned to fourth and fifth periods today.

RQ can be disruptive, but is usually on task.

This is the response I received:

Dean S mediated. Both students understand if they are another incident that occurs

I didn’t miscopy that: that’s the email in its entirety.

What was I saying about having no support? SC swears at a Dean and gets suspended. Two boys physically fight in my classroom, destroying a poster on the wall and endangering multiple expensive pieces of technology, and nothing happens to them. I am continually agog at the rapid decline my school is taking.

081119: Day 54
SC was suspended for the fifth time today. For swearing at Dean B (again) and Ms. P (again). Looking at how many days we’ve been in session, he must get suspended once every ten days. Considering his suspensions last 5 days, he will have been suspended roughly half the days he’s been in school.

DT, who skipped the first, oh, 8 weeks of school, is back to attending regularly. He plays all the time. Only, he’s not so much playing as toying with the idea of breaking laws. I caught him putting a tissue in the shade of my desk lamp, on top of the light bulb. He claimed that tissues “cool it down.” Let me be clear, DT is not a stupid kid: he tried to catch my lamp on fire, on purpose. Fortunately for me, I’m not stupid, either, and I have a CFL in that lamp.

Later, he tried to palm one of the USB drives I bought to save everyone’s short stories on to. Once again, he tried to joke it away. I’m pretty sure he is a criminal.

081118: Day 53
It occurred to me today that my administration doesn’t so much care about the discipline and disrespect issues going in the ninth grade special education house. Our troubles are rather widely known, because we are all excellent story tellers, so why hasn’t our principal asked to meet with us? I’m sure she should care. And she should want to help us out, especially given how many of our kids keep getting suspended. Suspensions look very bad for a school. Truly, our kids have had more suspensions these first three months of school than my kids had all of last year.

Two boys–JR and DC–told me that they had been holding their anger in for a long time, but if their peers kept playing/messing with them, they were going to become violent in class. Naturally, I went to my assistant principal; she told me to email their related service providers (counselors). Of course, DC’s related service provider is part-time–only in school on Mondays and Tuesdays. And she has no email. When I looked at AP A like, “are you kidding me? that’s it?” she had no response. There is nothing to be done but email (or type a memo and drop it in a box) and wait for this woman to come back next week. So, if DC happens to become violent in class, as he warned me, oh well. Ms. H won’t be back until Monday.

There is no one to help us.

081117: Day 52
SC is a special kind of kid. He is fourteen, cannot be taller than five feet, and has the biggest, vilest mouth in the house. He has been working very hard to catch up in my class–four suspensions have a way of putting a kid behind the eight ball–and is quite sweet to me. Of course, at the end of third period today, he made this remark about Ms. P: “I want to slap her in the face.”

In short succession, the conversation devolved into sexual remarks about Ms. P, including JO (I’m so glad he got added to my class a couple weeks ago) saying something about her face, then denying he said anything about her face by saying, “I said she has a good body.”

It’s not even like they say these things thinking I can’t hear them. They slur their teachers in front of other teachers. Regularly. So I spent my eighth period prep calling parents again.

* * *
Update: I put new film pictures up: Day 44 and Day 39.

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 8: October 14-17

081017: Day 32
This appears to be the week when our disappointing and heartbreaking school life turns out to be the most hilarious of black comedies. During our lunch meeting, Ms. P, Ms. P, Ms. L and I laughed at our students. Really hard, like crying hard. The affair involved impressions: Ms. L does a painfully accurate rendition of BU when he’s frustrated to the point of tears, Ms. P impersonated QF impersonating Stewie and, of course, she continued to do the best ever impression of LF, who has got to have tourettes syndrome. His tourettes is naturally one of the funniest parts of our day.

081016: Day 31
This is DD’s hat. His classmates stole it from him in order to “teach him a lesson.” Apparently DD is always stealing other kids’ things, and they were a little sick of it.

This hat was returned to me by one of those lesson-teachers just moments before I was planning on calling DD’s mother for another, unrelated incident. In this episode of DD Drives Us Crazy, DD was making a poster in Ms. P’s science class. He was using glue. While using this glue he pretended to be jerking off and made the bottle of Elmer’s come. I’m not sure how far the bottle came, but I know that the display disturbed Ms. P profoundly.

So I made my telephone call to DD’s mother, and ended up talking to his grandmother. I mentioned about the hat, how I had it, how he apparently is doing something to bring this stuff on himself, how he wasn’t in his eighth period class when I went to look for him to return his hat, and then realized I could in no way tell this kid’s grandma about the masturbation thing. So I called his mom’s cell phone, told her everything I told his grandma, and then we got around to his love toy, the glue bottle. I told the story with as little titillating language as possible. Mom was sufficiently shocked, and then I pretty much said, “Yeah . . . well, that’s it from this end. OK. Bye.”

081015: Day 30
Despite our not really doing anything today, it was eventful. We gave the PSAT to every student in the 9th, 10th, and 11th grades. “Never mind that it’s an eleventh grade test, let’s have everyone take it and waste a day of instruction!” we say.

I oversaw a room of 20 students with learning disabilities and emotional disturbances as they attempted to write and bubble in their personal information. This took at least twenty minutes longer than it was scheduled to. They do not know how to bubble. They do not understand they need to write their name and fill in the bubbles beneath the letters. To bake up a cake of fluffy Ms. G frustration combine this critical lack of understanding with another cup of stunning ineptitude, in the form of their inability to supply their home address without overly explicit instruction.

Student 1: “Should I write down Boulevard?”
Me: “Yes, include the number, the street name and St., Ave or Blvd. . . .”
Student 2: “What do you mean zip code?”
Student 3: “What zip code?”
Me: “Your zipcode!”
Student 3: “What is it?”
Me: “I don’t know your zipcode. The zipcode where you live!”

Oh, also, we had a faculty meeting at the end of the day and our principal told us she’s already had to give back $1.5 million and will probably have to give back another $1 million before the end of the October. So, that would be 10 staff jobs. But she’s just gonna stop ordering books and hiring substitutes instead of firing people. What a relief that is. Thank god I understand how all this works or I would be really nervous.

081014: Day 29
The elevator incident (080925: Day 20) came back around today. BB himself, however, has been discharged from Truman by his father and taken to Atlanta, making the primary witness as good as nonexistent. This hasn’t stopped the incident from giving me a small heart attack in terms of my own accountability and making me feel like advocating for my students means putting my own ass on the line.

I got a phone call thirty minutes after the last bell from the principal asking me who was on the elevator with BB–what other students, was I on the elevator–and I was unable to answer most of her questions. I do not remember who was on what elevator over two weeks ago. I know SS was on the elevator with BB. I know BB wrote the incident up and mentioned in his report that he could name other students who were witnesses. Not that we can ask him, once again, because he is gone. All of a sudden this has become a priority of my principal, now that it is functionally too late to do anything about it.

SS remembers what happens. The other students whom he remembers being on the elevator with him and BB remember nothing. I sent them down to room 260 so they could tell the AP of Pupil Personnel Services that they don’t remember anything. My AP doesn’t remember who was on the elevator, Ms. P doesn’t remember who was on the elevator, Ms. L doesn’t remember who was on the elevator. I’ve convinced myself that I must have been on the elevator but got off before the incident happened just so I can have a story to tell the principal. I am, however, suddenly the point person in this “investigation,” so I’m the one who looks like she has no idea where her students are.

The situation is appalling. Nothing is going to happen. For a brief moment something could have been done about a cruel school employee who is infamous for his inappropriate comments to students. It’s hard not to look at the situation and see deliberate administrative mishandling in order to avoid taking responsibility for this man’s actions. In order to avoid responsibility. Perhaps to pin that responsibility on me.