Week 40: June 15-19

Day 181: 090619
I arrived at school a couple hours early this morning in order to finish grading the kids’ finals. As I was waiting for the elevator, I ran into Principal N. She pulled me aside and told me I was safe for next year—just as AP A told me a couple mornings ago. She touched my face and told me not to interview anymore. A tad Corleone, but comforting, too. You know, comforting the way the abusive husband is after he beats the shit out of you.

To further increase my feelings of sappy, stupid sentimentality, the last two questions on the final this year were “What was the best part of English this year? Why?” and “What was the worst part of English this year? Why?” I ask these questions to give the kids some gimme points and to give them a chance to voice off, but also to make myself feel like I have accomplished something in addition to tearing apart my own will to live. It’s much easier to like the kids when they say nice things about you and you don’t have to see them again. A selection of their remarks (edited only slightly, for grammar’s sake):

LMS: My fave part of English is you, Ms. G. You’re funny, nice and I know some of these kids are a pain in a butt, but they can’t help themselves.

RQ: P.S. I’m sorry about ever bad thing I did to you.

DG: My favorite part of my English year was the poetry slam. We had to go up and read in front of a lot of people. I was nervous at first, but I got use to it.

AR: When we play Jeopardy and look at Ms. G dance.

GO: My favorite part of English this year was to get in it all Done with. I hold some days. Ms. G you are the best and you’re so kool. I will miss you.

JK: My favorite part was the vocabulary. Why? because it was mad easy.

KCh: The best part of English was when I turned into an English fan. I hated English so much, but Ms. G turned me around. That was the best part of the class.

AB: My favorite part of English this year was that I got the help that I need for English. I came into special ed at the middle of the year and found the work to be just right for me. Not too bad and not too easy. I really liked the poetry slam too most from the year.

AM: My favorite part was when I passed my class. If it wasn’t for Ms. G, I wouldn’t pass. I would be going to summer schooling. But i went up to her and talk to her and she give me some stuff to do and pass. Just want to say thanks for the help, Ms. G.

DD: Flight vs invisibility because that was a very good kind of battle to come up with.

CG: My favorite part of English was when we would play those games and go against teams. Also when we would watch movies and answer questions. My other favorite part is when you would tell us something nobody knows.

I’ve received no word from the schools I interviewed at this week. My best guess is I’ll be returning here next year. So I packed my room up, filling my teacher closet and some lockers in the back of the room instead of filling up boxes and hauling them out.

Day 180: 090618
It was Ms. L’s last day here. Tomorrow she flies to Greece for the summer, and when she returns to New York City she will return to a middle school opening up in Harlem. Much like saying goodbye to the kids, it was anticlimactic. Also sad. I can’t even predict what it will be like next year without seeing her every day, as she has been such an integral part of my daily existence for the past two years. Don’t tell Ms. L, but I cried a little in the elevator after I left her in the room where she was proctoring.

Day 179: 090617
On my way into school this morning I saw DJe, a student from last year whom I adore. DJe spent his first semester with me in my fifth period. I maybe once threw a book directly at him because he was sleeping and ignoring me in front of the others and he maybe still teases me about it, each time to my deep embarrassment and fear that I may end up in teacher jail because of this momentary indiscretion. Come second semester, he was in my eighth period and the only one who showed up. Most days DJe and I would blow through the lesson with about ten minutes to spare, then we would sit around shooting the shit, waiting for the bell to ring so we could go home. DJe’s backstory is just as devastating as JC’s or GA’s, but he is proof that fucked up backstory doesn’t mean you grow up fucked up. DJe is growing up sweet, responsible and kind of goofy. We said goodbye on the sidewalk in the rainy morning.

Then AP A called me into her office to say I’ve been unexcessed. Huh.

I proctored the first session of the English Language Arts Regents examination this morning. Session 1 includes the listening passage, and my wards were ELL (English Language Learner) students, which means I had to read the passage out loud three times instead of just two. I’d like to say that halfway through the first time I was a little bored with Therapy Dogs (I read it so many times I memorized the website address). Also, the room was goddamn freezing cold. I had kids sitting in front of me physically shivering. Nothing can be done about this, however, so I advised them all to wear pants and sweatshirts tomorrow. I will not be wearing a skirt again as I, too, was shivering in the chill.

During my afternoon as “relief” for proctoring teachers, I was assigned to the room where half of my kiddies were taking the Math RCT. FR was happy to see me and wanted to know if I’d be back next year. I guess if you’re that toxic of a person you have to gloss over the bad feelings caused when you piss people off or else you would have no one to talk to. MB and QF were thrilled to see me: “It’s so good to see you again.” Then they each said goodbye to me another two or three times, all awkward like. Meanwhile, in my room, Ms. L babysat Ms. Pe’s son, who really likes books.

I had an amazing interview at an academically rigorous middle school in the south Bronx for a general education 8th grade ELA position. I talked to the hiring committee for an hour, which I suspect has to be a good thing. I would love to leave here.

Day 178: 090616
And so Regents week begins in ernest. I proctored a test this morning to non-special-ed students. It’s weird. The test only lasts three hours, the kids weren’t scheduled to take more than one test at the same time, they didn’t get the questions read over and over again. All I had to do was take attendance, read the directions and write the time on the board every fifteen minutes. I got some good reading done.

I had my first interview for a new job today—at a school that teaches Latin to its seventh and eighth graders, no less. Gotta love New York City because principals can be thirty-something barrel-chested men with Lenny Kravitz dreds halfway down their backs who believe Latin is the avenue to better students. I think the interview was going pretty well until it was made clear to me that the job required me to teach all four core subjects and I—honestly—revealed that I know shit all about math and science. The principal proposed an arrangement whereby I would teach ELA and history to sixth and seventh grade and the current seventh grade teacher would teach math and science to both grades. A promising suggestion, seeing as how the above-mentioned Principal Kravitz would alter his teaching program to get me onto staff.

Day 177: 090615
My official last day of teaching at this school has passed. Nothing says anticlimactic like watching kids finish essays and answer multiple-choice questions knowing full well that you’ll see a lot of them again during Regents Week. I passed out the certificates and candy bars for my students of the year, which was satisfying. Last year I didn’t do certificates and I’m sad to think of all those kiddos who were robbed of something pretty to show their parents. Heaven knows the candy bars don’t last long enough for any kind of show and tell. LJS, in a turn of events that surprises no one but himself, was not a student of the year. LJS comes in to class somewhere between on time and two minutes late, never takes notes, needs to be reminded to focus on anything and chitchats with the lovely SA (a rare girl in these classrooms) on a regular basis—and failed every marking period so far—and he’s suprised he’s not student of the year. God bless his relentless optimism and tenuous grasp on reality.

I had a couple awkward goodbyes today, from kids who know I’m not coming back and don’t know how to conduct a social interaction. Both QF and MB said goodbye to me about three times in a minute, clearly hoping for something more than my also saying “goodbye. I’m not a hugger, though, so I hope they were satisfied with winning student of the year—for most diligent and best class participation, respectively.

I had students in my room solid from third period through on until 3:45, desperately working to finish both parts of their final. I actually called Ms. L at the end of the day to remind ES and BU to come back to my room to finish their tests. I could hear BU moan loudly in the background when she passed on my message. But they needed to do well to pass, so I stand by my one last effort at making their lives uncomfortable. When they finished, I had another couple awkward goodbyes to tend to. Then it was me and DD, alone in the classroom again, as he finished up his final. Somehow appropriate that I walked out the door with DD on my last day.

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 30: March 30-April 3

090403: Day 134
We finished When the Emperor Was Divine today. The end of the book is a spectular monologue in which the father confesses to being every horrible American stereotype of the “Jap”:

I’m the one you call Jap. I’m the one you call Nip. I’m the one you call Slits. I’m the one you call Slopes. I’m the one you call Yellowbelly. I’m the one you call Gook. I’m the one you don’t see at all—we all look alike. I’m the one you see everywhere—we’re taking over the neighborhood. I’m the one you look for under your bed every nithg before you go to sleep. Just checking, you say.

The passage is so angry and so over-the-top that pretty much every kid actually understood it. I love those days, the days when they all get it. AR loved it so much he demanded I give him a copy of the book because it’s his favorite now. I love it when that happens, too. I’m thinking I’ll buy him a copy.

090402: Day 133
I spent long stretches of fifth period not teaching. The class was relatively quiet while I wasn’t teaching, save a random conversation or two. But even though they weren’t talking, they certainly weren’t listening. After about 3 minutes or so a student would ask me to continue with the lesson. So I would ask the question I had just asked and then no one would answer. I’m not even sure they heard me ask the question, despite the requests to continue. I was not asking hard questions, for the record.

I cannot think for students. They seem to think that is my job, though. They sit there dumb as dirt and wait for me to write something on the board, preferably an answer to a question. Then they say, “I do your work” when they copy the letters from the board onto their pre-made note sheets. I am out of ways to explain that copying notes is not doing the work. They also need to answer questions, read books (and directions), listen to what I say even if they do not have to write it down, and listen to one another. Special ed my ass; this is laziness and it is disgusting.

On the upside, I finished my Culminating Assessment Project, or CAP, and drove it up to Mercy today.

090401: Day 132
Ms. Po is out today. I missed it yesterday, because I was out, but apparently her second period made her cry. That is not surprising; our kids are worse by the minute. I guess they were throwing markers all over the place, and she already felt sick, and she just couldn’t take it anymore.

I made it a point to lock up all my stuff before I left. But I came back today to find that a student stole markers from my desk. Someone reached into my desk and stole my good markers. Said person left all the crayolas and the crappy, school-supplied permanent markers and took my sharpies and overhead markers. I can’t get over it: a kid reached into my desk and stole my sharpies. The number of fucking sharpies I have had stolen from me this year is driving me a little crazy. I need them to keep the word wall nicely updated, and some fucking kid keeps taking them from me. I wish I knew who it was so I could say, to his face, FUCK YOU. Fuck you for being a petty little criminal. Fuck you for making me spend more of my money on your sorry ass, because this classroom is for you. Fuck you for making me waste my time by going to fucking Staples, again, to replace things that were stolen from me, again.

Also, I’m pretty sure whoever stole the sharpies is the same person who tagged “Cookie” all over my classroom in sharpie. It’s on the filing cabinet, Smart Board, heater, mouse pad, desk under the mouse pad and my chair. Also see where GA fucked up the bulletin board that took me a couple hours to put together. GA’s handwriting I recognize from the last time he defaced my mouse pad (and denied it).

If only they read the blog, they could see me say it: Fuck you, kid, for making our world trash.

090331: Day 131
I was positively giddy that I stayed home today, even if it was to work on my CAP. I also went to downtown Yonkers to get my license switched over to New York. Yeah, hadn’t taken care of that California license. It was probably illegal, but whatever. I’m square with the law now. I also hit up Staples for miscellaneous office supplies and even went to Target. Living large, baby.

090330: Day 130
I stayed after school today to help CP on his some homework. I kind of hate staying late, but I feel so much less guilty having one official after-school day. Also, I can get a lot of filing and grading done before I head on out to Mercy for another endless night of graduate work. As I was putting away a ton of stuff and writing directions on the board for Tuesday and stacking papers neatly on my desk, CP made a remark about me not coming to school the next day. I purposefully didn’t tell any kids that I was planning on being absent, because then they would make plans to trash my room instead of doing it on the spur of the moment. CP was a little sharper than I would have anticipated. Fortunately for me, he’s not a shithead. He probably won’t spread word around that I ain’t coming in tomorrow.

Week 29: March 23-27

090327: Day 129
Oh my, CA’s mom came in this afternoon for parent-teacher conferences. She is very supportive and sweet, but she also kept CA home for the first marking period. CA told me earlier in the year that he was almost left back in 8th grade because he missed over 80 days. Over 80 days! That is almost half the school year. While it’s true that CA has health problems, he doesn’t have that many health problems. I suppose when I call her supportive I also kind of meant she is an enabler.

CA’s primary problem in school is that he doesn’t do anything. Truly: hardly anything. He was unable to name to protagonist and antagonist for his short story. He could not answer the question “which superpower is better: flight or invisibility?” No matter how long a teacher sits with him, he will wait them out. He will give them a sheepish smile that says, “I dunno, maybe you better leave to go help someone else.” And eventually you have to, because he can’t even think of a name for a character! His mom understood all of this about him and basically said she had no idea what to do. Then they left, without talking to Ms. Po or Mr. P, who doubtless would have said the exact same things Ms. L and I did. But still.

I swear some of our parents have never heard of taking a kid’s computer or gaming system away until their grades improve.

090326: Day 128
Ms. L and I hit up some Applebees before parent-teacher night. Beer is good. Especially when you know you’re gonna have to talk to parent after parent after parent. That frilly pink drink, however? Disappointingly weak, according to Ms. L. Also hugely exciting: I got to eat buffalo wings, which I’ve been craving ever since I saw that episode of “Man v. Food” where Adam goes to Quaker Steak and Lube.

But I suppose the true story of the night is GW and her mother. While sitting at my conference table, GW and her mom had a rather long, low-level conversation of the “should I . . .” “I don’t know know . . .” “I should . . .” “maybe not. . .” nature—you know the kind. Only, it was in a loud room, in low Caribbean accents, with me sitting right there with them. Awkward. Oh, and then GW’s mom asked if I was a Christian. I like to say that I’m Buddhist in these situations, because it is equally as exotic as agnostic—which is the real truth of my religious leanings—but inspires less questioning and dismay.

Turns out GW’s mom needs to find a new job as a nanny because she hates the woman she works for up in Mt. Kisco, which is also quite a ways from the Bronx. She wants to move into a bigger apartment and keep GW in the same school because she’s doing well there. And, you know, the economy is in the crapper. To get a new job, she needs good references who are White. The woman whom she worked for in Bronxville is a little too slow to return phone calls, and the woman in Mt. Kisco sounds like a beotch. So, she would basically like to me to lie for her, to say that she has successfully and wonderfully cared for my children.

Ethics are a bitch, and I really wish I wasn’t the teacher they picked to approach on this matter.

090325: Day 127
We had our reconciliation today in our house meeting. And by reconciliation I refer to Ms. Po sulking on the floor and letting Mr. K talk for her. It was bizarre and offensive. For those of you following along at home, Mr. K is not part of the freshman house and thus has no direct bearing on the proceedings. (He did have some good suggestions, though.) It was almost as if Mr. K was there to guard Ms. Po as she played with her iPhone.

Ms. L was forced into interpreting Ms. Po’s feelings for her, to which Ms. Po could barely be bothered to respond with a “sure” or “yeah.” I wasn’t exactly expecting an apology. In fact, I was kind of expecting to get beat up on a little more for being holier-than-thou. The reality was far more anti-climactic and frustrating. Ms. Po had no reaction. I expected at least some sort of reaction. Any reaction at all to the way we both stepped in it yesterday. But no, just silent sulking on the floor.

As far as I’m concerned, it’s a giant whatever. The freshman house is dead, for all intents and purposes. And I have a fundamental problem being friends with people who don’t do anything to help themselves out of their own misery. Ms. Po and I were never quite friends. We were almost friends, but now we are mostly certainly not friends.

090324: Day 126
I wrote a guidance referral for GA, regarding his horrible language and behavior and the impact they were having on his academic progress. I included reports from Ms. Po and Ms. L to hammer home the point that his behavior and academic issues pervade his school life. I referenced his propensity to use the word “wetback” as both an insult and an expletive. I wrote of his obsession with the sexuality of JC’s mom (appears to be a theme, BR also spent quite a bit of time talking about the things he does with JC’s mom).

AP A responded to my email imploring Ms. G, the guidance counselor, to get the guardian involved because “the situation is getting out of hand.”

Our response from guidance?

Attention All

GA’s guardian was in yesterday and met with AP L and myself.

I will forward this e-mail to Ms. H his mandated counselor as well as contact the guardian regarding this e-mail.

That’s right, guidance, don’t notify teachers when parents come in or anything. That would be a stupid waste of time.

Also of note today was Ms. Po asking me to eat a little bit of her shit during our house meeting. We were discussing the behavior rubric and, to put it succinctly, its failure. Me being the queen of tact, I mentioned the fact that Ms. L and I have been carrying a disproportionate amount of work for the house, particularly since the new semester began (and we lost Ms. Pe). Of course, I only get the guts—or lose my patience enough—to make reference to my true feelings three minutes before the end of sixth period. Ms. Po reared up at me—in my imagination she is like a horse with steam blasting from her nostrils—and snapped at me, “This isn’t working.” She then stormed out the room as I shouted apologies after her.

Now I will be the first person to admit to my own shit. But I will be damned if I am going to pretend someone else’s shit is my own. I was hardly tactful or polite in the meeting, but I sure didn’t deserve another teacher—a colleague with whom I should be working closely—invading my personal space to snap in my face and then storm out of the room.

On my way out of school, I ran into Mr. P and Ms. Pe (why does everyone’s last name begin with P?). I again made with the apologies (oh, I also sent a nice, apologetic email after the incident), this time to Mr. P. Mr. P assured he was not offended and suggested to me that my problem is that I am too “wide-eyed.” This is not the first time this year someone has either implied or outright said that I am naive and idealistic. Fuck that criticism. I am hardly naive. I may look like a little blonde girl who just fell off the turnip truck. But truly, I am the product of a “broken home” who suffered through a pretty good period of depression, a trollop who has been dumped and heartbroken a seriously large number of times, an activist (Jeff’s word for me, reluctantly now my own) who spent two years running a creative writing program in the Westchester County Department of Corrections. Fuck you if you think I’m “wide-eyed” after that.

090323: Day 125
I grow tired of teacher absences. Student absences, though they are certainly unacceptable, are much more palatable. When teachers are absent, the students who are still in attendance go kind of crazy. That said, today was the first day of researching Japanese-American internment during World War II in class and my kids did a pretty great job. Turns out that their previous experience using my preformatted research note-cards in “Flight v. Invisibility” prepared them pretty well to research primary and secondary sources in “Aliens and Americans.” Hooray for building on previous knowledge!

Of course, this small victory was preceded by a horrendous amount of harried photocopying that I finished just moments before first period. I hate Monday mornings.

Week 18: December 22-23

081223: Day 76
The DOE is a cruel mistress, keeping school in session this Monday and Tuesday. Moreover, my principal is a cruel mistress for asking (requiring?) all her teachers to give tests on Tuesday. Or maybe we were supposed to give tests Monday and Tuesday. It is of no matter now, though, as it is over.

The idea behind giving tests right before vacations is that they will encourage attendance on days when everyone knows the students are not going to come. This is no more an encouragement for attendance than telling kids they must attend class on the Tuesday before Christmas because that’s the only day we can pull their fingernails out with pliers.

So my day was spent dealing with grumpy, emotionally disturbed students (many of whom I have really grown to hate) who wanted nothing more than to do absolutely nothing, eat free food (CG, to me: You didn’t bring no cookies? Me to CG: You didn’t bring no cookies?) and bitch about the tests they had to take.

Vacation did not come soon enough.

081222: Day 75
Movie day! Ms. Pe and I took the kids who earned the most points on the behavior rubric (See Day 70) from last week to see “Seven Pounds.” While the movie was kind of awful, despite its having Will Smith, the kids had a really good time. And I didn’t have to teach two of my five classes—we left after fourth period—so I was pretty happy.

I have some pangs of guilt when it comes to Ms. L, who stayed behind and taught all of our kids for periods five-eight. All of them except for the twenty best-behaved. I am a horrible person and left no work for my fifth and seventh periods to do, thus forcing them to work on her trial of Andrew Jackson project for two periods. And also forcing Ms. L to deal with their having to work on her project for two periods. According to her, period five was fine, but periods “seven and eight were train wrecks.”

So, to Ms. L: Sorry. If it’s any consolation, the movie theater was freezing cold. We all had to wear our jackets to stay warm enough. And, like I said, the movie kinda sucked.

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 12: November 10-14

081115: Bonus Day
I finished my last session of Life Spaces Crisis Intervention! I get my Saturdays back!

081114: Day 51
I followed the steps of the writing process and wrote my first successful short story. Turns out that what I’m teaching my students actually works.

See, I needed a short story for the test on Thursday that would be short enough to read in 7 minutes or so, followed a clear plot structure and included setting, protagonist, antagonist, and conflict. Those elements had to be clear, but the story had to be just complicated enough to be a true test of my students’ ability to apply what they’d learned to something they hadn’t read before.

So I did everything I asked the kids to: I brainstormed a setting, protagonist, antagonist, and a conflict. I laid out the events of the story on a plot pyramid that included exposition, three incidents of rising action, a climax, falling action and a resolution. I turned that pyramid into a draft.

Most amazing? The kids loved it. Especially third period. BJ suggested that I had to “write the next chapter of that” and every time another horrible thing happened to Billy, my protagonist, FR would mutter, “Ooh, he tight! He tight!”

I may write more formulaic short stories. They are quite rewarding.

081113: Day 50
Where to start. Ms. P is facing a “routine” corporal punishment charge for taking a student’s hat off. KCh, who was student of the month for September, was suspended for play fighting in gym. DD’s baby picture, which was attached to his project on my bulletin board, was ripped off and stolen. I gave a test, which is always kind of hectic. Yet even among these moments of insanity, I haven’t revealed the most frustrating moment of my day.

I spent my sixth period with CA–whose mother kept him home for most of the first marking period because she is crazy, too–organizing his backpack and trying to get him to work. He hadn’t finished the test from first period, yet, and he still has not done ANY work on the short story project, despite our spending two days of class working on it.

He did nothing. I had him working on brainstorming some details about his protagonist, and all he could tell me was that the guy was 14 and a male. He couldn’t, or wouldn’t, answer any of the following prompts (which were written on the worksheet): what does he look like? what does he do all day? what is he good at? what does he like? hate? goal in life? what do other characters say about him?

CA sat there, chewing on his tissue (both weird and gross, but that’s a different problem) and wouldn’t work even when confronted. He is failing all his classes because he has turned in no homework and often fails test due to his just sitting there, chewing his tissue. In his own words: “I just really don’t like to do work.” He participates well in class, so I feel confident that he is capable of the work. He just won’t do it.

He sat there and looked sheepish for a good fifteen minutes, assuming I would forgive him for his laziness and pass him anyway? I told him I would not. Neither would Ms. L or Ms. P or Ms. P. He continued to look sheepish and ignore the magnitude of the problem. When I suggested I would have to call his mother to discuss this, because discussing it with him was doing no good, he recommended that I call that day, because his brothers monopolize the phone on Saturdays and Sundays.

081112: Day 49
When we play Jeopardy or any other game in order to review a test, I always lay out rules at the get-go. Rule #1: If you yell at me, call me a cheater, accuse me of treating your team unfairly or argue over how many points you should get or the other team should lose, then I will not be having a good time. And if I’m not having a good time, then we will stop playing and the game will be over.

Third period did not follow this, my most important rule. Thus, we stopped playing the game. Well, I stopped playing the game, and they continued to play against one another. It was kind of a cluster-fuck up by the Smart Board, but they kept going through the questions and answers. And fighting. And trying to keep score. I was kind of impressed with their determination to play the game, given that it was still about English.

When I stepped back in to make sure they had covered the important stuff for Thursday’s test, little JC (who was just added) wanted to know which team would get the extra credit points I had offered to the victors. I explained that because the game had been canceled, there were no victors. So: no extra credit points for anyone. That’s what you get for breaking the rules, motherfuckers.

081110: Day 48
JS and MB have an odd relationship. JS, who is barely 4’10″, chases MB around the room with one of his copious highlighters at the end of nearly every fifth period. MB runs around to get away from him, but won’t actually exit the room to escape. They often have spats in class where MB complains that JS is bothering him or touching him or doing something else vaguely annoying. Yet MB sits himself in front of JS everyday.

The conflict in JS’s short story is between John and Bob: John is always bullying Bob. In much the same manner that JS bullies MB. This makes me wonder even more.

Privately, in our house meetings, we speculate about the illicit love between the boys. We think they have some kind of elementary-school level flirtation going on, with their unexpressed, inexpressible homosexuality working its way out by proxy of a florescent highlighter.

Week 10: October 27-31

081101: Bonus Day
In taking my Saturday workshop on helping students deal with crisis, I came to a realization about an incident that occurred during seventh grade. We were discussing the fact that as teachers we can’t always spend a half-hour talking to students in crisis because we cannot–legally–leave the other students in our room alone.

This reminded me of a day in band during seventh grade when Mr. P left us unattended. We were alone long enough for half of us to wander into the percussion section and begin to play all the percussion instruments. When Mr. P returned, he was furious and took us out into the hallway. He lined us up along the lockers and began to write detention slip after detention slip. This is the only time in my entire life I was in genuine danger of receiving disciplinary action.

In the end, he didn’t give any of us detentions. Looking back, knowing what I know now, he couldn’t have given us detentions. If he’d given us detentions, he would’ve had to admit that he wasn’t in the room–that he’d left 12-year-olds alone in the band room for an extended period of time. It also explains why he was so angry (it seemed out of proportion at the time) about our playing the percussion instruments–we could have directed unwanted attention to his leaving us alone.

081031: Day 42
Halloween tends to be a slow day around the school. Kids stay home, either because they have mayhem to cause elsewhere or because they are afraid of getting caught in such mayhem. To prevent problems before they begin, security is out in force and we have a rapid dismissal: the bell rings 10 minutes early and all kids must exit the building immediately through the nearest exit and leave school grounds.

For the students who showed up, I had a writing workshop. They worked on organizing their short story ideas into plot pyramids. Using the ideas they brainstormed about setting, protagonist and antagonist, and conflict, they created the bones of a story with exposition, rising action (3-4 events), climax, falling action and resolution.

It worked amazingly well. LMS is writing a romance set in the WWE locker room. LF’s story is about a cat protecting his territory from a band of defiant rats. JK is writing about a drug boss and his new dealer who have a conflict over money. DCr’s story is called “The Cop Killers” and involves an antagonist who loves honeybuns and hates tall people.

Incidentally, my story is set in 1987 in an arcade. The protagonist is a bully who is in love with a curvy Pac-Man maven. Tune in later for a rough draft; right now, I only have a plot pyramid.

081030: Day 41
Ms. L gave up teaching her seventh period. She sat down behind her desk and refused to teach through the constant roar of conversation in her classroom. Of course, the kids immediately begged her to keep teaching. They wanted her to answer questions. They wanted to know things about U.S. History all of a sudden. She still refused.

I am proud and jealous.

She wants to transfer the good kids out of the class, but I kinda put the kibosh on that idea. Our classes are already busting out–I had 17 kids in my third period, which is illegal–and what would happen to the crappy kids who are left in her class? I’m not gonna say I want to teach the kids (see below), because I don’t, but that doesn’t change our responsibility as educators.

We have students who need to be removed from the class for their behavior. The answer has to be to take out the problem students, not the good ones. We made a hit list: we’re calling parents and compiling incident reports in order to get certain students suspended. I don’t expect the phone calls to make a difference in the kids’ behavior (they haven’t so far), but they are documentation that we have exhausted our resources as classroom teachers and the students need consequences doled out by those above us in the ladder of discipline.

081029: Day 40
In the movie of my life, I am the protagonist and fourth period is the antagonist. I once again lost myself to frustration and anger. I cannot keep teaching through the swearing and conversations and throwing of paper balls.

I am kind and it does not work. I am angry and it does not work. I give rewards and it does not work. I use I-statements–”I feel disrespected . . . I feel hurt . . . when you won’t listen to me”–and it does not work. I tell them I don’t like teaching their class and they don’t even listen to more than half of the sentence. I call parents and it does not work. I speak to individual students after class and it does not work.

Ms. D, one of the paraprofessionals, warned me a couple weeks ago that I have to be careful of my heart because these kids are not. But I have to teach them, which means I have to at least pretend to like them, which means they break my heart almost daily.

081028: Day 39
I got my first ever whiff of student-fart today.

081027: Day 38
In light of it being Halloween week and the fact that most of my students have already read “The Black Cat,” we read “The Most Evil Sorcerer” by R. L. Stine. Over the course of four days, I used that creepy little YA short story to teach characterization, antagonist and protagonist, conflict, and plot structure. Rats are thrown up, spiders crawl under a dude’s skin, an evil wizard is turned into a black, disgusting bug.

You should have heard me acting out the the rat part. It was inspired.

Week 2: September 2-5

080905: Day 6
I finally met GA, who is uncertain as to whether he will ever get up early enough to make it to first period English. He brought me a chocolate from Ms. H.

080904: Day 5
It’s surreal saying the pledge of allegiance again.

080903: Day 4
Boobie prizes came in the mail today. Who does not want one of these?

080902: Day 3
Turns out that, according to the contract, we don’t have to do hall duty. Or cafeteria duty. Or bathroom duty.