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 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 23: February 2-6

090206: Day 98
It is clear that the events of this school year are my school’s death throes. We are all, students and teachers, little lysosomes, oozing enzymes to digest the dying tissues. Too bad it’s all dying tissue.

Ms. W(itch) came into my room during eighth period and accused me of giving her only the behavior problems, implying I was out to fuck her over. I attempted to explain that the section we were dividing was only students with behavior problems (and not even all of them, at that)—and thus she got half the behavior problems while I kept the other half. She then told me that I was giving her all the students from my fourth period who made me drop the F-bomb. If she would have let me speak before getting in her last word and walking out, I could have told her that, in fact, none of the students in the section AP A asked me to split up were in my fourth period save one: BR. And, when asked which half of the section I wanted to keep, I chose to keep the half with BR. So, she would have had NONE of the students from my fourth period. I could also have explained that she is getting two A students and one solid B student in the bargain, while I think I was only taking one student who passed last semester. Too bad she thinks she knows more about what happens in my classes and about my students than I do.

Apparently, she’s going to go to the union about the matter. To which I say, ok—the only truth that will come out is the truth I attempted to tell her. AP A asked me on my way out if I would be willing to swap sections with Ms. W(itch), to prove that the split was fair. I agreed because the split was fair. As it is now, I’ve lost JR and MN—which breaks my heart—but I’ve also lost DT, which is awesome. If we reverse the sections, I’ll lose AR and BR—which will break my heart—but I’ll lose SC, which is awesome.

The worst part of splitting the section is what it’s doing to the kids. I spent a lot of eighth period with JR, who refused to go to Ms. Po’s class because he knows he’s going to be switched out of it starting Monday. What we are doing to these kids is the definition of shuffling problems around in order not to deal with them. And they know. JR told me he just wanted things to go back to the way they were. Even without the regrouping of our students, things can never go back to the way they were: Ms. Pe is gone. Ms. L and I are a hair’s breadth from being gone. The school is returning money left and right. And the system doesn’t care what it does to JR. Or MN, BR, JO or AR.

JR said he was going to tell his mother to send him back to Jamaica if they didn’t change his schedule back. I suggested that if that would be a better education for him, he should do it. He said it wouldn’t be better.

JR has nowhere to go. He’s fucked in the Bronx; he’d be fucked in Jamaica. He stood in my doorway, unable to stay and unable to leave.

090205: Day 97
Ahem, I kicked another two students out of seventh period today. DT and SC: screw those kids, they had to go. After they left, the period was much easier, and the relief of the remaining students was clear. It’s easier to be both ruthless and rewarding with the new section set up. With all the behavior problem students together, I feel less guilty having a couple removed because that action sends a clear example to the others and having any student buck authority in that class leads to their downward spiral. It’s also much easier to reward students. I can give rewards for the smallest good things—coming on time, paying attention to me and making eye contact, good group work—without having “good” students feel jilted because they aren’t rewarded every day for doing just those things.

Then I got a phone call eighth period from AP A and Principal N asking me to split that section in half. In order to save jobs, AP A wants to split up the behavior-problem section to create two sections. I see the benefit in this: the fewer of those kids you have together, the easier it will be to control them and thus for them to learn. Our problem in the house has been there are too many of them to separate with only five sections to work with. With the new plan, Ms. W(itch), who taught freshman last year and is known for her iron fist, will get half of my seventh period and I will keep the other half. Similarly, Ms. Po, Ms. L and Mr. P (new math teacher for the house) will have their behavior-problem sections split and given to other teachers in the department.

I made a list that splits the section as evenly as possible: equal numbers of LTAs in each section, kids I want to keep in each section, and a kid I want to get rid of in each section. I didn’t think I would get to choose which section to keep, so I wasn’t so into making it an uneven split.

Of course, the moment we start to get a handle on all the changes in the house, we have to make more. I don’t want to give away any of my students. Though I have power over them, I don’t have any such power when it comes to administration.

090204: Day 96
I’m teaching one of my favorite units now—yet another reason I would not like to be excessed—”Flight v. Invisibility.” In the course of the unit, students research movies, comics books, and TV shows to answer the question: Which superpower is better, flight or invisibility? The question engages nearly every student, the research sources are immediately captivating as they are all part of the fabric of our nation’s pop culture, and we get to write essays. Granted, perhaps it is only I who enjoy the essay part, but so what! This is also the second time I’ve taught this unit, so I feel organized and competent.

The assignment today had the students working in small groups to brainstorm the pros and cons of flight or invisibility. Seventh period today? Great! They were kind of crazy, but they did perhaps the best job on their brainstorming of any class. This fact isn’t surprising, as all the students in there are quite bright and very creative. This tracking thing could work—for all my students.

On an unrelated note, a story about DD and LF. The two of them like to loiter around the teacher elevator at the end of the day, hoping to catch a ride down. They tried to hitch a ride down today as Ms. Pe, Ms. L and I were walking out. We were talking about students—a conversation I wasn’t keen to stop—so I told them they could not ride down with us. DD literally stood in the doorway of the elevator, trying to force his way on, as we explained that he and LF could not ride with us. I can’t imagine we actually pushed DD, but perhaps we did, as they did not ride the elevator down. Why would I do favors for kids who come 25 minutes late to class?

090203: Day 95
First day of the new semester. We arranged to have our kids grouped in such a way as to put the high-functioning students together in one section and isolate the behavior problems in another. I suppose you could call this “tracking,” but tracking is such an ugly and political word. Of course, the whole situation with the freshman is ugly, so perhaps we should just call a spade a spade: we tracked the kids. And we did it because we had to do something to save both our own sanity as teachers and improve the educations of all our other students who care enough to shut up when asked.

The students in the behavior problems section figured shit out pretty quickly. They’re angry. Most of them said something like they couldn’t learn in this class with all the bad kids. Bad kids was their term, not mine. I have little to no sympathy for this. They can’t learn? Ironic they should be so sensitive to misbehavior when their own persistent misbehavior impeded the learning of countless students last semester. Not so much fun for them when the shoe is on the other foot. Ha ha!

I have the behavior-problem section seventh period (forget fourth, they’ve been largely disbanded and dispersed—seventh shall be my new Everest). Today—first day of class—I kicked out two students. Peace out, GA and JO. Turns out I have more power than you.

090202: Day 94
Professional Development seems to always leave me dissatisfied. My time could be better spent lesson planning. I did get to paint with watercolors and dance salsa, though. Before slugging my way through yet another pointless department meeting.

Normally, department meetings consist of our AP giving us the party line as to our responsibilities and the faculty complaining long and loud about something stupid—parking regulations, time-clock/time-card injustices, vagaries of school policy. The meeting today began as expected: AP A once again exhorting us to call homes, call homes, call homes for the students who were LTA (long-term absences). And to log the calls on Daedalus, a piece-of-crap software program that seems to be only good for logging phone calls.

Dean C, for the first time in my memory of special education bitch sessions, spoke out on the underlying issues, not just the bullshit. Dean C suggested that, as experience proves phone calls home do not bring the students back, the school should address the reasons why students do not want to come. Say, the lack of community in the school or the unwelcoming atmosphere. The department immediately remembered why Dean C inspires love in everyone he meets (and it’s not the fact that he’s gorgeous). AP A responded by saying we need to call home and log the calls on Daedalus.

Mr. K took up the standard and confronted AP A with the culture of fear and lack of transparency in the school: “Just the tone of your voice shows how afraid everyone is in this building.” I’m certainly afraid: my job is not secure. In fact, I spent my day worrying that I would be excessed, perhaps along with Ms. L. AP A responded by saying we need to call home and log the calls on Daedalus.

Our school is out of money. The teachers are so fed up they are actually talking about the real problems, which is not typical in the building. Many are planning on leaving at the end of the year. I’m waiting to see if we get word any time soon that our school is on the to-be-closed list.

Week 22: January 26-30

090130: Day 93
I made an offhand remark to my AP this morning about having time to sit down with Mr. P, the new math teacher for the house, because I need everyone to be going like gangbusters the second the spring semester starts. AP A looked right at me and said, somewhat loudly, “How did you know that? How did you know it was Mr. P? That hasn’t been announced yet.”

Oops.

I excused myself from naming my source, and AP A explained to me that Ms. Pe’s replacement has not been announced because the replacement has not been finalized. Interesting, though annoying. I really need to know who’s going to be working with us. We only have one shot at making this semester different than last, and I’m not so into fucking it up. Bureaucracy blows.

090129: Day 92
I proctored the Reading RCT this morning, which is to say I read the Reading RCT aloud, in its entirety. This would normally be the worst thing ever, but SR was there. SR graduated last year and was my BEST student. She works harder than most people I know, let alone students. God bless her, she’s taken the Reading RCT half a dozen times at least, without passing it. She came back, after graduating, to try again. Seeing her did my heart good.

Only 16 kids out of the hundred or more who took the test passed it. Hearing she failed (again) wasn’t surprising, but it was still heartbreaking.

090128: Day 91
We learned today that Ms. Pe is to be excessed. We learned this through the gossip underground, which is the only reliable source of information in the school. (That should tell you something.) Many things are said behind closed classroom doors.

It’s hard to be that upset by this information because I really believe the situation vis-a-vis our students cannot get worse. Of course, our students hate change even more than the average kid, so who knows what this kind of change will do to them.

When Mr. R, our kids’ music teacher, was excessed, MN told me the class was deliberately planning on making his replacement’s life miserable. I fear for what they will do to a new math teacher. And how that will bleed into all the other classrooms in their academic lives.

090127: Day 90
Few things are as lovely as Regents Week. With the exception of proctoring and grading a couple of exams, there isn’t a lot to be done.

This morning I watched “Pretty in Pink” and organized my paperwork.

My afternoon was spent grading finals, sitting on my heater, watching “Roswell” on Hulu.

I could hear the papers whispering against one another as I stacked and organized, the scratches of felt-tip marker on file folders, the clink of my keys hanging from my back pocket. The bliss of a student-free week.

090126: Day 89
Today I showed some fourteen-year-olds my awesome bowling prowess. For those of you who know me, you may find the former statement pretty funny, as I do not actually have any bowling prowess. But let me tell you, I gots more game than my students. I bowled an 86! Even had a couple spares and a couple strikes.

GW, however, was the real star of the show. She told me she wasn’t going to bowl, but I had already paid for her games. I made her bowl, because that’s my job. I can’t explain what she did, exactly. She would bring the ball back, swing, and let the ball literally fall onto the alley. She had no follow through. But the ball would slowly, slowly make its way down to the pins and knock at lest nine over almost every time. I have never seen anything like it.

We had lunch at McDonalds and played Two Truths and a Lie. It was quiet, awkward and sweet. The way 14-year-olds should be.

—-

Update: New film picture on Day 67.

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 15: December 1-5

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

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

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

Dear _____________________________,

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

best,
Ms. G

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Week 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 9: October 20-24

081024: Day 37
Last year, I met maybe 14 parents total during parent-teacher conferences. I read the Norton Anthology of Poetry to keep myself amused in the downtime between conferences. I ate almost all of the cookies I made.

This year, we had something like 35 parents show up over the course of two days. We sat at the four tables in the back of Ms. L’s room and talked to parent after parent after parent with almost no break in between. We put out cookies and snacks at the beginning of the conferences and looked up two hours later to find all the goodies gone and the trash can busting out with napkins and cups.

Listening to my coworkers–and myself–I was proud. I work with amazing women who are truthful and compassionate and dedicated to supporting their students. I’m sorry for the parents who didn’t take the opportunity to sit with us and discuss their child’s school life. Hearing our conferences, it’s hard to believe that they can’t make a difference.

081023: Day (and Night) 36
Sweet crap, parents. Ms. P, Ms. P, Ms. L and I divvied up our kids and each called 20 or so parents to remind them of parent-teacher conferences. It worked. We sat down to talk to parents at a little before six o’clock and didn’t stop at all until ten after eight. Ms. L talked until nine–a half hour past the end of conferences. It was awesome, both in scope and consequence.

The number of kids who look almost exactly like their parents kept me privately tickled as I explained the poor choices many students make in my class.

DD’s mother (with whom I had the most awkward phone conversation ever) wasn’t sure where he was instead of being in class to take my test earlier in the day because she was fed up with him and had dropped him off at his grandmother’s the night before. Maybe his dad came and took him–she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure. Aside from that, I thought she was quite lovely, actually.

Spoke to two mothers of boys who never–truly, never–come to first period English. I don’t know exactly how those conversations lasted more than two minutes, because I certainly don’t know anything about the kids. You know, because they don’t show up. Ever. But still, the mothers kept talking.

Oh, and then there was the pain of meeting GL’s mom. GL has not adjusted well to high school. He is terrified daily and won’t even say hi to his teachers. Our other kids try to talk to him and be friends with him, but he won’t say one word to them and actually looks terrified if they speak to him. But he’s sad he has no friends. Ms. L and I watched his mother turn from encouraging to mad as shit (her word) because GL hadn’t turned in any history homework yet. But her anger was dispassionate: she seemed like she was trying to make herself mad enough to really yell at him. For our benefit (so we would see she cared?). She told GL that she wanted to “jump across the table and strangle him,” and it was unconvincing but terrifying. Clearly, the kid needs more therapy than we can provide.

081022: Day 35
I expect a certain amount of chaos in the classroom the morning after I return from a day off school. It’s usual to find books strewn about, handouts left on desks, and the desks themselves scattered about the room. Last year, my sixth period seniors stole all of my candy one day I was out, which was disappointing but not entirely unexpected.

So, I wasn’t surprised to find chaos in my room: my fake flowers were falling down, the desks were everywhere, books left on the floor, desk and heater, etc. But I also found one of the stupid little toys on my desk underneath the lawn chair, a desk covered from edge to edge in blue pen scribble, my candy bucket empty (though I told Ms. L to empty it and eat the candy, in order to prevent my kids from doing that–I wonder if she did?), and my bouncy ball stolen.

So far this year, my kids have stolen 10 or so overhead markers, uncountable pens and pencils, and my purple math pencil that Ms. V gave me for my birthday last year. The loss of pens and pencils I take as a given–I bought a lot to compensate for this–but the overhead markers, my bouncy ball and my math pencil kind of piss me off. I have to buy new overhead markers, and those fuckers are expensive. I know my kids understand the difference between “mine” and “yours.” Why can’t they apply that knowledge so I don’t have to spend more money?

081021: Day 34
I played hookie, and it was good.

I made peanut butter squares and peanut butter cookies and chocolate chip cookies to get ready for Parent-Teacher Night, except the peanut butter squares are just for me and Jeff. Yum.

I spent hours on the bed reading Clown Girl, which people on Goodreads seem not to like but has me completely enamored.

We got cable. Our cable woman sounded exactly like Paula Poundstone and had a manicure. She was awesome. I proceeded to waste the rest of the day coloring my flocked monster poster with my tiny crayola markers and watching TV.

081020: Day 33
KC (see Day 19) has been doing pretty well in my class the past couple weeks. That doesn’t mean he’s being good, per se, just that he’s being good enough in fourth period. Fortunately for him, his good behavior saved him when Dean B brought him to my door at the beginning of the period.

Dean B was quite excited and ready to take KC on down to room 144, our in-house suspension and SAVE room, probably because KC was talking smack at him and just generally making life in the hallways hard: “Ms. G, you want me to take him down to 144? I would love to . . . I’ll be on this hallway all period. If you have any problems at all, I’ll be happy to . . . ” etc., etc.

I couldn’t in good faith send KC away, though, because he’s been doing his work in my class and kind of containing himself–only one or two dolphin screeches a day.

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.