Today...I love them

All of them. Good hearted, hard working, honest and earnest kids. LOVE THEM!

Bitch, You Don't Know Me! or Why I Love My Job!

I'm known around campus as a real straight shooter. Kids will tell you that they know they'll get the truth from me. They say I'm a lot of fun, but that they work hard and learn a lot in my classroom. I couldn't ask for better PR. But, there is a faction of students who don't know me as anyone other than that bitch or the woman who is always busting up their fun. That faction, lovely as they are, is the subject of this posting.

I was making my daily stroll up to the front office during my planning period when I encountered a young man known far and wide as Bug (naturally, since I love my job, this is not his real name.) I didn't know this at the time, but I would come to know him quite well. Bug and another anonymous young man were sitting on top of trash cans, shorts pulled down so low they may as well be cropped pants, black t-shirt so long it could sub for a cute LBD (little black dress) and gold grills the likes of which I have only seen in a Lil' somebody or other's video.

As I approached these young men I smiled and attempted to make eye contact. In turn they did this thing that some teenagers have really mastered and that is they simply looked through me. I maintained eye contact and said, "Good morning, gentlemen. The tardy bell rang a while ago. Shouldn't you be in class?" And they, in turn, simply looked through me. When I received no discernable response I said, "Do you have a pass?" To which they sucked their teeth, hopped off their respective trash cans and proceded to walk past me mumbling something like, "bitch."
At that moment something happened to me. My nanny, God rest her soul, had an expression that I didn't fully understand until that moment. She used to say that "hell flew into" her when something really angered her. In that moment friends, HELL flew into me! The exchange went something like this:
ME: I beg your pardon?
THEM: silence, whilst walking away from me
ME: I said, do you have a pass?
ONE OF THEM: Bitch, I got a pass, as he shoves a crinkled piece of yellow paper in my direction
ME: May I see that, please?
ONE OF THEM: Man, this bitch be hassling us
ME: Young man with the pass, go to class. Now, you. What's your story? Where should you be?
BUG: Don't you worry about where I'm gonna be, bitch. You don't know me.
ME: (patience wearing out quickly) aren't you just the most precious young man? Where should you be.
BUG: Man!
ME: Please just cooperate. We don't have to do this this way.

This next part is my favorite! Keep in mind that at no time am I any closer than 4 0r 5 feet away from the kid.

BUG: Bitch, you betta not lay a mutha-fuckin' hand on me. He says as he turns to face me.

I could have died. Where this kid made the leap to me possibly laying hands on him, which I would NEVER do in a million years, was beyond me. Then my mind started to race thinking, Oh great. This kid is trying to escalate this situation so that he can feel justified in laying HIS hands on ME! In my younger days this might not have frightened me, but on this day it did. A LOT.

You should probably know that several adults can hear this and only ONE stops to see if I need some assistance. You have to love this. All the while I'm thinking to myself, "Why do I even try? Why do I help with campus security and sweep the halls for tardy kids and skippers? All I get is a boat load of grief from kids." So this very nice custodian stops and calls for campus security on his radio and proceeds to walk with me and the young man. We maintain a safe travelling distance and this young man, this precious piece of humanity, is cussing me and the custodian in terms that would make your hair curl. It's really lovely. Once campus security (the Keystone Cops) arrives on a golf cart, Bug is recognized. Ms. Johnson (campus security) says to Bug, "Bug! Why you be trippin' on Miss? Miss is a good lady. A good teacher. Don't be talkin' bad to Miss." She gives him a good, old-fashioned tongue lashing like she was his momma. He turns to her and says just as sweet as he possibly could, "Naw, man, fuck that bitch. She don't know me!"

All of this happened before 7:45am. How do you spend the first hour of your work day?

Reason 105: Why I Love My Job!

Hey there folks! It's been a while but let me assure you this next little ditty makes the wait worth it.

First, some background info. I am on the second floor of a really strategically located building. I can see 3 or 4 other buildings from my classroom windows at any given time. This is especially entertaining because I get a great view of skippers and smokers. It's awesome.

Just the other day my students and I were engaged in a deeply intellectual discussion of some sort and what should we notice on the balcony of the building across from us but a young person lighting a cigarette and enjoying the calming and soothing effects of a tar-laced carcinogen! It was magical! Unfortunately, this particular spot is well known to the smokers on our campus. It's relatively secluded, except that with my blinds open I can see every stinkin' thing that goes on over there! I guess when you're jonesing for a cigarette at 11am you can't really think too clearly and consider that you are not invisible.

So this one young person- let's call him Smokey, for lack of something far more creative- proceeds to light up and inhale deeply. My students are in awe... "Oh man, Miss...he's back again today!" "Yes, yes he is. Now, back to our discussion..." as if that could compete with the nicotine addict show across the way. Just when we were sort of back on track a student says, "Miss, look at him. He's making a fire!" "No, he isn't." I say as I look across the campus and see, that just as they said, he was, in fact, making a fire. The little fiend was making a pile of paper and then, right before my very eyes, proceeded to set it ablaze! "Holy smokes!" I shouted, pun clearly intended.

I walked over to the phone on my desk and called the dean's office to report our little firebug. One ringy dingy... two ringy dingy.... three ringy dingy... no answer! I dial the front desk... one ringy dingy...two ringy... three ringy dingy... no answer again. At this point I'm starting to panic because I'm certain that any second now the smoke from this pile of paper is going to set off some sort of alarm and we'll have to evacuate and the little snake will get away. In a last attempt to apprehend the offender I called my curriculum AP. Ever reliable, he picked up the phone! I report the incident and he dispatches the bumbling oafs that are our campus advisers, and who make the Key Stone Cops look good. They arrive in their noisy golf carts and wouldn't you know it- they spook the little twerp. I should add here that my students are now glued to the windows of my classroom with their phones filming! Shouts of "Miss, he's running to our building!" and "Miss, I got the whole thing on my phone!" and "Oh come on, Miss, let me go tackle him!"

So in his efforts to escape the po-po (the po-lice, where I come from) the young man with the wicked nicotine addiction manages to run right upstairs in my building! It was like Christmas come early for me! I step out into the hall and ask the miscreant if he has a pass. No answer. Just a blank look. I then ask him to come inside and have a seat in my classroom. And... are you ready for this? HE DOES! He comes in of his own volition and takes a seat. He watches me go over to the phone and call to report that the young man everyone's looking for is sitting my classroom. He does nothing. I am used to kids who would have "bucked" (translation: run off) the minute they saw me go for the phone, but not this kid. Nope. This kid sits as still as he possibly can. Once I hang up the phone, my students, who have been dying inside to say something to this kid, finally burst forth with their jubilation. "Dude... she has so busted you!" "Man, you are gonna get it!" and my personal favorite, spoken by the budding Martin Scorsese of our group, "Dude... We watched you set that fire and I've got it all on my phone. It's priceless, dude!" I slap my forehead because I'm sure the kid will run now, but no. He seems to be even more petrified and can't move at all. I can't believe what happened next. I started to soften. I know, it's like a miracle or something. I was beginning to feel sorry for the kid. Clearly, he was no hardened criminal lest he would have run for his life. This kid was actually sort of sad.

Long story sort of short the kid is apprehended and cops to the whole thing. Come to find out it's a manifestation of his disability and he was suspended for a day or two, I dunno. In some ways that takes the thrill out of the "get." Sort of. I mean c'mon- a get is a get!

Under the microscope

Some of you know that I do some consulting work for a large educational organization. One of the greatest perks of this job is that I get to spend time with teachers across the country. No matter where I go I find that teachers everywhere are exactly the same. In each group there are bright- eyed, bushy-tailed new teachers right out of college. They exude good intentions and passion. Each group plays host to several old timers; folks who might have been bright-eyed at one time. They have seen and done it all. There's nothing you can teach these teachers. Most of the teachers I meet, with very few exceptions, are well-meaning folks who see their jobs as not just a career but an avocation. They care about kids. They want to help them succeed.



I just wrapped up a week with some of the best teachers I've ever had the pleasure to work with. These folks showed up for 4 days at 8am during the middle of their summer. They were on time, hospitable and good hearted. They genuinely cared for kids. They were also under an intense amount of pressure. The school in which they are employed recently received a HUGE grant to improve student achievement. One stipulation of this grant required the principal to FIRE 50% of the instructional staff. The teachers I worked with this week were hired on Friday and showed up to a week long training on Monday morning. One man was hired on Tuesday morning and joined the training on Tuesday afternoon! Without knowing what grade level they were going to teach they wholeheartedly participated and embraced what I was giving them. They made me proud to be a teacher.



I guess my point is this: Where are these bad teachers that I keep reading about? I know they exist. I have and do work with them but they really are few and far between.

Empty Nest

I have the distinct privilege of teaching in our school's IB program. My students are currently writing comparative literary analysis papers, otherwise known as the World Lit. I paper. This is a busy time for them and for me. I am certain that this experience will cause me to gray far earlier than mother nature has intended. (Who am I kidding? I spend an obscene amount of money to maintain these natural looking tresses!)

After several frustrating writing conferences where we didn't know that subjects and verbs must agree, that pronouns must have antecedents and that we should pick one verb tense and stick with it, I told them a sweet little story about spring time and baby birds. I'd like to share that story with you here:

You see children in the springtime a momma bird gets to finally see the baby bird faces of the eggs she's been sitting on and keeping warm all winter long. She's excited. She has cared for and protected them with all her might. Now she's out of the nest during the day gathering worms, grubs, whatever she can to feed their hungry little mouths. She's proud of her little babies. She pulls them in close and snuggles up to them. She's as happy as well, as happy as a lark, to come back and regurgitate tender little morsels so that they can grow big and strong. But, eventually she begins to think of the next fall when she'll meet someone nice, settle down and have a new little clutch of eggs. She begins to look at those little birds and well, she's got to get them on their way. They are cramping her style. What male bird is going to want a momma bird with 4 little mouths to feed? She decides it's time for these chicks to go.

So one beautiful, clear spring day she invites those babies to the edge of the nest. One by one she gives each of them a nudge and some of them take off! They flap their tiny little wings and take flight! She is proud! Those are her babies! Not all of those baby birds will take flight though. One or two of them will look out over the edge of that nest and once pushed will flap and flap their wings to no avail. They will fall fast and hard. They will hit the ground where they will eventually be eaten by ants! Now, which baby bird are you?

Inspiring, isn't it?

Senioritis

Is it possible to miss them and want them to leave at the same time?!

What do you do when you don't like them very much?

No, really. What do you do?