Utopia

So here's the good:
The kids are great. They treat me well, and I don't have much in the way of management problems. They all have computers so I don't have a lot of paper-printing to do. They almost always have their materials-- I don't have to worry about kids not having a pencil or paper. The teachers aren't gossipy or mean. I get along with all of them. None of them are idiots. The building and facilities are beautiful. I feel safe when I'm there. I don't worry about kids getting prego or selling pot in the bathroom or packing weapons in their pants. More parents are active but respectful.


And here's....well, I'll let you judge.
1. They didn't think the state standards were good enough. So, instead of taking them, adding a few standards and upping rigor.... They ordered a series of textbooks and went page by page. Creating the standards. From a textbook.

2. They also created their own benchmark assessments. Instead of people in the district office doing it, or hiring an outside company. So, all of the teachers have the exact tests that the kids will be taking. So, many teachers show the kids the EXACT pictures or questions from the tests (sans answers), and have them analyze them/teach them the tricky questions BEFORE taking the test. And then they pat themselves on the back when the kids do well.

3. Kids can't talk in the hallways. Kids can't talk when they transition between classes. Kids can't sit with their friends at lunch. If a kid misses something small like a belt, they are given an automatic detention. Ditto for talking in the halls. Ditto for gum chewing or any form of food. (Yes, I know. Crack down on the small, and you crack down on the large. Broken windows theory. I get it. But at some point, isn't it all just a little too much? I mean, they are MIDDLE SCHOOLERS). There are no second chances. Unless you're one of the few naughties. Then, you get millions of chances and your "suspension" consists of you sitting in the teacher workroom and eating all of our snacks, and having happy-happy-daffodils-and-kittens talks about your rehabilitation.

4. Instead of calling parents whenever a kid is being a punkass in class, you have to tell the kid's adviser. Then, this person has to make all the calls, do all the meetings etc. So, if I have advisees who have no problems in my class, but problems in others, I have to do everything. And if I want to talk to a parent directly, I'm not supposed to.


5. The technology doesn't work. We run out of paper. Copy machines don't work. We can't get materials for the kids to do real science with, but we are told we can. And then we get a passive aggressive answer instead of a straight up no. And we can't raise money to get things with our kids.



Add to these, personal affronts.
I have been personally ridiculed when my group of girls didn't perform a skit as well as they "should have." Even though getting them to work TOGETHER was huge, and a bonding experience, that didn't matter. In front of everyone, myself and my girls were told that we weren't prepared, and that we were wasting everyone's time.

I have been told I shouldn't tease my kids, because the kids don't understand the difference between playful teasing and bullying, and that my behavior creates bullies.

I have been told that I can't give nicknames, because it might hurt a kid's feelings. And what happens if they don't like a nickname?

I have been told that, even though its clear that I'm not racist, that a stupid comment taken out of context belongs in my permanent file and that I need to write an essay on my choices.

I am told over and over again that my "presentations aren't everything" and that I should just be taking materials from other people (even if it sucks), because the lesson plans are more important than the materials, apparently. And lesson plans? Due way before we teach. So, then I write them, then don't follow them because things just CHANGE, then have to rewrite them.


You know those movies where there's this beautiful town, and a new family moves in? They look at the perfect grass and houses and sunny skies and though everything looks SO perfect.... but something just feels off? There's some little detail that one notices, but brushes off like-- why are there no birds here? Oh, never mind. And then, when they're all settled in, all hell breaks looks and they realize they are actually in the seventh circle?

Yep.

Welcome to my world, little bluebirds.

Miss J = Big Bad Wolf

Today.
One of my girls told me that my tattoo was a sin and that she was worried for my soul. I apparently desecrated my temple. Her words. No shit.

Last week.
A girl told me that all atheists worship the devil.


Also, a parent thought I was racist for cracking a joke in class. (I told a boy who kept making ridiculous noises I was going to give him a girl's name, and the class decided it was going to be something with lots of punctuation. Therefore, I am George Bush and don't like black people.) This is going in my permanent file.

My favorite teacher at the school is resigning because the principal apparently won't let her teach using inquiry, even though when she taught in her previous state, she had some of the best damn test scores in the district.

The assistant principal thinks its okay if boys punch the shit out of each other because the intent was playful. So, who gives a flying pig's colon if it sets a bad precedent? Let's just use positive framing and talk happy to them. That'll fix it!

My partner teacher is pissed because I don't want to use his lessons and want him to plan on his own, so I can make my own resources that contain more than the kids turning and talking, and then taking notes all hour.

Same old shit with a shiny wrapper.

Sad to say.... I miss my old school.

I suck at this

So, let's talk about how I don't know how to make friends.

Most girls my age-ish end their sentences on a high note as if they are asking a question. And love to go tanning. And talk about how much they are going to drink over the weekend. And call students cray-cray. And scream when they see mice.

None of them are bad people. In fact, most I've met are downright intelligent and good at their jobs. Its just.... I have absolutely nothing in common with them outside of teaching.

So, I sit their quietly and TRY to think of something nice/funny/interesting to say. This usually results in me saying something I think is hilarious, to which dead silence rocks the room OR, my comment gets ignored completely.
The flip side is: I say something I think is hilarious, and its comes off as really sarcastic, and they seem a little offended. Shit.

Now the guys-- the guys I'm good with. I can make friends with them. Or anyone who is older than I am. Or any woman who likes other women. But women my own age? Forget it. They're like another species.

Where are all the women who still love playing in the rain, do ridiculous things WITHOUT being inebriated, love being outside, don't give two poops about designer labels, and read instead of watching trashy tv? Where are they?

They must exist.

Last week, a new student described me as being "insanely confident." With kids.... this is true. With adults... its a toss up. One of my co-workers (a trustworthy male who cracks me up every 5 seconds) said that I did come off a bit standoffish. I don't mean to. It just... happens.

But, maybe this is why I'm good with weirdo middle-schoolers. I still know what it feels like to be awkward.

Toto, we are not in Phoenix anymore.

So, I've officially started my new job. Almost three weeks ago now. The first week was an intensive, ass-kicking training, and now-- its summer school. Yes, I said it. Summer school. But, for the most part, not to punish the kids. No, we are there to train them on How to Act in School.

How we Do Things Here. How to play games and show respect, responsibility, courage, curiosity, and integrity while doing their best. How to work hard and stay organized. How to sit. How to raise their hands. How to watch whoever is speaking at all times. How to train, like samurais, to go to college.

Here are some snippets from the last three weeks.

1. Yesterday, while in detention (which we call "refocus"), a 6th grade, low-income, minority student said to me "Talking in the halls is not conducive to a focused learning environment."

2. The kids, on the first day, jumped to their feet, put on their uniform shirts for the first time...and cheered.

3. The kids' big rebellion last year was using. Using mechanical pencils.

4. We are supposed to take "brain breaks" mid-class, which can mean suddenly doing ninja poses, moves from the evolution of dance, or tae bo for 30 seconds before returning to work.

5. People have already observed me teach multiple times and have given me feedback both orally and in writing to egg me on.

6. I have already collaborated and successfully made lesson plans with another intelligent human. Twice.

7. Pig dissection. Virtual human anatomy lab. A new touch-screen work computer.

8. A man from the medical school came to talk to the kids, looked out at all of us, looked back at the kids and said "Don't screw this up. You have an amazing opportunity, and these people-- they're here because they LOVE YOU. Don't forget that."


Where the hell am I?

Promotion

Well, it's that time again. 8th grade promotion. The day couldn't come fast enough, and now that it's here, I'm kind of shocked. I went to dinner last night with a former student-- one I've known since she was a 6th grader, now nearly 4 years ago-- and thought "Wasn't your promotion ceremony just a week ago?" My babies are growing up so fast. My first class of kids will be juniors! How does this happen? I'm having my ten-year high school reunion and they're juniors.

I can see how one could lose 20 years to this job in the blink of an eye. Time speeds up as your body slows down.

Today, to be frightfully cliche, is the closing of a chapter. The kids will give their speeches, we'll all hug and take pictures, I'll clean my already-barren room, and then... I'll be gone.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Promotion just ended. I cried tureens of tears. Becca, one of my favorites, gave a speech and quoted a letter I had given her earlier this year about never giving up and being a leader, and thanked me for being an inspiration and I criiiiiiied. I walked out the door, bawling my eyes out, into a sea of kids who wanted a picture taken. And of course, some of my favorite kids disappeared before I got to say goodbye to them. Another student's mother thanked me for a good FIVE MINUTES for teaching her daughter high level material, and for never giving up, and for making sure she got a high quality education.

I am exhausted, emotionally drained, and intellectually burnt out. But, strangely, somewhat happy.

Goodbye Rafe, Anthony, Figueroa, Nathaly, Becca, Melissa, Alan, Destiny, Ernesto, Lemus, Alyssa, Nando, Albert, Zyra, Javier, Kevin, Ivonne, Dimples, David, Juan, Sarina....... and all the rest.

Well, Mary didn't have sex at all, and she had ONE kid so...

According to our secretary, a former student (who is now in 10th grade) came in to visit and told her that he was having a girl, or maybe a boy. He wasn't sure. He thought maybe it could be twins. Or triplets. He thought it was probably a couple babies because....

"I got 'er pretty good."

Whaaaaat?! Wait a second.

YOU GOT HER PRETTY GOOD?

You think that. Because you banged your chick hard. That you're having SEVERAL BABIES?


Holy crap. Can we please (for the love of, oh, say, OUR PLANET) teach sex ed?

Elemental Lunch

Tyler: Hey, Alyssa, do you know what we're having for lunch today?
Alyssa: Nope!
Tyler: (sings) There's antimony, arsenic, aluminum, selenium,
And hydrogen and oxygen and nitrogen and rhenium,
And nickel, neodymium, neptunium, germanium,
And iron, americium, ruthenium, uranium,
Europium, zirconium, lutetium, vanadium,
And lanthanum and osmium and astatine and radium,
And gold and protactinium and indium and gallium,
And iodine and thorium and thulium and thallium.

Alyssa:Sounds good!

Without missing a beat.

Love this class.

Runny

Javier(super smart, funny kid) writes: "As he was runny down the hallway..."
Me: "Runny" down the hallway?
Javier: Yeah.
Me: RUNNY?! Runny. Running. Runny. RunnING.
Javier: Oh crap.
Me: He was what, dripping down the hallway? That's gross.
Javier: I MEANT RUNNING AND YOU KNOW IT.
Me: Oh! I know, I know! He's a slug. He's a slug and he's dripping his slime all over the hallway. Oh, poetic. I like it. (draws dripping slug on the board)
Javier: One little mistake. I make OOOONE little mistake and this is what I get.
Me: If you start crying, and leave the room, your nose will be runny all down the hallway.
Javier: You're not going to let this go, are you?
Me: Nope!

Two days later--
I get a teacher appreciation card from him. He drew a slug, and signed it "Runny."

The Nicest Thing

Yesterday, we had a short meeting after school. The principal talked about yet ANOTHER teacher who isn't coming back for the remainder of the year, then turned to celebrate our rookie and teacher of the year--both of which were elementary school teachers. We all clapped, went home.

This morning, as I walked up to my door, I saw Mr. Ag holding my door shut. I gave him a pretty inquisitive look and he let me in. "....Surprise!" The social studies teacher said. There, standing in the dark, were the 7th grade science teacher Ms. G, 7/8th grade math teacher Ms. H, Mr. Ag and Mr. K. With balloons. And a card. And roses.

I just stared at them in my typical pre-9am zombie state.

"What.....is this all about?"

"You should have been teacher of the year," Mr. K said.
"There should really be two-- they don't know what we deal with up here," Ms. G said.
"You deserve it."

I just about burst into tears and didn't know what to say. I gave them a hug and then shooed them all out in my grateful awkwardness.

The card, sitting on my desk said:

From All of Us
Sometimes your day is awesome
and turns out exactly right,
Sometimes no matter what you do,
it's like an uphill fight.
But whether days are up or down,
or who knows what direction,
We're always in your corner like
a little cheering section.


Then, little notes--

I love you! You were the best mentor teacher that I could ever ask for and you are an awesome friend. Can't wait until you are done with school so we can just relax together!
--Ms. G


I think that out of everybody here, you were one of the main people that were my support. Thank you! You are the teacher of the year! -- Ms. H

You're an amazing teacher! You've helped me out so much this year; we're all going to miss you! -- Mr. K

You are the teacher of the year many times over. Your kids are incredibly lucky to have you, and you're going to do amazing things next year. -- Mr. Ag


I sat there, in the dark, and just stared at the goodness, fought tears, and then scampered down to my faux sister, Ms. R's room to tell her.

Isn't that the nicest thing? It has been a while since I've had happy tears.

Toe-Mas.

You know you teach in AZ when....

you pronounce Tomas "toe-MAS" and think "Tom-us" sounds wrong.

That horse must go to DMS!

I was looking up books on writing summative assessments and authentic, performance based assessments.

This is what I found.
1. Test Better, Teach Better
2. Gobbledegook
3. Mathy goobledegook.

4. BOMBPROOF YOUR HORSE?!

What the .......


Who even writes that book?

They should go back....

My school's marquee (I think that's the right word... the sign thing) spelled school....

schooll.

Also, on the girls' athletic t-shirts...they left a letter OUT of the school's name.

What a sad commentary.

Genre Study for 3rd Graders

HA!
This woman teaching 3rd grade thinks it would be a good idea to have her 3RD GRADERS all research different genres of literature and report on them. That's how they will learn genre.

3rd graders.

I asked her if she has books or things they can look at and compare, you know, like a basket of folktales/myths/fantasy/sci fi/etc. etc. etc.

No, she says. They can just, you know, google about them.

Oh. Have you read a lot in class together so they have some prior knowledge to connect to?

Well, I mean, we read outloud every day, but we don't talk about genre.

Okay, so, then, if you were creating a rubric about what they should know, what would you say would be important? What would you have them compare and contrast? Character types? Settings? Big ideas or themes-- that might be kind of hard for them...What scaffolding would you give them?


Uh, I don't know. They'll just look on google.


Wow.

Shushing Shannan

Instead of doing the warm up this morning, this girl (let's call her Shannan) in my first hour class decided to write this:

"I got your legs spard over the bed hands clash the sheets hair wild hell I know the only on mind sexing me girl I can feel your tempure rising you should my naral to come on its going to a bomp ride drop boy in the back set window should get deep fock all over the glass I don't know how I can last with you"

Hmm. That doesn't look a WHOLE like Newton's 1st law. I mean, I guess objects in motion...

Anyhow, I took it from her and quietly told her she would have a detention after I read it (this was after she'd already given me hell for being out of dress code.). In typical DMS fashion, she started screaming at me-- how dare I have the right to take her things, she'd write the lyrics all over. I just said "Okay. That's fine. Enjoy that." In a very NON sarcastic, sweet voice. She kept going, yelling at me, grumbling about how I couldn't do NOTHING.

Until the boys in my class started shushing her.

"I ain't gonna---- SHHHH!" ---...serve no detention...."
"I don't have to -- SHHHHHHHH!....listen to anything you ---SHHH!!! ....say...."

From time to time the kids looked back at me to gage my reaction, I just shook my head and shrugged my shoulders like "Whatcha gonna do?" They all giggled.

I call that a win.

Other Teachers' Biggest Problems

Some of the teachers* in my grad program:

"My biggest problem? Well, these kids!! They are all farm kids and sometimes they come to school with cow manure on their boots. And they NEVER have pencils. It is soooooooo irritating. I mean, how do you not have a pencil! Bring a pencil! Unbelievable."

"I did my action research on kids who have too much homework. Studies show that students have too much homework get stressed, their health levels decrease, and they are more prone to cheating just to keep up. At the all-girls college prep I work at, students have on average do 2 hours of homework a night, plus 3 hours of extra-curriculars, and they are only getting about 6 hours of sleep a night which is just too little. This is a huge problem."

"I have 27 kids in my classroom which includes 7 special ed students in self-contained 5th grade. How am I supposed to meet all of their needs? Some are gifted, some are, I guess you'd say your average students, and then the special education students. They all read at different levels, they all do math at different levels...and the ones who need to do the homework the MOST never do."


After this.... my professor called on me. I guess I was making incredulous faces and she wanted to know my perspective....All I kept thinking was "How do I say what I have to say and NOT sound like a bitch?"

*Some of these people are doing their student teaching after having a career in something else....

I < 3 my Old Students!

Former student's text: That really sucks that your new kids aren't as cool as we were! But you are a really nice person,and I think you can find a better job. Like seriously, you are amazing in drawing,good in writing stories, and you're really, really smart. And you're still young, Miss J! I think you will find the great career you want. You deserve it! :)

Clarification

By "it worked" I meant our meeting-- the superintendent came to our school to present some awards to staff members who have been there forEVER, and our principal said that if anyone had something they wanted to talk to him about now.... speak now or forever hold your peace. I was the first to jump to my feet and grab my stuff. 5 others followed.

We told the superintendent about Our Very Student's violent record (most of which was news to him because the people who did the investigation didn't do their jobs....), and how our safety, and the safety of our students was at stake. He had just been talking about both loyalty and safety, so we launched with that-- how do you expect to keep teachers, any teachers, much less the good ones, if they don't feel safe walking into their classrooms? If they are worried they're going to get hit? If their immune systems are failing and they are having panic attacks due to the stressful and toxic environment? Should they have to walk in and worry about being called a fucking bitch, or told to shut the fuck up?

The computer teacher raised the point that while there were only 6 of us, there were many more who felt the same way we did, but were afraid to come forward. She cleverly insinuated that if this wasn't taken care of, and if district didn't do something to change its policies overall, that they would have a mutiny on their hands.

It worked!
We won.

'bout damn time.

Now, how about the other 6 in the 7/8th grades who desperately need more help, counseling, and behavior management than we can give them.....

Nope. They're Drama Mamas.

Field day went mostly without a hitch, that is, until after.

Did I tell you about the factions of girls I have in my last period? Many of them used to be bffs and now they all want to kill each other? They've gotten in several fights in the last couple of weeks.

On Friday, after field day, one of them was walking home with her mom. The mom saw the girls and said something to them about how they better not touch her daughter, how they better leave her alone.

So they jumped her.

No, I am not shitting you.

Cops were all over the place and the mom apparently had to go to the hospital, and was all scratched up. The student was a little beat up too, but not as bad as the mom.

So, they got 9 days of out of school suspension, but got to come to school today to work on their state testing. The girl, when she walked from class to class, had the other acting principal escort her like a body guard so she wouldn't get hurt.
She didn't. But, while at school, they learned that she has been hanging out with a new friend, a black girl I'll call Shaniqua.

The bell rings, and as I'm walking down the hall to get my tests, and I see this angry, angry black woman screaming, arms flailing in the air, looking for those kids-- they better not lay a finger on her, they better not lay a finger on me, where is my daughter? Where are those girls? She is screaming like a banshee, and another woman is walking behind her. There are streams of kids pouring out of classrooms, totally unfazed.

Another teacher tries to calm her down, and I run into the closest teacher's room to have her call the front office. A couple minutes later, I see her in the front of the school, still screaming, as our principal tries to calm her down.

Then, I see Shaniqua. "Shaniqua-- you okay? Your mom looked like she was about ready to pop somebody!"

Shaniqua laughs.

"I'm fine and yeah, she was. She's worried that those girls that jumped A's mom were going to jump us too."


Sweet Christ.

Yooooou're OUT!

IT WORKED!

Our Very Student is now enrolled at the school for students with behavioral problems above and beyond what the typical teacher is trained for!

I will not have to see her for the remainder of the year!

WE WIN!

*victory dance*

She's Lethal

Above, on the slide, D holds a dodge ball. She glares at the students below her as if to ask "Who threw this at me?!"

Below....

Jose: (matter of factly) Miss J, D can use ANYTHING as a weapon.
D: Shuuuut UP!
Jose: See? Now she is using her mouth as a weapon.

You're neeeeever there

I feel like singing that Cake song today. You're never there, you're NEVER there! You're never, ever, ever, ever there! do do do, do do do....

Today, 8 of the students in my last period either:
1. Are in in-school suspension
2. Have an out of school suspension
3. Are skipping
4. Are in the hospital

Every day, it is like this, only every day it is a DIFFERENT set of 8 that are gone. Do you know how hard it is to BUILD on prior knowledge when they are NEVER IN CLASS?

ARGHHHHHH.

You'd think I'd be happy that so many are missing from my Hell Class. But, honestly, it just makes it harder. I only really need to move out two.....

You can call me your Drama Mama

Today's Tragedy, Drama & Hilarity:

1. Tragedy: A girl in my last period class is rumored to be in the hospital after a suicide attempt.

2. Drama: Was one of 6 teachers who spoke to the superintendent about Our Very Student and her horrific track record. During The Incident, one staff member's back actually got THROWN OUT and she had to go to URGENT CARE. The people who did the initial investigation did NOT get all of the paperwork on her, and thought she had only 4 write ups all year... but had NONE of the documentation that led up to that. Maybe something will change?

3. Hilarity:
Gym teacher: okay, people, go grab the balls. You need at least fifteen balls. If you can, grab extra balls.
Osuna: Oh, I'll grab my--
Me: OSUNA!
Osuna: What?
Me: YOU KNOW WHAT!
Osuna: heh. heh. heh.

This is setting a GREAT precedent.

Um.

The student who attacked the principal.
Is back in school.
Roaming the hallways like nothing's wrong.

What the [expletive deleted] is going on?
What kind of precedent does this set to all the other kids who regard her as a hero?
WHY doesn't the district BELIEVE us when we tell them what happened?
WHY are they taking the word of the mother who had her kid ARRESTED?

ARGKDSJHFDKJSFHDFJKH!!!!!

I am turning into the Hulk.
I may march my butt down to the superintendent's office myself.

Anxiety

In the middle of my 4-5 block yesterday, I had an anxiety attack and almost passed out. I was sent home by the nurse and the assistant principal.

This is not awesome.

The Shit Show Continues!

Step right up, step right up! Only five cents to peek behind the curtain! We have all SORTS of heinous acts for your viewing pleasure.

Would you care to see.....

An assistant principal who is removed so an investigation can take place over whether or not he was within his rights in restraining a screaming, violent individual, leaving NEITHER of the original principals at the school-- but an interim, and another guy from the district?

A mother insisting that her daughter, the raging student in question, would not lie?

The very student herself, 5'6", stout and very strong, booming voice and facial piercings galore?

Step right up!


For an extra five cents, come and see ToDaY's special acts:

8:15-3:15 The Invisible Assistant Principal. Is he still removed, or is he a ghost? Come and see for yourself!

8:15-11:00: The student in question! Yes, folks, the VERY ONE! She is at school for your viewing pleasure, and you can see her--for your own safety-- from behind the glass of the ISS room. Why is she still in the school? Why has she not been removed? Or expelled? Ahh, a mystery indeed!

12:00ish: Be privy to a call home to the Very Student's Mother to inform her that her daughter does indeed need to be wearing dress code appropriate clothing just like every other student! Take with you this lesson, boys and girls, and listen to it well.......... Violence is just fine, just as long as you dress appropriately! Enjoy the fisticuffs and delight in your right to fight for noooooo consequences! Yes, here at DME we believe in the sanctity of anarchy. Step right up!

12:00ish: Witness the very student with her mother, right beyond the front office doors. Yes! Out of captivity and temporarily free. Do you dare step inside the lion's territory? But wait--there's more. Feast your eyes and enjoy the epic scene of MOTHER AND DAUGHTER SCREAM/FIGHT EXTRAVAGANZA! If you are patient, wait and you will see the police make a special appearance, cuffing our Very Student and taking her away in cuffs...

To be continued....

Let's use our WORDS people....

So yesterday, two girls in my last class got into a huge brawl at lunch, and had to be separated by my favorite student, B, because no one else could tear them apart-- teachers included.

That apparently heightened tensions between two groups of girls in my last period class because today (while I was in bed, sick and curled in the fetal position), two MORE girls from the same class, two girls I have NEVER had problems with, started brawling. (Can you please tell me why this is their answer to every problem?)

A third girl, the one who regularly gets up in my face and has to be removed from my class, videotaped the fight with her phone. The assistant principal asked her for the video, she refused, and it escalated until SHE STARTED THROWING PUNCHES AT HIM.

Holy. Crap.

I guess the cops came, and when they got there, our AP was restraining her using his training. Knees on her back.

Unbelievable.

Yes!

1) Two days in a row: not one student cursed at me.
2) Nemesis student number one was actually FUN.
3) A student stayed after school and raised his grade from a 16% to a 64% and now has a total of 14 100%'s in various competencies and only 3 major areas in which to improve.
4) I got to bond with my favorite girl after school, who told me her hellish life story. Now, I respect her all the more.

IT WAS A GOOD DAY!

Time to celebrate.

Thoughts on the Senate Letter

So, someone who subbed in my district wrote a scathing letter about our students to the SENATE. While the author did not sub at my school, the attention has been causing a lot of outrage, and controversy. It also fired up the immigration debate further as it was read on the senate floor.

You can read about it here at NPR or here.

This sparks...well, a bit of outrage, and yet, a sad sigh.

First, let me just say that the articles that have said that "we should be listening to teachers" makes me a bit infuriated. Subbing is an insanely hard job. Some subs have been teachers. But just because the person subs, doesn't mean they are a teacher, have any experience teaching, or know how to handle high-needs kids. We have had subs spread religious paraphernalia, tell our kids they were useless, scream at them, talk on their cell phones the entire hour, shop on the computer, and read magazines. Subs do not command a lot of respect unless they are seasoned veterans of the field, usually. Most are not. So, while I know there are most likely a great number out there who are legitimately good, the ones we tend to get.... have no idea what world they are walking into, do not know how to deescalate a situation, do not have content knowledge, and are still living in the 50s.

That being said....

There are a lot of good kids in our school (despite the year I'm having, I still believe that), and a lot of good kids that have gone through our school. There's a group of former students that are graduating a year early because they were fast-tracked on so many advanced classes. Many have been accepted to the community college for their senior year to build up additional credits before they're ready to go to a university, including some that aren't graduating early.

They call or text me to see if I'm doing okay, they invite me to their quinceneara's (I know I butchered the spelling of that)-- they invite me over for dinner. There are some great, great families.

But there are also some tragic stories. I learned that one of my FAVORITES from last year is in juvie. I don't know why, and while I knew he hung with a crowd that wasn't so great, I didn't think he'd actually get in trouble.

So, I guess that's the crux of it. It isn't that there are a lot of horrid kids that want to be gang bangers. There are a lot of good kids, and a couple of really, really bad seeds. And those seeds can poison a few and take them down with them. Just today, five of my girls got suspended for 5 days for having vodka at school and I can almost guarantee you it was due to the influence of a new pretty, popular girl who just started a couple weeks ago.

They want to be loved, they want acceptance, and they want to feel successful. But when their parents aren't around (whether they're good parents or not), when their teachers routinely quit on them (by giving up, leaving year after year) or when they have first year teachers EVERY YEAR..... they need to find that acceptance somewhere else. So, some find it in gangs. And some get into such terrible trouble because it is the only way to get that so-desired attention from their parents.

Furthermore, these kids feel totally de-validated every. single. day. This state has made it law that we can't speak Spanish to them. They know about SB1070 and are outraged because many of them ARE citizens and feel like they are being profiled and that their civil liberties are at risk. They know about the schools in Tucson that offered a Hispanic or African view on American history and were pummeled for it. White culture is promoted. Latin culture is denied.

So, how would you feel? How would you react?

I'm not defending the kids who have no respect, who treat me (and others) like total crap, and have no discipline. There should be tough consequences for those who bring drugs or alcohol to school, start riots, or are defiant. Yet, in teaching we learn that sometimes--SOMETIMES-- when shit is hitting the fan, we have to look at ourselves.

Maybe the kids all failed that test because we did a sucky job teaching.
Maybe the kids are all failing because we as a STATE are doing a sucky job supporting parents, creating programs for lower income families, and educating the youth.

We ask them to take responsibility all the time-- but do those with the power ever do the same? Or do they pass the buck? It is easier, far easier to blame the children rather than to say that YOU might be the fault.

Barney Backfired

Luis: Miss J, will you wait for me?
Me: For you to what?
Luis: You know, wait till I'm 18 so you can marry me? I'll wear all purple. Purple hat with a feather in it, purple suit, cane, so I'll look like--
Me: Barney?
Luis: I love you, you love me, we're--
Me: (my expression says: shit.)
Luis: That really backfired on you, didn't it?

I win!

I am doing the new-job-dance right now.

Over the last couple of weeks, I have interviewed extensively at a few different places in My New City of Awesomeness.

All had something very different to offer-- hardcore science and tech at one, insanely high achievement and collaboration at another, teachers with loads of teaching and travel experience at the international school, and a focus on sustainability and a holistic teaching approach at the green school.

For one school, I not only was interviewed 4 times in one day (the principal, assistant principal, discipline guru, and curriculum specialist separately), but also taught a 50 minute lesson, and watched another teacher so I could talk about their strengths and weaknesses (hello, hot seat). At the end of a grueling and exciting day, the assistant principal told me if I had any other offers, I had to contact them immediately. By Monday, I had a job offer. I had a week to get back to them.

So, then the next wave of interviews started and I found one place that stood out just a TINY bit more than the rest. In talking to one of the principals, I learned that they use the tenants of BRAIN RULES to plan their instruction. OH MY GOD! BRAIN RULES! I have been trying to get teachers to read this book for YEARS. And their WHOLE SCHOOL uses it? And their kids all have laptops? And their high school boosts a 100% admittance to college rate? Holy crap.I got off the phone with her and bounced around the house like a caffeinated cricket. AND they have 85 minute science blocks? AND I only teach three classes? AND there's time built into the day to collaborate with the teacher who teaches the same content as you. WAIT-- there IS A TEACHER WHO TEACHES THE SAME CONTENT AS YOU?

Did I say holy crap?

Incredible. A totally perfect fit.

Then, the next day, the third school called and put me through their first interview. E-mailed me the second day telling me they wanted me to come out, teach, and do that whole rigamarole again, that I was a really strong candidate but blah blah blah. By that time, it didn't matter.

I had already accepted.

So, its settled-- new home, here I come!

I have to say though, that I am very grateful for the experience I've gotten at this school now. While this year has been far from the best, each year I've grown exponentially. The struggles I've faced--from having to create all curriculum totally from scratch, to having kids who speak no English at all (to having kids call me a bitch nearly every day).... all if it has made me the teacher that I am. So-- a big thank you also goes out to the kids, the teachers and the admin that helped me or pushed me along the way.

I always thought if I put in my years, I would get to go wherever I wanted. And now, I know that's true.

Dear Arizona

Dear Arizona,
Go ahead. Keep putting scorpions on my shower curtain. Blast me with your heat rays. Fill my classroom with malevolent hoodlums. Ensure that nasty rumors spin like tumbleweed. Hail on my parade. Cause my feet to swell with ant bites. Do your worst. Because in June, I'll be out. What's that? The economy sucks, how will I ever find a job out there? Your taunts fall on deaf ears, my friend.

Because I already did. You may now congratulate me, Arizona, for I have navigated your terrain and as of next week-- my lily white butt belongs to A Seriously Awesome School in Denver. My kids will all have laptops instead of fisticuffs (Okay, they might have laptops AND fisticuffs. Who am I kidding?) I will spend my preps collaborating instead of commiserating.

I have a shiny star to affix my eye upon now, Arizona. So you can not get me down.

Love,
Miss J

Love

The decision to leave has been weighing on me for weeks.

While every class period, I count down the minutes until I have the next, I am also counting down the days until summer. But probably not for the reason you'd think.

Will.
The Branams.
Monica.
"Carmen Miranda"
Maritza.
Little Alex.
Monica, Julio, Vianey, Yesenia.
Castro, Aidan, Angelica, Miguel, Jesus O., Bayron
Bryanna, Crystal, Jessica, Karla, Juan S., Jesus & Pedro....

There are a hundred reasons why I don't want to leave. All of them are former students.

So, I couldn't wait any more. I had to tell them.

So, last week, I went on my teacher facebook page (I created one like how celebrities and politicians do so we could keep in touch) and told them I needed to call a meeting. Texted those whose numbers I had. Told them all to spread the word. Many called back, or emailed to tell me they couldn't make it.

But there were probably 50 kids in my room today. For most of them, I bounded out of my chair and shrieked their names before hugging them.

When they all settled in, I began to speak. I told them about my year, and how much I have struggled. My stolen ipod, the sheer disrespect, and I watched as their lips pursed and their brows furrowed. They sat, in total silence while I described the hell that has been this year.

And then I told them that I kept staying year after year for them. That I loved them. That they were my family. That I was so, so grateful to have been a part in their lives. That they were so important to me, and always would be. And I started to cry.

I told them I was moving to Denver, a 16 hour car ride away.

I saw some of my girls were starting to cry, seeing my tears, and when I looked at Big Will's face, my chest got tight.

They rallied around me, hugged me, told me it was okay. And then, for the next hour and a half, they stayed. To get me caught up. To hug me. To tell me it was okay to take care of myself. To beg me to take them with me.

Monica came and took my hand. "This is what you need. We will be okay. We always have your back, okay?" I started to cry again.

Love-- I burst with it for these kids. They have my heart, so the guilt I feel about leaving them is immense-- a giant thunderhead looming, leaving me covered in rain. They are my little sisters, my little brothers. So, I needed their permission. Yet even now, having it- I am all choked up. I know there will be new babies, but these kids will always be some of the most important people in my life.


I invited Becca, the girl who saves me every day during my Hell Class, to stay. As far as I was concerned, she'd earned her stripes for me already. She's already one of them. So, she stayed, and watched as the kids poured in, watched as I yelled their names as they ran toward me, watched their expressions as I talked and heard them voice their fury. Saw their sadness.

After I was done, and the kids were lingering, talking to me and reuniting with each other, I turned to Becca. "You know, you don't have to stay."
She just shook her head and took it all in.

Later, as Maritza was leaving, she gave me a hug and told me she loved me. Becca, next to me said "That's how it should be, Miss J."

As hard as teaching is, and as much as I feel like I am being beaten down every. single. day. Leaving these kids is the hardest thing I have ever had to do.

Welcome to the Abyss

I came back to see that all of my crayons were broken into two or three pieces, scattered around the room. A giant tupperwear container of them, big enough to fit a couple pairs of shoes in. And every single one was split.
I had to throw them out. We can no longer use crayons in this class.

My floor is filthy, covered with ink splotches and crayon streaks, like Picasso and Jackson Pollock worked in grime instead of paint. The undersides of my tables are coated with gum and gunk. Graffiti is all over. Nigger. Bitch. Fuck this. Call -------- for head. Becca's got a big dick. All over my room. All over the bathroom's four walls and stalls. This girl has big titties, that girl has a small dick.

A student gave me a stuffed animal dog for my birthday, a toy that clearly used to belong to her. They ripped its head off.

Another student gave me a chocolate bunny for Easter.
They ate it.

The giant sign on my wall that says MISS J and has notes from all of my students from two years ago, thanking me.....a giant gash right down the middle.

The models I made for the sub, so they would know what to do, destroyed, torn to pieces.

Staplers, springless. Papers torn, hanging from the walls.

I wrote up a detention. The student came back to my room, ripped it to pieces, crumpled it and threw it in my face, swearing at me as he left. Two students fighting on the playground, punching each other's faces and bodies, tell me they don't have to go to the office, they don't have to listen to anything I say because they didn't do anything wrong. I get back to class and two more students are taking turns slapping each other in the face. I go off on them. The boy turns to me and says "Well, SOMEONE'S angry." Smirks.

What I considered some of my GOOD kids smoking pot in the bathroom. Kids showing up every day in tears, and can't focus because of what others have said to them.

I can't do this anymore.

Idealistic, Realistic, Pessimistic

Idealistic
Yeah, I’ll change the world-
put power as knowledge into each boy and girl.
Hurdles are nothin’
we’ll soar above them,
roaring we will beat our
enemies—we’ll out race them.
Slay all the dragons
of poverty and racism.
We’ll win, World --you bring it on.
I’m armed with enough love to charm
any single demon that walks in
will be unarmed.
Classroom of misfits,
ain’t what I see,
We’re a band of heroes,
Olympian family
I’ll get ‘em all
motivated to grow
no excuses, high expectations
and we won’t plateau.
Shadows of others
won’t bring me down
deaf to the naysayers
whose rainbows have turned brown.

Realistic
Damn, this job is hard
the hippie’s retreated
a warrior’s in charge
still full of love, job’s full of reward
but the bounce in her step’s
been replaced with a sword.
If something’s not working,
I guess I’ll work harder,
these kids still need me,
and I can’t feed ‘em fodder.
They still deserve the best
that I can offer,
lessons from Midas
served on a gold platter.
Still, I’m starting to feel like
I can’t do enough to matter
Want to adopt all these sons and daughters.


Pessimistic
Remember the days I thought I
could do it all,
stormed into the schoolyard head high, walking tall.
But the world has chewed up my
babies and spit them out.
Drugs and pregnancy,
jail time and doubt.
They don’t believe what they did
just a year before, and they’ve got no one
to open up a door—
No assets, just asses leading them in the
wrong direction, and I couldn’t be there
to protect them.
And those in my room, graffiti and steal.
Call me a bitch,
don’t care how I feel.
Reeling, the tears glisten as they tell me
matter-of-factly
they don’t have to listen.
Still, I work harder through sobs,
as my boss tells me I’m not doing my job.
Five years now, and I’m the best teacher
yet, but feel wounded and poisoned
like a Vietnam vet.
But he must be right—so few call me mom.
They’d rather brawl in the hallways
and sound the alarms, spray paint
the bathroom and call to arms.
Throw up drunk in my room,
call me a cunt as tell me to
"Get back in my room.
Bitch, don’t you have some teaching to do?"
Excitement’s lost, stomach’s knotted
why am I trying when I can’t
accomplish?
Want to reach all, but teach to a few
the strong and aware,
Those who still see I love, and
how much I care.
For them, I walk tall and plan for each day
putting on a fake smile that’s
withered away.
Don’t want to admit it, am on the defense
but the naysayers now are starting
to make sense.

Support

Teaching has got to be one of the hardest jobs on the planet. I don't care what you say-- to be a good one, you have to be as smart as a doctor, as creative as an artist, as calmly argumentative as a lawyer, plus being insanely analytical, organized, flexible and a good communicator. You take a beating every day, and you only survive it if there is support.

If you're a surgeon, you have some pretty intense days. A lot rests in your hands, and I'm sure the pressure can be overwhelming. Yet, your environment is usually calm. The people you're helping are sedated. And when you ask for something, it is in your hand immediately. Your team is there to assist you, no questions asked and often times, there is more than one surgeon in the room. You have to be a well-oiled machine because a life is on the line. People treat you with high regard and assume you are good at your job, you are a professional. You have status. And money. Long days, always on call,probably constantly tired, and have to sometimes tell loved ones a person has passed. But you have support for all of those things.

In a classroom, it isn't just one life that's on the line. Its every single one. But because it can be a slow decay, we don't think of it as a life and death scenario. Yet, we could never blame the medical institution for thousands of people ending up in jail each year. Not so of education.

The people you're helping? Some are great-- brilliant lightning bolts of people. Yet, some don't want to be there, and can be apathetic or see you as the enemy instead of someone who wants to help them. When you ask for something, there may not be anything to give you. There is no money to get what you need. There aren't the resources. There is not time to collaborate and plan with your team. Your administrators are too busy to solve every problem on campus. You do not feel like a priority. You are an island on your own because every man is for himself, treading water, bleeding, surrounded by sharks, just trying to survive as the work gets piled, piled, piled on. And when you can't do everything alone, you're assumed to be either incompetent or insubordinate instead of what you probably are-- overwhelmed, exhausted, frantic, overworked and doing the best you can with what you have.

Some people in the community thank you, and take you in. Some people treat you as members of their family. Some people look at you like you're a saint for what you do for the money you receive, but even they have no idea what you deal with on a day to day basis. Others are shocked to find a "teacher who actually cares." Others think you're nuts for doing your job. Others assume you're probably not very smart, that you lecture all hour, that you're a glorified babysitter, that you're the reason this country is going down the drain. The lack of respect you get from just about everyone. The hours and hours and hours of work you put in after school hours are invisible, and people just tell you how lucky you are to have the summers off.

Yet, for all this, I know I want to stay in teaching. I am good at my job. Hell. I am great at my job. But, I am tired of being an island. People have told me over the last week that education sucks out a soul, that every school does this, but I don't believe it. I can't. I still have this tiny pinpoint of hope that says that somewhere there must be people who work together, are given time, are respected, are treated right, are paid right. Are taken care of.

I need to feel taken care of. Because right now, I am just falling apart.

Crushed

I'm starting to lose it.

I don't know what it is about this year, but the kids are tearing me down, bit by bit. The year started off just fine-- I liked all of my classes. Now I dread coming to school. I get sick to my stomach, and the stress of it all has caused my cold to stick around for over three weeks. My stomach has a constant pang and I'm starting to think I'm developing another pre-ulcer like I had when my parents got divorced a few years ago. I'm disgusted. Furious. Exhausted. I'm so stressed out I can't sleep, can't focus, can't even write the way I used to be able to.

One of my kids said the other day "Miss J, you NEVER get mad." I laughed because by the end of almost every day, I'm outraged. I've just gotten so good at hiding it, at keeping everything I'm feeling behind a concrete wall so that all they see is a blank expression or a forced smile when I want to scream and pull out all my hair. Take a deep breath and go help the kid who just laughed in my face and interrupted me 10 times in the last two minutes.

And a few of these kids just won't stop-- they swear at me. They tell me they don't have to listen to a fucking thing I say. They disrupt the class every. single. day. Every couple of minutes, there's something.

And if I ask them to move to a different spot in the classroom, or go to a different classroom until they're ready to learn, they take 10 minutes to get out-- creating a circus the whole time while swearing at me some more. They instigate. They start fights. They bully each other, and I don't mean the gimme-your-lunch-money bullying. No. They bring it online and smear each other's names, call each other whores and sluts and make up stories about who's slept with who. And then they come back to school and beat the crap out of each other because of the stories they created. 8th grade girls, screaming at each other as they're coming back from gym, calling each other bitches and telling each other to keep "their fucking legs closed."

So many of them don't care. Don't try. Just sit there. Absolutely no effort. No motivation, and all the incentives and reprimands in the world aren't doing anything. While I bust my butt every single day to give them something that's broken down to their level, and try to make it interesting if I can, with the resources I have....they crap all over it.

I asked a kid to rejoin my class-- he was wandering the halls, and he should have been at lunch. He starts swearing at me, muttering and cursing and acting like I just told him he was a worthless piece of... I'm sorry. Am I being unreasonable? Is it wrong of me to ask you to eat lunch with the rest of the class? To follow the same rules?

I've always been able to find something about each kid that I liked or that I respected. Maybe they weren't academically gifted, but made me laugh, could draw really well, were really helpful, had an athletic gift....something. I've always been able to find something so that no matter what, I could come back and be happy.

I'm having a really, really hard time doing that right now.

And I didn't even TEACH them anatomy!

I opened up a chem book to help a student understand one of the patterns on the periodic table. On the top, written in pen it said:

"Miss J has a coochie."

And then there was a drawing of a vagina.
Splayed open like ham in a grocery advertisement.

Not a penis. Not my ass. Thanks for drawing something new, kids. Three cheers for you.

Dear Grad School

Dear Grad School,
This is no love poem, no ode or sonnet.
You are. Sucking out my soul. Like some demon vampire (but without sparkly skin or everlasting love), you ask more and more of me and leave me a withered shell, a wandering zombie, with puce crescents under puffy eyes and ulcers waiting menacingly in the shadows with acronyms aplenty. BICS, CALP, SEI, LEP, SIOP-- your dastardly thugs, all tattooed across my consciousness. You consume me until I can only blather on about pedagogy; Vygotsky haunts me, Piaget j-walks across my brain.

Ahh,I was a fool to think that by year five, I would have it all! That I would be ready to conquer you with my Medusa-like glare and Amazon precision. Even more foolish-- that I could do it in a year! Ha! I hear your laugh-- that mustache twirls as you tie me to the dual train tracks, the crossroads of higher pay and higher education. But at a price!

But-- what is that I see? A light, so far away, beckoning. Three and ten more weeks, and I will have you. In my clutches. You, nothing but a piece of paper which could smolder under my gaze and flutter like peppered moths into a blackened sky.

You will be mine.

Desensitized

So, apparently around 7:30 this morning there was an attempted kidnapping in the school parking lot.

A woman got out of her car, was forced back in it, possibly at knife point, but we're not sure. The guy maybe drove off? And she called 911 and managed to get out?

The details are a big foggy. But our school did make the news.

There were cop cars in the parking lot all afternoon and we had to send a letter home to the kids before they left to let them know it wasn't a random kidnapping, and that they were safe. The investigation is still going on, so we don't have a lot of details. We do know that the woman was "associated with our school but not hired by the district." Student teacher? Parent volunteer?

The strangest thing? Now that I'm home, thinking about it....We all kind of just took it in stride. Ahh, yes, someone was trying to kidnap people at school. Okay. Carry on.

Just another day.

Teaching here certainly changes your perspective.

Must be one ugly dog.

A: I have a dog, too.
Me: Yeah? What is it?
A: It's part poodle part shih tzu.
Me:....
Me: You.... have a poo-shi--??
A: MISS J!!!
Me: What?

Snookified

Mario: Miss J, can we call you Snooki? (Snooky? Snookie??)
Me: Do I have a fake tan?
Mario: No.
Me: Do I have huge hair?
Mario:No....
Me: Do I have the IQ of a hamster?
Mario: No....
Me: Then why in God's name would you think it was okay to nickname me THAT?
Mario: Well....
Boy #2: She looks more like J-wow.
Boy #3: No she doesn't!
Me: How about calling me Miss J. I'm cool with that name.
Gym teacher: Snooky has the IQ of a school bus.

It Continues

One of my girls dropped out of our school to join another one. A smart girl, one I really liked. She'd gotten out of school suspension (OSS) for 9 days because she was caught drinking vodka out of a water bottle at school. She told on another girl, and then was too afraid to come back-- because the rest of the girls were going to beat her up for being a snitch.

Two of my boys made a bet to see who could "f*** the new slut first." A girl who's new, and pretty, and wears slightly tight clothing and lots of blush but is a good kid. She found out, and humiliated, was sobbing in my class. One of these boys was also caught SMOKING POT AT SCHOOL earlier this week.

Another student got up in my face, like UP IN MY FACE, like an angry dog ready to pounce, yelled at me and wouldn't back down, as I calmly told her she couldn't get under my skin, but that this wasn't the best choice ever. She kept going, challenging me, telling me I should go back to class. GO BACK TO CLASS! GO BACK THERE AND GO TEACH! YOU HAVE A JOB TO DO. Pointing and shouting at me. I won't go to the office, I won't do anything you say. GO DO YOUR JOB! Staring me down, ready to pounce.

Another student said the detention he received for skipping a lesser sentence TWICE was bullshit, and my fault-- even after I wrote him sticky note reminders both times.

I don't yell.
I don't scream.
I try really, really hard to make each new day a fresh start-- to not hold grudges.
I don't let them see when they ruffle my feathers.
I try to give them choices.

But they make me feel like shit.
I am so disappointed in them as human beings.

:(

I never crab about administration, other teachers, advisers and so on-- I think it's cowardly and lacks class. Fixating on the negative usually only makes you more negative, and I don't want to be That Guy--especially when there are people (like the reading AA, for example) who give us lots of awesome, quick strategies to use in the class. Or the technology teacher who is always trying to integrate our content into hers.

But I will say this-- I am not happy.

This job is exhausting. We're all exhausted. Every single one of us, from district level down, mostly likely has so much work to do that, well.... we can't do ANYTHING well. And now with talk of more budget cutbacks, the problem worsens. As one teacher said to me-- the district cuts back, but we never can. We get the opposite-- as they cut back, we get more work to do, not less. And not exactly for fair compensation either. So then you end up with a huge group of people who are overworked and underpaid, all with impossibly high expectations on their heads, surrounded by a whirlwind of negative, catty people.


Someone asked me the other day how I've managed to make it here for five whole years already... These days, I'm not sure.

Grad school plays a role in how burnt out I'm feeling, as does the time of year (I always want to quit around the beginning of February....) but never before have I felt so under appreciated and downright depressed.

No, they will not chop your balls off.

Yay for teaching science.

Two years ago, I had a few girls that would tell me about their (or "their friend's") STD issues. It is a strange compliment-- knowing they are comfortable enough to talk to you, while assuming you're smart enough to know something about it. But still disturbing. This time, it wasn't a girl.

Student A pulled me out into the hallway to tell me, in a bashful and embarrassed voice, that he has a lump on his "well, I guess you could say, my testicle" and that he was afraid he has cancer and is going to die.

And then started describing it in detail, stuttering "I mean, not to gross you out.... I'm just..."

"A. You are probably fine. It's good that you know your body that well. Since you've got all those hormones in your system, there's a good chance, your body is just doing something funky, but anything out of the normal should be checked. Do you have a guy that can bring you to the doctor just in case?"

"...So I'm not going to die?!?!"

"The chances of you having a tumorous cancer at your age are pretty slim. I'm saying its probably nothing. BUT, if it is something, you probably caught it in time.... and if that is true, then the doctors can take care of it before it becomes a serious problem."

"So, if I go to the doctor, I'll probably be fine?"

"Yes. Most likely. Million to one."

"They won't.......chop my balls off?"



(How I did not burst into laughter is a miracle)

"I think you are probably safe."

"But, I had a family member who had cancer, and sometimes they have to cut into you to see if you have it..."

"That's a biopsy. And they just need a tiny, tiny piece of tissue. A few cells. You don't even have to be put to sleep when they take it."

"So, if I go to the doctor they're going to put a NEEDLE in my...."


......This conversation lasted far too long.

There's Only so Much

Today some of my former students came to visit me. I always start off so happy to see them-- especially those I haven't seen in a while, or those I know had the potential of falling into the wrong future.

After today, I especially needed to hear something good. Why? Well, I finally made it to the wall. We have this joke at school that you're not a real teacher or administrator until some kid's written something shitty about you in the bathroom.

Well, yesterday was my day. One of my first hour students took spray paint and grafitti'd up the whole boys' bathroom before school. Not only did it list the top suspected gay kids at school (which goes to show you 1) our kids are insanely homophobic and 2) these are the kids that are teasing HIM about being gay.) but also wrote either "Miss J is a boring bitch," or "Miss J is a horny bitch." Honestly, from the sprawl, I couldn't tell which it said. Additionally, I don't know which offends me more.

So, this morning, while my AP told me this, laughing and thinking it was hilarious, as I quietly fumed, I thought-- I pour my SOUL into you. My SOUL. All my time. And this is what I get? Yeah, yeah. I know. It shouldn't bother me. But it does. It's one thing to write that I have a big ass. Its another thing to make it seem like I don't care. What's worse is that I feel like the rest of the kids, if they knew.... would maybe agree. Again, I should stop beating myself up. But its hard.


So, after school, still feeling exhausted, insulted and overwhelmed (you'd think by year 5 nothing would shock or upset me.....) three of my babies came in. The first is a girl, who in 7th grade, was a real piece of work. Super low academically, and a diva to the extreme. I was a little worried about having her, but she turned out to be totally awesome. Academically....still low, but the girl never gave up and always came in with a good attitude. I respected that so much.

After a bit of small talk, she admitted that she'd come for a reason, but she was afraid to tell me.

"C, you know I might not like it, but I'm going to love you anyway. Its okay."
"Well, Miss J, I was at this party. And there was drinking and smokin, so I got to be drinking and smokin' and then I went home with my boyfriend and well, now.... I'm pregnant."

No sigh. No look of judgment. Just questions:
What's your plan? You have someone to help you through this? How do you feel about it? Are you afraid? Have you seen a doctor? What are you going to do about school? Is the father a part of your life? Is your family supportive?

She has plans, she told me. She lives with the father's family already, and they're supportive. Plus, she's got family in LA, so she's going to go there and get into singing and modeling. Oh, and K? That tiny girl from my homeroom who was saucy and spritely and so, so smart? Yeah. She had a baby girl.

Then B chimed in, trying to cover the new tattoo he got on his wrist. It says his mom's name "Rosa."

"I saw it already, B."
"Are you mad at me?"
"What am I going to do about it? You guys are all going to look like you're 60 when you're 30."
"From partying too much, huh?"
"You got it. Besides, B, I thought you hated your mom...."
"I do but my dad's going to jail for 4 years, and she's still my mom.... I'm going to get his name tattooed on my other wrist."
"Drug stuff?"
"Nah, he got rid of those charges."
"For the drunk driving stuff?"
"No, he got out of that too. It's cuz he won't pay child support."
"Do you see him? Does he ever support you in other ways?"
"Well, yeah, we were going to switch the custody to him, but mom and my sister brought violence charges against me so....."
"Why won't he pay?"
"Well, my mom will just spend the money on other stuff, not us... so he doesn't want to give it to her. Oh also-- I'm going to run away."
"Do you have a safe place to go, B?"

Yeah. He's already staying in the house of two other former students who are regularly into cocaine.


Then the third. The nicest, sweetest, most helpful child you've ever met. Dimples, and shiny dark hair-- A is a teddy bear of a human being. She has two younger siblings, Joel who's in 4th grade, and a little sister who is 5.

"A please tell me your life is better...."

She burst into tears and shook her head.
"He's going to leave, Miss J. He's going to leave!"
"Your dad? Back to Mexico?"

A tearful nod. She is legal, so is the rest of her family. But her dad's work visa had expired and he'd stayed. Now, he's not.

"Are you worried about your younger siblings?"
"Miss J, they're going to grow up without a dad!"
"Does he have a place to go? Do you have family? Will he have a job?"
"Yeah. He'll have a taxi."
"How's your mom? Trying to be strong?"

I just stood there and hugged her. This girl, this gem, with this wonderful, loving, hard-working family. This model family. Falling apart before her eyes.

"When he goes, I don't know when we'll see him again."



I looked at all three of them. I stared at my alumni wall as they filled me in on others who'd dropped out, gone missing, were drugged up or pregnant.

"I wish I could keep you all in 8th grade forever. Keep you and protect you from everything," I said.


The younger grade level teachers don't understand how hard this is. The 6th grade science teacher (who is beyond awesome) was convincing me that I was a super star teacher the other day, when all I could think is this-is-so-hard-this-is-so-hard..... But even he can't possibly understand. When his kids leave, they may turn into horrid 7th graders, but by the time they REALLY leave..... they're out of sight, out of mind. He has a new crew he's bonded with.

With 8th grade its different.
One year, they are in your nest.
The next, eaten by the world.

I am so grateful they still come, still tell me, still know I care. But as soon as I'm home, it shatters me.


My administrator laughs when kids call me a bitch.
And mocks the kids who love me and want to come see me.

They can't win. I can't either.



There's only so much tragedy I can take.

If only our kids knew what we said when they weren't around....

"Well, I'm going to draw a penis on YOUR bulletin board then."
"Fine! Then I'll penis YOURS!"
"Well, then I want it to have hairy balls."
"Harry Wong DOES fit in education."

"A Teacher who Cares"

While in a plane flying back from Chicago, I kept myself busy by reading The Disappearing Spoon by Sam Kean. The book, which is a tome of hilarious, intriguing, fascinating stories about the elements (believe it!), was in fact so good, that I had to take notes on it.

At one point, the woman (early 40s, wealthy judging from her jewelry) next to me asked me what I was doing. I explained I was teaching chemistry to 8th graders, and was trying to find relatable, interesting things to connect chemistry to my kids' lives. I told her I had been horrendously bored by chemistry when I was their age, so I wanted to make it interesting, fun, scandal-filled and relevant. To which she replied:

"How nice! A teacher who cares."

"I do!" I said, and thanked her.

And then, I got kind of pissed.

Wait a second, I thought. A teacher who cares?! Are you kidding me?!?! We ALL START OUT AS TEACHERS WHO CARE! We all start out insanely idealistic, thinking we can save the world, fix every child, "make a difference."

And then we get in to the field. Pedagogy and philosophy crumble in the face of reality, which laughs in your face like a mustache-twirling antagonist, ties you to the railroad tracks and rubs his hands in glee at the oncoming train.


After a couple years of feeling like parent, nurse, therapist and prison guard instead of just TEACHER, making everything you give to your children, working tirelessly on motivating them, calling parents, not getting them because their numbers don't work, grading papers for AGES, head turning to a soccer ball of baldness as you've pulled out your hair because they won't or can't do their homework and their parents can't help them.... Not getting enough support from administration, who if you are decent, don't bother with you because you CAN do it. You're not sinking, so you can clearly take on MORE. For no more pay. Be a leader. Teach every else even though you only have a couple paltry years under your belt.

Detentions? On your time. But you have to do them or admin won't help you. After school parental activities. On your time. Parent phone calls. On your time. Lesson planning and collaborating. On your time.

Being paid nothing, and being told its "okay" by others that don't get it because we "have summers off" and "have great benefits" and "besides, your job is done at 3."

Getting kids in your school that have called other teachers that they should "choke on a dick and die" and are allowed back. Kids dealing pot. Kids drunk in your classroom. Kids high. Kids fighting with bloody knuckles and knives. Kids that miss at least a day a week because school isn't a priority. Kids who miss days at a time to watch younger siblings while their parents work. Kids who write in diaries in your class about being "so fucking wasted." Pregnant girls.


You work through that, and find all of the diamonds in the rough and teach to them, try to get to the ones who are on the verge, and do your best to calm the ones who hate your guts. If you have anything left.

Every teacher starts out wanting to save the planet. And then, it gets beaten out of us as we burn, burn, burn the candle on both ends.

So don't tell me "oh, a teacher who cares." We all were, and many of us still are.

Cue the Queen

And no, I am not talking about feather boas and platform shoes.

I am referring to a tradition our school has been keen on following for the last couple of years....

Problem 1:
Not enough seasoned teachers to go around

Problem 2:
Not enough money to get skilled teachers

Problem 3:
People leave last minute

Solution:
Hire people who can't cut it because you have no choice.


End result:
Dernt, dernt, dernt...another one bites the dust....



So far we have lost or are losing:
The most incredible, amazing helpful disciplinarian the school has seen, Ms. M
Our snarky and fantastic groundskeeper (district relocated him to another school)
A 4th grade teacher who's health problems make it impossible for her to continue
Two teachers in the 7/8 building-- first year here, probably didn't know what they were in for.

I have this fear that by the end of this year, the school is going to be an apocalyptic wasteland. Worse yet, while we were on the upswing, I predict the cost will be high-- I think many of the people with a few years are going to leave. Mass exodus, leaving the school back again where it was a couple years ago-- with more 1st years than anything else.

It's not going to be pretty.