Caution-- to the wind!

Tomorrow I will wake up at 5:45 and begin again at Harrity Elementary. I am dreading it a little bit. But only a little bit; which I think is an improvement. I wonder if anyone who reads this actually looks forward to going to work? I have heard of this phenomenon: enjoying your job. I think that it would revolutionize my life.

That being said, I have a small goal for the next 6 months. I will start making lesson plans that interest me. I will stop prioritizing keeping kids in their seats and start prioritizing engaging my students. Here soon I will have to make a decision about whether I will continue with this teaching gig next year. I'm going to give it one last chance. I aim to give my job 100% creativity and effort the next month or two to see if the dread stops.

I'll let you know what shakes out.

C is for Computers and Crazy

A new low: I took the brand new computers away from the kids today because they weren't following directions. Mob scene. Kids were screaming at me. Yelling obscenities. And there was an idle threat from Siani: "I hope someone pushes you down the stairs and breaks your neck." Considering that Siani was put in jail last year for assaulting a teacher, I decided to take her threat seriously. She is now suspended for three days. I'm not totally sure that's what is best for Siani, but there had to be a consequence. As for what to do with the other children that yelled less horrible things... I have no idea. I was just grateful to make it through the period with no laptops thrown and my neck still intact.

a bright spot

Bad week. Really bad week.

I confiscated a pretty sweet note yesterday, though. (And I don't mean cool sweet. I mean darling sweet). May Standford's love be immortalized through my never-ending blog.

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I've been building up the courage to tell you this for the last two years. The first time I seen you I was skeptical. I aint know if I was feelin you or if you was just another girl. I've tried so hard to impress, but I know you like me just the way I was. You are the most beautiful thing since God made light, your funny, and your a genus. (lol) I just want to have a really close relationship with you. Just take some time to think about it. Don't just randomly pick your choice. Think about it.

do you wanna be my girl?

Yes-No

Comments:

___________________

Darling, right? This boy is in earnest. Zabada better make a good choice.

Indiya

Indiya sidled up to me in the schoolyard same as always today. I put my arm around her and we stood there not saying much. This has become our daily routine. (Sometimes twice daily routine). We stand there, her arm around my waist and mine around her shoulders. She's a snuggler. I am, too, so it works out.

As we stand there today she says, "You were in my dream last night, Ms. Linton."

I laugh. "Really? What was I doing?"

"I don't know. You were my mom or something."

We continue to stand and I pretend to watch the boys playing basketball. My eyes are mostly glazed over, though, and I am thinking about Indiya's dream and her blue puffy coat molded into my side. I squeeze her arm and she squeezes my waist, dropping her head so that it rests on my shoulder. 

Pretty good Monday.

3rd floor emergencies

 Thursday afternoons the middle school team has a grade group meeting. At this time, all of the 7th and 8th grade students are hypothetically in the classroom with various specialist teachers; but that never happens. Kids run in and out of the classrooms. Things are thrown. It's loud. So while worried, we were not surprised when our meeting was interrupted by the secretary bursting in and blurting out, "There's an emergency on the 3rd floor." Up we went (my co-teachers, the nurse, the counselor and I). Savaughn and a number of other 8th grade boys had jumped Khalil, one of my 7th graders. When I turned the corner, all of my homeroom was in the hallway, lounging like adults on vacation. That pissed me off. They know my angry face now. All I had to do was look at them and they scampered into the room-- adults no more. Khalil had been whisked away to the nurse's office. When I finally made it downstairs to him, my annoyance and anger had leveled off. 

Then I saw his face, both eyes swollen shut. A goose egg already on his forehead. I learned that one of my girls had thrown salt into his eyes. I wanted to run right back up those stairs and grab each of those good-for-nothings by the scruff of their neck. Instead I passed Khalil tissues; fuming as I listened. 

While I sat with him I thought of the boys who had done it. Their histories and situations. One boy's father is abusive and his mother won't leave him. She is frequently admitted to the hospital for panic attacks and has divulged such unsolicited information to me over the phone. The exposure that he has to violence, as well as the frustration he must feel at home softened me a bit. 

The thing is, if I can't be mad at the boys who did it, towards whom/what do I direct my anger? Some system that oppresses my boys and plunges them into this vicious cycle? Only that's not gratifying at all. I can't grab a system by the scruff of the neck and tell it I'm disappointed. 

So, then, I join the ranks of people in the neighborhood that have displaced anger and are looking for outlets. 

Only I get to leave the neighborhood at the end of the day. I get to go home and pick Amber up at the airport. We're going to New York this weekend. We'll get lattes and walk off all of my aggression. We'll talk and pray and I'll rest so that I find respite. 

I am thankful for that, but worry about those who don't get a break. Who can't step back and decompress with a friend and a latte. Please pray for them. Pray for an end to violence in Southwest Philly. Pray for an end to the systems that oppress my students and feed their anger. 

C-U-P-C-A-K-E S-T-U-P-O-R

Today my after school club met for the second time. "The spellsters" (lame name, i know. But could there be a cool name for a spelling club? --> suggestions welcome)

I flipped when I saw that I had 27 kids signed up for the club-- ranging from kindergarten to 8th grade. Yikes. How do you engage that kind of age range? Serious center work would have to be involved. And what kind of words can kindergartners spell anyways? Do they even know the alphabet? I decided to wing it this week; assess the situation and then go from there.

Thankfully, only 10 showed up today. 3 kindergartners, 3 1st graders, a 3rd grader, and a 5th grader.  Between my cupcake-lunch and exhausting day, I was fighting the effects of a serious sugar crash. In said stupor I tried to decipher the names of two 1st graders, Amadu Jalloh and Bailor Jalloh. That took about 5 minutes because of their thick (albeit adorable) accents. I then turned to their kindergarten cousin: "And what's your name, dear?"

"[indecipherable cuteness]"

"Can you spell it for me, please?" [dry erase marker rapidly drying out]

He stares at me blankly and Bailor chimes in: "Oh no, I'll spell it for you. He doesn't know how to spell his name."

I laugh out loud. Of course he doesn't.

in the bag?

Today I was armed with some new ideas for my lesson: I would give some space for student voices by letting them uncover the meanings of vocabulary words through context clues rather than just telling them myself. We would share our ideas and agree on a class definition. Cool, right? Also, I prepared a mystery bag for each class as a way to introduce our new stories. The kids would pull out items from the bags and make predictions, connections, etc. Cool, right?

I felt good about the efforts I had made to mix it up. My planning was strong; every minute was full. 

And the day still didn't go well. 3 kids in 303 would not stop talking. I tried to send them to the accommodation room. They refused. So I called for security. He didn't come. So the kids stayed in my room talking. Tonight I should be thinking through solutions for next time. "What could I have done to redirect Savaughn?" "What consequences will Maya take seriously?" Grr... I confess my unwillingness. This resiliency bit is exhausting.