Thursday already

Left: My adorable cat

Feb 14: Last Sunday, talked with D. and S. about their takes on the burning of the log cabin in Maine. Also talked with my sister, who wanted to know how to handle an annoying co-worker who talks manically throughout the work day about disturbing or ghoulish stories she's found on the internet. As a result of all this internet time, she also isn't carrying her weight on the job. My sister has purchased headphones and an IPOD to block out the sound of her voice, but they work in a very small office and must sit in close proximity. It's a temporary job, though, so we decided that since she had only five days remaining on that job, she should suck it up, and be grateful that she doesn't have to work with this co-worker for thirty years or something.

Today, Thursday, no Valentine's Day hysteria at school. The principal announced well in advance that no flowers, balloons, candy or other tokens of love would be allowed at school. All the local florists were called and warned not to deliver flowers. However, my seniors were as hyper as children at a daycare because they were being measured for graduation caps and gowns at lunchtime. Can't blame theme, four months from today is graduation! They are on the brink of freedom and choices. No more signed passes to be allowed to go to the restroom. No more Tardy forms and discipline records---if they're late, they're late. No more write-ups for dress code violations.

I'm terrible at enforcing the school dress code. Much of the time, I truly don't notice a wrong top or the wrong pants, because I'm so focused on the curriculum, the handouts, and the material I'm about to give, should another of many observers drop by. Other teachers have razor-sharp eagle eyes for dress code infractions. They can spot an uncollared shirt half a mile away. Some teachers do dress code inspections at the beginning of every class. Periodically, I review the list of rules, but I just haven't developed the talent for sweeping the room with my eyes and spotting Bubba's black cargo pants, especially when he's sitting down in a crowded classroom. Today, one of the top students at the school, who already holds a job at Gulfstream, asked me during first block to write her up for a dress code violation, so that the next teacher, who would ask for evidence of write-up, wouldn't come screaming at ME. The truth is, I hadn't noticed the girl's infraction because she was so tastefully dressed, but omigod, she had on a RED shell under her jacket. The teacher in her next class is a stickler for dress code and would have noticed right away. And it would have been my fault for failing to support the dress code rules.

From what I can gather, the rules are applied inconsistently, and not just because other teachers might be as oblivious as I am. According to student rumor, certain hyper-vigilant, high-level administrators have walked right by out-of-dress-code students and not paid them any mind, and other times, they'll practically jump them and do immediate paperwork for ISS. One of my seniors stopped by today to pick up her work for the next three days because she will be spending that time in In-school-suspension for wearing cargo pants. All through the hallways, the sounds of adults yelling, "Tuck in that shirt!" or "Pull up those pants, boy!" can be heard. Yet the guys with the pants around their knees give a half-hearted tug upward, walk on, and then let them drop, and no one does anything. It's February, and many guys are still getting the same admonitions. Is it working? The adults seem to feel that as long as they yell, "Hey, you! Take off that hood!", they've done their duty, whether the student pulls it off or not.

Yes, I can see why the seniors are counting down the days. Not only will the dress code no longer be an issue when they're on a college campus, they will be able to eat lunch when and where they want to without getting written up for leaving campus. They will be able to openly check their cell phone without having it taken away for 30 days and sequestered in the front office. They will be able go to the restroom when they need to, one of life's most important luxuries. They will be able to stand or walk in a hallway while classes are in session without being stopped and asked to show a pass. They will not be locked out of classrooms if they're a minute or two late.

The week flew by. On Monday, the state people were on campus for observations and interviews. We were forewarned, and I spent hours on Sunday getting together what I hoped were engaging activities, and to my surprise, no one came to my room. On Tuesday, a woman did slip in, forms in hand, and watched for 15 or 20 minutes. I felt the class was going well---at least I wasn't sitting at my desk shouting, "Be quiet, kids, and don't bother me, just finish your worksheets!" Not that I'd ever do that, but some teachers have been known to. I'd gone to some trouble finding poetry whose theme correlated with MacBeth, so we were discussing "Ex basketball player.' I was going down a list of questions about the poem, the last of which was "How is Flick Webb similar to Macbeth?" and from there, segued into a discussion of plot and types of growing conflict in MacBeth. I even had my Essential Question written on the board, along with the standards. I hope the observer noticed that.

Sometime this week, I dreamed that I was observed, this time by a man---I hadn't thought about it before that my 14 or so observations this year have all been done by women. Afterwards, this man told me that I wasn't a very good teacher because my night vision wasn't good. I asked what difference my night vision made? I teach in the day time! Then he said something to the effect that I just wasn't good, and he wouldn't give a reason. As a teacher of literature, it occurred to me later to see the potential symbolism of "light" and the "dark" in this dream.

L. brought me a card, roses and chocolate-covered strawberries when he came home from work. I had a card and a cake for him. That's all I had time to pick up, what with the long hours. I rarely leave the school before 4:00. This afternoon, I had to stop at FedEx to drop off several stacks of yearbook proofs to mail back to Dallas, and with the traffic coming down Abercorn, I didn't get home until 5:45. L. also works long hours, and got in at about 6:30.

I'm beyond myself with excitement that Monday is a day off.