March 27: No job is perfect, but I am burned out. This morning during first block, the first fight ever in my class erupted, though it didn't last more than 60 seconds. At 8:00 a.m., "J" had been given permission to go the Guidance Office, so he got up and started down the row. The next thing I knew, the two of them were scuffling around the room, knocking into desks, and one pushed the other against the wall. The other students jumped between them and instructed them to chill ("It's your senior year...you've come too far to blow it now.") Meanwhile, I'd hurried to the phone to call the front office to send an AP. By the time the front office had summoned the AP, the altercation was over. "J" one of the two fighters rushed out the door. A few minutes later, the new AP, the real stern and intimidating one, came ominously down the hall looking like a thundercloud. He instructed the other guy, "S" to "get your things and come with me." But "J" had jumped him, protested "S," and that may have been the case. "Then you'll get a chance to tell your side of the story," growled Mr. AP, and they proceeded to the office.
When he returned, he called five students, one at a time, into the hallway to ask them what they'd seen. One of the students said the two of them were just "playing," it was no big deal. I'm still naive about student behavior, but at least I've learned to recognize when students are just horsing around. Four years ago, when I joined the secondary system, I was culture-shocked at the students' intense need to be so physical with each other, every chance they got, whether punching, pushing, squeezing, hugging, or grabbing. Their frequent physical interactions often looked so much like fights that I wasn't sure whether to call security. A 9th grader helpfully taught me, "You can tell they're just playing because if you look closely at their mouths, they're both smiling, even though the smiles are barely there." So if I ever have any doubts, I look right at the mouths.
Today, in class, though, I couldn't see anybody's mouth because the guys were moving so fast, and the other students were surrounding them. The reaction of the other students also convinced me the boys weren't just playing. Finally, my logic tells me that two seniors who have always been civilized don't usually jump up from their chairs and start rumbling for the fun of it in the middle of class.
The other student witnesses had various versions: "J" had walked past "S" and suddenly put his hands around "S's" neck in a choking hold---just to be playful---but "S" had not realized "J" was playing and reacted with hostility, and it got out of control. Or, "S" had punched "J" playfully as he walked by, and "J" had reacted with hostility. Based on the fact that these two guys always seem friendly with each other, I'm beginning to think it was just a misunderstanding that escalated, and in a way, I feel embarrassed to have called the AP. The district has adopted a new "zero tolerance policy," enacted, or reenacted, after some huge fight last month at Johnson or Beach, I don't remember which, where the principal was knocked over and a student was thrown into the glass trophy case, shattering it. The supt. held a press conference announcing zero tolerance: henceforth, students who fought would be expelled and would no longer be able to attend school in this county. No, they wouldn't even be sent to the district's boot camp school; they were outa there! Luckily, the school system is notoriously inconsistent with its intractable, ironclad policies.
At the end of first block, the door opened, and in came "J" looking pleased with himself. "What'd ya get?" the other students asked eagerly. They love nothing better than the drama of student punishments. "Three days out of school suspension," he said happily. Either he was happy that he hadn't been expelled permanently or he was happy that he now had a three day vacation from school. The other guy, "S" got two days. The AP told me later that when they both got to his office, they both claimed they were just playing. The AP didn't believe them. He told me, "They both just made that up because they were afraid of being expelled."
Speaking of ironclad school policies, last November I was summoned to a School Board hearing by a defense lawyer as a character witness for a student who had been expelled. His crime? During a school lockdown, the drug-sniffing dogs had found a "weapon" under the seat of his truck in the parking lot, some brass knuckles, according to the rumors. Until that day, he had seemed like a quiet, well-behaved young man who got his work done. I'd had no idea that on the day of the lockdown, the police arrived at another of his classes and arrested him on the spot, I assume per order of the administration. All I knew was that his mother arrived that afternoon asking me for some work to take home to him, adding darkly, "He's going to be out for a long time." I didn't ask why. Later, I was called to court. I testified for him, as did two other teachers, and apparently, the defense lawyer won the case. A month later, "M" re-appeared in class carrying the proper paperwork, having been re-instated. Over the months, he has shared with me how devastating the whole ordeal has been for him, and how deeply it has affected his life. He's a senior, but the time he missed during the expulsion has greatly impacted his coursework. He returned to school with two months of missed coursework to catch up with and has felt overwhelmed and depressed ever since. He received a couple hundred hours of community service as part of his punishment, and has had to work long hours on the weekends fulfill that obligation. I know it's true and not a sympathy plea because his father came in for a conference and told me all this.
A few days ago, the newspaper carried a front page story about a boy at Johnson High who had been expelled in a similar situation, although the "weapon" in his car, borrowed from his cousin that day, was a butter knife under the front seat. With the lockdown following closely after the supt's of zero-tolerance, they had to treat him like every other thug with weapons at the school. Fortunately, his mother is a barracuda who has taken up his cause with the Board of Education, as well as the media. Her son, a senior, had never caused any trouble in school before, was making okay grades, and did not deserve expulsion at this stage. I imagine that they'll quietly make it all go away, in a closed session downtown. If the parents yell loud enough, things tend to happen. The teachers' pleas fall on deaf ears.
Another new policy is the "Tardy sweeps" on late students, with automatic suspension the next day. As soon as the bell rings, teachers are required to lock their doors and not admit any late students. Meanwhile, the administrators do sweeps of the school, catch the students who did not get into class on time, place them in ISS for the rest of the day, and then on suspension the next day. For the first few days. this worked well. The administrators were swarming all over the place, sweeping late students. Then, as with any policy, the initial passion lifted. Fewer administrators walked the halls between classes. Students seemed to have evaded the dragnets, maybe by ducking into the janitor's closets, and then coming to the classroom door, begging.
One reason I'm thinking my season of teaching has passed, at least here, is that I can't seem to get into the angry and punitive mindset that many of the teachers hold. I'm aware that "children need discipline and structure", but. . . for example, take the uniform rule. As I've said before, I have a hard time seeing the students' uniform violations. Maybe the real problem is that I have a hard time seeing why any of this might be important. I understand the reasons for not permitting baggy pants around the knees with underwear showing; that's a matter of vulgarity. But doggone it, I'm having trouble working up a passion about the color of a person's shell or socks, as the other teachers do, or about whether their sweat jacket is zipped up or open when they are inside.
I also have trouble getting worked up into a tizzy about students bringing food into the classroom. I technically don't allow it, but just can't see it as a matter to freak out about if, during first block, a student comes in with a cup of coffee or, as a student did this morning, a cup of yogurt. I can't get into the mindset that I should be horrified and make them throw it away immediately, as the AP did this morning when he came to deal with the fight. He ordered a girl to pick up the yogurt and throw it into the wastebasket immediately; "YOU SHOULDN'T BE EATING IN HERE!" It's not as though my classroom is Buckingham Palace! It has a wall length air conditioner from 1957 that spews dust, either it comes from there or it blows in from the hallway, I don't know, but the room is dusty and at the end of the day, the floor has dirt from the shoes of 100 students tramping in and out, scraps of paper, rubber bands,and other paraphernalia.
Well, maybe if I practice harder, I can learn to be upset by the small things. Today, at 4:00, long after the students had left, I had walked into the teacher's mailroom, which is always kept locked, and was about to close the door, when a lone student, waving a dollar bill, asked if he could buy a snack from the snack machine. They've removed all the snack machines from around the school, except this one. I let him step in and buy a snack. Another teacher walked in and icily made it clear that this was a horrible violation of the rules, letting a student into the mailroom and letting him buy something from the snack machine. The snack machine is right next to the door, so he wasn't wandering anywhere near the teacher mailboxes on the other side of the room. I figured since it was long after school and the building was all but deserted, what would be the harm? But the proper response would have been to be outraged that the student had made such a request, and sent him on his way.
My problem is that there are many things that I'm "supposed" to be angry about that I don't feel angry about when students do them.
At the beginning of this writing, I planned to talk about my ideal day, not my school day. As you can see, the two are growing more and more at odds. But if I ever won the lottery, my ideal day would be something like this:
7:00 a.m., wake up. No more 5:20 alarm.
L and I read the newspaper, drink coffee in bed.
L. leaves for work (he does NOT want to be at home yet)
Go outside, feed the fish, inspect the plants, sit at the patio table and read (the cleaning person picks up, does laundry, vaccuums; the errand person drives around and picks up groceries, gets the car oil changed, takes the cat to the vets for shots).
Go the computer and write for a few hours.
Lunch by the koi pond with a good book
Afternoon: Lots of choices: go swimming in the community pool in the summer,
work with one of my charities or volunteer groups downtown, plan a weekend getaway for L, P. and I in any part of the country, decide on home renovations.
Late afternoon: Write
L. comes home
Dinner---discuss with L. what color he wants the living room to be painted and how big the new skylight should be.
Movie on the big screen
Bedtime: Knowing that tomorrow, I don't have to get up early, and that tomorrow the day lies before me to enjoy as I see fit, when I see fit, and I'll have the time and space to remember all the fine qualities and talents I have but have lost sight of during my recent career in the high school.
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