The Teacher in Me II

As promised, here are a few of my school experiences, both good and bad.  Most, of course, are going to paint me in a good light.  (I remember both the good and the bad.  Just don't always like to talk about the bad!)  These are not in chronological order. 

1.  Mommy is a teacher.
I was the Media Center Director in my daughter's elementary school in Pontiac, IL.  Along about 2nd or 3rd grade, she complained to me before school that her stomach hurt.  Yeah, right.  Go to school.  Tough it out.  We'll see how you feel later.  In short, I didn't believe her.  It wasn't too far into the school day when one of Megan's classmates stuck her head into my library and said, "Megan just threw up in the hallway!"  Oh, geez...  I found a sub and collected my sick kid from the school nurse to go home.  Lesson?  Sometimes kids really aren't just trying to play hooky when they say they don't feel good. 

2. Senioritis.
When my daughter was a senior in high school, she had a bad case of Senioritis in the spring.  (If you don't know what Senioritis is, I can attest that it is a very real ailment that hits high school seniors and military short-timers.  They are just putting in time before they are set "free".)  Meg had skipped a class--went to another place in the school building--got caught, and then lied to the Assistant Principal about it.  Busted!  He assigned her a Saturday School as punishment.  The problem was that the particular Saturday that she was to serve was the weekend of an overnight show choir competition for which I had already paid for a motel room.  If she served it, the entire show choir program would have to be re-choreographed, plus I would be out a chunk of money, which was really tight in those days.  I called the Asst. Principal and explained that I agreed that Meg must serve her Saturday School assignment, but asked if it could be done on any other Saturday but that one.  He was not pleased, to say the least.  (I think he thought I was being a meddling parent...but I was also being a teacher.)  He told me he would "think about it" and get back to me.  In the end, he did assign her to a different Saturday School--probably more in defference to Mr. Sims, the tyrant music director, than to me, the meddling parent.  (Even assistant principals sometimes seek the avenue of least resistance!)       

3.  Spider Bite.
I was teaching 4th grade in the "dungeon" basement classroom of Hall Elementary in Monrovia, IN.  I had a male student whose family struggled with finances.  He showed up at school one day with the whole left side of his face red and swollen.  I asked him what had happened.  He said a spider had bitten him.  Did you feel it?  Did you see it?  No...but that's what my mother thinks.  I sent him to the school nurse.  He told her, as he had told me, that his mother was going to make a doctor's appointment.  Case closed....except...as the day went on, his face got redder and more swollen.  When I had a break, I went to the nurse and asked her to please contact the mother to make SURE she had made a doctor's appointment.  She hadn't, but did, upon the nurse's insistence.  The next day, the boy was not in school.  Turns out that he had a sinus infection that had turned into cellulitis, dangerously close to his brain.  He was put on strong antibiotics and complete bed rest, short of hospitalization.  Had I not been alert, who knows what might have happened?

4.  Lice.
Again, 4th grade at Hall Elementary.  On the very first day of school, my class was called to the nurse for head checks.  One of my kids hung back.  He confessed to me that he had head lice but that his mother couldn't afford to get the insecticide shampoo until after pay day.  In short, his mother sent him to school knowing that he was infected but didn't care enough about the other kids--or him--to save any of them from the embarrassment or infestation.  I felt so bad for the child! 

5.  African-American.
Teaching high school in Monrovia this time.  Periodically, the administration would schedule convocations with inspirational speakers.  This day, we were to hear a former NFL player who had lost his career due to drugs.  He was a good-looking African-American fellow, quite articulate, with something of value to share with the students.  As it happened, just as the convo began, the light flickered out and came back on again...except there in the gym, the lights were halogen lamps which took awhile to warm up and get bright.  One of the students sitting behind me to my left in the bleachers called out, "We can't see you."  The kid got a chuckle from his buddies.  (In case you are more naive than even I, he was referring to the fact that the man was black and the lights were dim.)  I was hoping beyond hope that our guest speaker hadn't heard, but I was furious!  I didn't know the kid, but I slunk out of my seat, standing low, and hissed at the boy through clenched teeth while shaking my finger in his face, "Don't you DARE embarrass me or this school or your classmates like this EVER again!  Keep your mouth SHUT, or I will PERSONALLY yank you out of here in front of everyone and see to it that you don't get to stay in school for long while!"  He smirked but said not another word.  A short time later, when the lights were finally fully aglow, our speaker said, with an edge to his voice, "Can you see me NOW?"  I was never so publicly embarrassed in all my life.

6.  Senior.
Teaching seniors at Monrovia this time.  Being the teacher of seniors is a slippery slope.  With graduation in the immediate future, the spring semester is fraught with pitfalls.  If a student has an F in one of the two 9-weeks grading periods and fails the final exam, he/she automatically fails the semester.  A failed semester in a required course like English means no graduation.  Although the teachers were encouraged to work the kids right up to the last minute to prevent Senioritis, doing so only set up kids who were already at risk to fail.  I spent a lot of time tracking down kids who were failing to let them know that they could still turn in assignments and could still pull themselves out of the abyss just in case they didn't pass the final.  One such student had some mental health issues.  In fact, he was taking TWO English courses his senior year in order to make up for previously failed semesters.  I found him in the other English class at the end of the period to tell him.  The other teacher--not a fan of mine--gave him some flack about my having to track him down.  He turned to her, looked her directly in the eye, and said, "At least she cares enough to come and find me about it."  The teacher thought I was being weak by trying to draw him in; he thought I was caring.  Worked for me!

More stories, next post.