The Teacher in Me III

More stories.  God bless you for reading!

1.  Passing gas.
Teaching juniors in Monrovia, IN.  This particular year was one of those tough groups.  There were "ringers" in almost every class...sometimes many more than one.  I don't have an explanation for it, but even elementary teachers can attest to the bad classes...all the way through the school system.  I was desperately trying to teach a lesson one day when one of my young Lochinvars leaned over in his seat, loudly passed gas, and then sat and grinned while the rest of the class erupted in response.  It was total disrespect for me and what I was trying to do.  I admit that I didn't respond well.  I immediately assigned him a detention, at which point, another kid--who had nothing to do with the original offense--loudly disagreed with me.  So I assigned HIM a detention, too!  I had learned long ago that it is best not to get involved in power struggles with kids, but it you do, you have to win.  Suddenly, this whole thing got out of control.

The kid who got the original suspension went to his mommy and told her that it was an "accident"...that he hadn't meant to do anything wrong.  Yeah...right.  The second kid was an Office Aide so getting a detention was a big deal that could affect that.  His mother wasn't happy, either.  In fact, she wrote me a note demanding to know what punishment the other kid got.  When I told her I was not at liberty to talk about the other student, she then demanded a meeting with me and the Assistant Principal after school.  This all transpired over a couple of weeks with neither the second kid nor I backing down.  At one point, he caught me in the hallway while he was in the process of collecting attendance sheets.  I told him that he had every right to object to my punishment of the other kid but that he didn't have the right to challenge my authority in front of the other kids--that he had put me on the spot.  Then, suddenly, he said that he had a problem controlling his mouth...and all was well between us after that.  Then I had to meet with his still-angry mother after school.  We went back and forth in front of the Asst. Prin.  At 3:30, he excused himself and left me defenseless in front of this woman!  She and I went to another office.  I admitted that I could have handled the whole thing better, then asked if she understood that her son now thought of himself as the man of the household since her husband had deserted the family.  Her attitude changed from angry mom to concerned parent.  She's had no clue that her son was feeling that.  When our conversation ended, we were on good terms.  She understood that I cared about her son.  I ran into the kid several years after he graduated, and he called me "the best".  I'll never forget that whole thing. 

2.  Abuse.
Teaching 5th grade at Hall Elementary.  I had a student who came to me one day and complained that her mother's live-in boyfriend had yanked her around.  She pointed to a very small red spot on her forehead.  As teachers, we are required by law to report abuse--and although I wasn't sure that a tiny red spot constituted abuse, I just decided to tell the principal about it.  The principal handed me her phone and a phone number to call authorities.  I did as was required.  I didn't know it, but there was a history with this family.  The children had been taken away before--sent to live with their grandmother--and told that the only way the children could be restored to the home was if the boyfriend wasn't there.  That particular day, I sent my class to music...then suddenly, the mother showed up in my classroom wanting to know where the class was.  I told her.  She went down the hall and yanked her child out of music to remove her from school.  I warned the principal, but the damage was done.  The principal couldn't stop the mother so yelled to the secretary, "Call the police!"  Apparently, the mother gave herself up a little later in the day because there was a warrant for her arrest.  The children went to be with Grandma.  The child, God bless her, knew exactly what she was doing when she told me about the abuse.  She didn't want her whole family to be turned upside down, but she DID want the abuse to stop.  This was the first and only time I ever had to report child abuse, although I'm sure there were many other cases that should have been reported, had I known about them.  The young lady is now a young mother on her own and a friend of mine on Facebook.  Um...the mother removing the child from school in the way that she did could not have happened now with current security measures.  Still, I'm glad it all, finally, turned out okay.

3.  Abuse of Older Kids.
Teaching seniors at Monrovia.  I had a kid in class--a big kid--who was involved in show choir and just surprised the daylights out of me because he seemed to be the tough type that wouldn't allow himself to be stigmatized by his male peers by singing and dancing on stage.  I loved that about him!  His father was a crazy, angry drunk, who did unbelievable things.  Since the kid was 18, I couldn't exactly report abuse, but I stayed in touch with what was going on at home with him.  Toward the very end of his senior year, he told me how he had to go to the ER to treat a wound on his leg that his father had caused.  The doctors asked questions and he answered honestly...and suddenly, there was an abuse case on the books.  There was a protection order installed that made it impossible for the son and father to be in the same place at the same time.  Authorities took over.  Father was arrested and sent to jail.  Both mother and father had asked the kid to change his story...to say that HE had thrown the first punch in hopes of lessening the dad's legal punishment, but the prosecuting attorney for the state indicated that it didn't matter--that the law didn't allow for that in cases like this.  (Too many victims of abuse try to make things easier for the abuser.) 

When the kid's dad got out of jail, the mother accepted him back, which meant that the kid no longer had a place to live.  I talked to him, at length.  "Do you realize what this means?  Your mother is taking him over you!"  He got it all too well.  Before that day was over, I found him in the hall.  He was going to stay with friends.  I gave him $50 and said, "I know things are tough but you need to make sure your butt is in school every day until graduation."  Well...that admonition wasn't successful.  In short order, he was found sleeping in the football building at school...and then robbing the snack machines, etc.  It went downhill from there. 

I was sitting at home a year or two ago when I was half-watching a show on TV that followed prison inmates.  I heard a voice that sounded familiar, so I looked up at a face that was also familiar.  Then the screen displayed his name.  My student!!!  He did some time but is now out and, as far as I know, is doing okay.  I wish him well!

4.  Hunger Games.
Just being a grandma this time.  A few months ago, my granddaughter wanted to go to the library in Zion, IL, to watch the movie "Hunger Games".  She had already read the book and all sequels and was quite an officianado.  It was her weekend to be with her mother and stepdad, and I was there...so Denis and I took her.  The library supplied face painting supplies/hair stuff, a large cardboard cutout of the main character, prizes for trivia questions, and another prize for the kid who looked the most like the main character, and snacks.  And, of course, the movie.  Denis and I stayed in the background.  There were probably 25 kids in attendance.  I think most of the kids had already seen the movie, so toward the end, there was a faction across the room that got "talky".  They were loud enough that they were disrupting the movie, and I knew from experience that if that were allowed to continue, the rest of the movie would be compromised.  The two librarians in charge sat at the back of the room and did nothing to change things.  Well!  The teacher in me kicked in.  Every good teacher on the planet understands that children will shut up and behave in the presence of an authority.  I just changed positions.  I went over and stood close to the talkers and made eye contact.  They didn't have a clue who I was or what I was, but they decided to quiet down.  I didn't have to say or do a thing!  My granddaughter didn't have to be embarrassed by her grandmother.  In fact, she won a couple of prizes.

4.  Freak.
Teaching sophomores in Monrovia.  Half of the curriculum during sophomore year in Indiana is public speaking.  I loved that.  Was using stuff from my own high school years to direct my students, many of whom were terrified to speak in front of an audience.  One particular year, I had a student who had a persona different from the norm.  She dressed in "goth" but was otherwise quite creative and normal.  The assignment was a denunciation speech--a chance to vent against pet peeves and the like.  When it was her turn, she started her speech by shouting, "Freak!"  Then she went on to lambast her peers for judging her by her dress and looks.  She started to weep, then got easily back in control and finished her speech.  You could have heard a pin drop in my classroom!  At the end of every speech, I asked the inevitable questions:  Did the speaker get your attention?  Keep your attention?  Make his/her point?  Conclude things adequately?  All agreed that she did.  The student got an A+ on her speech.  She's never forgotten it...and neither have I. 

5.  Sweet Tarts.
Teaching juniors/seniors in Monrovia...a difficult class of juniors.  I had a class divide into groups to come to a conclusion about a literature question.  There was a group of boys huddled together in one of those groups, looking very suspicious, so I moved in their direction to check out what was going on.  It turned out that one of their number had taken a dare for $5, had crushed some Sweet Tarts into powder, and had snuffed them up into his nose through a rolled-up-dollar-bill tube.  His face was red and his nose was running.  Then the bell rang.  I didn't know what to do. 

First, I went to the school nurse to determine if he could have actually hurt himself by snuffing sugar into his sinuses.  She said no.  So then I had to call his mommy.  His "mommy" had previously been part of a big-time critical movement against the school, led by the local Baptist minister.  I told her, simply, that her son wasn't in any danger but that I thought she should know...

The next fall, my teaching assignment was changed.  I would no longer have seniors that year.  That student's mother met me in the hall, in tears, that I wouldn't have her son that year.  I'm not sure I was sad about that, but she sure was!

6.  ISTEP.
Teaching seniors in Monrovia.  Indiana has a proficiency test called ISTEP.  The graduation test is taken during the sophomore year.  Those who don't pass supposedly have three more chances to pass it in order to graduate.  Seniors in the first semester who haven't passed it are targeted for special attention from teachers, especially in English and math, but there were no scheduled sessions for that.  Study halls had been eliminated.  Teachers were supposed to figure out before or after school tutoring on their own time, when the kids were available.

One year, I got a hand-written list of students to remediate.  A few weeks later, the principal accosted me in the hall.  He was not pleased.  "So-and-so tells me you haven't been working with her for ISTEP remediation."  I thought for a second and said, "She isn't on my list."  His response was, "She has to be!"  Well...okay.  I tucked my tail between my legs and went up to my classroom, found the list in his handwriting on my desk, saw that she was (indeed) not on it, and took it back down to him for proof.  He looked it over and flustered a bit.  He didn't apologize for making me feel like a chastised child.  Just muttered something about how the student was supposed to be on my list but he must have put it on another teacher's list--a teacher he liked better than me but who had obviously not remediated the student, either.  (To be honest, I think he didn't put the student on ANY list, but couldn't admit his mistake.)  At the time, I wondered why he seemed so angry about the whole thing.  I just found out a couple of months ago, via Facebook, that he was angry because the student had given him a hard time about it all.  She said she had passed the ISTEP but that he had failed to keep track of it, which was his job to do.  The student went to college and got a degree, with honors.  And that was the end of that!

So much for my stories of the day.  More later, if I can remember them all.  Good night!