Whew!

1 down, 3 to go! Somehow I survived the first quarter without too much disaster. I was mildly amused one day when I discovered a book (one of our brand new textbooks, even) had been hurled out the window into the courtyard. Hey ~ at least it wasn’t a $1200 microscope, right?

Last week was sobering. I realized my cell phone had been stolen, which was very unnerving. I had petty things stolen while student teaching, like my laser pointer, but never anything personal. It’s very unsettling to think that a 13-year-old has contact information for every person I care about.

However, in retrospect, I have a little more perspective. The next day, we (my team of teachers) were called to the office. Mrs. E added, “It’s urgent,” over the intercom, which is never good news. The admin. wanted us to try to identify the handwriting of a very disturbing note found in Mrs. C’s room. I shudder to remember the awful, dreadful description of what this student was plotting to do to teachers & the principal: bullets through heads and slashing of throats. I remember thinking, “I’ve seen this handwriting before . . . where?” We nervously rifled through papers, trying to match the writing. I noticed a name had been erased and other words had been written over it: “No one will ever hear from me again.”

I think my heart stopped for a few seconds, and I was gripped with a mixture of consternation, pure horror, and fear as I deciphered the kid’s smudged name. This is a youth who is extremely quiet, and I had approached the guidance counselor about him early in the year, b/c I was concerned. “Oh, he’s incredibly shy,” she assured me, adding that kids will often mispronounce his name & he doesn’t even correct them. He tenses up whenever approached and he appears completely petrified during oral presentations & group work. I never would have expected such graphic plans of destruction from him, but in a way it kind of made sense (whatever that means).

Anyway . . . I remembered where I’d seen the handwriting before. The day before, upon realizing that my cell phone had been stolen, I used Mrs. C’s phone to call & have my service suspended, to keep the punk from using up all my minutes. I grabbed a steno pad near the phone, and flipped through the first few pages, half-glancing at a few pages of strange poetry/verse that had been written on them. I assumed that the lines about “I’m a fleeting vapor,” and “ashes left behind” were merely typical teenage angst, and felt a momentary pang of sympathy for the troubled writer, nothing more. Mostly I was angry at the thief (who still remains enigmatic) that invaded my desk & stole my phone.

The next day, as I crowded around the threatening letter in the office, I made the connection. Mrs. C retrieved the steno pad, & the handwriting of the poetry matched the “hate letter” perfectly. We left the info with the admins & hurried out to the Life Skills (that’s modern-day Home Ec; clever, eh?) reception where our kids served us dainty little sandwiches & quiche. Just what we wanted … food, when our stomachs were churning with disbelief.

After school, I found out that the kid was questioned & that he confessed. He’s very troubled, and the letter apparently was a cry for help. He was sent for psych evals & our principal gave him long-term suspension. I can see her reasoning, as she must ensure safety for the entire school community, but I question whether a correctional youth facility is the best place for this kid. He will get beaten to a pulp in that environment, instead of being around adults who care about him & his mental/emotional health. He’s a bright kid, and I sense that he just needs some deeper social connections & more individual attention. I’m inclined to think that a home tutor might be more beneficial, but what’s done is done.

And, thankfully, I lived to write about it. What next, I wonder?

Tyquan

Tyquan (which is, of course, an alias) enters my thoughts frequently these days. We've been in school about 6 weeks, and he's already been in ISS 3 times. His mother said he spent all of last year at home or in ISS, and she seems to be at the end of her rope in trying to deal with her son.

I haven't had too many disruptions with Tyquan, but I've noticed that he really seems younger than most of our students, as if he functions on a 5th or 6th grade level behaviorally. The other kids interact with him, but they treat him like a kid brother & basically tease him or shut him out. He's an adorable kid, and I can't look at him without smiling (even when he's squealing or acting out), but I feel like our education system is failing him.

Our AP told us that this week, instead of sitting in ISS, they put Tyquan on a 6th grade team. Apparently he loves it. His teachers love him, he hasn't misbehaved once, he completes his work, and he participates appropriately in class. My thoughts are, so why not leave him there? He obviously is lost in 8th grade, which is probably part of the reason he misbehaves. If he went back to 6th grade, he'd probably be an A student, which would no doubt boost his self esteem and could potentially change his life. Why not allow him to be successful, instead of forcing him into an 8th grade life which seems to overwhelm him?

The saddest thing to me is a comment he wrote at the beginning of the year on his "Tell Me About Yourself" sheet I gave students. In response to the question, "If you could change anything about your life, what would it be?" Tyquan wrote, in his typical kindergarten-block letters, "My hole life." It breaks my heart. The kid was a B & C student in 6th grade, then failed all of his classes in 7th grade, yet somehow was promoted to 8th grade (gotta love those multiple-guess EOGs). It's understandable that he failed all of his classes, considering he was sitting in an ISS trailer doing worksheets all year long. Few people would excel in that situation, unless you're a highly self-motivated learner.

I genuinely like Tyquan, and it's not as if I want him back in 6th grade so that he's out of my classroom. Miss W., on the other hand, makes comments like, "Just get some papers ready so we can send him on over to Lakeview." I think he can be successful in the public school system, but I don't know why we should expect him to conform to age-level expectations if he's not quite there yet. I'm not sure how much voice I have with the administration, considering I'm an ignorant new teacher, but it just seems counterproductive to insist that he come back to 8th grade when he may not be ready. I feel like Tyquan will just get pushed along from one grade to the next, because that's what our system does, and this child will get further behind and miss out on so many opportunities.

Sometimes I think I should have been a guidance counselor or a social worker instead of a teacher, but the funny thing is, as a teacher, you pretty much function as all 3 at some point, in addition to playing to role of parent, office supply store, dress code enforcer, bank teller, cheerleader, custodian, etc. I know that part of the reason I wanted to teach is to be involved in school reform, but it seems like it's an uphill battle, fighting against the current.

I hate sounding so negative, but this kid has made me think a lot about education and rights and options. Even though teaching is hard, and working 12-hour days is draining, at the end of the day, I do love my job. I never really enjoyed student teaching; I was merely trying to survive and decide if this was really what I was meant to do with my life. Having my own classroom is different, just like everyone told me it would be, and I do enjoy interacting with my students. I never understood my cooperating teacher when he would discuss one of our most difficult students. He would describe one of his disruptive antics, and then end the discussion with a comment such as, "You know, despite D.'s behavior, he is actually kind of ... lovable." I totally couldn't relate to this, because I was ready to hurl the kid out the window, but I can understand his reasoning now. Even though many of my kids have attitudes and aren't afraid to display them, there's a part of me that sees past all of their misbehavior & tough exteriors and seeks to discover their talents, strengths, and uniqueness, & wants to focus on celebrating those instead.