A Moment or Three

A couple of successes:

One student told me today (halfway through the book) that it was against her religion. (She gave me a note, and was fine when I told her we would discuss it after class. All totally appropriate and on the level.) Anyway, Bless Me, Ultima by Rudolfo Anaya, is, in many ways, about a witch. Actually a curandera: think medicine man or even a root worker, but still. I'd heard from other sophomore teachers that this might be an issue, but I haven't really confronted this sort of thing before. Anyway, end of class comes and I give my schpeel (sp?) about reading something doesn't mean you believe it and it helps to know how other people feel about the world, bla bla bla, but what do you think?

She thinks she would get in trouble. OK. I'll talk to the other sophomore teachers at lunch, come up with a suitable solution, and she can come back during homeroom and we'll figure it out. So, I talk at lunch and statement number 1 is this: talk to mom and make sure it's true, and if so, why not read Fahrenheit 451? We've already read some Ray Bradbury this year, so the pre-reading is already done. OK. I call mom. Sure enough, Mom would *not* like daughter reading the book. I say OK, we'll give her an alternative assignment. Mom (thank God -- pun intended, sorta) is not angry that I've assigned this book, but thrilled that I called to check with her and am being reasonable about it. "Commendable" is, I believe, the word she used to describe me. After a lot of crap from all angles, someone taking what could be a disaster and saying something nice to me feels really awesome. I also tell Mom what a pleasure it is to have her student in my room. (No kidding, she's a great student.)

Fast-forward to the end of the day. Student, who is a Hellstudent, although not one of the vicious ones, comes by to pick up his tiny footballs that he let other students have yesterday and they were flying about the room. Needless to say, he didn't get them back yesterday. Well, I channel my classroom management professor (for once) and get *him* to tell *me* what his behavior is like (instead of the other way around): he blurts things out, he's often inappropriate, he distracts others. Then, we talk about what he can do to improve. Well, we worked up that we'll make up a clipboard with a chart on it. He will track how well (or poorly) he's doing in class. If he's talking out of turn -- a checkmark. If he contributes to the conversation positively -- a checkmark in another column. And, if -- heaven forbid -- the checks in the good column outweigh the checks in the bad column, well, I'll call his mom and tell her. Now, this has yet to be put into practice, but the mere act of working out a potentially viable solution with a Hellstudent leaves me optimistic.

In other news, I had a long conversation about hospitality with all my sophomores today. They were ROTTEN for their substitute last Friday. So, first they wrote a journal about the rules of hospitality (because it's Thanksgiving). I started it, of course, with a reminder that the gods allowed Odysseus to kill Penelope's suitors because they had violated the rules of hospitality. Then, I compared their behavior on Friday with their role as host in the classroom. Some of them got it. But not the ones who think their job is to try to not work. You know the ones: they think it's my job to give them a grade, not theirs to earn it; it's the custodians's job to pick up their trash, not theirs to take care of their messes; it's the administration's job to catch them breaking the rules, not theirs to follow them. This is the best I can do to combat that thinking. It's their job to be a member of society, and even as students, they are members of society. Might not work. Might. ish. Let's just say I have a lot of phone calls to make and paperwork to fill out.

Then I made them do boring vocab. They were still rottenish. But less. And no one stole my tape today. And, for about 10 minutes at the end of each class, I forced them to be quiet by threatening to hold them in otherwise. The quiet was good for me, if not for them. Sometimes, it really is just about me.

P.S. I realize this is not that well written. But I have no energy for editing. Maybe, in awhile, I'll edit this for posterity -- but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you.