Let It Happen, Boys

I was spending some quality time with one of my worst blocks in the computer lab, working on our research papers. "Why worst?" you ask? Well, because as a whole they have the lowest rates of attendance, achievement, and desire. Add on top of that a really high rate of Sped students (which does nothing to bring up the non-sped, but chronically lazy or thoughtfully-challenged students -- by "thoughtfully-challenged" I mean a chronic resistance to independent thinking, not an inability) and you get a challenging blocks.

Well, a (sped) student from another class came in to tell me he was going to the library to work on his paper. And then he came back, because all the library computers were in use. This particular student is capable, but definitely has behavior issues -- and he knows it. He's spazzy, sure, but he also has some anger management issues. This morning he said he just felt like punching someone. Just because.

But, since I'm a sweetie, when he asked if he could use a computer with my class, I agreed. Of course, he spent a lot of time chatting with his friends. He was getting some work done, although not as much as I might have wished. And then.

And then.

He looked at what his friend was doing. "What?" he exclaimed! "Where are your papers? Where are your notes? What are you working on?" I just sat back and listened and smiled. He then started to walk his friend through the process of writing a research paper. (If this student has issues, he also has supports from the awesome sped department. The Friend has issues, but doesn't qualify for any support; Friend has poor attendance and low interest and probably a lot more going on.) I couldn't do or say anything better than what my interloper is doing. He's taking over my role. I love it!

Interloper came over and asked me for the handouts that Friend didn't have. Then came back over and asked me to please explain them in more detail because he forgot.

I can't buy that kind of advertising. And I just loved listening to it. For all the goofing off that Interloper did, I think he contributed a lot to class today.

Blankie

My students have to write a research paper. A six-page research paper. Needless to say, they are petrified and dragging their feet and making their lives even more miserable. In an attempt to help them out, I hold an after-school "tutorial" in the computer lab on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

The thing is, they don't really need me. Most of them come in and ask me one question, and then work on their own. They don't even need me there to use the lab -- they can use it without a teacher sitting there. But, it seems, they like knowing that I'm there, just in case. Just in case the computer explodes or the Internet crashes or they can't remember their names. It's cute.

They would never admit it, but I am their research-paper security blanket.

It's the Small Things

The rumors are flying that my school will be changing up its Sped policy next year. Instead of resource classes and pull-out/push-in services, they're talking about going full-on co-teaching. Of course, there is no plan in place, no one has talked about training, and no one has talked about funding. It all might be a wash when the district hears about it or it could be a big disaster because (like so many well-intentioned educational initiatives *coughNCLBcough*) is will not be properly planned or supported.

And of course, there has been no official word. I only know about it because I make a habit of talking to my Special Ed teachers -- Lord knows they help me out.

Today, I got a phone call from one of my Spedlies. She asked if I had heard anything in a department meeting about it all. She was trying to figure out who she would like to teach teach with if English is going to be one of the classes on the list.

In case the implication isn't obvious, she thought I would be a great person to team teach with.

I've said it before, but I'll say it again: I appreciate the support and props I get from my colleagues far more than anything an administrator writes down on a piece of paper. It's the opinion of the people on the front lines there with me that I truly value.

By My Count

We are already one week into the 4th quarter.

That leaves us...

Spring Break!!!!! woot!

Two weeks before California's standardized testing.
A week of testing.
One more week in April.
The week the "big paper" is due.
Two weeks before finals.
Finals week.
A stupid 2-day week (that's what happens when you furlough and you end school the week of Memorial Day).
My birthday!

I think I'll be able to handle until the end of the year.

This One Scares Me

I saw that one of my students had been dropped from my rolls this morning. It's a usual occurance.

Then her best friend came in and asked if it was true that her friend had been dropped. I told her it was and asked her if she knew what the deal was. Well, she did.

Her friend ran away from home.

Runaway won't tell anyone where she is. Friend talked to Runaway yesterday, but Runaway blocked her number when she called from the land line, so Friend can't get a location. All Friend knows is that Runaway is "staying" with some Gangster guy. Runway is underage; Gangster is 18. Gangster wouldn't take Runaway to his house, just to where his "Homies" stay. Friend says Runaway has greasy hair and her neck is covered with hickies. I don't want to imagine what Runaway is dealing with, but I can and it's not good.

Friend keeps telling Runaway to COME HOME, but Runaway won't listen. Friend had her own runaway moment last year, and says it was the hardest week of her life and she will never do it again. Runaway still won't listen and says Friend doesn't understand.

Runaway lives with her Sister, who is pregnant. It seems that Runaway ran away because she ditched school and didn't want to get in trouble. Sister doesn't care; she doesn't care about anything except Runaway being home and safe.

The (thin) silver lining is that Friend is talking to Runaway and is also willing to tell adults what she knows. Friend knows what information would be useful, and is trying to get it out of Runaway. Friend also reached out to our school's social worker. Social Worker knows both girls, and is perhaps the adult at school most able to help. I talked to CPS, but there is nothing for me to "report".

The whole thing sucks. I'm really worried about Runaway. Running away is never a laughing matter, but especially not in this town with its population and crime scene. I know that teens make mistakes and can learn from them; I hope that she makes it through intact (mentally, emotionally, and/or physically) so that she has the opportunity to learn.

They Grow Up So Quickly

I had my students write narrative essays about something they lost. (Have I told you this before?) Many of them are very, very sad. One of my students turned in a draft, and asked if he could write a final essay. (It all has to do with my "deadlines" to turn in work. I know I should be more strict, but I just can't bear to let to let them fail. I won't kill myself to get them a C or a B or an A -- but I will do my utmost to get them to a passing grade.)

He asked me if he could do a final draft. I told him to come by during homeroom, and I would have his draft graded. Well, knowing my squirrels the way I do, I graded his draft as a final, so he'd at least have a grade. He then forgot about his promise to get it for two weeks. (I wish I could track them all down -- but I get so wrapped up in dealing with 34 (times 4) of them for the day's lesson that I just don't always remember to call one of them on a late assignment.)

I read his essay. It was a heartbreaker. His cousin was beat to death in a mugging. The thieves got $10 and a cell phone.

His rough draft was just that -- rough. But I did my usual thing and made comments. I wrote him a note on the back, too. He made a comment at the end of his essay about not knowing how people live like that. I agreed with him. I don't know how people live like that. I had this student last year, and he admitted to having gotten in fights. I wrote him that I don't think I could punch someone in the face, let alone beat someone to death.

I went further. I gave him some tips on building suspense and giving his reader a powerful ending. He told the reader up front that the muggers got $10 -- I advised that it would be far more powerful to leave that to the ending. If he kept some of the details until the end, it would make the story that much more meaningful. And then I told him that I knew nothing could make this situation better, but by writing a better story, he might find more meaning in the story or help someone else find meaning.

Yesterday, he remembered to ask if I had graded his essay, and I gave it to him. I noticed that he skipped some of yesterday's assignment because he was reading what I wrote to him. (He actually read it!!) And today, he dropped off a new draft. It was much better. Much.

I can still see that more drafts would make it perfect, but he went from a C- paper to a B+/A- paper. And I got to talk with him today aboout how he was doing. I mentioned he'd been quieter this year. He admitted that he's thought about his previous behavior, and he can't believe how immature he had been. It's amazing how much they grow up from 15/16 to 16/17.

He still has problems. I let him slip through the cracks last semester. He had been doing well, and then something went wrong and he was absent for a week. When the attendance reports came through three weeks later, he had been marked as truant. His grade never recovered. He just didn't have it in him to make up what he'd missed. I've sworn to call him on it if he is absent more than one day. So far, he hasn't been.

He's a good kid. He has problems. He isn't a great student. The town he lives in is crap. I just want to encourage his resiliancy. I want to help him survive. In this town, for a young, Latino male, surviving is sometimes the best you can aim for.

When surviving is the goal, it's obvious that thriving is something the community has lost.

Poetry in the Classroom

Last week, one of my students passed me a note, asking for some suggestions on books of poetry, philosophy, or romance that he could read. He might have had one more genre -- whatever it was, it was a wide variety of subjects. He mananged to ask for recommendations in genres that I don't really read all that often.

A couple of nights later, my eye caught my copy of "Howl" on my bookshelf. "Ha-ha!" I thought to myself, "Now here is a poem that he should read." It was certainly racy for the 50s, but this kid regularly listens to explicit rap, so I thought it might fit. In fact, I thought he might be able to make a connection between what was and what is. Then I remembered that I was given some Chicano poetry by a departing English teacher last year, so I could give him those to read, as well -- for some diversity.

I handed over three books: "Howl", a book of poems by Luis J. Rodriguez, and book by someone else -- it was another Chicano poet that I haven't read but was on the bookshelf. I set them on his desk. I warned him that Ginsberg might get inappropriate, but it was probably no worse than his rap. He thanked me profusely, and went to his next class.

I saw him around campus a couple of days later, and he asked me what was up with "That guy".

"Which one?" I asked, "Ginsberg?"

"Yeah," he replied. "He seems like he's gay or something."

"Well, he is," was my matter-of-fact reply. I laughed. I was impressed that he was reading closely enough to come up with an impression of the author and happy to break him out of his comfort zone. Seeing different viewpoints, especially in my close-minded town, is a good thing. I also can't help thinking of a Mapplethorpe essay I read in college where Mapplethorpe explains how he wants his art to have a visceral effect on his audience. Art should make you feel -- even if that feeling is an uncomfortable one. Hence all the crazy sex stuff in Mapplethorpe's otherwise beautifully photographed pictures.

Fast-forward to today. At the end of class, he pulled out the Rodriguez book, and I asked him which he liked better. "The other guy, Howl," he said. "I dunno, he's tighter. This guy is just writing about himself."

Wow.

Let me say that again.

Wow.

He not only read the poetry, he thought about it. Not only did he think about, he considered the viewpoint of someone totally different from himsef (Ginsberg, as a gay white man, is not like him. Rodriguez, as a Chicano heterosexual growing up in the gang life, is very much like him.) Then, he went even further and made an evaluation of the work based on the structure of the writing. Gingsberg is tighter -- which probably means both cooler and better developed. Although Rodriguez has feeling, his writing isn't as well done.

Sometimes they amaze me, and I feel lucky that I get to help push them in whatever direction they want to go.