How Did We Get Here?

Right before Spring Break, my school celebrated “March Gladness” which I totally made fun of but I guess March Gladness had the last laugh. The day before break, we all had to teach a lesson that we wanted to teach. Throw the curriculum out the window for the day.
I taught a lesson where we watched a video from 60 minutes about the Harlem Promise School and then the kids wrote a response, we talked about it, and then I showed them all about college. They knew shockingly very little about it. We got in to the conversation that when you are born into poverty, you hear very little positive language and a ton of negative language. I told them that each and every one of them could go to college and we talked about financial aid and scholarships and loans and first generation clubs to help them when it seems too hard. You can tell no one had ever told them all this before.

Now , let’s jump forward to my time with my nephews this week, a two year old, and a four year old. While we were in the car, Fin (4 years old) was telling me that if I wanted to try to walk on the clouds, I shouldn’t because I would just ,”bloop, fall right through.” I asked him what he thought they felt like and he said, “Actually, I don’t think they feel like anything.”

On our way back from playing, I asked “Finley, did you have a good day? ” “Cole, did you have a good day?” A couple seconds later, Cole (2 years old) said, “Tisten, you have dood day?”

Here’s the difference between these boys and the majority of my students: parenting. Fin and Cole have two parents who love them dearly, engage them in conversation regularly, and already tell them cool stories about college as if they are going for sure. My students hear very little from their parents, and when they do hear something, it’s often negative. I’m so grateful that God has placed me in their lives to show them how much He loves them as much as I can and to show them they can break the cycle. This is , of course, when I’m not yelling, “How many times do I have to tell you? You come in the room, you grab your journal, you sit in your seat, directly in your seat, not walking around like you own the place, and you start your warm-up. It is now April, you know what you need to do.” Hey, we all need structure in our lives, don’t we?

All in a Day

Today I:
-hot-glued a girl’s cowboy boot back together while reading aloud to the class
-wrote an assignment on a student’s hand b/c he won’t remember otherwise
-received an unprovoked apology from a student who comes in high regularly for his poor behavior
-passed a note back and forth from a student who asked me to help him pull his grades up because, “all his cousins be making A and B and he be making D and F and his ma be stressin.”
-made a lesson plan using my phone because the internet was out
-gave and graded a quiz
-gave a lecture about how if you walk around like you own the place ain’t nobody gonna cut you a break in life. Humility is the key.
-pulled a girl aside in the hallway who I used to teach and asked her what she wanted to be known for
-told said girl that what she was known for was drama and it was about time to start changing that
-complimented said girl when I passed her later and she was calm
-was told by a mom that her son did not try on his test to receive “academically gifted” services because “he did not want to be in a class with no blacks.”
-input grades
-went for a nice long run
- realized it’s only 4:45 pm

Today was a good day.

Blacker Than Kevin Hart

“Things are getting blacker and blacker. Blacker than Kevin Hart…”- This is what I get when I ask the kids to write a rap/short story/essay/poem about the word “dystopia.” I was blown away by their depth and talent. Another student turned in the following today:
My dystopia is a place where people get bullied. They get called fat, ugly, and stupid. People get shoot [sic] at and stabbed for the color of the skin. People in gangs have wars and import marijuana, and cocaine, and any other drugs. Homeless people begging for food [sic]. The USA in 16 trillion dollars in debt. Some [sic] much debt they had to make another number for it. People drinking and driving. People dying from cancer from smoking ciggerettes [sic]. People get arrest [sic] for stuff they didn’t do. People smoking weed and drugs. Racist orginzation [sic] like the kkk and the skinhead, Nazi [sic]. Gang shotting [sic] at eachother. Black men get shot for have [sic] there[sic] music to[sic] loud. My dystopia is call [sic] earth.

We about to have some church up in here.

Who’s in My Classroom?

Quotes that make 120 personal narratives worth grading:

1. “I had a rough childhood but when I met my babe Tati and my friend Antonio, Dasha, Kenneeth, Christina, Diego, Etc, everything changed.” (sweetest student ever)

2. “Wake up Sunday morning
Pray to God I be left free.
The hood is still in me
but the journey to sucess is within me.

Still grieving over deaths
completion
this mission goin to
my wealth.” (girl who aspires to be a hip hop producer)

3. “My brothers and I were okay as long as we had our relatives. We still stayed at our house, but when we were hungry, we go to our grandparents’ house.” (phillipino immigrant)

4. “My sense of humor is way different from others. Yes, I tend to talk about the wrong things, like racism, male/female problems and segregation.
I like to tell jokes about rich history such as Hitler and the Nazis. I kind of thought the fact that he had a dirty sanchez mustache was hilarious. I get my good trolling from watching movies on the internet. If I don’t make it to the NBA, I want to be a comedian. I love creacking jokes,
I practically think it’s in my nature, especially in defending myself. Some people say I have the best jokes ever, especially when I trolling. I personally agree.” (my ADHD student describing himself perfectly).

5. “This story is about one team, one swing, and one goal to win. It was the championship game with my baseball team, “Sport’s Orthopedic.” We walked on the field with a lot of pride and nervousness. The other team, “Puppy care” took the field. Though their name was girly, they were really good.” (My not-so-tough-afterall constant talker).

I love getting inside their heads. It explains so much.

Mournings

Yesterday I was dreaming that my alarm randomly went off in the middle of the night and when I realized I still had three more hours to sleep, I was soooo happy. And then, in real life, my real alarm went off and it was time to get up.

The hardest part of my job is not grading, not meetings, not even dealing with the kids who are diagnosed with oppositional defiance disorder (aka lack of parenting). It is waking up so dang early. It is so dark and so cold. I miss Indonesia where it was light at 5 am and I woke up sweating blissfully.

Since I’m not in Indonesia, however, I have come up with some ways to try and make the mornings better: 1. I have apple juice juice boxes that I can take in the car with me. I almost cry when I finish them. 2. I try to listen to “feel good” music on the radio. 3. I put Arthur on for the kids to watch until the bell rings. This really helps me because there’s something so endearing about six-foot tall, 13-year-old boys with flat tops and earrings begging to come into my classroom to watch Arthur.

My number 1 stipulation in determining whether or not to come back next year will be if school will be starting an hour later. If not, hasta luego educationn. I choose life (sleep). (I hope you know me well enough to know that I am being totally facetious right now).

Desensitized

“Ms. Keegan, I need to talk to you.”
Not a great thing to hear first thing in the morning, especially from one of your old students. He told me his life was in danger and that somebody had pulled a gun on him yesterday because they had gotten into a fight. He only knew his first name and didn’t know what school he went to. Luckily, as we talked about it more, it came out that he knew where he lives. I took him to our school officer to report it.
Half-way through first period, a student walks in late, hands up like guns and making shooting noises. This is how my kids handle tragic events like the event that took place in Connecticut. Violence is such a big part of their lives that tragedies like this either spur them on to further violence or it’s just one big joke. My heart breaks for the loss (or for some, the complete lack) of their childhood.

Conflicted

It seems I’m never really sure how I feel about my job and my students are never really sure about me. Match made in Heaven or match made in Hell? I can never decide.
Reasons to believe my students hate me:
1.”Would you stop yellin’ in my ear?”- direct quote when I asked a student to get on the bus.
2.”I don’t like you anyway.”- When I sent a student out for being inappropriate about a line in a poem.
3. Recently, a girl who is six feet tall, decided to crawl across my floor and then when I asked her to leave b/c you can’t make a scene like that and expect to remain in the classroom, stood up and shoved her shoulder into my chin and then slammed the door ON me. All because I asked her to move because I’d asked her three times nicely to stop talking. In her eyes, she had to crawl because she was nauseous and she accidently slammed into me and closed the door on me.
Reason to believe they like me:
1. Two students randomly brought in pencils to give to me with no prompting or reason.
2. One day, I wore my hair straight and they all made sure to tell me that, my hair “looked nice.” Compliments are a BIG deal.
3. When that student acted a fool, they all defended me saying, “man, that’s so childish.” and a girl with a criminal record in the 7th grade told me that what she did to me “was not right.”

I can’t exactly remember, but I think I had no idea what the heck I thought about anything from day to day in seventh grade, so perhaps, we are a match made in Heaven. Time will tell.