beeffajitas

For those of you who read my last column, I apologize for any confusion. I don’t call my students whales and I’m not happy that they get deported. I was trying to come across bitter. Those of you who know my commenting style are aware that I have a twisted sense of humor. That sense of humor sometimes helps me get through the chaos I encounter at work. To be honest, the kid who was deported hurt because I worked with him for several weeks after our incident, trying to connect with him and had people from various culinary arts schools in the area come in and talk to him because he was interested in cooking.

I will try to write from now on with a little more of that honesty rather than the portrayal of a bitter teacher. I still pray for the future of this country based on my experiences. And I’m not a religious person. I teach high school English.

– Often teachers come across students who lie to them to get out of work. It happens frequently and usually I’m able to dismantle excuses. However, it’s hard to teach classes that include writing elements, when students can’t read cursive. I found this out last fall, when I handed out sample short answer essay examples to my students and they couldn’t read them. They were written examples of how to respond to question prompts from students who took our state accountability tests from previous years. As I was handing these out, students began to look at me in confusion, until one girl raised her hand and said, “I can’t read this. It’s in cursive. I have no clue what it says.” The cursive was very legible. My response to her and to 75% of my other students who similarly couldn’t read it: “It’s in English, try to guess, and I’ll help if you have any questions.” When students have any sort of excuse not to do work, they will do NOTHING and later complain to someone that the assignment was unfair.

I graded their assignment that day and talked to a number of other teachers who said I should’ve know better than to give those examples in cursive, because they don’t teach those skills anymore at the elementary level. I was later told by an assistant principal that all assignments and directions written on the board should be in general text and I had to remove the grades from my gradebook for the assignment. I understand that the students can’t read cursive and we’ve failed them as far as educating them in it, but to me, it’s not an excuse for not doing work or an alternative assignment. Of course, when parents complain to dickless administrators, the teachers get thrown under the bus. And the students win.

– The cursive thing shocked me, but something that has also been shocking is the number of students who can’t read or decipher clocks. We have old-fashioned clocks in our classrooms, with SECOND HANDS and everything, and a good chunk of my kids don’t understand how to tell time using them. Often, when students fill out bathroom or library passes and they have no idea what the clock is reading, so they have to ask me. It’s sad. I’d say about 1/3rd of my students have no idea how to use basic clocks.

– One of the fun things about being a teacher is professional development days, when you get to work with the other teachers and sit through workshops. It’s always fun because you get to talk with people you often don’t get to speak to. For the most part, the workshops are huge wastes of time and often there is an elephant in the room. The elephants are the administrators (superintendents, principals, assistant principals) who cannot control a room full of teachers to give their presentations and lectures. And it’s funny to the teachers, because we are always asked everyday and critiqued by these people based on how well we can control 35 teenagers for an hour.

A few weeks ago, during one of our meetings, an assistant principal started screaming at us for being too loud following her lecture. She actually stopped us and said “Okay, it looks like I won’t be giving out any more information because you guys aren’t mature enough to handle it.” It was awesome!!!!

I will try to write columns weekly as an outlet for some of the madness. I have so many student stories, some of them are very unsettling. I’m considering leaving teaching this year because of the stress and issues our state is facing with funding and the uncertainty that comes with it. Everyday I feel like I’m making a difference, but it’s a huge fight with students, parents, and administrators.

This is my first year teaching. For the last five years I’ve worked as a journalist and decided to change careers. The year has been a roller coaster. I teach ninth and tenth-graders in a suburban city, in Texas. Perhaps the most shocking things I’ve been exposed to involve the stupidity of not only the students, but also the parents and administrators. I will try to share stories with you on here when I can, using this as a column. I’m not a religious man, but now I spend every night praying for the future of this country.

Story 1: On the first day of school, during my forth class period, I had a bastard get into my lunch while I was greeting his classmates at the doorway. The bastard stole a Kashi Bar out of my lunch sack. I confronted the bastard, and sent him to the office with a referral. This is when I learned immediately about school politics. The bastard spent about 20 minutes in the office before being sent back to me. He was sent back because I didn’t follow the district’s discipline matrix, which goes as follows: 1) verbal warning 2) teacher detention 3) phone call home 4) referral. So, although this bastard stole something from me, I did not contact his parents, give him a warning, or assign him a detention (which I’d have to monitor in my room after school).
When the bastard came back to my classroom after his short office visit, he proceeded to walk in and told me I shouldn’t have sent him to the office and that he didn’t steal anything. When I told him other students saw him steal it, he told me, “Suck my dick.” Wonderful!
A few weeks after the incident, the bastard was arrested for breaking into a cellular phone store. Because he was here illegally, he was deported. I still have sweet dreams about this clown falling off a train trying sneak back into the country.

Story 2: I had a whale stay after school one Friday to serve a detention. She was there because she was disruptive when I was absent and a substitute was in class. After serving her detention, the whale left with another student and said she was her ride. The next morning I was doing Saturday tutorials at the school to help out struggling students when an angry whale mother burst into my room and asked me where her daughter was. I let her know that the baby whale left with another student and told her the story. Mama whale became irate saying that it was my responsibility to watch her leave and that baby didn’t come home that night. Granted, mama whale was told what time the detention was ending before her daughter served it and was given a week notice.
After leaving my room in a rage, mama whale went to the police department to file a missing persons report. I felt bad about the situation, so I began to call other teachers describing the student that baby whale left with, because she was not in any of my classes. After two hours of phone calls, I found a note in my trash can from the night before with baby whale’s name and another student’s first name. Using our dated technology, I was searched through our student database for a girl named “Hailey”. I spent about three hours calling various Hailey-parents before reaching a mother who said her daughter came home with some girl she’d never met before and that she’d spent the night. I placed mama whale in contact with the horrible parent and reunited the whales. This was about four hours of work searching for this girl and locating her; I headed home feeling good about myself.
Monday morning came, and I was called into the office and verbally reprimanded by my principal for allowing the girl to leave. Mama whale had complained to the principal after I spent my Saturday morning locating her daughter.

Story 3: I’ll keep this short. We were reading Julius Caesar a few weeks ago, when our sophomore class valedictorian asked me if they called him “Caesar” because he fainted and may have suffered from epilepsy.

Thank you for your time.

Notes from an angry teacher – Part II

Angry Teacher Corner