The Worst of the Worst: High School

Now that I'm quasi-full-time at this one school, I wanted to look back at all the classes that I've had the misfortune of teaching over the past 2.5 years. These are the stories of the worst classes I've had to deal with and how I dealt with them. There's a series with 2 in each grade level (high school, junior high, elementary). Enjoy the high school edition!

Welcome to Hell High

Once upon a time, there was a high school math teacher that was getting ready to retire. He had decided that in his last semester teaching, he would use up all of his vacation days. So every other Friday, his classes would have a substitute.
One of those Fridays, they had me. He had left busy work for the kids, a tactic that I hate which I have seen many teachers use.
When I passed out the busy work, nobody did it. They didn't even pretend. They just sat and chatted as if they had a free period. They even had their phones out. One student told me, "He let's us use our phones as calculators. He knows we're texting, but he doesn't care." So that told me what I was dealing with.
The real kicker for this day was my last hour. There was a student in this class period who was in an earlier class as an aide. It's funny, because aide is a synonym for help. This girl was the least helpful aide I have ever encountered in my life. Usually, when I have an aide and don't really have anything for them to do, they play on their phones or do homework or something that doesn't distract other students. This girl sat and talked with other students the whole hour. As an aide. And now, the last hour of the day, she came back.
And ya know what? She wanted to do the same thing. I told her that she needed to stop talking and go to her seat (which was on the complete opposite side of the room than where she was). After I told her several times, she sighed heavily and said, very loudly, "F--- my life!" I was very happy to send her out of the room.
Later, as I tried in vain to get people to work, one student pulls out his phone and starts playing music. Twice. There was zero accountability for anybody in this class, and when the final bell rang, I was so ready to be done with this class. I'm glad that that teacher retired and no more kids have to "suffer" through that.

Second Chance

I remember my pastor once saying that Christians get it wrong when we say that God gives us a second chance. That's because it's human nature for us to take our second chance and screw it up as we did our first. This class reminded me of that.
This particular school is what I call a Second Chance School, for the kids who dropped out/were kicked out of their old schools. And it was evident. One of my best students of the day came in late because he was taking care of his child. Noble.
Other students... not so much. Everything in this school was done on the computer. And it was self-paced. So very few student actually did any of their work. The pace that they chose for themselves was to circumvent the filter and watch youtube videos of people fighting in the streets. And there was nothing I could do about anything. I couldn't even send kids to another room or to the office. I was essentially in the class because a certified adult legally had to be there.
Legality only mattered to the school, however, considering that one of my student was mad at me because I was waking her up. It was insensitive of me to expect her to stay awake when she had a hangover to recover from. I'm such a jerk.
This school actually has the distinction of scaring me away not only from the class, but the school altogether. Good job class!

Class soooooooo dismissed!

A Tough Decision

Every once in a while, you have to make a tough decision. You have to decide between two things that pull you in two directions. Both things are good. Both make sense. Sometimes, one makes much more sense than the other, but it's still not too easy of a choice to make. But, as the famous philosopher T.H.E. Fray once said, "Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same." What was the decision I had to make, you ask? Well, keep reading and I will tell you.

There is one school in my district named after Ralph Waldo Emerson that requests me. A lot. At first it was convenient because it's only about a 15 minute drive from my house. Then I really started to like the staff and students there. It was great walking through campus and hearing so many kids say, "Hi Mr. Jefferson," or "Hi Mr. J," or "Hey, you been in our class before!" The staff saw me so much that they knew me by name and the office staff even stopped giving me a map of the school. I just got the keys and knew where to go. I've even had teachers request me that I had never subbed for before. I was kind of a big deal. People knew me.

My attendance at this school slowed down a bit over the last couple weeks. To start off the semester, I was at the junior high just north of Emerson for a full week teaching an 8th grade math class. And then back in that class twice a week for the next 3 weeks. In that last week, I thought to myself, "You know, I changed my focus from secondary math to elementary. Plus I'm really tired of this class. I should just focus more on getting elementary jobs." And so, for the 5th week of school, I was back at Emerson everyday but Wednesday (which I took off because I wasn't feeling too hot). It was great. Monday, I had band. Tuesday, I had a 5th grade that I've had before. Thursday, I was back in that 5th grade class. I was loving it. I was ready to be done with junior high and back to the younger ones who haven't developed an attitude yet.

Then Thursday, I also got a call. From a junior high. A junior high where I spent 3 weeks as a reading sub at leading up to winter break of last school year. They remembered me from those 3 weeks, plus their vice principal worked at Emerson last year. They said that they needed a long-term sub for a reading class. And they thought of me. And if I took it, I would be there until the end of the school year. And there'd be a sizable raise.

This sounds easy enough to most people. Of course you should take the job that pays more, gives you better training for when you have your own classroom, and gives you a consistent schedule to work with!

When I got the call, I wasn't thinking that way. I was thinking, "But, but... Emerson." Every time I was at the junior just north of Emerson, I would see the kids on the playground and think, "Man, I'd so rather be there than here." I even bought one of their shirts and showed up to a staff breakfast on a day that I wasn't even scheduled to sub there. I would be hanging up my shirt and saying no to the staff breakfasts for the rest of the semester. To teach a group of kids that I had grown tired of. For me, the choice wasn't that simple.

But I had to make a choice. So, on Friday, I called the junior high back and told them that I'd take it. They were really excited. My mom was really excited. The 5th grade teacher that I subbed for twice last week was really excited. Everyone seemed excited except me (and Emerson's secretary; she was trying to talk me out of it).

But I'm trying to get excited for it. It is good practice and is obviously the better choice for me financially. Plus, I figure that if I love it, I had 3/4 of a semester that I loved. If I hate it, well it's only 3/4 of a semester. I can go back to elementary next school year. It's win-win, I guess.

So, as of today, I am Mr. Jason Jefferson, reading teacher at Summit Academy. Wish me luck.

Elementary classes dismissed

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

I had a 1st grade class a couple weeks ago. Those are always fun. You get a wide variety of kids in that age bracket who say and do some adorable and unintentionally hilarious things. And sometimes they're not so adorable or hilarious. Sometimes, its a good mixture, such as this case:

The Good
I had had this class before for 2 days, so I was a little familiar with how the class ran and who the kids were, which is always a plus. Most kids are still learning to sit on their bottoms and raise their hands and walk in line, but this class as a whole wasn't too bad (besides the one girl who I had to tell 3 times in 2 minutes to face forward in line because the line kept leaving without her).
Speaking of walking in line, usually whenever I see 2 students walking next to each other, I inform one that he or she is "next to the line, not in the line." In one instance, however, I saw two 1st grade boys standing next to each other holding hands. I almost said something but then I saw how ridiculously, amazingly, unbelievably cute it was, and I let it slide. I had a brief thought that I could kidnap the two and raise them as my own twin sons because of how adorable the pair was. I quickly talked myself out of it because I would probably be fired, and it might be slightly suspicious if I, a single black man, all of a sudden had white twin boys that looked nothing alike.

The Bad
For every pair that I want to adopt, there's that one who I want to give back to his parents ASAP. In this class, it was Cliff*. The very last thing on my lesson plans told me, "Cliff can be a handfull. Keep an eye on him." And, oh my man, was Cliff a handfull. After the bajillionth time of telling him to stay in his seat, get to work, stay focused, etc., he tells me that he forgot to take his brown pill. Oh, boy. I call the nurse to see if they have extra "brown pills" on hand (I don't really know what the law is concerning that kind of thing) and they tell me that they'll call Grandma to see if she can bring some and they'll call when she gets here, kthanksbye.
Cliff asked me several times throughout the day if the nurse had called back yet. I assured him that he wasn't the only one who wanted him to take his pill and that id let him know immediately.
On a side note, I was able to pull him away from the rest of the class and explain to him that he wasn't in trouble. I just wanted to make sure he wasn't distracting the other students. He seemed to understand and cooperate.

The Ugly
Every once in a while, there's a real special case that I just can't handle. In this case, it was Gilbert. At this school, they provide breakfast in the classroom. I had to choose some students to take the empty crate back to the cafeteria. Gilbert asked if he could do it, but he had another classroom job, so I chose other people. Gilbert was not okay with this. He started crying. And wouldn't stop. I feel like I'm pretty alright when it comes to calming crying children, but he was inconsolible. No matter what I said, he just kept crying. And loudly. The other students kept asking, "Why is Gilbert crying," to which I responded, "Don't worry about him. Let's get back to work."
How long could he sit and cry over something so trivial? I can't answer how long he could, but I can tell you how long he did: almost an hour. When it came time for us to take a spelling test, I told him he either needed to stop or he'd have to leave the classroom because he was too distracting.
I eventually called the office because he was not moving from his seat. One of the office ladies actually had to pick him up and carry him to the office (making this the second, but not last, time a child had to be carried out on my watch). I got a call from the office not too long after saying that the poor darling was going home. I obviously couldn't have known that he would react like that, otherwise I would have let him take the breakfast crate back, but I felt sorry that he felt so upset over it (I'm assuming there are probably deeper issues however).

Class dismissed

I hope you get suspended

Now, I don't normally think that way towards students. Detention, yeah, but suspension's kinda harsh. It means the student isn't in their seats for at least a whole day. It means they're not learning. As a teacher, I want kids to learn. But sometimes, the offense is just too severe for a slap on the wrist and the kid needs to learn that their behavior is horribly out of line.

Like Sonya*. She was part of my drama class today. I was uber excited to sub for a drama class, since that class held my heart (and my after school time) when I was in high school. Well, these kids were something else. I don't know what happened between me saying, "Practice your monologues," and the words reaching their ears, but I guess it ended up sounding like, "Play around, text, don't do anything that you're supposed to be doing."

In this playing around, Sonya got the bright idea that she should tell another student that she doesn't belong in this country because she (the other student) is black. As a black man myself, and, ya know, a decent human being, I let her know that this was not an appropriate way to talk to anyone. At any time. Ever. To which she responded, "She was rude to me, I'm going to be rude back."

I let her know, "No matter how rude she was to you, you do not talk to people like that. You can leave right now and go talk to the principal."

"I don't have to go anywhere."

"Fine, I'll call the office, then."

"You do that."

So, security had to come to my classroom today. It always amazes me how little thought goes into people's attitudes when they get like this. Sonya couldn't possibly have thought, "Y know, I'm gonna say something nasty, talk back to the teacher like I have the right to do whatever the crap I want, then have security come and whisk me away to the office instead of going on my own accord. This will certainly end well for me." It's amazing to me how much can be prevented if people actually thought through their actions rather than letting the spark that their tongues ignite grow into a mighty, terrible forest fire.

I'm nit sure if Sonya got suspended, but I sure hope that she did so she can learn that her terrible actions come with a terrible consequence.

Class (thankfully) dismissed!

*Names have been changed to protect the identities of the students

1st graders are bad at math

I had a first grade class for two days this week, which left me with these precious moments:

Blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy: I'm Mexican.
Another kid: Me too. Do  you know how to say taco in Spanish? Burrito!

Me: Class, what's a foal?
Boy: It's a baby pony!
Girl: No, it's a baby horse. A pony gots the horn on its head.

We were working on a fun little activity called "Everyone is Special." On the first page they were to write their name and than finish the line, "I am...."
The blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy from before wrote, "I am fragool." (At first I thought he was trying to write "frugal," but he said it's "fragile." I wasn't expecting a first grader to use either to describe himself.) I asked him what was another thing that he could put. His response: "I am... cute?" Well, there's no arguing that one.

I gave them a pretty tough math problem one day: There are 9 apples in a tree. If 3 of them fall out, how many are left?
One kid was very adamant that it was 7, despite everyone else saying it was 6, including me. He showed me on his hands. He put up 5 fingers on one hand and 4 on the other. When he put his 3 middle fingers down, he brought his thumb up, giving him 7. It took a while to explain to him why that was wrong.

The math problem the next day was just as hard: my mom made 12 cookies. My sister ate 7 of them. How many cookies are left for me?
I asked one kid what his answer was and how he got it.
"5?"
"How did you get that?"
"7?"
"How did you get that?"
"7!"
"7 is not an answer to how you solved your problem."
This one took a while as well.


Class dismissed!

God Bless Kindergarten Teachers

I had a kindergarten class yesterday for a couple hours. It made me really appreciate those warriors on the front lines who teach these kids full time. Sometimes, they're accidentally hilarious. Like this guy, who I'll call A*:

A: What's your name?
Me: Mr. Jefferson
A: Are you married?
Me: No.
A: Then why are you "Mister"?
Me: Ugh....

This same kid also commented on the softness of the back of his teacher's hand, which I thought was kinda strange:

A: Ms. Teacher's hand is soft. Like a feather.
Me: O... kay?
A: Or chicken.
Me: Um, what?!

But for all the unintentionally funny things they say and do, there are the kids who just don't understand when I say, "Face forward," "Hands to yourself," "Please sit down on the rug," "Absolutely no talking," "Don't pick your nose," etc. And I'm of course saying each of these roughly a bajillion times, and mostly to the same 4 kids. This class had a couple special cases.

Like Isaac. I don't know his story, but the aide seemed to let him do his own thing while the rest of the class was practicing the letter M, so I let it be. Well, Isaac came back to his seat right when it was about time to go to Spanish. I told the class that it was time to go. This kid burst into tears because he didn't have time to finish. I mean, he was bawling. I wanted to bring up that he was playing for the past half hour, but I had to wrangle up the others who didn't understand that we were done.

But the one who really takes the cake is Nate. Nate was one of those kids who couldn't sit still if his life depended on it. I threatened to send him to the office if he didn't move his patootie to the rug (I of course didn't use such language). He was running/crawling around the room all the time. It was when I picked them up from music that I had had enough. He pushed another kid out of the line. So I said, "Okay, Nate, I'm taking you to the office." He ran around the music room until I and the music teacher (who was also a sub that day) cornered him. Then I had to carry him to the office. Let me repeat that. I had to carry a 5-year-old, who had kicked his shoes off and continued to kick while I carried him, through the hallway, with his class and other classes watching, to the office. When we got to the office, the principal said that I'd done a good job because they expected him an hour earlier. That's good, I guess?

Needless to say, I was relieved when these kids left the classroom I borrowed to go terrorize their homes.

Class dismissed!

*All names have been changed to protect the identities of these weirdos.

Kids say the racistest things! (S1E2)

I thought about just adding this on to the previous post, since no one would notice because no one reads this blog (yet), but this deserves its own post. (Plus I can turn "Kids say the racistest things!" into a series)

I was walking through the halls after having dropped my 6th grade class off at the computer lab. This would be a good time to pick up some food, since I packed my lunch and left it in the fridge at home (for the second day in a row, 'cause I'm awesome). As I was walking to my car, I hear a tiny voice behind me. I didn't know this kid. I still don't. We didn't really converse. Our paths crossed and probably won't ever again. And so, it will be written in the history books that only three words were exchanged between me and this child:

"Hi, black man."

 I couldn't believe what I had just heard. I turned around slowly to see a little boy, probably in kindergarten, wave at me.

"Whoa! You refer to me by my race, and then wave at me, like I'm supposed to wave back?!" I mean, yeah, I am black, but you don't call people by their skin color. So what did I do? In a strange mixture of defiance and bewilderment, I refused to wave back. That'll show him! I bet he'll remember that the next time he wants to call someone "black man" instead of "sir."

Ok, so I didn't use it as a moment to defy the blatant racism or to (God forbid) teach this kid that that's not how you acknowledge people, but I was in such a state of shock that he so innocently called a (black) spade a (black) spade.

Class dismissed!