While teaching 8th Grade Language Arts at Southern Leadership Academy (10-19-04)

The beginning of a very tough week. Monday was a professional development day. Parent-teacher conferences. And how many groups of parents did we see in 6 hours? 5-6. None of the parents that we really needed to see. The large bottles of Hawaiian punch and the cookies sat largely untouched. The heating system was off, too, so those who did enter the room stayed all bundled up. It felt like a large industrial refrigerator on our wing of the second floor. So welcoming.

The following is what happens in the classroom when you aren’t on your toes. You don’t bring the energy to either teach or discipline, and they walk right over you. The perpetually yapping 806 group was out of control. You have to pick your battles. Some kid exploded a condom full of what I hope was water all over one side of the room, and I was helpless to do anything. If I don’t see it, nothing will happen, because snitches get stitches.

On Tuesday the 20th, my brain was numb by the end of second period. Throughout the day, I can’t clear my head for an instant. What do I do with Frank, who keeps on calling Ted a dirty-toothed *&^#!$? I can’t do anything, because I have to deal with him in class, and he comes from a ridiculously f!&@ed up family. I later learned that his little brother, a 4 year-old, almost killed his other young brother when he was playing with a handgun last year. Should I let Bill play in the scrimmage next week? He’s the best rebounder on the team, an aggressive player, but his attitude is rotten. He has a disturbing grudge (or is it a deep hatred?) for white people, even though he’s of mixed race. Oh sh!$, the day is only 1/3 done and I have my two most difficult class periods and a basketball practice after school. What should I write up for the sponge activity for next period? Should I care that the literacy monitoring team is coming back tomorrow for another check-up? I need to make copies of one kid’s work—I don’t have any work examples, he’s always suspended. No Sally, you can’t go use the restroom right now. You know my policy. Frank, stop throwing paper balls. Let me get back to teaching….teaching? Are you kidding me? Why did Steve just storm into my room. I forgot to lock my door, dang it. Class, let’s refocus.

My brain didn’t get a rest after school ended. In an impromptu gesture, we scrimmaged the girl’s hoops team and the dynasty program run by Coach Starling. It was chaotic. Just as I needed a rest, I was pacing the sidelines, thinking, oh sh!# they are running a full-court press on us and embarrassing our buys. What the f!@k??? Now they are running a 1-3-1 trapping half-court zone. This was a wake-up call, I know nothing about coaching.

On Thursday, October 21, my brain feels fried even before the school day begins. The behavior of the kids isn’t too ridiculous during the day, but the strain of coaching on top of my multitude of duties is starting to kill me. All day I think, have I bitten off more than I can swallow? I’m in it for the kids, but I can barely take care of myself at this point. Before the end of the day, I sit slumped back in my computer chair in class and decide that I’ll be calling in sick the next day.