How can you be pro-union and still hate the fact that you and the shitty teachers get the same deal? Instead of kudos thrown at me via a last minute request to "update the staff" on the great work that I've been doing, why not shove a letter in my file --I would prefer commendation to public praise anyday. Besides, public praise is ultimately just public humiliation since my peers look at me with razor glares and I'm left feeling like the nerds I pity in my class. If I want to leave this place, which I clearly do, why can't I have support and help from the administration? Is it THAT hard to write a template with boxes to tic when someone does something right? They certainly are fast to get something in when a teacher screws up. The system blows. I bust my last gut working to meet with teachers, co-plan, follow up on concerned students, lead imaginative and creative projects, in short to exceed expecations, but I am seen as no different from the teacher who kicks her heels up and surfs the online shopping sites all day between her classes of five students. Sure, I stand out within my school, but not in NYC and I want OUT! HELP!!! I am trapped in a school where there is no place for my drama productions. But there is certainly plenty of drama.

How do you teach people that some reasons are better than others? How do you get students to realize that their actual opinion is less important than their ability to represent the resolution for their team? I tried with "women should quit their jobs after they get married," because I knew it would get a reaction. It did. But I could not get them down from the reaction to try and argue the affirmative case. The girls flatly refused. I said, girls, come on!! You know I don't believe this but it's the job of the affirmative case to PROVE the resolution. Ay, yay, yay. There was certainly a lot of shouting in the classroom today. Security looked in several times. They probably thought I was strangling someone.

My afternoon was filled with helping students fill out their college applications. For some, it was the first time they had ever addressed an envelope (they have to hand their teachers rec letters and envelopes). The online generation. Wow. It amazes me how daunting this process appears to be for them. On the other hand, I edited one student's personal statement and it was so good that I had tears in my eyes thinking of her in college next year. This will all be worthwhile.

My late afternoon was spent grading these stories that kids wrote ina project where I collaborated with the science teachers. It was the life of a carbon compound and the kids had to have it cycle through millions of years into various states (as sugars or fossil fuels) until it winds up in their bodies at the end. Some of the stories were hilarious. My job was to help them make the stories creative by making the carbon into a character. Lots of the carbon particles sounded like pimps, others like bored and restless teenage carbons looking for love, a few were excited to get excreted from the butts of dinosaurs. Ah, teaching.

Oh I forgot. Security is likely to come for an inspection this week. These guys and gals are not the most educated bunch but for some reason it is part of the security check to read and review the bulletin boards. They are supposed to look for errors. So, none of the telephones work should we need to call for help. It takes about ten minutes to get out of the building during a fire drill, hmmmm bacon, we have no place to send students who are disruptive, but our bulletin boards will be squeaky clean. Years ago, I asked what the rationale was for the security inspectors evaluating bulletin boards and as I recall the response was that mistakes indicate a lack of motivation on the teacher's part and therefore, an increased likelihood of student disruption. I swear.

We received an email reminder that said "as always be sure to" and then listed all of the things that never happen at our school. Such as the deans patrolling the halls during all periods. This never happens. Ever. The only reason I can ever find a dean is because one of them keeps coffee in my room and so I have access. Otherwise, you are as likely to find a student who likes to read. A winning lottery ticket. A singing dinosaur.

Brainstorming the castle.
What comes to mind when you hear the words "water," "debate," and "document?" For my students, the responses included, "your balls in my mouth," "poop," "camel toe," and "turkey." Yes, indeed. Welcome back. It's always an exciting time when the students have been home and we have to remind them how we behave in school. There is always someone out to sabotage the lesson. Still, while playing musical brainstorm (they roam around to the hip hop beat adding thoughts to posters with the words on them)...I found myself laughing at the sexual obsessions of teenagers everywhere.
I scooped up a good note today revealing what is on the mind of many while I wax forth about the merits of the adverb. I'll copy its contents later in the week.
Knowing as I did, that today would be icky, I tried to plan a relatively unimportant lesson. All I wanted my students to be able to puke back by the end of the 46 minutes was what unit we'd be starting and what did they hope to get from it. I think I managed to pull that off. But these returns are so jolting. I've forgotten, ever so briefly, how to juggle forty requests. I've forgotten how to hear "I want your praise" when someone shrieks "I answered that question first mother fucker so shut the fuck up." Sigh.
When asking one student to throw out his gum, he shouted, "I'll swallow it. That's right miss, I swallow." Oh, the chuckles that ensued. Oh, how my sense of humor differs tremendously from theirs. Oh, how long the year can feel.

Thanksgiving was a momentous occasion at school. Our school's tradition is to have everyone bring in what they can and we host a feast in our advisories. There, we ask the students to say one thing that they are thankful for. It's one of those rare, meaningful days because inevitably a student says that even though most of the time she thinks that the teachers are "wack" and that the school is stupid, she doesn't mean to be so "mean to yas all the time and really you people are" her real family. There were multiple sets of liquid eyes. Seniors were coming around begging for letters of recommendation and it was exciting to think that maybe, just maybe a decent percentage of these "ghetto" children would not only break the cycle of poverty by being the first in their families to graduate fro high school, but also be the first to be admitted to college. Whether or not they are capable or able to withstand the full four years (or two for more technical programs) of college is anyone's guess. I don't think we can hold ourselves responsible for any of this. We can only cross our fingers and hope for the best. I had several students come to tell me that they missed my class and that they might not have told me at the time, but that in my class, they learned a lot, in fact, they learned how to think and to write. They miss my laughter and my sensitivity. Now, how's that for rewarding? My response of course (after regaining my composure) was to say, "but all you ever did was complain and tell me how boring and terrible I was?" To which one student replied, "I'm a teenager, Miss." Fair enough.

These rewarding moments seem to be timed so as to appear before vacations, as though to seduce us to return. Of course, the re-adjustment to work is always chaotic as the kids have lost their routines and seem to want to punish us for leaving them. Or perhaps we are out of touch with the level of stress that we've adjusted to most of the time. We've remembered our true selves, read a novel for fun, enjoyed the New York Times and the New Yorker magazine, maybe even gone to a movie or two. We're unprepared for the swarming of complaints, the shower of nasty words, the filth of the dust, the invisibility of the ghetto is so quick to re-appear when you have no choice but to visit.
The love/hate balance is back in place I suppose.

Thanksgiving is around the corner and I need to stop and give thanks. It's two in the morning and I can't sleep. I am worrying about xeroxing a take-home AP exam practice for my AP students. I am worrying about finding the time between now and 8 am to buy 4 liters of soda and cups for the Pizza Party I am throwing the kids who did well in my Harbor Humanities class. I am worried about not having a hard enough Thanksgiving homework assignment even though no one ever completes what I do give them. I am worried about not having completed the meeting with my boss to address problems in our programs for the next semester. I am worried about the letters of recommendation that I have to get finished so kids can apply to the colleges of their choice. Did I remind people of the training I'd be out for the week we come back? I am thankful that I slept last night since tonight doesn't look so promising.

Movin' on up?
This week announces the big deal what we've all been waiting for news--we are out of Bushwick. ETA--2008. Optimistic hoorahs abound and cheery faces of former employees determined to make this their last year are reinvigorated and zealous in their beliefs that a new building in a new, theme-appropriate setting will serve as the deus-ex- machina to this Greek tragedy. Yours truly remains somewhat cynical and befuddled. Sure, I think the move will be a good one for the school. When the move actually happens is another story and having worked on minor home improvement projects I can say with a tad of authority that I find the move in date unrealistic at best. There are claims that the school construction department has already reviewed the building and given their priliminary cost estimates and made their best guess. True or false, the bureaucracy that is the Department has little of my faith and none of my trust.
Next, comes the question-- will we continue to serve the Bushwick community when we are no longer in Bushwick? Should we? The public word is yes, of course, we are devoted, dedicated and loyal to the community that we've served for the past four years, but again, I reserve the right to see. The students are either excited to move or refusing to go and parents are concerned about safety in the new location as well as the fears about transportation.
The best news so far that I've heard is that as our new location is somewhat challenging to traverse, our new start time will be 9:30 am, ahh morning jogs.
While it cheers me to see my fellow worker bees so delighted with the prospects of working toilets and proper lighting, I remain puckered, too tightly wound, and frazzled. It's hard to pinpoint why this is exactly, perhaps I am no longer a believer and this is the ultimate clunk over the head for me that I must move on. Not that I should but that I must.
Perhaps my indifference suggests that while the school is finally growing into its mission, I become less and less alligned with its goals. The theme doesn't seem to fit with my talents suggesting I'd serve better elsewhere. This new plan (in the making) to become a technical school (that still pushes higher education) strikes me as inane and I want nothing to do with it. I despise the idea of teaching an English class based on reading how- to manuals for electric drills and power saws. Nope, it's time for this spotted apple to find a new orchard. Know any farmers?

My co-worker is reading catch-22 and says she is reminded of life at school. Sure, you can have a desk. There is one in room 226 that is not in use. But you need the key to room 226 to get the desk and that person is not here. No, I haven't seen that person in weeks actually. But if you see her, get the key and you can have the desk you need.
This is in fact a real situation. It's a lot like trying to order bookshelves. Sure, we can have them but only if we go to IKEA ourselves to get them. And no one will provide us with a van or transportation but we are welcome to go whenever we like.
Oh yeah, and we already spent the english department budget money before we were told what our budget amounted to. Then again, I got paid to cover a class today but the entire class cut. They never even walked in the hallway. It was as if they knew I would smell them out qne make them come in and work.
Last night, we stayed until about 7 re-arranging the room to try and avoid fatalaties. When we tried to warn our bosses that someone might die because each day the bookshelves were tipping and almost falling over I believe the response was something like "What do you want me to do about it?" Granted, our poor bosses have way too many fish to fry and I do realize that their jobs are as chaotic and surreal as ours but this is a sincere safety concern and we really need some help stabalizing or replacing these teetering deathtraps. If a child dies, we will be blamed and fired undoubtedly. Anyway, there we were using a broom to try and hang posters from just below the ceiling because there was no ladder and if we asked for one we'd never get one. So we stood on a shaky table and prayed that it wouldn't collapse as we attempted to post evergreen reminders to our students about what a verb is and how to write a summary and so on. My collegue appropriated a desk from another floor and worked in earnest with two other students to work a miracle in the room and it does look so much better. It certainly lifted my spirits today. One student even noticed.
Students stayed after school to get caught up today and a few helped me with odds and ends, did some grading for me and I left at about 5 again. These are long days for someone who gets up at 6 and leaves the house before 7.
The only way I can manage to teach my kids about subjects and verbs is to try a sentence involving some devious behavior. Oh well, whatever works. Thank God it's Friday tomorrow because the spotted apple is going to Los Angeles. A sunny goodbye for the weekend.

Today a student was more upset about getting his shoes dirty than he was excited about an opportunity to participate in team building activities in the park. Later, he lost his earring and told me if the principal didn't buy him a new one, he would "kill his family." The kid is such an angry mess. The weirdest part is that he is an angry drama queen. I am not sure that he is out yet to himself, but it is the oddest, stereotype destroying vision to see this effeminate boy who is obsessed with clothing but the clothing is the whole baggy pants, jordans, and fake diamond earring look that is ghetto fashion.

My classroom was a million degrees today. It was impossible to get adults to function let alone teenagers. Most of the kids in my room had their heads down on the desks after about ten minutes of class. I was trying to introduce the concept of a literary analysis essay which is a pretty tough concept for these guys. But I didn't have a fighting chance. Is it too much to ask for the most basic of climate control?

On the other hand, I did learn a great new phrase. "when you look in the mirror as you get dressed, do you get jigged?" Apparently it means excited that you look good. Hmm.

My AP class is a joke. But it's not a funny one. I shouldn't have to stop all work so that they get their personal statements for college done now should I? Did MY AP teacher do that for me? Hell no, I had college applications due on top of all the regular school work that was a typical part of a high school education. Around here, we're supposed to jump for joy if a child turns in an assignment consisting of a paragraph. Of the originial 25 kids, my AP class now consists of 8 students. The rest dropped out. I've barely required work. We've read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Pride and Prejudice, and we are now starting Hamlet. This, I think, would be a NORMAL reading pace for a non-inner city school. But of course, that is not what it is. These kids are used to four books a year, never taking any reading home, never doing homework and getting A's if they write so much as a paragraph. I am asking for five page double spaced times new roman 12 point papers. But I've only asked for two of them. And I've stopped asking anyway because I realize that at the end of the day, I care more that they get into college. But will they be able to handle it? It is going to be such a major adjustment for these guys. They are tough though and they are motivated. Which is why I am doing ten lessons on how to write a kickin' personal draft and workshopping the entire classes first drafts. Most applications are due Dec 2, so we'll get serious after that. I hope. They still have weekly vocab quizzes so that's something isn't it? Did I mention that their P&P rough drafts were due last Wednesday and I got 4 out of 8 and two totally incompletes? This would not work in college unless the course was taught by a sucker TA with a penchant for extention granting. I didn't put up with any of that shit when I taught at Boricua and that was community college. Maybe I should get my PHD so I can be treated better.

The WHY ask why edition of the spotted apple

Last week, I worked from 8 am until 4 pm without a single break except to down an apple while gathering a train pass. I did this Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday. Wednesday, I had to scramble together an agenda for a department meeting. The whole department meeting calendar is completely out of wack now that people have actually had the courage to say that it is not fair that we have six thousand meetings that go way beyond the scope of the teaching contract that we are supposed to follow. Not that any of those days where I taught all periods in a row count as legal either. After preparing for my teaching blocks, I spent all the afternoons running "team building" courses in the park. Woah. I came home with feet so heavy I had to hire movers to carry me inside.
I have to GET OUT... I must get my resume updated and start spreading the word. word. If I don't, I'll be right back next year and no sir ee bob. I can't handle another year of the sheer and total chaos that is our school.

Why, for example, is it that our boss demands meetings, insists on the importance of them, as well as professional development, and then, when the contract actually designates a day for these events, he chooses to have the staff play a game of water polo? How about using that entire day for PD? Lots of departments are going out for pd from other places, which in my mind, is REAL pd. The English department is getting training on a specific methodology to teach writing a paragraph for example. A perfectly decent use of time. No need to play games. Offer game time to people who want to hang around after hours. Not me in other words.

And why, why why why, is there a meeting tomorrow when there is no real plan for what to have a meeting about? In fact, I got an email tonight telling me that I was presenting at the meeting tomorrow. Not possible as I will not even be in the building because I am finishing the "team building' and putting in yet another all day of teaching without a break to catch my breath with.

Finally, why is it, please, that the copy machine NEVER works in the morning and my classes start at 8? WHY?

It's Halloween. I had about ten kids in each class and about twenty this afternoon when we went to Hyland Park to play "surviving" games. Mostly, it was about teamwork, trust, and communication and what happens when one or all of those things is taken away. It was pretty fun and the weather was perfect. I was supposed to come home and run but everyone is bailing on class tonight. Andrew is too stressed about work, Sonia wants to have fun, Sara wants to have fun and I feel like sitting around and going to bed early. I'll run tomorrow. Most of my students know what an adjective is by now, which is something.

Because so many kids were absent, we watched a movie on survival techniques. It was hilarious. These redneck good ol' boys showing off their outdoor skills. But the kids were pretty into it. Then, of course there was Earl. Who decided to go off. I can't even repeat what he said. Basically it was a rant against the "rich teachers with their fancy lunches" and what can we possibly teach them about survival? "Miss, give me five bucks and the streets and I'll survive. Doubt you would." He has a point. I just wish he would learn to utter it more appropriately. Sigh.

A parent asked me if I was single and if so could he ask me out. I swear to God. The guy spoke about three words of English. It was hilarious. I can't make this shit up. I had a long line of parents waiting to yell at me because their children failed my class. Great. I got to work at eight, taught all day, tutored six kids after school. went to conferences and now it's 9 pm and I have to start all over again tomorrow. These are the days when I hate my job. Some lady sat in my room for the whole period and observed me. It make me nervous because I know she's the boss of the boss. Why can't people just leave us alone and let us do our jobs? I'm trying a new seating arrangement tomorrow to try to get more kids to pay attention. I wish I was a television set.

Work to Rule. Apparently this is a pre-strike phase associated with labor workers doing their minimal before going out on strike. Apparently, this is what our principal thinks we are doing since we refused to agree to his proposal. This is the first time I've ever felt personally insulted by my boss. 8 of us work an extra hour a day and he wants the rest of the staff to vote on whether or not I should wait around an extra hour to attend a meeting unpaid. He is upset because the staff doesn't want to vote on that because they feel that it's not their right to determine what is right for somoene else? I think he should be delighted that the staff is unified and respectful of each other. To me that shows a tremendous sense of unity, much more so than the divide an conquer mentality of his proposal which is a union-buster of an idea if I've ever seen one. NONE of this has to do (really) with whether or not I'd put in an extra hour. I put in tons of extra hours all year, in fact, I rarely leave before 5 and I am always there by 7:30, but that is MY CHOICE. As soon as someone mandates me to be there, it is no longer acceptable. Especially at the rate of pay I currently earn and the lack of respect my job receives at least within the system. There is a reason we have a contract, and I am so grateful to tbe teachers who fought for it. I realize that these small schools are attempting to break up the union and I only hope that the young, naive, or temporary teachers who intend to leave the industry soon enough don't screw it up for the careerists. I certainly won't. I feel dissapointed in my leader and bummed that he is being petty. I cannot see his pov. I am trying but I sincerely don't see where he is coming from. Why does he think these meetings are so important? It's much more important to me to teach, to see students, to have clubs after school, not to have face time with him or be lectured to about time cards and lateness policies or whatever other inconsistent and unclear system they are trying to put in place. It's simply not what makes us a good school. We're good because the kids come first. it was a sad moment today, and I hope he will calm down and rethink his strategy and not bark at us tomorrow as he did last week like we are children in need of a spanking.

'There's a boat in the middle of my LAB so.." this is how my co-worker starts explaining to me the frustrations he is having with trying to run his biology class. The "marine tech class," come on now, spade is a spade..shop class, didn't get the rented space that they were counting on and so as a result they have reclaimed their old classroom which was turned into a science lab in their short-lived absence. It's a mess, and it's one of so many messes caused by the "small school"=shove lots of kids into an old building, break it up by floors but leave them overcrowded, "solution" offered by the DOE. Other problems include...communal urinals that will leave us all deeply scarred for years to come, desperate measures for teacher privacy including attempts at using bookshelves as room dividers. This is bound to get us all killed or fired as the shelves aren't stable and threaten to come tumbling down any moment now. Did I mention the microwave and coffee pot hidden behing the book shelf as a last ditch attempt at "community" amongst staff or at least a little "break"--mind you this required walling off an entry so that teachers could come in and out of the classroom without distrubing the class that is in progress. Yes, we are completely without space. There is no brilliant solution, unless, as I am convinced some Japanese architects could come in and consult with us on how to Tokyo-ize the school. Beyond this, there is no hope.
Each morning, I have to "reset" the desks from rows to groups of five and then the afternoon teacher has to place them all back into rows again. We have no space for out posters and have hung a clothes line across the window in a vain attempt at finding a spot to hang our reinforcing lessons. It is total madness.
But it's not as bad a having a hlaf constructed boat in the middle of your lab, so I can't really complain now can I?

"There's a boat in the middle of my lab room," hence my poor co-worker G. cannot conduct his science classes very effectively. This is because our "boat-building" course, hey, let's call a spade a spade, shop class, was not able to move to another facility as planned and once again our over-crowded, triple-teacher to a classroom situation has rendered the day absurd.

Are other floors this crowded? Well, the newest school to the campus, the school that presently has only a 9th grade class, as with us, they will grow a new class each year. They have a HUGE floor. We were given no additional space because we are moving "any minute now". This has been the story for four years, and I'll give an "A" to the first bureaucrat to get us out of the hell hole that is our present state.

There are tensions among the staff and the principal and a.p.--our scheduled is taking advantage of the "we're a small school" philosophy and requiring beyond "above and beyond" and people are feeling pissy about it. Rightfully so. People above and below us are paid for extra meeting time while we're supposed to come because "face time" is important. Once in three years, I learned something from one of these meetings. But I forgot what it was. Most of the time, someone barks until we wimper and cover our ears with our paws.

Not that the teachers are a bunch of heroes either oh no. In the teacher's lounge today, I watched as our tech rep, my personal hero, debugged a computer because someone had been downloading crap videos and who knows what else. Earlier in the week, I watched a teacher print 200 pages of nonsense using up a laser toner while the teacher behind her waited to print out...her real estate prospects. Thank G. for the union?

Yes, because without the union, our boss would require daily face time until, who knows? 6:30 every night and there would be nothing I could do about it. As it stands now, our union is getting fragmented and the whole divide and conquer approach makes me nervous. How kind that they are willing to negotiate so that we don't have to come in on MLK Jr. day. Can you say distractor anyone?

My students, meanwhile, think I am an evil cow for imploring them to learn vocabulary words, read outside of class, and yes, dare I say it, think for themselves. Worse still? Act civilly towards one another. Yikes. Today was mild though because many of the louder cagey children fled the coop.

I read in the Times this weekend about some neighbors who, after much coaxing from a reporter, admitted that a certain student (later indicted for a crime) had "practically dropped out of high school,". The article went on to claim that people saw this child as mean spirited, vengeful and aggressive. Why is it acceptable to read about a kid practically dropping out of high school and in the same breath telling schools that they have no right to isolate disruptive, violent, aggressive children or suspend them or re-locate them to a facility prepared to deal with them? I don't get it. This is why our classrooms are such messes. We have to have every single kid come in, day after day, no matter how disrespectful or how many times an offense has been enacted. The best we can hope for is a two day suspension, which just makes everything worse because he (yes, almost always he) comes back even further behind and more angry.

I have a student, much like the one described above, who hates women. He is a totally different person with a male teacher but with me, he is rude and downright vile. I hate having him in the room because I can't wash his mouth out with soap and it makes me sick to listen to him. But he'll be there again tomorrow and the day after that and the following week too.

Teachers come to my room to make coffee in the morning and we share a small refrigerator. There is a steady steam of coffee traffic and the kids are all begging for some by 3rd period. Again, if only we could have enough space for a little privacy.

But we can't, and I wonder if we ever will.

Everyone has a DOE e-mail address. No one uses it. Think of the 8 track. Or the station wagon. Now think of the quill pen and the bottle of ink. Now you are nearing the utility factor of the DOE email address. Today, the Principal informed us that we had to access it. Not on a regular basis, but for an experiment. This meant calling the help desk. The DOE help desk. Picture a mail order catalog company that has nothing to sell but loads of investment capital. Bluetooth wireless headsets and ergonomic chairs and way too much time on their hands to actually do anything. Picture row after row of these cubicle tie wearing, robots. Picture them asking you for your password when that is what you are calling to get. Picture them telling you that they can't hear you as you SHOUT your name in the teacher's lounge causing whiplash to everyone who is in the room attempting to get their own work done. Picture the futility of it all, thirty minutes later when you log on only to discover that you have no e-mail. Try changing your password for the next time you have to do this. I dare you. It can't be done.

After school a student and I sang the twenty-three helping verbs as a way to make sure she was ready for her quiz tomorrow. It was the perfect end to a perfect day. All four of my classes went well. Was it that the book on tape was better to listen to than my reading voice? Was it the clipboards nailed to the wall that my collegue drilled in for me before I'd even arrived at school? Was it just my attitude? I did decide not to let things get to me. I decided that what mattered most was not that every second was a learning moment, but that the chaos was controlled. I let some of the foul language slide, I let some of the innappropriate behaviors go in the name of getting some of the work done. And some of the work did get done. Not all of it. Not enough to compete with the rest of the world, the one outside the lives of kids who are more worried about violence than numbers, but enough to make me take stock a moment and say, yeah, this was a good day.

I'm so tired that...
I put the seat on the toilet down and then peed on the lid. I put my muffin in my pocket and ate my change.
this is a game that we play on our way to school because at 6 in the morning we teachers are fairly underslept. Some of the larger absudities of the week include the following.
We have a lap top cart of computers for student use on our floor. There are twenty some odd machines in it. Except that they continue to get stolen. This makes it so that no teacher wants to use the cart because the fear of being responsible or even associated with the missing computers is so great that it is simply too scary to want to let the kids use it. So... we decided to try a computer lab with desktop computers. After one week, the kids had stolen all the mice. Why? We'll never know. So, we can't use it. I tried to use it today anyway but it turns out that although we were told we could sign up for it, there are classes scheduled in there throughout most of the day. I got a teacher to switch with me but discovered quickly that the computers were pretty tough to use without mice.
A student in his gym shorts walked into my room to put on his jeans. I tried to explain to him that my room was not a dressing room but decided it was probably in my best interest to discuss this with him from outside my classroom door as I didn't want to get sued for some indiscretion. He laughed and told me that "I should not play him, and that you know you want to hit this." I shudder at the very notion.
After a month of discussing the meaning of research, several students told me today that they still did not have their research topics.
Several other students informed me that wikipedia, google, and ask jeeves are the only places a person needs to go for research.
I realized that I'd bitten off way more than I could chew when I attempted to teach them a works cited page. They thought it was impossible and after awhile so did I.
At one point there were 30 different versions of hip hop playing in the computer lab and my head was swelling.
A student and I reminiced about the good old days of her freshman year and we both meant it.
Another student told me that she'd had sex today and I could barely breathe. She is so young. Her mom is so Haitian. Please let her mom not find out. She might not let her live to see 18.
A student who never showed up to my AP English class asked to start attending. It's only been a month. I said ok and she still didn't show up but she took off with my book.
A teacher's wallet was stolen from my classroom.
This boy got mad at me for making him wear his uniform despite the fact that it is a school rule and I've been repeating it since the beginning of September.
I watched the school assistant pick up her paycheck. After taxes it was $18.
My friend, the union rep, got into a screaming match with the principal of another school simply for asking where to place a kid in an emergency situation.
I watched a boy try to beat another boy up in front of his mother. She is half of his size but managed to hold him back pretty well.
A mother complained to me in Spanish that her son was the only one of the four in her family who was "no good."
A kid who cuts my class everyday accused me of not "giving him the handouts." I tried not to laugh in his face.

surr fucking reality.

two years ago someone wanted our high school to have concentrations and so hours and hours of work went into planning and surveying the kids on what they wanted, choosing the concentrations, getting them all signed up for them, and planning our classes so that the kids could be in courses related to their concentrations. Fast forward to today. No one mentions them. Yet this is the reason that the 10th grade class I am teaching is in 10th grade instead of 11th or 12th. So, I am teaching a different age and an entirely different course, why again? I don't know.

today I found out that someone in my department is teaching the same kids I am for no reason whatsoever. I teach the entire tenth grade english but somehow she has all the same kids for something called enriched english. she is supposed to be the special ed teacher helping the kids with the work in my class but no, instead she is giving them extra work so that they can fail two classes. this is not her fault. this is apparently what she was told to do.

yesterday I attended a meeting where we spent 20 minutes discussing what the meeting was supposed to be about. Hours later, I still don't know and worse than that it appears to have NOTHING to do with the position that I hold which enables me to attend the meeting in the first place.

advisories were told today that they have to plan college trips with their advisories, they have to raise half of the money and that these trips will be held the day before Thanksgiving break in an attempt to increase attendence the day before a major holiday. Oh yeah, and most of the colleges will be closed.

we sit in meetings and are told things that make no fucking sense. then go to other meetings to create policies that make no fucking sense.

everyone is disgruntled. this is because on some days people are teaching for 6 or 7 period in a row. This is entirely illegal. But on other days, those same teachers are done by about 10 and the administration gets upset when they aren't doing anything.

there are people on staff who don't do shit and who can not teach and nothing happens to them while others bust their asses and are ignored.

today both the principal and the assistant principal left us entirely alone in the building for the entire afternoon. The dean was "in charge" while they were away. No one knew about this. I figured it out only after trying for several hours to track them both down.

a staff employee picked up a check today that was for 80, but after taxes she got $13. She said she was going to take us out to lunch with it. She'd just been asked to do more work.

my students and I had a hilarious conversation about manatee sex and we conjugated verbs in the past tense at the top of our lungs. Someone who is finally catching on to the whole concept of verbs shouted out "She sucks dick. She sucked dick." They were shocked when I congratulated them on the inventive demonstration of learning and requested that perhaps they choose a better verb.

Ah, public school.

Some days are just like this:
Wake up at 6, take temperature in a futile search for a pattern to your non-existant cycle. Shower. can't find a clean towel and the one that is there smells like rat piss/mildew. Search for clothes that don't make you look fat. Give up and wear whatever is around. Go downstairs to make breakfast. Decide that it is impossible to make breakfast until the dishes are out of the sink. Open the dishwasher. Discover murky, swamp like puddle of water clogging the machine. Try to fix it by running the dishwasher disposal in the sink. Discover that it is not working. Madly flip power sockets suspecting power outage. Try again. Fail miserably. Watch as water pours from under the dishwasher creating a flood effect on your already damaged kitchen floors. Throw mildew rat piss towel from shower on top of damaged floor in pointless effort at saving floor. Wake husband. Husband does the same thing, but manages to make it work simply because he is male and you are female. Mix disgusting chinese herbs in hot water and guzzle because you hope that this nasty bark crap will somehow create a cycle and make you have a chance at becoming pregnant. Make an equally horrible bananna shake because there is no time to make eggs nor is there cereal. Wince. Try to find keys. Realize keys are no where to be found. Wake husband again. Husband finds keys in about thirty seconds. Feel like a super ass for waking husband twice in the space of twenty minutes. Drive with co-worker to Bushwick. Passanger seat side of car has broken glove compartment box that hits your knees as you drive. Car has 100 K on it, so you're damn lucky you even have a ride but this thought elludes you.
Meet with AP class. Feel horrified by papers whose opening sentences begin with such eloquent phrases as "poverty has always been around and will always be around, it is what it is." Shudder that it is supposed to be your responsibility to help these children pass the AP exam in May. Giggle at the impossibility of it all. Spend the next three hours squeezing your bladder as you attempt to teach students who rarely crack a book, to cite multiple sources on index cards for a research paper. Feel incredibly depressed when having given the directions fourteen times, another student approaches asking what to do. Try not to punch Jeffrey in the stomach when he threatens to leave the room simply because you will not let him on the computer. Forget to take the official attendance and piss off the school aide who has been waiting for it for an hour. Try not to scream when Clarissa Velasquez shows up to your class for the FIRST FUCKING TIME even though it is now the second week of school and she has already failed the marking period. Try to calmly suggest that she comes during her lunch period to pick up the work that she has missed knowing full well that she is only in school to pick up her metro card and will not be seen again until next month. Try not to cry that this is the third year in a row you've had her in a class and she has never passed because she has attended school for more than about 10 days a year.
Remind Michael M. that he is falling behind on his homework. Tell 3rd period that they will be taking a trip on Friday. Remind 4th period that their interviews are due on Thursday. Forget to collect homework and then yell at the classes for not having done any. Tell Malcom. H. that it is unacceptable to play music on the computer and if he isn't doing research that he needs to give the machine to someone else who will. Try not to scream when five more students say "I don't get this" or "what am I supposed to do again?" Try not to spit fire when students try to turn in their index cards at the end of the period despite the three repetitions of "hold on to your index cards for Tuesday. You will need them. Do not lose them." Thank the librarian for her time. Be so glad that the campus has managed to hire a librarian at all and she has a brain. Visit co-teacher S. and thank her for the concord grapes she got for you at the farmer's market, offer to pay her for them realizing you have only a twenty. Buy her a seltzer water instead and give her two dollars later. Try to set a date with Michael M. to help him do his independent reading. forget to tell everyone that their first independent reading books need to be complete by Friday. Realize you are failing terribly at giving out homework assignments that are meaningful and challenging. By 5th period, realize that you have promised to be in three places at the same time and someone will have to lose. When Gary S. asks if you've finished grading his test, tell him no you took the weekend off. Try not to tell him that he is frankly not your priority as he hasn't bothered to come to school for three days and therefore doesn't deserve your extra time. Try,try, try not to say that.
Go downstairs to the teacher's lounge and heat up lunch. Feel horribly embarrassed that your crab cake leftovers are stinking up the entire room and that all of the teachers are staring at you and hate you. Realize you will never find real friends at your job. Return to the horrible AP papers and try to cope with the fact that 7 out of 10 students did not even introduce the book until the 4th page of a 5 page paper. Sigh. Share this insight with a co-worker who is actually a funny and cool guy. Realize that maybe in fact, you could find a friend at your job if you ever had a moment to slow down. Grade these shit hole papers for the next three hours.
Go upstairs and realize that you forgot to do your professional duty. As the department chair, send an email reminding people to do meaningless tasks that you could give two shits about but have to pretend you care. Speak with AP about how to order lunches for your students on Friday even though none of them will eat the lunches anyway. Speak to programmer and co-teacher about switching some kids from the over crowded classroom of 31 to the small classroom of 15 so that the classes are more balanced.
Open your classroom door to discover that it is a fucking mess even though you spent the entire morning in the library. Clean it up. Write on the board for the next morning. Call two students parents to try and warn them that their children are failing and/or behaving badly. Drop off co-worker. Search for parking. Realize that you had an acupuncture appointment at 3:30 and it is now 3:35. Call acupuncture therapist and apologize profusely while noting to self that you just wasted $80. Drive home. Find parking far the fuck away. Return overdue library books. Discover you've forgotten one of the library books at home and now need to return again tomorrow to return the last overdue library book. Run to yoga in desperate hopes that it will save you from imploding. Pay lots of attention to yuor breathing and feel slightly pleased that your stomach is less obtrusive than the last time you managed to take a yoga class. Sigh though because you are still fat and you have disgusting vericose veins and look like you are 35 which you are (nearly).
Return home. Husband informs you that an insurance claim that you'd both believed to be settled is not settled and he owes 700 bucks. The de-stress of yoga now gone, allow shoulders to return to neck. tell him you will pay because you feel guilty about how broke he always says he is and you got him into the damn test anyway and you just want the fucking thing over with and don't want to talk about it or deal with it anymore.
Send email to friends confirning dinner arrangements that you made between bites of smelly crabcakes at lunch earlier. Read emails from various co-workers about nothing. return phone call to long lost friend. Make a quick dinner of leftovers and feed husband and self. Type blog. Ignore five chapters of reading that you've assigned to your AP class for 8 am but have not read yourself. Ignore grades that have not been entered in grade book. Ignore the fact that it's 9 pm and you don't know what you will be wearing tomorrow, you have no lunch prepared, and your gym clothes are dirty and need to be ready to pack before you leave as you won't have time to come home before your running class. Do your homework for your Wednesday night class while thinking that maybe you are overscheduled. Worry that you haven't made all the calls to parents taht you need to. Worry that another day will go by without having finished G.'s test. Feel sad that you are not able to enjoy yourself the way you did when you were not working.
Prepare to go to bed, sleep for a few hours, and start all over again. Try not to cry.

oh yeah. I shouldn't know this but since I do... it is impossible to punish bad teachers. Even teachers who have done terrible thigns such as dismantling computer labs because they felt like switching rooms. Even when said lab had been set up over the summer at hundreds of dollars in per session time. The boss can barely place a complaint letter in the file. Even if he can, the letter cannot be used against him or read for that matter by any one with enough clout to give flying fuck. It is a pathetic system. Yet, I would not work there without it because the administraters will stop at nothing if there is nothing stopping them.

The give and take makes for some interesting theater. Take M, whose professional period (200 minutes of non-teaching slave labor that we are required to do because we are professionals? I've never understood the rationale for this job outside of our job and I never will). She has managed to pull of the job of "fun coordinator"---creating weekend outings and beer bashes on the clock. What media would NOT want to run away with that shit? It's too good to be real. But it's real.

Meanwhile, I cannot be paid for attending the weekly "cabinet" meetings. Navel-gazing fests where the self-rightous bump heads in a "me, me me" race to the finish line. Oh, when the stakes are low, how subterranean we do become. I tried every manipulation conceivable last year to avoid those meething and I was fairly successful--attending only two. This year, unfortunately, my luck runneth dry. I plan to take copious notes for this blog as my saving grace. Beats cafeteria duty or deaning. Beats coordinating the parent newsletter that won't be read. Or pushing-in to a classroom where I'm not wanted.

There have already been several fights in the cafeteria. For the usual reasons. Someone's cousin said something nasty to someone else --something about his pregnant girlfriend and each had to protect his pride by duking it out. Both were suspended. The girl, once an honor roll student, is due shortly and will now, most likely not finish high school despite being a mere two semesters away. Sigh.

As my students this year are tenth graders, I must remind myself that they think paper balls are funny. They find them endlessly entertaining as they are tossed from corner to corner making my efforts at cleanliness futile. It was downright hilarious to them when I'd forgotten to turn off my cell phone and it rang as we were conjugating verbs in the present tense. Yes, tenth grade. They find sexual innendos in places I'd not even venture to look. They think it's unreasonable when I ask them to read 15 pages a night for homework. They complain in tones that illicit faulty starters.

Several boys have already begun to cut my class. One particularly wounded young lady brought in an older sister who is now claiming guardian status to discuss said child's anger problem. The older sister had flame-dye red hair and could have been mistaken as the troubled-ones twin. I felt only slightly ashamed that the entire conference struck me as a waste of time.

To practice notetaking while moving them forward on the research project, I've pulled out all stops. We're watching a really wild animals video narrated by Dudley Moore as an animated planet with the moniker spin. The video is filled to the brim with cheesy music songs (which I enjoy singing outloud as a means of mortifying the students more) and bad jokes. A quiz follows to test their notetaking abilities. They are poor. I will have fun this year.

My boss took me into the book basement belly and let me have at it for my advanced placement class. While doing so, he waxed poetic about his various Yale experiences and memorized passages of great Hispanic writers. His arrogance in full tact, I remembered why I liked to keep out interactions virtual and curt. It's not that he isn't a good guy. He is. At times, even masterful but those are his public moments when as an astute politician he knows the merit of humility. Off stage he is all bravado and brimming. This somehow disappoints me.

My AP students turned in their first five page papers. I can't bring myself to read them and it's Sunday night. I know how horrible they will be and I'm tired of digging deep to find my sense of patience, good will, and empathy. I'm teeming with dismissive incredulity. Intolerance.

The Mickey Mouse Club went out Friday night for drinks. These are the members of the inner circle of first year teachers so deeply loved by the boss that it's destructive for the rest of us and surely for the school itself. Various other members are aloud at brief intervals to enter the Mickey Mouse Club but not without serious sacrifice. I am outraged. Particularly because the female members reduce me to a snivelling high school snot rag not making it to the step team. This is made even more outrageous when in fact, I do opt in to one of their activities and find myself bored snotless. All the aforementioned references to bodily fluid must say something. They listen to cooler music, they wear cooler clothes, they went to more impressive unversities, or so it appears to me that this is the message I am to absorb when around them. Instead, I feel a mild nausea and a desire to eat pancakes.

A guidance counselor sent a pleading email for a trashcan. It appears that someone decided to steal hers. Does it get lower than that?

The students have already taken to removing their uniforms in the hallway. The battle is lost and won. No just lost. The hurly burly will bever be done. In class, they jack the shirts halfway over their torsos insisting that they are in compliance as they are still "wearing them". It's an exhausting battle signifying nothing. Our Dean calls this look the flashdance look. Although I've seen students in his advisory in their street clothes. He confuses me. He is sensitive and doesn't take criticism well yet I suspect he dishes it out with aplomb.

The highlight of the week was meeting the new librarian for all of the small schools who appears to have a functioning cortex. This makes her somewhat of an anomaly in the history of Bushwick librarians. She even set aside books for my students visit next week. I'm giddy. Oh yeah, and the tech guy, Brad, set up the printer in the teacher's lounge. May he be blessed and fruitful.

Many have noted a change in attitude from our Assistant Principal. Several speculate this change is a reaction to the fact that our boss seems to be pruning a fellow co-teacher to become the next AP of our school. Jealousy? Will a cat fight ensue? All I know is that apparently there have been several unhappy exchanges and the woman does look exhausted. Hell, I'll be happy for her when she runs her own school as ours will surely make her looney. I like her. The girl-in-training is sleeping with my least favorite staff member. He is an ego on wheels. He passed students last year who never showed their faces in his classroom. The administration was of course, delighted. He coordinates the internship program and is the butt of numerous jokes. This is because he walks down the hallway with a cell phone attached to his mouth as though he worked in the White House. It's that serious. He appears to have been born with a silver spoon up his ass and hasn't done a lick of work since. He is rude to other staff members and wouldn't know how to apologize if someone were to carve the letters into his forehead. I avoid him at all costs if for no other reason than his b.o. is that of pearl onions mixed with patchouli. He should be the spokesman for Berkenstock. I'm looking for the good in him. I am. He runs a biodiesel club where the kids create corn fuel, I guess that's something. More odors. He used my refridgerator last year and was outraged that I didn't want him interrupting my room to remove his tofu pops. Although I'll admit that I don't mind when anyone else comes in.

I went running on Saturday and logged 13 or so miles. I call it the "sweat out" Bushwick model and it does seem to work remarkably well. Saturday evening I went for a cheap massage and Andrew and I had dinner at Sette in Park Slope. We agree that the lighting is the best part about the place and that there is an abundance of salt, but that somehow it feels worthwhile.

I need to buy a sponge to wash my board with but I can't be bothered.

I put stickers on good homeworks and one boy howled with joy upon receiving his homework. He followed by dancing around the room singing "I feel good." It was adorable.

A student who transferred to another state called me over the weekend and that scared me. She is a psycho and I found it challenging to feign enthusiasm. I made a poor excuse and hung up. I could hear the disgust in her tone as she said goodbye. I fear she will be back soon enough. She made my life hell last year.

Although it will be an easy week, I have my typical Sunday night dreads. They don't seem to diminish no matter what I do. I simply prefer not working to working in Bushwick. I cannot tell a lie.

The first weekend is upon us

But before that we had a fight in the cafeteria--one of our best students sent another boy to the hospital. I asked 15 boys to put on their uniforms before leaving the floor or upon re-entering the floor and longed for a tape recorder. This reminded me of multiple occasions where a tape recorder would come in handy as a teacher. I do spend a remarkable amount of time repeating myself.

My classes are over-crowded. Thus placing the whole "small-school" panacea in doubt. My room is so packed in fact, I fear allowing the students much movement because even the most self-controlled beings would be prone to a brawl in quarters such as mine. It's time to don a rubber-tipped pointer and go back to the chalk and talk method in that room. It's the only choice I can imagine.

My third period class will prove the most challenging. There's self-hating "edny" who cannot help but tick everyone off around him and is terribly lucky not to have a broken jaw. There's raw-mouthed Michelle whose vocabulary consists entirely of explitives and who I believe is 17.

Feeling the twinge of desperation, I fled as soon as the afternoon permitted, and on the train encountered my only white student. He is also seventeen, and of an entirely different economic status than the rest of my students. A total anomaly. A charming, drug-addicted by with unfortunate parents. We know each other a bit from last year but this is the first year he has been in my class. His reading level is remarkable and I feel obligated to push him out of my room. He even shares some cultural awareness of things beyond Jordans and Bling. He doesn't belong at our school and yet, he professed to like it, enough even to return after a fairly tumultuous freshman year. I hope he will stave off the high enough at least, to last a few months in good standing.

That was Friday and now I'm off to enjoy my wedding anniversary and some fine wine.

Day two was nothing but an enormous waste of time. We sat in a packed auditorium to endure endless introductions and self-congratulatory remarks by the various principals of the four "small" high schools that are now the Bushwick "campus". We weren't let into our rooms to begin setting them up until about 2:00. Infuriating.

Day Three brought the children. Quiet at first, unsure of what they would receive or what school would be like. It's one of my favorite days because I put on an invisible mask and carry a pretend broom. I become the wicked witch of the west. I make sure they leave the class trembling.They did. The faces this year, look much like the faces last year, only younger.

Day Four included the library incident as follows; I went to the library to reserve it for my students to do their research paper. However, upon arrival, I learned that the librarian from last year was no longer with us. Instead, there sat an old man, of an age in which he likely remembered colored water fountains, who mumbled something about being a temporary librarian but that all he could do was sit there. So, I went to the Principal who at said self-congratulatory meeting annouced that he was the facilities manager for the building. Except that apparently the library is not included in said facilities, oh no, for that I needed to go to the 3rd floor, find that floor's principal's secretary and fill out a reserve request. They needed two weeks notice even though the students had only arrived yesterday. Oh yeah and the form needed a prinicpal's signature. Sigh.

Day Five was uneventful except that it brought on the first two "hallway talks" with two children who will prove to test my patience to my last, weakened, raw nerve. That and already I feel underslept and uninspired.

Day 1 Back to Bushwick

Rick was asked to set up two computer labs over the summer and busted his ass to do so. Today, oneof his spanking new and functional labs was completely disassembled because they have to schedule 30 kids in the room and they can't fit in the computer lab. Waste of money, time, resources and such a classic example of how overcrowded we are.

Marvin didn't even bother to show up for his contractual days. What chutzpah.

Everyone had to go around and say why they chose to work at our particular school and D said he loved receiving verbal abuse.

They've decided to deal with the should-be seniors who have next to no credits by creating a separate advisory for them which has been dubbed "advisory of the future".

The buzz words for the year will be collaborative teaching and M is clearly steering that train--many teachers are freaked already.

And the best of all.... "instead of spreading out your contractual professional development time over several weeks, we've decided it would be more productive to do it in one day" massive head nodding from staff. "So, we've decided to do it on Martin Luther King Day." A National Holiday. An austere silence falls over the room--it is palpable until finally someone says "do we get to vote on that?" Talk about chutspah! That's one for history. I'd love to see what the UFT would do with them apples.

There are four teachers working in room 407

Moira has 5 periods in a row

Darryl Egad came and talked to me for 20 minutes, yea, I do love my students.
Tiffany Vanderpool called me on my cell phone.
Wilfredo and Jimmy are still Wilfredo and Jimmy.

Our staff is huge. Nate was bellowing.

My TA is a mouse.