So this acquaintance says to me, “How difficult can it actually be? I mean, you’ve been teaching for fifteen years now and always the same subject – at this point you can probably ‘call it in’ huh? I mean what’s the worst that can happen - occasionally you have to come up with a new seating chart?”
I bite my tongue and count to 25. Twice. And I think to myself, “You know, that’s funny because I did have to unexpectedly create a new seating chart today. First period. Because Perry showed up for the first time in two months. Apparently he just got released from juvenile hall. And part of the judge’s ruling was that he was not allowed to associate with Harris for three years. And Harris (who was only released a week ago himself) is also in my first period class. Eventually their schedules will be adjusted to keep them apart but right now Perry wants to kick Harris’ ass because Harris was the one who ratted him out. “He ratted me out Mr. Howell. If he would of kept his mouth shut I might not of gone to juvie. ‘Snitches get stitches’ Mr. Howell.”
“Seriously? Seriously? You’re gonna use a street rhyme as a moral guideline on how to live your life? How about this one – ‘If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime’? Maybe, instead of blaming Harris you shouldn’t have been shooting the pellet gun at what wasn’t an abandoned building after all. Maybe you shouldn’t have broken that window. Maybe, you shouldn’t have taken the pot shot at the store owner who came running out yelling at you? Hmmm? Maybe it isn’t Harris you should be mad at. Maybe it’s the kid in the mirror Perry.”
Speaking of seating charts, how about fourth period where I’ve got 20 resource students, each with Individualized Education Plans detailing their individual learning disabilities and how I am supposed to accommodate and differentiate for each one of them, and with those 20 are another 20 who do not have IEP’s but probably should have because they have always struggled in English and I’ve got to take those 40 students (and the 37 desks in my classroom so thank god at least two or three are absent each day but still, a continually new seating chart) and convince them that not only can they understand 400 year old Shakespearean English (when they are barely able to use the modern vernacular to communicate their needs) but also that it has value and practical applications to their lives. Which I could probably do, except that at least once a period and sometimes as often as three or four times, the phone will ring because some counselor or vice principal or school psych or parole officer or heck sometimes even just the attendance office needs to see or talk or check on little Johhny and I know these things are important and will only take two minutes, but your two minute interruption takes me another three minutes to get the class back on track (because at least half those learning accommodations are for ADHD) and two plus three is five, times four is 20 minutes and between calling roll for 3 minutes and waiting for the students to find their book and then turn to page 457 for 7 minutes and the last five minutes where the kids aren’t paying attention because they are busy packing up, well now the class only has 15 minutes of instruction time for me to convince them that yes, they do actually understand Macbeth and the global themes of greed and guilt and why ‘weird sisters’ should not be trusted.
And then lunch at last! 30 glorious, wonderful, stress-less, duty free minutes where I can shut my door and not have to deal with – oh dear why is Angel sitting outside my class and not with her friends? And why does she look like she’s about to cry? Well, because she’s on the phone and she is about to cry. And then she’s off the phone. And trying to hold back the tears, but they’re obviously coming sooner or later so, “What’s the matter Angel? Boyfriend?”
“No, my mom.” And then she can’t hold back and the tears gush and is my first thought to give her a hug and let her cry on my shoulder? Nope – my first thought is, ‘dear god, more than anything, this girl needs a friend or father figure in whose shoulder she can hide her face so that she doesn’t have to be quite so embarrassed about bawling in public but are my windows open and is the door open and if anyone sees her crying on my shoulder will it look inappropriate and thank you so much you dumb asinine 41 year old teacher from Modesto for leaving your wife and kids for an 18 year old former students because now everyone assumes all male teachers are perverts and screw you I’m not. I am going to give her the hug she needs.’ And so I do. And eventually she tells me how her mom was berating her for being a poor excuse for a daughter and selfish and worthless. “Why?” “Because I just joined the worship team and now she thinks I spend too much time at church and not enough time with my family.”
And God help me I almost can’t help but laugh. “So let me get this straight – You have pretty good grades, you have a respectable and respectful boyfriend, you have never used drugs or alcohol or been suspended or in a fight so the one thing your mom can find to complain about is that the daughter she named ‘Angel’ spends too much time at church? Seriously?”
And now we’re on to 7th period, or rather, the five minute passing period just before class starts and Brianna approaches and with the most serious, sad face I’ve ever seen her wear and asks, “Mr. Howell, I know I failed first semester and I know we are already five weeks into the second semester, but is there any way I can pass this class?” And what I want to say is “No, sweetie. 5 monkeys typing for a week have a better chance of randomly reproducing all the works of Matt Groening than you do of passing my class,” but she wouldn’t understand the reference, and I’d feel mean and petty so instead what I say is,
“I’ll tell you what – the reason you failed first semester was because you were absent, on average, 3 out of every 5 days. And the reason you are failing so far this semester is because out of the first 20 days you have been absent 7, suspended 5 and tardy 4. But if you can consistently show up on time and prepared and ready to learn for the rest of the semester, then I will consider passing you based upon your Spicolian efforts.”
“Thank you Mr. Howell. I don’t know who Spicoli is, but I appreciate the chance you are giving me.” And then the bell rings and I’ve got to get class started and I turn to my computer to call roll and I call the first four students, “Here, here, present, here” and then I get to Brianna. And she’s not here. “What?!? Wasn’t she just here?” “Yeah, Mr. Howell, but after she got done talking to you, I saw her leave…” “Seriously? She asks what she can do to pass and I tell her just show up and pay attention and she thanks me by then cutting my class? Seriously?” I couldn’t make that up as a joke if I tried.
But my day isn’t over. Now it’s Credit Recovery Afterschool Program (love that acronym!) because we can’t afford to run summer school, but we can’t just let the kids fail, so if they sign a contract stating they will attend 60 hours after school (two days a week for 2.5 hours each day) and do the packets we provide, we will give them 5 units of make up credit even though a normal school semester is 90 hours but the caveat is they absolutely cannot be absent or tardy more than three times for any reason whatsoever no excuses none zip zilch nada!!! And here comes Juan. 10 minutes late. For the third time. So it’s only the third time, he shouldn’t be kicked out yet, but we’re only into the fourth week of credit recovery – there are still eight weeks to go. “Hey Mr. Howell, sorry I’m late, but I had to go get food because I there is no way I could stay awake and focus until 5:30 without a little something, and I heard you like ‘al pastor tacos’ so I brought you one.”
Crap. “Thanks Juan. These look good, where are they from?”
“My uncle works at the store up the street and I help out…”
And I wonder if I should take it, ‘cause if I take it, it’s kinda like a little bribe to not mark him late even though I didn’t ask for a taco but really it was only 10 minutes and the kid is right it is almost impossible to sit in the classroom until 5:30 after you have already been here since 8 am and really isn’t that a life lesson too – if you are going to make a mistake, be prepared to make up for it in advance? It’s easier to get forgiveness than it is to get permission? A way to a man’s heart is through his belly? Especially with tacos ‘al pastor’? Anyone?
And then a half hour later Sherry - who has already been absent twice and tardy twice - walks in. “Hi Sherry. We started 45 minutes ago.”
“Sorry Mr. Howell. I had a doctor’s appointment.”
“All right, but Credit Recovery doesn’t care why you weren’t here, only that you were absent and since you haven’t been here on time often enough, (and since you didn’t bring me tacos says my guilty conscious) why don’t you go check in with Ms. Jones to see what we can do?” And as I’m writing her the pass, I see an email pop up on my screen from Sherry’s counselor –
“Hi! I just had a long conversation with Sherry about her grades. She is nervous about not passing your class and doesn’t understand the big project and wants to know what she can do?” And I think to myself, “I didn’t know our counselors had their medical degrees…”
“Well, she could start by not lying…” Which is how I begin the reply to her counselor, followed by, “And when she does show up to class, she would probably understand the project better if she would put her phone away and stop texting while I am going over the hand out which explains in detail the project they will be working on for the next two weeks. In class. With materials I will provide. Free of cost. Regarding the book we read. Out loud. In class. Together. During which I paused every other line to explain. Twice. “
On my way home, the wife calls and asks if I can stop at the store and pick up a few things for dinner and in the store I run into an acquaintance and we get to chatting and he asks, “How difficult can it actually be? I mean, you’ve been teaching for fifteen years now and always the same subject – at this point you can probably ‘call it in’ huh? I mean what’s the worst that can happen - occasionally you have to come up with a new seating chart?”
I bite my tongue, and think about the past 10 hours, and these 5 stories (plus three more I didn’t tell) and really, there is nothing that stands out as abnormal. Just another day at school. So I respond, “Yeah pretty easy – in fact I had to make up a new seating chart today…”
