I knew very little about special education, and was instantly terrified by the legal responsibility, but also by the knowledge that these students were the most dependent on my abilities, the most specialized in skill sets required to deal with them. All I had to offer them was a worthless seminar that lasted 6 weeks, total of 12 hours, at MSU and teaching in New Orleans. That time was much more instructional, I had two classes of twelve students, each of whom had to take a high stakes test to determine whether or not they could advance from 8th grade to high school. I had a total of 4 students who probably were not special ed, but were in a return from juvenile correction program that made them very difficult to deal with. One of my favorite but most challenging students was named Marcellus, he was very big for an 8th grader and was one of the best junior boxing prospects in the nation. He also was missing a large chunk of his forearm where a police dog had bitten him.
I never found out how many of my students passed the test, and I do not know how to predict their outcomes. They did everything I asked them to do on the whole, I only had two students who were severely disabled (one who could literally not write). But while that experience opened up much to me, it did not make me a master of special ed.
And here I was going to IEP meetings and fulfilling services that I did not understand.
But I do believe in the 14th amendment, that all people have the right to equal protection, and education is inseparable from protection. Especially on Garfield and State.
I share a small office with three women. One is the case manager and 10 year veteran. One has been doing the job for three years in San Diego area, and who is going through their first year in Chicago. The other is a first year teacher.
They were very welcoming and I was very grateful. They refereed to me as their man. The first days I did nothing but sit in their office, read IEPs and occasionally walk around the halls meeting people, who turned out to be the worst students skipping. This served me in some good stead later on.
IEPs are the most inconsistent documents imaginable. Some where very good, others had goals written like "he will use grammar and speak good English". It was also strange reading IEPs about students I had not yet met, had no impression at all of. Read social work notes and learned about terrible things, things that I never would have suspected based on how the kids acted. Read medical notes, prescriptions, incident reports, a narrative that was erratic and legally binding.
My responsibilities were mainly to be an inclusion teacher, to be present in certain classrooms (2 English, 3 Lit, 1 Biology, 1 Physics, 2 Economics) and to help or co-teach. During fourth period I would teach a corrective reading program to teach three high school students how to read for the first time. This responsibility scared me more than anything else. I had no idea how to teach a person to read. I was very lucky in dealing with most of the teachers whose classrooms I shared. They were very welcoming, and seemed to be ok with the fact that I had very little idea of what I was doing.
Rules of Teaching Part 2
21. One thing/event/action probably has many meanings.
22. Be more, do more, expect more.
Acknowledge criticism, but don't focus on it. Recognize it without beleiving or becoming it.
23. Offering to help may have a greater value than actually helping.
24. Don't be afraid to take the time to figure out what is actually going on. For something important you always have time, even if the whole class is staring at you waiting.
25. Acknowledge the need of students to disenegage in a manner that doesn't prevent them from completing an assignmenmt.
26. Sometimes you just have to call someone out.
27. Don't overreact.
28. Don't joke much with students you do not know well.
29. Do not overuse please; this makes things optional.
30. Do not judge a student and their emotions bu the natural expression of their face.
22. Be more, do more, expect more.
Acknowledge criticism, but don't focus on it. Recognize it without beleiving or becoming it.
23. Offering to help may have a greater value than actually helping.
24. Don't be afraid to take the time to figure out what is actually going on. For something important you always have time, even if the whole class is staring at you waiting.
25. Acknowledge the need of students to disenegage in a manner that doesn't prevent them from completing an assignmenmt.
26. Sometimes you just have to call someone out.
27. Don't overreact.
28. Don't joke much with students you do not know well.
29. Do not overuse please; this makes things optional.
30. Do not judge a student and their emotions bu the natural expression of their face.
ACE TECH
ACE stands for Architecture, Construction and Engineering. The school is a public charter, which means that it is a part of CPS and is funded through CPS, but is not a part of the union, and is operated independently. The board of directors are members of Chicago trade unions, construction companies or architectural firms.
The goals of the school are 1. to increase minority membership in Chicago unions 2.to provide high quality education to try to compete with the chinese. Something like that. But these are seriously students in need of opportunity.
The school has around 400 students. It is roughly 60% African American 35% Hispanic (majority Mexican) and 5% Bridgeport Irish.
Approximately 95% of the students receive free lunch. Approx. 20& come from high rise public housing (Ickes).
The students come from a wide range of neighborhoods, and over 20 different elementary schools. The majority of Mexican students come from Gage Park, then Back of the Yards, and the rest from Pilsen. Most African American students come from the State St Corridor, Martin Luther King and the Wells homes, or Englewood. The white students all come from Bridgeport or Canaryville.
The school has only been around for 3 years, and subsequently only has 9-11 grades. Next year will be the first year that the school is at full capacity and graduates seniors.
The goals of the school are 1. to increase minority membership in Chicago unions 2.to provide high quality education to try to compete with the chinese. Something like that. But these are seriously students in need of opportunity.
The school has around 400 students. It is roughly 60% African American 35% Hispanic (majority Mexican) and 5% Bridgeport Irish.
Approximately 95% of the students receive free lunch. Approx. 20& come from high rise public housing (Ickes).
The students come from a wide range of neighborhoods, and over 20 different elementary schools. The majority of Mexican students come from Gage Park, then Back of the Yards, and the rest from Pilsen. Most African American students come from the State St Corridor, Martin Luther King and the Wells homes, or Englewood. The white students all come from Bridgeport or Canaryville.
The school has only been around for 3 years, and subsequently only has 9-11 grades. Next year will be the first year that the school is at full capacity and graduates seniors.
Fall On Your Knees
My roommate had a terrible scare in October: his father had to get triple bypass surgery. He asked if I could sub for him, since it wasn't known how many days that he would be gone.
I hadn't taught for a while, and I felt hesitant, sulking. But I went into school with his keys early, around 6am even. He works at ACE TECH, a charter high school on the southside (Garfield and State), I knew that the school was having a very difficult time because a student had collapsed suddenly in basketball practice and died. On the same day a student had been thrown out of a moving CTA bus window by students from rival school.
I started trying to come up with a lesson plan. I knew that I had to teach Hinduism. Sitting in a cold classroom that was not mine, no one else in the building.
I ended up putting the terms of a sheet, then of flash cards. I decided to break them up into groups and have them do Charades. I kept checking to make sure that I had the attendance days right, ACE TECH is very confusing because the students have A days and B days and completely different classes each day.
The students and teachers started to come in. Everyone was nice. The students were naturally riled since they had a sub, only a couple did the "substitute spin move", where they see me, run away, and then come a half hour later and explain how they were somewhere else and hope that you don't mention it, the odds generally being in their favor.
I was taking attendence when I heard screaming. The kids looked at the door. I asked very nicely "Would you excuse me for a moment, please remain in your seats" and walked to the door.
A girlfight was going on next door, two teachers had each girl but they were still dragging forward and finally the fight was on again. I stepped in between and took a light slap across the face, and then a heavier one. Being at a new school I didn't know if you were allowed to hit back like at CVS, but I must admit that the idea flashed in my head. We got them separated. There was thankfully very little blood but a ton of hair on the ground. Girls can be so unspeakably vicious in their violence.
I returned to my classroom and said "Sorry about that". These students were still in the classroom, although they had been watching. I wasn't really mad, just happy they hadn't left the school. Before they asked questions I introduced myself and explained that their teacher, my roommate's father was very ill and that he would not be here for sometime. I had big pieces of paper for them to sign, which they did and were very nice about.
The activity went really well, and the charades were great. Some really creative ones for reincatnation, karma, a brilliant one for atman brahman. The kids seemed to dig this. Meanwhile I was pulling all sorts of rabbits out of my hat to make sure that they did what I asked, because as a sub once you lose the kids you have no credible relationships or consequences, you are screwed.
For the last class on the second day I had to rap for them, which went well (GLC's flow in Spaceship). At the end of that day the principal asked me if I had any problems, and I said that everything was going great. He said that he had been eavesdropping on me and really liked what I was doing.
My roommate's dad had a successful bypass. After that I would come in and sub for three other teachers.
Until one day the principal asked me to come in and talk to him.
I arrived wearing my UPS uniform so everyone thought I was there for a package. The students who recognized me were very confused that I was wearing a different uniform. The principal had a good laugh when he saw me. He said that I had made a good impression on everyone, that everyone was asking me to sub for them, and he was very happy that I hadn't run out on him when I helped break up the fight, which he heard I was a part of later. He said that the special ed department needed help, and even though i wasn't certified, asked me if I wanted the job.
The thought of teaching again burned in me the whole time I was running around Humboldt park with package under the arm.
I took a long walk that night in the falling snow. The dark bleak Chicago with its white and orange lights, dark crosses of churches high in the sky, snow flakes falling.
I am not a Christian. But it was the first week of December, and as I walked by the half frozen Lake Michigan and shivered, staring into an unbroken darkness, I felt redeemed.
I have always liked serious Christmas carols and hated happy ones. O Holy Night is my favorite, so soothing at first, until the line "fall on your knees" something about the chords and the voice always makes me shudder.
I hadn't taught for a while, and I felt hesitant, sulking. But I went into school with his keys early, around 6am even. He works at ACE TECH, a charter high school on the southside (Garfield and State), I knew that the school was having a very difficult time because a student had collapsed suddenly in basketball practice and died. On the same day a student had been thrown out of a moving CTA bus window by students from rival school.
I started trying to come up with a lesson plan. I knew that I had to teach Hinduism. Sitting in a cold classroom that was not mine, no one else in the building.
I ended up putting the terms of a sheet, then of flash cards. I decided to break them up into groups and have them do Charades. I kept checking to make sure that I had the attendance days right, ACE TECH is very confusing because the students have A days and B days and completely different classes each day.
The students and teachers started to come in. Everyone was nice. The students were naturally riled since they had a sub, only a couple did the "substitute spin move", where they see me, run away, and then come a half hour later and explain how they were somewhere else and hope that you don't mention it, the odds generally being in their favor.
I was taking attendence when I heard screaming. The kids looked at the door. I asked very nicely "Would you excuse me for a moment, please remain in your seats" and walked to the door.
A girlfight was going on next door, two teachers had each girl but they were still dragging forward and finally the fight was on again. I stepped in between and took a light slap across the face, and then a heavier one. Being at a new school I didn't know if you were allowed to hit back like at CVS, but I must admit that the idea flashed in my head. We got them separated. There was thankfully very little blood but a ton of hair on the ground. Girls can be so unspeakably vicious in their violence.
I returned to my classroom and said "Sorry about that". These students were still in the classroom, although they had been watching. I wasn't really mad, just happy they hadn't left the school. Before they asked questions I introduced myself and explained that their teacher, my roommate's father was very ill and that he would not be here for sometime. I had big pieces of paper for them to sign, which they did and were very nice about.
The activity went really well, and the charades were great. Some really creative ones for reincatnation, karma, a brilliant one for atman brahman. The kids seemed to dig this. Meanwhile I was pulling all sorts of rabbits out of my hat to make sure that they did what I asked, because as a sub once you lose the kids you have no credible relationships or consequences, you are screwed.
For the last class on the second day I had to rap for them, which went well (GLC's flow in Spaceship). At the end of that day the principal asked me if I had any problems, and I said that everything was going great. He said that he had been eavesdropping on me and really liked what I was doing.
My roommate's dad had a successful bypass. After that I would come in and sub for three other teachers.
Until one day the principal asked me to come in and talk to him.
I arrived wearing my UPS uniform so everyone thought I was there for a package. The students who recognized me were very confused that I was wearing a different uniform. The principal had a good laugh when he saw me. He said that I had made a good impression on everyone, that everyone was asking me to sub for them, and he was very happy that I hadn't run out on him when I helped break up the fight, which he heard I was a part of later. He said that the special ed department needed help, and even though i wasn't certified, asked me if I wanted the job.
The thought of teaching again burned in me the whole time I was running around Humboldt park with package under the arm.
I took a long walk that night in the falling snow. The dark bleak Chicago with its white and orange lights, dark crosses of churches high in the sky, snow flakes falling.
I am not a Christian. But it was the first week of December, and as I walked by the half frozen Lake Michigan and shivered, staring into an unbroken darkness, I felt redeemed.
I have always liked serious Christmas carols and hated happy ones. O Holy Night is my favorite, so soothing at first, until the line "fall on your knees" something about the chords and the voice always makes me shudder.
UPS
Toward the end of October I started to get desperate. I knew that Christmas hiring was going on, but I wanted a full time job, or at least enough hours to make ends meet. I drove around Chicago just looking for something, anything. Warehouse offices had lines of 20 or 30 guys looking for a job. Finally I filled out an electronic application with UPS and was told to go to their building at Jefferson. I had an appointment for an "interview". I dressed up, which meant that when I was waiting in the office for two hours, the other people there for the job kept thinking I was the person who was going to interview them. There were all sorts of people, a Ukrainian weightlifter, old black men in flannel and work gloves, a group of Mexican men wearing cowboy hats who all shook hands. Myself and another racist white guy who thought I was going to be his best friend and that we would stick together through training since we would be the only white people.
My interview went fine. I did well in college which was a bonus, but more importantly I have had years of experience in picking up heavy things and setting them down in alternative locations.
training was taught by a man who was very good and what he did, but fit the mode of a corporate man, a man who lived only for the company, and for having a beer and talking about how much he loved the company. I picked up on the Diad thing that we had to train with very easily, but it was a very clumsy device and if you made a mistake, very difficult to deal with. Several guys quit midway through the 8 hour training. I felt bad for them, most were industrial workers who had lost good jobs and were frustrated trying to make do.
I was put on a truck in my own neighborhood and further over in Humboldt Park. Learned how to hit the ground running up to the houses. Humboldt Park is the largest Puerto Rican neighborhood in Chicago, it is very nice but has a terrible poverty rate, and isolated streets that are very dangerous. The area of Chicago Ave I live in is dominated by Poles and Ukrainians.It is interesting to suddenly have access to so many people, so many businesses and apartments, to see how people live, to see children answer the door in a place that smells like beer and urine. And to see the most beautiful smiles and smell the best cooking and to be able to say merry christmas and be automatically welcomed.
It was a little bit dangerous sliding around in the snow, and frequently the kings would follow us in case we left a package that they could pick up.
One of the most interesting places was a large building that was a landscaping accessories factory. Watching a hundred people work with heavy machinery, and knowing that the majority of them were illegal. The crew that helped us load the truck were three juvenile Somalians and an older one. They had mean faces, scarred or tattooed. Occasionally they would start singing and laughing in unison without warning. They did not speak English, but we could still joke with each other as we load packages weighing over 200lbs into the truck.
All people, all narratives, all buildings in this city contribute to my greater understanding of America and humanity.
My interview went fine. I did well in college which was a bonus, but more importantly I have had years of experience in picking up heavy things and setting them down in alternative locations.
training was taught by a man who was very good and what he did, but fit the mode of a corporate man, a man who lived only for the company, and for having a beer and talking about how much he loved the company. I picked up on the Diad thing that we had to train with very easily, but it was a very clumsy device and if you made a mistake, very difficult to deal with. Several guys quit midway through the 8 hour training. I felt bad for them, most were industrial workers who had lost good jobs and were frustrated trying to make do.
I was put on a truck in my own neighborhood and further over in Humboldt Park. Learned how to hit the ground running up to the houses. Humboldt Park is the largest Puerto Rican neighborhood in Chicago, it is very nice but has a terrible poverty rate, and isolated streets that are very dangerous. The area of Chicago Ave I live in is dominated by Poles and Ukrainians.It is interesting to suddenly have access to so many people, so many businesses and apartments, to see how people live, to see children answer the door in a place that smells like beer and urine. And to see the most beautiful smiles and smell the best cooking and to be able to say merry christmas and be automatically welcomed.
It was a little bit dangerous sliding around in the snow, and frequently the kings would follow us in case we left a package that they could pick up.
One of the most interesting places was a large building that was a landscaping accessories factory. Watching a hundred people work with heavy machinery, and knowing that the majority of them were illegal. The crew that helped us load the truck were three juvenile Somalians and an older one. They had mean faces, scarred or tattooed. Occasionally they would start singing and laughing in unison without warning. They did not speak English, but we could still joke with each other as we load packages weighing over 200lbs into the truck.
All people, all narratives, all buildings in this city contribute to my greater understanding of America and humanity.
Unemployment
CVS did not pay me, so money was tight. But I did not want to look for another job in case they decided to hire me back. I felt paralyzed. I would stay up late and drink, wake up and take a walk as far as I could go. I live in Ukrainian Village/Humboldt park neighborhood, and I would take long walks up Lake Michigan to Evanston or Wilmette, or North West until I was past Logan Square and Chicago.
I do not recommend heavily drinking and reading Kierkegaard by the way.
Then the tigers lost the world series and I really got drunk. Left the bar long enough to go to a pharmacy and by a thank you card. Wrote it out to our waitress: the original inscription was only to say thank you for being so hot, but I ended up scratching out some page long message it my terrible handwriting, which my students describe as the handwriting of a serial killer. The card ended up on the floor, and I doubt she ever saw it.
Threw up and lay there, the world spinning. Gained weight. Read a novel called The Monk about insanity and crime. Felt like Owen Wilson in his dark moments of wedding crashers.
One good thing was going home and working with my brother on a house for habitat for humanity. It was in the middle of nowhere, open fields and plowed earth as far as the eye could see. So very far away from the city. Working on a simple thing for a person who needed it. Working with a very eclectic group: a retired accounting professor turned contractor, a 75 year old Korea veteran who did all the heavy work and gave me advice, and a transvestite contractor who owned her/his own window business.
I had to borrow 2,000 dollars from my little brother.
The whole time I tried to realize that this was not that bad, and that if I expected my students to be positive about their lives despite their circumstances, than I must do the same. But I felt so low, without feeling tough. There is nothing redemptive about unemployment. It emasculates you in a way that makes it very difficult to talk about, and to a certain extent makes it hard to get out of unemployment because of depression.
I learned that it is hard to be proud. I learned how hard it is for my students to be proud.
I do not recommend heavily drinking and reading Kierkegaard by the way.
Then the tigers lost the world series and I really got drunk. Left the bar long enough to go to a pharmacy and by a thank you card. Wrote it out to our waitress: the original inscription was only to say thank you for being so hot, but I ended up scratching out some page long message it my terrible handwriting, which my students describe as the handwriting of a serial killer. The card ended up on the floor, and I doubt she ever saw it.
Threw up and lay there, the world spinning. Gained weight. Read a novel called The Monk about insanity and crime. Felt like Owen Wilson in his dark moments of wedding crashers.
One good thing was going home and working with my brother on a house for habitat for humanity. It was in the middle of nowhere, open fields and plowed earth as far as the eye could see. So very far away from the city. Working on a simple thing for a person who needed it. Working with a very eclectic group: a retired accounting professor turned contractor, a 75 year old Korea veteran who did all the heavy work and gave me advice, and a transvestite contractor who owned her/his own window business.
I had to borrow 2,000 dollars from my little brother.
The whole time I tried to realize that this was not that bad, and that if I expected my students to be positive about their lives despite their circumstances, than I must do the same. But I felt so low, without feeling tough. There is nothing redemptive about unemployment. It emasculates you in a way that makes it very difficult to talk about, and to a certain extent makes it hard to get out of unemployment because of depression.
I learned that it is hard to be proud. I learned how hard it is for my students to be proud.
Kierkegaard
If there were no eternal consciousness in a man
If at the bottom of everything there were only a wild ferment
A power that twisitng in dark passions produced everything
great or inconsequential
If an unfathomable, insatiable, emptiness lay hid beneath everything
What would life be but despair?
If at the bottom of everything there were only a wild ferment
A power that twisitng in dark passions produced everything
great or inconsequential
If an unfathomable, insatiable, emptiness lay hid beneath everything
What would life be but despair?
Let Go
My principal at the achievement academy, a very nice and disorganized man, told me that my position number, along with that of the four other new hires, had not been released yet. He also said that we all had to go downtown and get out fingerprints and other paperwork before we could go back to our classes. So instead of going to the classes, we all had to go downtown. A student advocate or security guard watched my class and I had a soft day downtown. This unexpected day off was made a lot more frustrating by the fact that all the office staff said that I could not fill out the paperwork until I had my position number.
On the way back to school I pulled off Lakeshore on 57th and took a walk by the lake. It was a beautiful day. But I had a heavy feeling.
When I got back I was told that my number was not going to be released and I was out of a job.
Every year CPS plays games and blunders with student enrollment. It is not all their fault, Chicago kids move all the time and might go to several schools in one year. Boundaries are about as well defined and logical as the voting districts of Texas. Some schools on the southwest side were so overcrowded that teachers had fifty kids in a class, and kids took two or three gym classes a day just so the school could warehouse them. It is also very difficult to predict school enrollment with an average minority drop out rate of 50%
My classes were full, and had been recombined. The achievement academy class was only supposed to be 15 kids, and all my classes were over 20, one was over 30. Something wasn't right. I was told that hopefully the position number would be released later.
I had to drive home that day to go to my best friends wedding, to be the best man. I had looked forward to it for so long, looking down the long hall of CVS to the light coming in through a window, and the view of the freeway that I knew I would be taking.
And now I was driving back to Michigan, and I could not let go. Thinking about the kids. Thinking that I hadn't had the time, the experience, the mistakes necessary for these kids to remember me.
I couldn't let go. And in the next month of unemployment, I hit a new bottom.
On the way back to school I pulled off Lakeshore on 57th and took a walk by the lake. It was a beautiful day. But I had a heavy feeling.
When I got back I was told that my number was not going to be released and I was out of a job.
Every year CPS plays games and blunders with student enrollment. It is not all their fault, Chicago kids move all the time and might go to several schools in one year. Boundaries are about as well defined and logical as the voting districts of Texas. Some schools on the southwest side were so overcrowded that teachers had fifty kids in a class, and kids took two or three gym classes a day just so the school could warehouse them. It is also very difficult to predict school enrollment with an average minority drop out rate of 50%
My classes were full, and had been recombined. The achievement academy class was only supposed to be 15 kids, and all my classes were over 20, one was over 30. Something wasn't right. I was told that hopefully the position number would be released later.
I had to drive home that day to go to my best friends wedding, to be the best man. I had looked forward to it for so long, looking down the long hall of CVS to the light coming in through a window, and the view of the freeway that I knew I would be taking.
And now I was driving back to Michigan, and I could not let go. Thinking about the kids. Thinking that I hadn't had the time, the experience, the mistakes necessary for these kids to remember me.
I couldn't let go. And in the next month of unemployment, I hit a new bottom.
The Rules of Teaching, Part 1.
Teaching is so complex and my mind so scattered that I need to constantly reinforce certain things. These declarative sentances and quotes are for my use, and although they may help other people, many will find them to be simple and self evident. After all most people know better than to joke about having a parole officer, but then again...
1. Not everything is funny. Do not be afraid to take yourself seriously.
2. I have the right to teach.
3. "Say what you mean and mean what you say, or else they'll have your white ass on the flo." A nice butcher lady on the southside.
4. The majority of my problems and insecurities could be solved by a full commitment to teaching, I still have one foot out the door.
5. Everything matters.
6. Small things must be dealt with immediacy.
7. Although they must be treated like adults, Freshman especially and other high schoolers lack psychological, physical and emotional development, especially evident when using sarcasm, criticism, and mixing groups of students.
8. Every adolscent will have periods of depression lasting two to four weeks.
9 You can be aware, you can respect, but you can never understand.
10. If it is necessary, than you should not apologize. Even if it upsets or worse, is boring.
11. Protect yourself.
12. Relationships take time. You don't trust someone or fix them in a day.
13. You have the right and necessity to inconvenience people.
14. Some people are just wired differently.
15. You have to accept that some students hate humor, and especially my sense of humor.
16. Make a check list of who turns in projects when they come in. That way you can feel confident about decisions when you inevitably lose one.
17 Follow up consistently and promptly on agreed upon expectations.
18. make sure that everything you do, you can do.
19. Copiers suck.
20. Sometimes you need to lie to yourself and to others by believing in what you are doing, even if you don't, being hopeful without having hope.
1. Not everything is funny. Do not be afraid to take yourself seriously.
2. I have the right to teach.
3. "Say what you mean and mean what you say, or else they'll have your white ass on the flo." A nice butcher lady on the southside.
4. The majority of my problems and insecurities could be solved by a full commitment to teaching, I still have one foot out the door.
5. Everything matters.
6. Small things must be dealt with immediacy.
7. Although they must be treated like adults, Freshman especially and other high schoolers lack psychological, physical and emotional development, especially evident when using sarcasm, criticism, and mixing groups of students.
8. Every adolscent will have periods of depression lasting two to four weeks.
9 You can be aware, you can respect, but you can never understand.
10. If it is necessary, than you should not apologize. Even if it upsets or worse, is boring.
11. Protect yourself.
12. Relationships take time. You don't trust someone or fix them in a day.
13. You have the right and necessity to inconvenience people.
14. Some people are just wired differently.
15. You have to accept that some students hate humor, and especially my sense of humor.
16. Make a check list of who turns in projects when they come in. That way you can feel confident about decisions when you inevitably lose one.
17 Follow up consistently and promptly on agreed upon expectations.
18. make sure that everything you do, you can do.
19. Copiers suck.
20. Sometimes you need to lie to yourself and to others by believing in what you are doing, even if you don't, being hopeful without having hope.
I Kings 3:7
And now, O LORD my God, thou hast made thy servant king instead of David my father; and I am but a little child; I know not how to come out or go in. And thy servant is in the midst of thy people which thou hast chosen, a great people, that cannot be numbered nor counted for multitude. Give therefore thy servant an understanding heart to judge thy people, that I may discern between good and bad: for who is able to judge this thy so great a people?
The Facts
African Americans
The minority dropout rate for Chicago Public Schools is fifty percent.
The average life expectancy of a black man in America is 59
A black male is 7 times more likely to be murdered than a white male.
A black female is 23 times more likely to contract AIDS than a white female.
AIDS is the leading cause of death for black women 24-35.
Seventy percent of black children live in a single parent household.
One out of Five black males is in prison or on parole.
Fourty percent of black adults are employed
Ninety percent of blacks in public housing projects are unemployed
One in Three black children live below the poverty line
African American suicide rates have risen 146% since 1980
More teenagers die in the United States of suicide than AIDS, enfluenza, stroke and heart
attack, cancer and pneumonia combined.
Hispanic
Puerto Ricans are the second poorest ethnic group in the United States, behind Native Americans.
The Hispanic population of the United States will double before 2020.
18 out of the nation's 25 largest cities have more Latinos than African Americans.
Tijuana Mexico is North America's second fastest growing city. Fourty percent of the people in TJ do not have running water.
Every year Mexico produces one million more workers than its economy can employ.
The adjusted wages for Mexicans depreciated twenty percent in the 1990s
El Salvador has a murder rate of 140/100,000
Latinos are 28% of the nation's labor force, but account for only 19% of aggregate wages.
Between 1980 and 1995 white household income grew by an average of $4,845, blacks by $4,576. Latino growth was $269.
In 1989 Chicano men made 81% of what white men made. In 1990 Chicano men made 61% of what white men made.
Between 1946-1964 4 out of 10 Puerto Ricans moved to the Eastern United States.
Seventy percent of Puerto Ricans below the age of 25 living in Puerto Rico are living in poverty.
NYC Puerto Rican high school drop out rate is 62%
The City of Chicago
Cook County has more than 11,000 inmates, seventy five percent of whom are black.
The average resident of Chicago Public Housing makes one half the national poverty rate income.
New York City has the nations largest public housing projects, Puerto Rico is 2nd, Chicago is 3rd.
Chicago have over 800,000 Latinos
The minority dropout rate for Chicago Public Schools is fifty percent.
The average life expectancy of a black man in America is 59
A black male is 7 times more likely to be murdered than a white male.
A black female is 23 times more likely to contract AIDS than a white female.
AIDS is the leading cause of death for black women 24-35.
Seventy percent of black children live in a single parent household.
One out of Five black males is in prison or on parole.
Fourty percent of black adults are employed
Ninety percent of blacks in public housing projects are unemployed
One in Three black children live below the poverty line
African American suicide rates have risen 146% since 1980
More teenagers die in the United States of suicide than AIDS, enfluenza, stroke and heart
attack, cancer and pneumonia combined.
Hispanic
Puerto Ricans are the second poorest ethnic group in the United States, behind Native Americans.
The Hispanic population of the United States will double before 2020.
18 out of the nation's 25 largest cities have more Latinos than African Americans.
Tijuana Mexico is North America's second fastest growing city. Fourty percent of the people in TJ do not have running water.
Every year Mexico produces one million more workers than its economy can employ.
The adjusted wages for Mexicans depreciated twenty percent in the 1990s
El Salvador has a murder rate of 140/100,000
Latinos are 28% of the nation's labor force, but account for only 19% of aggregate wages.
Between 1980 and 1995 white household income grew by an average of $4,845, blacks by $4,576. Latino growth was $269.
In 1989 Chicano men made 81% of what white men made. In 1990 Chicano men made 61% of what white men made.
Between 1946-1964 4 out of 10 Puerto Ricans moved to the Eastern United States.
Seventy percent of Puerto Ricans below the age of 25 living in Puerto Rico are living in poverty.
NYC Puerto Rican high school drop out rate is 62%
The City of Chicago
Cook County has more than 11,000 inmates, seventy five percent of whom are black.
The average resident of Chicago Public Housing makes one half the national poverty rate income.
New York City has the nations largest public housing projects, Puerto Rico is 2nd, Chicago is 3rd.
Chicago have over 800,000 Latinos
Violence
"You don't know when these things are going to happen and you don't really know why, they just suddenly erupt and it seems spontaneous but it is very premeditated because each of these kids have a street persona and it is the only thing they have in their life, it is the shards of their individuality. They keep this close to themselves and they know an infraction, they sense an infraction immediately and they have trained themselves to react and the reaction can come instantaneously or a month later. And that is the thing that makes it seem spontaneous but it is not but it is very practiced at least in their heads what they are going to do. "
-Ed Burns writer of "The Wire" Baltimore Police Detective for 20 year and teacher for 7 years.
I didn't have a fight in my class until the 2nd week. This was actually an accomplishment. CVS is a very violent school, last year their were over 70 fire alarms, and each one usually resulted in a brawl. The first week of school one student was shot. Another was stabbed in the eye and lost it.
Working construction, and having a cloud of bad luck, i have seen blood. But to see blood taken by violence is different. It lies on the ground thick, deep, and is so much more color than anything else in the city.
The two students were a male and a female. They did not actually get into a fight but squared off with one another. I ended up taking them to Mr Hampton, are gynormous dean of discipline. This was somewhat of a risky move because I had to leave the class, and because I did not want people to think that I could not handle my students.
The think that really angered me was it was an incident without any provocation. She made fun of his rapping skills, he made a retort while I was checking her, and she could not let it go. This need to be the aggressor, and the refusal to acknowledge that their can be mutual aggression. The conflict dichotomy guarantees ascendancy for one and descent, to be the master and to be the bitch. And their is no way out of that logic, there are only the non sequiturs of bringing up the fact that it is not worth it, that it is an act of self limitation.
The students do not see that by retaliating to everything, that they are forfeiting control of their lives to the aggressor. This fact follows a logic independent from the zero sum game, but is more true and permanent. A man is a person who can take care of themselves, but more importantly, is a person who is in control of their own life, of their destiny. Limiting yourself is the same thing as emasculating yourself. And I do think that these students unconsciously feel that threat, the blow, but they do not understand or see it.
I talk about being a man not to be gender exclusive, but just to show the manner in which I relate my understanding of my gender to the situation.
The really nasty fight happened on the third week. A fire alarm was pulled the last hour of the day. Security ran to respond to a big fight. By respond, i mean join the fight. Not a hugging kind of hold but to throw punches and wrench arms until they snapped. I did somehow manage to keep my class together and start taking attendance, when another incident happened. I can't call it a fight. A gang of male students was beating up a pregnant girl because she claimed that the leader of the gang was the father of her child. She lay on the ground. I ran over, security saw me and moved, and a brawl ensued between us all.
-Ed Burns writer of "The Wire" Baltimore Police Detective for 20 year and teacher for 7 years.
I didn't have a fight in my class until the 2nd week. This was actually an accomplishment. CVS is a very violent school, last year their were over 70 fire alarms, and each one usually resulted in a brawl. The first week of school one student was shot. Another was stabbed in the eye and lost it.
Working construction, and having a cloud of bad luck, i have seen blood. But to see blood taken by violence is different. It lies on the ground thick, deep, and is so much more color than anything else in the city.
The two students were a male and a female. They did not actually get into a fight but squared off with one another. I ended up taking them to Mr Hampton, are gynormous dean of discipline. This was somewhat of a risky move because I had to leave the class, and because I did not want people to think that I could not handle my students.
The think that really angered me was it was an incident without any provocation. She made fun of his rapping skills, he made a retort while I was checking her, and she could not let it go. This need to be the aggressor, and the refusal to acknowledge that their can be mutual aggression. The conflict dichotomy guarantees ascendancy for one and descent, to be the master and to be the bitch. And their is no way out of that logic, there are only the non sequiturs of bringing up the fact that it is not worth it, that it is an act of self limitation.
The students do not see that by retaliating to everything, that they are forfeiting control of their lives to the aggressor. This fact follows a logic independent from the zero sum game, but is more true and permanent. A man is a person who can take care of themselves, but more importantly, is a person who is in control of their own life, of their destiny. Limiting yourself is the same thing as emasculating yourself. And I do think that these students unconsciously feel that threat, the blow, but they do not understand or see it.
I talk about being a man not to be gender exclusive, but just to show the manner in which I relate my understanding of my gender to the situation.
The really nasty fight happened on the third week. A fire alarm was pulled the last hour of the day. Security ran to respond to a big fight. By respond, i mean join the fight. Not a hugging kind of hold but to throw punches and wrench arms until they snapped. I did somehow manage to keep my class together and start taking attendance, when another incident happened. I can't call it a fight. A gang of male students was beating up a pregnant girl because she claimed that the leader of the gang was the father of her child. She lay on the ground. I ran over, security saw me and moved, and a brawl ensued between us all.
Students
You already know Makitda and Genvieve.
Johntell- a very tall handsome young man with bad acne and a quiet, deep voice. He was originally from New Orleans and moved to Chicago after his house was destroyed. He was only in the program because CPS said that he had missed too much school, which is what happens when your school is destroyed by a fucking hurricane. I tried to get him into a different program but CPS would have none of it. A stand out basketball player who worked hard in class, hard at the court, and who hung drywall with his father and uncle after all of that.
Jervon- a very small but well built guy with thin braids and violent eyes. He immediately acted up in class and after he decided to do something, he could not be changed. He was also a genius, a black Good Will Hunting. He acted as tough as anyone, but had the clearest, most elegant and effeminate cursive handwriting. I would ask students for a page and he would give me three, albeit with terrible profanity in his pristine handwriting. I lent him my best pen and never got it back, which taught me the valuable distinction between hope and trust. He could be my best friend in the class room, or he could destroy any lesson.
Kwmaine- a tall dark student with a sinister face. he was doomed, dark skinned and with a natural expression on his face that made him look terrifying. But he is a decent enough guy. Did everything I asked him to do but did it as quickly as possible so that he could draw. He was an exceptional cartoonist, but he kept drawing bunnies with guns and cigars. I still want to know what kind of gang uses a rabbit, I know which gang but why a rabbit? Everyday he would ask me if I could get the class a micro-ma-wabe so he could eat lunch with me. And asked for a poster of Beyonce
Three weeks into the program I called home to let them know the Kwmaine was doing everything I asked of him. his grandmother was so happy, because last year his brother had been shot and killed at middle school, and Kwmaine had been arrested for assault twice since then.
I thought he was one of the nicest guys I had met.
Angelica-the first thing you notice about Angelica is the piercings in her brow and lip, which I thought was a pretty stupid thing to do for someone who gets in fights all the time. She only had one volume, and it was not quiet. She spoke inarticulately and in a manner that defined any rule of grammar (standard or AAVE) but she was a brilliant writer. One day she stayed after school and handed me a paper that she had written. It is hard to explain, kind of like a scene or still life in writing, but it was very good. After I said so she told me that she was glad that I was her teacher even though I had yelled at her for telling someone to shut the fuck up cunt. I felt great until she went on to tell my about her father killing herself.
He was a very difficult student. He refuses to admit that he could stop swearing. Said that his mother beat him every time he swore, but he just couldn't help himself. this made him a little bit hard to deal with in class. Also the fact that once when two students started mouthing off at each other, he went around the room organizing the desks in a circle.
He had incredibly green eyes that were not the product of contacts. And his face was horrifically scarred. White and red scar lines running every which was across his face. So after we got to know each other and I had to yell at him for saying, "you are really fucking cool Mr Ryan" I asked him how it had happened. As a kid he had pulled a goldfish bowl down over his head.
I was so relieved that it wasn't due to violence.
There were 80 others.
Johntell- a very tall handsome young man with bad acne and a quiet, deep voice. He was originally from New Orleans and moved to Chicago after his house was destroyed. He was only in the program because CPS said that he had missed too much school, which is what happens when your school is destroyed by a fucking hurricane. I tried to get him into a different program but CPS would have none of it. A stand out basketball player who worked hard in class, hard at the court, and who hung drywall with his father and uncle after all of that.
Jervon- a very small but well built guy with thin braids and violent eyes. He immediately acted up in class and after he decided to do something, he could not be changed. He was also a genius, a black Good Will Hunting. He acted as tough as anyone, but had the clearest, most elegant and effeminate cursive handwriting. I would ask students for a page and he would give me three, albeit with terrible profanity in his pristine handwriting. I lent him my best pen and never got it back, which taught me the valuable distinction between hope and trust. He could be my best friend in the class room, or he could destroy any lesson.
Kwmaine- a tall dark student with a sinister face. he was doomed, dark skinned and with a natural expression on his face that made him look terrifying. But he is a decent enough guy. Did everything I asked him to do but did it as quickly as possible so that he could draw. He was an exceptional cartoonist, but he kept drawing bunnies with guns and cigars. I still want to know what kind of gang uses a rabbit, I know which gang but why a rabbit? Everyday he would ask me if I could get the class a micro-ma-wabe so he could eat lunch with me. And asked for a poster of Beyonce
Three weeks into the program I called home to let them know the Kwmaine was doing everything I asked of him. his grandmother was so happy, because last year his brother had been shot and killed at middle school, and Kwmaine had been arrested for assault twice since then.
I thought he was one of the nicest guys I had met.
Angelica-the first thing you notice about Angelica is the piercings in her brow and lip, which I thought was a pretty stupid thing to do for someone who gets in fights all the time. She only had one volume, and it was not quiet. She spoke inarticulately and in a manner that defined any rule of grammar (standard or AAVE) but she was a brilliant writer. One day she stayed after school and handed me a paper that she had written. It is hard to explain, kind of like a scene or still life in writing, but it was very good. After I said so she told me that she was glad that I was her teacher even though I had yelled at her for telling someone to shut the fuck up cunt. I felt great until she went on to tell my about her father killing herself.
He was a very difficult student. He refuses to admit that he could stop swearing. Said that his mother beat him every time he swore, but he just couldn't help himself. this made him a little bit hard to deal with in class. Also the fact that once when two students started mouthing off at each other, he went around the room organizing the desks in a circle.
He had incredibly green eyes that were not the product of contacts. And his face was horrifically scarred. White and red scar lines running every which was across his face. So after we got to know each other and I had to yell at him for saying, "you are really fucking cool Mr Ryan" I asked him how it had happened. As a kid he had pulled a goldfish bowl down over his head.
I was so relieved that it wasn't due to violence.
There were 80 others.
"I wish I was white"
I realized a long time ago that when it comes to race, you can be aware, you can respect, but you can never understand.
Makitda is probably the darkest skinned student that I have ever had. She is tall, and very pretty with a perfectly mature body and attitude. She looks and acts somewhat motherly, not in a condescending way, but a natural easy manner with people. She wants to be a nurse. Her father lives somewhere around Calumet, and mother lives up North in Cabrini Green.
When a student is extremely upset, it does not matter how they carry it. You can just tell. Like a ghost walking in front of you, you are horrified and not easily distracted away, hard to multi task and laugh and cheer on the others when you see someone who is just bleeding.
She sat their silent, wide eyed, eyes wild and white.
When the students were working on the assignment, I walked over and asked if everything was alright.
She said that her little brother had died.
I stood their silent for a very long time. Moments like this you think that the next thing that you say needs to be important, needs to help, and there is nothing that you know to say.
She told me that she didn't mind talking about it.
So I asked what happened.
He was in a gang. Something happened. He was walking her little sister (the brother 13, sister 6) to somewhere. His gang (Gangster Disciples) came and pulled a gun on them. He was holding his sister's hand. They separated them. The brother got on his knees and begged for his life. They executed him.
The sister has not spoken since then.
Three days later was the first time I saw Makitda cry. And she wouldn't stop. And she looked at me with begging wide white eyes and said "I wish I was white. I pray to God that I was white. Because then I wouldn't feel this way".
First Heartbreak
Genevieve is a rather interesting name for a young lady on the South Side. She is half white, half Hispanic, and one of two Hispanic students I have. She is very pretty although her face has a dirty complexion and some pimples. She is very quiet at first but has a great smile. A smile that briefly takes the stress out of life. Her arms are covered in bruises, and half her nails are broken or chewed off.
When I introduced myself I said that one of my hobbies was to write. She immediately handed me a stack of poems that she had written. They were very good, although all about how much she was in love with her boyfriend. But they flowed and were so sophisticated that her writing would stand out at any level.
She would always arrive early and leave late, checking in before and after school, before and after class. She always volunteered to answer questions. She challenged a girl to a fight because she wasn't listening to me.
I enjoyed her company. And knew that something was clearly wrong.
At first she did not talk to me about serious things. Then she told me that her mother had left her, and her dad was an alcoholic. He only spoke Spanish but insisted that she only speak English, so they never talked. She lived half the time with him, and half the time with her boyfriend.
I asked about the boyfriend but could get no more information.
Until one day she stayed after class and had tears in her eyes. She asked me if I could answer a question, since I was a guy. Her boyfriend had hit her and accused her of cheating on him. He was upset because she took a shower after school, which meant that she was having sex with other men.
Her question was: "Is it ok to take a shower before you see your boyfriend?"
She is 14. Her boyfriend is in his late 20s. We talked for a long time. She agreed with me and said she felt better.
She stopped talking to me after I contacted the social worker. I have not spoken with her again.
When I introduced myself I said that one of my hobbies was to write. She immediately handed me a stack of poems that she had written. They were very good, although all about how much she was in love with her boyfriend. But they flowed and were so sophisticated that her writing would stand out at any level.
She would always arrive early and leave late, checking in before and after school, before and after class. She always volunteered to answer questions. She challenged a girl to a fight because she wasn't listening to me.
I enjoyed her company. And knew that something was clearly wrong.
At first she did not talk to me about serious things. Then she told me that her mother had left her, and her dad was an alcoholic. He only spoke Spanish but insisted that she only speak English, so they never talked. She lived half the time with him, and half the time with her boyfriend.
I asked about the boyfriend but could get no more information.
Until one day she stayed after class and had tears in her eyes. She asked me if I could answer a question, since I was a guy. Her boyfriend had hit her and accused her of cheating on him. He was upset because she took a shower after school, which meant that she was having sex with other men.
Her question was: "Is it ok to take a shower before you see your boyfriend?"
She is 14. Her boyfriend is in his late 20s. We talked for a long time. She agreed with me and said she felt better.
She stopped talking to me after I contacted the social worker. I have not spoken with her again.
Chicago Sun Times
Nineteen students were arrested at Chicago Vocational Career Academy on Friday after a pulled fire alarm allowed a fight that started inside the school to escalate into "a melee" outside the building, authorities said.
The school at 2100 E. 87th St. is not the only Chicago public high school to be troubled this year by fights that happen after a fire alarm is pulled, some teachers cautioned.
In fact, Chicago Vocational was already receiving stepped-up security because of fights and phony fire alarms, said Andres Durbak, the head of security for Chicago Public Schools.
The incident followed a Tuesday morning shooting across the street from Schurz High School that left three students at that school injured. Authorities said the Schurz violence may have been sparked when members of a gang were spotted spraying graffiti on a nearby building.
Friday's incident followed a fight a day earlier, at an unknown "off-site" location, between Chicago Vocational seniors and sophomores, said CPS spokeswoman Celeste Garrett.
On Friday, "the trash talk resumed. Soon a fight broke out in the school, on the second floor," Garrett said. During that scuffle, someone was pepper-sprayed and later treated at a hospital. Police identified the victim as a Chicago Vocational teacher.
After that fight was quelled, Garrett said, someone pulled the fire alarm, causing the evacuation of the school.
At that point, "kids streamed outside, and the fight that started inside the building multiplied outside the building," Durbak said. Ultimately, police said, 19 students were arrested on charges of disorderly conduct.
"Several stories" were floating around Friday about the cause of the fight, Durbak said. "One was a dispute between senior football players and sophomores in the building," he said.
'Accident waiting to happen'
Durbak had no initial information linking the incident to gangs, although some non-official sources said gangs were involved.
However, rather than one big fight, sporadic fights happened outside the building, said CPS spokesman Peter Cunningham. He said Principal Marie Chambers Miles described the scene as "a melee."
Another source called it "an all-out riot." Chicago Vocational is a big building, with long corridors, dark hallways and sections that are no longer used, said the source, who is familiar with CPS security.
"It's an accident waiting to happen," the source said.
One Chicago Vocational student, who asked not to be named, said fights followed five fire-alarm pulls just last month at the school.
"I want to transfer," the student said. "It's an interruption to education. And most of the fights are just over gangs."
However, Cunningham said Miles said there have only been two or three fights after fake fire alarms in the two years she has been principal at Chicago Vocational.
A teacher from another South Side high school said post-fire- alarm fights are a nagging problem at his school, at CVS and at least one other South Side school.
"Students pull fire alarms to get people outside so they can fight them," said the teacher, who asked not to be named. "What I fear is that if this doesn't stop now, it's going to escalate more. What does it take? A teacher getting harmed?"
USA Today
CHICAGO (AP) — As two teens recovered from bullet wounds, authorities tried to determine how one of them got a 9 mm handgun past a school's metal detectors and into a science classroom where the gun accidentally discharged.
The teens were sitting in the back of a classroom at the Chicago Vocational Career Academy on Tuesday when the gun went off as one boy passed the gun to the other, said Robert Lopez, an assistant deputy police superintendent. The bullet struck one boy in the thigh and the other near the knee.
One of the boys, 14-year-old Jodale Woodfork, was in good condition at Cook County's John H. Stroger Hospital, where he was expected to stay Tuesday night for observation, hospital spokesman Don Rashid said.
Police and school officials said a 15-year-old student brought the gun to school but did not release his name. He was treated and released, a University of Chicago Hospitals spokesman said.
Lopez said charges will be filed against the teen who brought the gun to school, but Chicago Police had no further details.
"How the weapon got into the building obviously is a main concern for us," said Michael Vaughn, a spokesman for Chicago Public Schools. Students are required to go through metal detectors at the school's main entrances, he said.
School administrators indicated the teen who brought the gun to school arrived later in the school day, Vaughn said. But students are supposed to be screened any time they enter the building, he said.
School officials planned to interview the students involved and review footage from the school's extensive surveillance camera system, Vaughn said. Additional security measures would be used to help screen students at the building's entrances, he said.
After the gun discharged, the teen who brought it to school panicked, ran outside and dumped the gun near the front of the building, Lopez said. A Chicago police officer assigned to the school confronted the student as he re-entered the building, and the student led him to the gun, police said.
Lopez said there was no magazine, or clip, in the gun, and the student may not have realized there was a bullet in the chamber.
It was the second shooting on school property in less than a month. On March 22, two students standing in the parking lot were shot and wounded after a car pulled into the lot and an occupant opened fire, Bond said.
Both students recovered from their wounds, Bond said. No arrests were made.
The academy, which opened in 1940, has about 2,000 students in grades 9-12. Students enter a three-year vocational career path in their sophomore year, with "majors" such as accounting, cosmetology, graphic arts and carpentry, according to the school's website.
Copyright 2007 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.
My First Day in the News (CBS)
Sep 5, 2006 10:48 am US/Central
Teen Shot Near High School On First Day Of Class
Victim Was Student At Another School
Get breaking news alerts
Rafael Romo
Reporting
The shooting occurred at 8:15 a.m. at 87th Street and Jeffery Boulevard, police said. The location is close to Chicago Vocational Career Academy, at 2100 E. 87th St.
Police News Affairs Deputy Director Pat Camden says the 16-year-old boy was about a quarter-mile away from Chicago Vocational when another young man ran across the street and started shooting at him. Police said the shooting was gang-related
The victim was a student, but not at Chicago Vocational, police said. He attended Sullivan House Alternative School, a nearby private school at 8164 S. South Chicago Ave.
Parents who brought their children to the school were shocked to hear about the shooting.
“There was a lot of police out there this morning," a father said. "I just brought my son in to get him registered this morning and I said, ‘My God, first day and look, they’ve got the police here. I mean, several police cars.”
The victim was taken to Advocate Trinity Hospital. His condition was not immediately learned.
Chicago Vocational has had difficulties with fighting and gang activity on numerous prior occasions.
1st Day at CVS
I was hired at CVS on a Friday morning, and school began the following Tuesday after Labor Day. I was thrilled and terrified, I had no idea what I would be teaching. I was hired into the Achievement Academy, a separate ward of the school, an Orwellian term for the school where students who fail elementary school go in order to accelerate their learning to be on track by their junior year. It is tightly scripted and is the concept of John Hopkins University.
That weekend, instead of getting prepared, I went on my best friend's bachelor party in Put In Bay, outside of Toledo Ohio. It rain on the way down there, and as I was about to pass a pharmacy my buddy Jules screamed "we gotta get chaser!" I hit the curb and broke the control rod, bending the wheel into the wheel well. I was able to get the spare on it and drive ten miles to the ferry, the car shaking a pulling the whole time. I realized that I was stuck in Ohio, and decided to get very drunk, and hook up with middle aged women from Texas A&M. Seemed like a good idea at the time.
My parents had to pick me up, so I sat in my car waiting for them all day at a mechanics. The sun was hot, all I did was try to read books on teaching or Chicago, and keep positive songs in my head. Enjoyed a few quiet moments in the sun. Thought to myself, get through this year. you are going to learn so much, you are going to be tougher than you ever thought, better, everything is going to be better because you are going to be tough and wise enough to make it better.
I did not have a bed in Chicago until October, so I lay on the floor all night unable to sleep. Tied my tie at 4:45 the next morning, drank coffee and hit the road. Chicago is great at sunrise, the streets are empty except for the night worker army making deliveries and pumping things. Drove down Lake Shore drive watching the sunrise over the gentle waves and sailboats. The skyline and millennium park, switching between NPR and the soundtrack to The Last Kiss. So excited to start the professional life.
I got to the school almost two hours before I saw another teacher. Got there before everyone except the kitchen staff who showed me in. Walked around the gigantic high school that could hold over 5,000 students, and now held around 2,300; still more people than my home town.
The principal showed up around 7:15, by which time I was seriously freaking out. Got my room, which was an abandoned computer lab. By abandoned I mean it was an empty room without furniture or chalkboard. But I had a piece of chalk in my hand. I was told that in around 40 minutes I would be teaching freshman seminar, which I basically a class on how to be a functional human being. I was given a student record book and was enchanted immediately by their names.
I stood in the room by myself, thinking about what I was going to say. It was ten minutes before the classes were supposed to being, and the entire school was empty. Only half the teachers were there, and there was not a single student in sight.
The bell rung and I was standing in an empty room in an empty school. Finally I could not stand it anymore and took a walk down the hall, probably my first true act of professional defiance.
Great masses of students were outside. The metal detectors had not been set up on time, and there was already several running skirmishes where students were hazing the freshman, beating the boys and outright sexually assulting the girls. The principal was standing by the door yelling at everybody.
And that was when the shooting happened.
All hell broke lose.
The student was alright, and later on it turned out that he did not even go to our school. People were running everywhere, some terrified, others skipping and howling with delight and amusement.
Everyone was being yelled at and I was yelled at to go back to the classroom, which I did, although I passed by it once. Students were starting to come in and pick up their schedules. The freshman were shaking with fright. The schedules did not tell them what part of the building their classes were in, and in fact did not even have room numbers on them. The result was hundreds of kids slowly walking through the halls or coming to a stop for over an hour. I had my first student around 9am. She was the only student that showed up for that period.
For my division I had four guys. Had a great start up conversation with them. They did everything I asked them to do, which was a big boost for my nervous ass.
I might have had two students after that. There was a brief after-school meeting about the shooting. I got to meet the other teachers in my department, all African American women and all very friendly to me. And then punched out. Actually enjoyed the traffic jam on the way home because I needed time to think.
I live with two other history teachers who I met during a residency internship program. We all went to a nearby neighborhood bar to congratulate ourselves and toast a new year.
I had the most interesting story.
That weekend, instead of getting prepared, I went on my best friend's bachelor party in Put In Bay, outside of Toledo Ohio. It rain on the way down there, and as I was about to pass a pharmacy my buddy Jules screamed "we gotta get chaser!" I hit the curb and broke the control rod, bending the wheel into the wheel well. I was able to get the spare on it and drive ten miles to the ferry, the car shaking a pulling the whole time. I realized that I was stuck in Ohio, and decided to get very drunk, and hook up with middle aged women from Texas A&M. Seemed like a good idea at the time.
My parents had to pick me up, so I sat in my car waiting for them all day at a mechanics. The sun was hot, all I did was try to read books on teaching or Chicago, and keep positive songs in my head. Enjoyed a few quiet moments in the sun. Thought to myself, get through this year. you are going to learn so much, you are going to be tougher than you ever thought, better, everything is going to be better because you are going to be tough and wise enough to make it better.
I did not have a bed in Chicago until October, so I lay on the floor all night unable to sleep. Tied my tie at 4:45 the next morning, drank coffee and hit the road. Chicago is great at sunrise, the streets are empty except for the night worker army making deliveries and pumping things. Drove down Lake Shore drive watching the sunrise over the gentle waves and sailboats. The skyline and millennium park, switching between NPR and the soundtrack to The Last Kiss. So excited to start the professional life.
I got to the school almost two hours before I saw another teacher. Got there before everyone except the kitchen staff who showed me in. Walked around the gigantic high school that could hold over 5,000 students, and now held around 2,300; still more people than my home town.
The principal showed up around 7:15, by which time I was seriously freaking out. Got my room, which was an abandoned computer lab. By abandoned I mean it was an empty room without furniture or chalkboard. But I had a piece of chalk in my hand. I was told that in around 40 minutes I would be teaching freshman seminar, which I basically a class on how to be a functional human being. I was given a student record book and was enchanted immediately by their names.
I stood in the room by myself, thinking about what I was going to say. It was ten minutes before the classes were supposed to being, and the entire school was empty. Only half the teachers were there, and there was not a single student in sight.
The bell rung and I was standing in an empty room in an empty school. Finally I could not stand it anymore and took a walk down the hall, probably my first true act of professional defiance.
Great masses of students were outside. The metal detectors had not been set up on time, and there was already several running skirmishes where students were hazing the freshman, beating the boys and outright sexually assulting the girls. The principal was standing by the door yelling at everybody.
And that was when the shooting happened.
All hell broke lose.
The student was alright, and later on it turned out that he did not even go to our school. People were running everywhere, some terrified, others skipping and howling with delight and amusement.
Everyone was being yelled at and I was yelled at to go back to the classroom, which I did, although I passed by it once. Students were starting to come in and pick up their schedules. The freshman were shaking with fright. The schedules did not tell them what part of the building their classes were in, and in fact did not even have room numbers on them. The result was hundreds of kids slowly walking through the halls or coming to a stop for over an hour. I had my first student around 9am. She was the only student that showed up for that period.
For my division I had four guys. Had a great start up conversation with them. They did everything I asked them to do, which was a big boost for my nervous ass.
I might have had two students after that. There was a brief after-school meeting about the shooting. I got to meet the other teachers in my department, all African American women and all very friendly to me. And then punched out. Actually enjoyed the traffic jam on the way home because I needed time to think.
I live with two other history teachers who I met during a residency internship program. We all went to a nearby neighborhood bar to congratulate ourselves and toast a new year.
I had the most interesting story.
Why I Teach
I decided to become a teacher when I was 24. I am 27 now. I became a teacher for the romantic reasons that most teachers share, and because of anger.
Most teachers seem to have a family member or parent in education. I didn't, and so didn't know what that life looked like, so I had to create my own myth. Naturally everyone loved to hear me talk, loved the fact that I opened up worlds for them, and that I understood what they were going through. I was an outstanding coach. I dreamed of writing books during the summer, buying a pick-up truck, covering the back and insulating it, traveling throughout the country. Waking up one morning in Spain or India to a nice cup of coffee.
So my myth was based not on one life but two: I wanted to be a teacher, and I wanted to be something else, and I thought that I could do them both at the same time.
But I also was very angry. I worked construction with guys who were recovering alcoholics and drug addicts. One of them had such severe stomach problems that he would not be able to control going to the bathroom on the job site. Another guy knew that he was going to get laid off, so he put a nail through his hand with a gun to try to claim disability. Guys walking off roofs on purpose.
One of my best friends went to Iraq. Accidentally killed a child. Saw people burn to death. Was blown out of a Humvee and broke his back. Marines claimed that he had a preexisting back injury. He and other people in his unit arranged to get married to people that they did not know just so they could double their salary, kick back part of it to their wife or superior officer, whoever would keep it quiet.
I don't think about who's to blame. But it did not have to be this way. You can look at these behaviors, frauds as immoral, or you can look at them as a sense of opportunity.
I believe in a different sense of opportunity.
Most teachers seem to have a family member or parent in education. I didn't, and so didn't know what that life looked like, so I had to create my own myth. Naturally everyone loved to hear me talk, loved the fact that I opened up worlds for them, and that I understood what they were going through. I was an outstanding coach. I dreamed of writing books during the summer, buying a pick-up truck, covering the back and insulating it, traveling throughout the country. Waking up one morning in Spain or India to a nice cup of coffee.
So my myth was based not on one life but two: I wanted to be a teacher, and I wanted to be something else, and I thought that I could do them both at the same time.
But I also was very angry. I worked construction with guys who were recovering alcoholics and drug addicts. One of them had such severe stomach problems that he would not be able to control going to the bathroom on the job site. Another guy knew that he was going to get laid off, so he put a nail through his hand with a gun to try to claim disability. Guys walking off roofs on purpose.
One of my best friends went to Iraq. Accidentally killed a child. Saw people burn to death. Was blown out of a Humvee and broke his back. Marines claimed that he had a preexisting back injury. He and other people in his unit arranged to get married to people that they did not know just so they could double their salary, kick back part of it to their wife or superior officer, whoever would keep it quiet.
I don't think about who's to blame. But it did not have to be this way. You can look at these behaviors, frauds as immoral, or you can look at them as a sense of opportunity.
I believe in a different sense of opportunity.
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