Another day at New London High School. After doing weeks of teaching little ones (first through sixth), I was excited to get a little break and go back to the older ones.
Little break my butt.
What was I thinking? I’ll tell you what I was thinking. I was thinking I would finally get to go into a classroom where I don’t have to tell a kid to get a kleenex. I was thinking I would get into a classroom where I didn’t have to use phrases like:
Friends, I will wait until everyone is quiet before I move on....
Friends, line up so we can go to recess...
Snack time, Friends! Group one may quietly go grab their snack and have a seat at their desk....
Friends, lets gather on the carpet for story time...
1-2-3 eyes on me (kids respond with: 1-2 eyes on you)...
Criss-Cross Applesauce, Michael....
No touching please, Jamie. Remember, Friends, keep your hands to yourselves...
Hands down, Friends. Give Kristen a minute to think.
No No No, I wanted a break from that insanity. Instead, I wanted to step into a classroom where no one is my friend. No one wants to be my friend. No one even wants to be nice to me. I wanted to step into a universe where students don’t acknowledge my presence. Students don’t ask me to go potty, they simply get up and walk out, with me yelling behind them pleading with them to tell me where they are going. Instead, I wanted to walk into halls where kids are leaning against each other, dry humping against the lockers. I wanted to walk into a world where cell phones are a distraction, even though students aren’t supposed to have them. Instead I want to walk into a place where children tower over my 5’7 small-framed build. I chose to go to a place where they don’t use words like “friends”, “please”, and “thank you”...instead they use profanity. Sweet, Lord. What was I thinking?
Instead of precious angels telling me how pretty I am, and how I am their FAVORITE substitute, I walk into a classroom where my morning greeting is, “I am not doing this shit work.” Welcome to the world of high schoolers, or maybe the word demons is more appropriate.
I want to start off by saying, even though this school is in “the hood”, I was teaching AP English for the day. So I get the best of “the hood”. First and second period went well. The students came in, I gave them a long poem by Whitley to read. Then they were to answer the prompt afterwards. The students sat quietly, and did the work. I let them all know they were to turn in the work by the end of class. So five till, students came to me and stapled their two page papers, and handed off their work. Simple right? Third period. Seventeen seniors. I begin the same shpeel I have given to the two prior classes. I walk around and hand out the poem. I have two female students who immediately shove their poems into their bags. I ignore it and have a seat at my desk. The majority of the class immediately gets to work. My two trouble-makers decide they are going to chat. I decide to give them three minutes before I say anything. One minute goes by. Two minutes goes by. By the end of two minutes they are talking so loud that they have involved the gentleman next to them (who is sadly, no longer working). I say, “Guys, let’s get to work, this is due by the end of class.” One female doesn’t even pause in her sentence. She finishes it, and then starts a new one. I say a silent prayer, Dear Lord, please don’t let any of them have guns today. I stand up and say loudly, “Are you kidding me right now?” This has not only made her stop talking, but has made the whole class meet my gaze at her. Inside my body is trembling because this confrontation is actually terrifying. The reason I am terrified?
- I am 5’7 and 128 pounds. ALL of these kids have 50-200 pounds on me.
- I am wearing a long skirt with a cute grandma sweater (wishing I could take back my New Year’s Resolution of “no longer shopping in the teen section” of Kohls, but now the adult women’s section...aka old lady section).
- I have a small bow in my hair (now cursing myself for trying to look “cute” instead of tough...why the heck didn’t I wear my combat boots today?).
- Let's face it. I am no GI Jane, I am more like a Mary Poppins.
After my bark, I knew I had no choice but to follow it with a bite. Let’s go back to all eyes on me. The female talking, rolls her eyes and looks over at me like I have rudely interrupted an important conversation. I repeat myself. “I said it is time to stop talking and get to work...this is due at the end of class.” She stares at me. I’m thinking in my head, You wanna piece of me? You wanna take this on? Bring it BEEYACH! Just kidding, I am really thinking of an escape route just in case she stands up. I slowly sit down, happy for standing up for myself and not getting walked all over. My head gets just a little bigger as I cower in my seat. She stays quiet. For. One. Whole. Minute. Then she is right back at it. I put my big girl panties on, walk across the classroom to the phone and call the front office (a number I have memorized subbing in this school). “I need you to send someone to my class to escort a few students out.” As I hang up the phone I hear a student ask another student if I just called the front office. I walk over to my desk and sit down. About a minute later, my door swings open. Instead of the 300 pound security officer that helped me out last time, I get a shmuck wearing a tie.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Yes, these three students are not only refusing to work, but they are talking so loudly that it is hard for the other students to do their work.” As I say this I am walking behind one of the female students I am having a problem with. She stands up, puts her face about three inches away from mine and screams:
"I KNOW YOU AIN’T TALKING ABOUT ME TALKING WHEN THE REST OF THE CLASS IS TALKING, B----!"
I take a step back and put my hand up. “You need to have a seat. You are not going to speak to me that way.” I turn and look at mamby-pamby who is standing there. He immediately turns to the three students and tells them to go in the hallway. I head back to my desk noticing the students left their stuff in the classroom.
Three minutes later, my door opens and the three students saunter back in the class. I stare at them wondering why they have come back. Last time I called security, they took the student away. There was no re-entry of the classroom.
They sit down and immediately start chatting up again. This time, they are twice as loud and they are sure to involve twice as many students in their conversation. I look at the clock and realize I have 23 more minutes of this. I am stumped. I am not sure what to do at this point. I called the office and they were “talked to” in the hall by mamby-pamby. Lotta good that did. Now I am angry. My hands are shaking. The longer I sit the more angry I get. Not only did the Jack Wagon with the tie not help the situation, but he made it worse. Do I call the office again? Do I tell them to leave? Instead I sit there and stew in anger for 23 long minutes. The second the bell rings I walk over to the phone and dial the office again. I ask the office lady who they sent to my classroom. She told me Mr. E. I hung up with her and turned to my new classroom full of 7 students (smallest class of the day) and asked them where Mr. E’s office was. One of the students told me he was standing in the hallway. As the bell rang, I swung open the door to find him standing outside my door. He immediately saw me and walked over. I asked him to hang on for a second because I needed to talk to him. I peeked my head back into the class, told them to get started on the assignment she left. I then stepped back out in the hall, and closed the door behind me.
Lucky for me, this guy is about my height. He is also a shmuck in a tie (probably also boughten in the “old man section” of Kohls). I then proceed to tear him a new one. This is no exaggeration. I am angry. I am so angry the vein in the side of my head is beginning to make an appearance. I have already told myself that if they tell me to leave, I will happily. I have also already told myself if they tell me I am no longer welcome in their school, my only response will be, “THANK YOU, JESUS!” At this point I don’t care. I am here standing in front of a red-headed, mamby-pamby that I guarantee you was the last one picked at dodgeball in middle school. I have had enough. I have sat for 23 minutes and listened to three students mock me. I am done. Here is how my end of the conversation goes...
What you did about 25 minutes ago? Yeah, that was completely useless. If that is how you show support to substitutes, you need to find a new way. Not only did you waste my time, but you wasted the last 23 minutes of class for the rest of the students. Those students that you supposedly read the “right act” to, laughed at you when they came into the classroom. They also made sure to “show me” by talking twice as loud as they were before. You ruined the rest of my class period. You were worthless to me. When I called to have students escorted out, I thought you were actually going to escort them out.
He is standing there staring at me, dumbfounded....and probably a little shocked. He opens his mouth to speak, and then decides it’s probably better to wait until I have told him he can speak. I continue...
So I just wanted to make sure that you are fully aware that your “assistance attempt” sucked. Completely sucked. Okay?
I can see that I have frightened this little leprechaun. I have completely pulled the chair out from under him. He is drowning. Look who wants to crawl under the desk now? He slowly says, “I am so sorry. I had no idea. I thought they would come back and work quietly.”
“Really? Is this your first day in this gangster high school? You really thought they were going to come back in peacefully and miraculously start doing their work?”
“Well, I talked to them and they said they were going to go in quietly and do what the teacher left them to do.”
“Funny that you thought that would work. These kids don’t do anything you tell them to...I would think by now you would know that. But whatever.”
“Well, if you want, you can write them up and I will assign them a Saturday detention.”
“Really? I would LOVE that.”
“I will bring you two referrals later today.”
“Okay, thanks.”
He later brings me those referrals and apologizes profusely about how he failed me. He also informed me he has never been yelled at by a substitute. I started to apologize and he said it wasn’t necessary and that it was completely deserved. As he left the room, I am thinking to myself, this is the guy that the administration chooses to enforce the rules?? He cowered at my presence! Imagine what high schoolers do to him!
What I should have said to the mamby-pamby, was, “You should consider switching to preschoolers. You might be able to frighten the few that are shorter than you.”
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