The honeymoon is over, but that's okay.

I still love my students. But just like any parental figure, I don't like them very much at the moment.

I know that every year of teaching brings its own challenges, joys, and surprises. But I must say that the past few weeks have caught me completely off guard. Last year I had one class that I felt was a little "out of control". I had 3 or 4 students that just didn't want to do any work, and would be obnoxious from time to time when they were bored or pissed off. This year, every single one of my classes has those 3 or 4 students. But they're obnoxious all the time. They tell me I'm stupid, that they don't respect me. They talk over me, they talk back to me. They laugh at me.

Here's where I rant for a couple paragraphs, and hope that those who don't understand why teachers leave the profession in such large numbers are listening.

If I thought that every year was going to be like this one, I would leave too. I never thought I would think that, much less admit it. I love teaching. I eat, breathe, live it. It's what nourishes my soul and gives my life meaning. But I haven't been able to do much teaching this year. I would call it more "babysitting" than anything else. It's the luck of the draw. Last year, I got a bunch of students who wanted to be in my class, or if they didn't, were at least respectful enough to participate. This year, I got.....well, I got a bunch of little shits. There, I said it.

When I ask for support from admin, I get the answer, "Just keep writing them up". Then, when I write them up, the referral inevitably gets sent back to me because I haven't "done enough" on my end to warrant punishment. As in, calling home repeatedly and getting yelled at by indifferent or downright hostile parents, conferencing with a student who could give two shits about what I'm saying, or any number of futile efforts to reclaim control over my classroom environment.

I want to be a positive teacher. I want to love what I'm doing, to at least feel like it's worth the effort I'm putting into it. I feel myself talking more negatively about my students/profession than I did before. I feel horrible about it.

More than anything, I'm angry.

I'm angry that I'm expected to put up with horrible behavior by students who don't want to be at school, and hamper the efforts of other students trying to learn.

I'm angry that budget cuts mean that my classes are each at least 6 students over capacity and maintaining order becomes increasingly difficult with the tension that creates between students.

I'm angry that I have to justify and feel guilty about my requests to have violent, emotionally disturbed students removed from a class where they have free access to knives and fire.

I'm angry that public education has devolved into a dog and pony show where we're expected to perform miracles on kids who made it to high school on a 3rd grade reading level and no logical thinking skills.

But most of all, I'm angry that I can't do a goddamn thing about it. I'm now a part of this system, and if I want to make a difference I've got to learn to emotionally separate myself from the things I can't change. Little shits will be little shits.

It gets better.

What a difference a year makes. This time last year, I felt like I was barely holding my head above water. I was desperately trying to figure out rules and procedures, and trying to figure out my own identity as a teacher and role model.
About three weeks before school started this year, I started to get nervous. What if I just got lucky last year? What if my new bunch of kiddos thought I was a total weirdo? What if my kids from last year forgot about me?
When I walked in the door on the first day, I was greeted by a familiar sight. It was my little gang of students, waiting outside the double doors that lead to my hallway waiting for me to open it. In they came, telling me all about their summer, hugs all around, like we never missed a beat. It was the best feeling in the whole wide world infinity plus one.
When it came time for class, it was bizarre to see all of these unfamiliar faces fill the seats. Somehow my mind had still not accepted that my kids weren't mine anymore. Instead, they were walking into the classroom across the hall: Culinary! They were all grown up, leaving the proverbial nest, spreading their wings.
But it turns out my new batch is amazing. I can already see the big personalities: the class clown, the tough guy, the future chef, the athlete just looking to "get swole".
I also have a new population added to my class. The SPED department decided that the autistic kids would benefit greatly from my class, partly because of the material, but also because they thought the kids would thrive in my unique classroom dynamic. I'm super flattered that they thought that, and I must say that even though I didn't really know what to expect, I'm already blown away by all of them. I think they're going to teach me more this year than I could ever teach them!
Tonight, going into my much needed three day weekend, I will revel in this realization: Every year of teaching just gets better. Building relationships, building curriculum, building confidence.

Oh, and P.S....only two of my students came back pregnant!

My Very Own Corner of the World

Wow! Where has the time gone? It seems like just yesterday I was figuring out how I was going to fill up the first day and not make a total ass of myself.
Over the past nine months, my classroom has become a living, breathing thing. The best feeling I've ever had is looking around my room to see a dozen kids just hanging out; I know they feel safe, accepted, loved, and appreciated the minute they step through my doorway.
My kiddos have taught me so much this year. So many of my students face seemingly insurmountable challenges on a daily basis, but somehow it never breaks their spirit. They are so giving, so witty, so incredibly intelligent, even if sometimes they don't realize it.

Tonight was the annual talent show, of which I was asked to be a judge. I had the time of my life. I got to see a bunch of my kids show the world what they love to do, and I was really impressed!! One of my students in particular really blew me away. This student and I have had our ups and downs, at one point I really didn't think we would ever be close again because I had to lay down some serious "tough love". But amazingly, she seems to be getting back on the right track including mending some of her "burnt bridges".
She sang a song which she wrote herself, and the lyrics were awe inspiring. She sang about coming from a small world, of not knowing fear until faced with judgment from those who didn't understand her. It's easy to put someone in a box, to pretend like you understand how they think and react to things. But sometimes the only way a person can truly express themselves is through their art. I've never heard her articulate her thoughts so clearly or so passionately, and I have never felt so proud of anyone in my whole life. It felt like I was watching my own daughter pour her heart out right in front of me.

At the end of the show, "the teachers" performed. It's a group of teachers that have a totally kick ass band, and they're actually pretty good!
I looked around at everyone dancing and singing and was completely humbled. Our little melting pot of staff, students and community- gay, straight, trans, teenage mothers, freaks, geeks, and every color and creed. My little classroom organism couldn't survive without this bigger community supporting it. When people talk about schools, they see them as buildings that are succeeding or failing. What gets lost with this view is the community that keeps the students coming back day after day. I've never felt so at home, or had such a feeling of purpose until I found this community. I'm usually full of snark and dark humor, but not today.
Today I love my job.

The Flip Side

When I decided to start this blog, I wanted to prove to the world that home ec is still relevant, and coming back with a vengeance. It was supposed to be a light-hearted romp through the school day. But I find that the things I'm compelled to write about are much heavier.

Don't get me wrong, I go to work every day looking forward to interacting with my students, and I teach them meaningful things. I have fabulous classroom management, they are engaged and we have a mutual respect for each other. For the first time in my life, every day I feel fulfilled and euphorically happy.

However, every day also brings a handful students who are on a cliff, and they come to me to pull them back up. Today, my first kiddo went over the edge. She didn't die, but she's badly broken and just out of arm's reach. I want so desperately to help her, to make her see that she deserves so much better than what she is living.

I was talking to my mentor about the situation, and feeling so hopeless. She told me to think back to my own adolescence. "Wasn't there someone there when you were falling who tried to pull you back in, but had to watch you slip away?" It really struck me how much things have changed. I try to imagine all of the people that cared about me watching as I gave up, powerless to show me a better way. Being on the other side of it is the shittiest feeling ever, and I'm sorry to all of those that watched me stumble.

I will take comfort tonight in the fact that she texted me today and had the courage to tell me what she is doing, as horrifying as she knew it would be to me. Somewhere in her brain, as damaged and foggy as it is, my classroom is still her safe place.

My Lost Boys

About a month ago, I was introduced to a group of four boys who were fresh out of jail and settling into the halfway house that falls within our district boundary. One of them started dating one of my kiddos, who I'll call Samantha, and my room became the place to be, especially before school for a couple games of dice. One of them in particular really bonded with me, I'll call him Joe, and gave me these paintings that he did while he was locked up.

2 of the other boys were actually put into my classes. One was expelled after only one day in class for shaking hands suspiciously on camera. The other was suspended yesterday for truancy, along with the other member of the group who is not actually in my class. Yesterday Joe came to my room with Samantha. He was visibly agitated, and talking about leaving. Apparently he saw "staff", i.e. the security guards that work at the halfway house, and automatically thought he was in trouble for something. He cried. He paced. And then he ran.
Today, none of my boys were at school. Samantha wasn't at school. I'm used to them bursting into my class to chat at inappropriate times just to talk, just to have someone appreciate that they're there. It was eerily quiet and orderly in my class today, and they were definitely missed. Not a single person called me Ms. Gangster.

Joe will most likely be sent back to jail for breaking the terms of his probation, as will the other boys. And the cycle continues. Do I think these boys are angels? No. They commit crimes. But why? How should we be rehabilitating them? This obviously isn't working at all. By the way, I refuse to believe that a kid who gets excited about putting icing and sprinkles on some cookies is pure evil.

Maybe I'm not supposed to be this concerned with my students' lives, I'm supposed to be able to compartmentalize it and go have a beer. This whole teacher schtick is getting old fast to everyone I know, I'm sure.
I always knew I wanted to teach, but I never expected it to be such an all-consuming passion or that I'd form the relationships that I have with my kiddos. It's difficult with these types of students to go home on the weekends and not know if you'll ever see them again come Monday. When I took the job at my school, I knew there were a lot of "at risk youth" that I would be dealing with. It looks so cut and dry on paper.
Statistically, x number of students will graduate, and x number will drop out. Truefacts. But to see in real time the decline of a bright, gifted student to dropout is excruciating. And on days like today, I feel helpless to stop it.

Right On Target.

My Progress Report

This week was rough. Like, crying to my mentor on two separate occasions rough. Being the only one who teaches my class, there are days when I don't have any interactions with adults. This week, the only one who came by besides my mentor was a crusty veteran who filled my room with nothing but negativity and passive aggressive digs at my credentials and ability to handle the first year of teaching. I am also completely on my own when it comes to curriculum. "You can cover as much or as little as you want. It's up to you." It sounds pretty sweet in theory, but it's too much freedom. Sometimes I don't even know where to start, and it can be overwhelming trying to figure out what these kids really should know at the end of the course. Combine all that with a parent night that kept me at school until 9:00 p.m. the night before a 2 hour before school professional development that reminded me just how much paperwork I have to do this weekend, and I hit a wall yesterday around 10:47 a.m. Oh, did I mention that my carefully planned science experiment bombed and I had a passing period to figure out what in the hell I was going to do for the rest of my classes that day?

So.

I have decided to document some of the fantastic things that happened this week. The little things that make it all worth it can get buried underneath anxiety, deadlines, and self doubt. My mentor told me she was going to get me a "book of win" so I could see in writing everything I was doing right. I guess this is the autobiographical version.

On Monday, my "too cool for school" student brought me a piece of blueberry cheesecake that she made herself. She even came by at lunch to see if I liked it. It seems like a little thing, but I was the only teacher that got any. So there.

Parent night! Usually, parent nights are brimming with over-involved parents grilling the teachers about the relevance of their course to their child's future. Ours is a little different. Out of 150 students, I had 7 bring their parents to meet me. But my time with those 7 families was amazing. Every parent said that their child couldn't stop talking about my class, and that I was their favorite teacher. I even had a student from my fashion advisory come by, and her mom thanked me for providing a place for her daughter to pursue her dream of being a fashion designer. It was a good moment.

One of my more "grumpy" students was telling me that she didn't need to learn anything because her mom was giving her the family cleaning business, and that she was probably going to drop out of school so she could start working. I told her "Yeah, I thought the same thing when I dropped out of school." "YOU dropped out of high school? But you're a teacher!" "Yup. What does that tell you about how important education is? Why do you think I chose to teach?" She told me that she felt like she knew something really personal about me, and respected me for sharing it with her. She's been a lot less grumpy. You gotta start somewhere! :)

One of the counselors came by to tell me that all week while the crazy schedule change frenzy was going on, she kept hearing how much the kids loved my class. The basketball and football players that suddenly had to be double blocked for sports said they were bummed that they had to drop my class. In fact, they all came by my room at various times to tell me that they were sorry they got transferred out. They didn't want me to think that they asked to be removed and hurt my feelings.

This is my display that's outside my door. My soapbox in nutrition is sugar sweetened beverages. It's important to me that students realize what they're putting in their bodies by actually seeing it. I've had students come in my room to ask me about the display, and I've had teachers say "Oh, you're the one with the sugar display! I'm so glad you did that, the kids need to see it!" when they find out I'm the nutrition teacher. I even had two parents take pictures of it because they liked it so much. But yesterday, I had one of the coaches tell me that during night school, he overheard a group of kids talking about it, and they talked about it as a class. He said it was actually making a difference in how they viewed some of the things they were drinking.

Are blogs supposed to be this long? I feel like they aren't. I guess I had a lot to say. Lack of adult interaction will do that to you, I suppose.