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.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Friday, November 9, 2012
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.
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.
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