Reporting Live from the Bronx

I’m sitting in the AIS classroom of my old school right now, as My Favorite Teacher [MFT] teaches a lesson to 7 seventh graders on “tion” and “er” endings. Most of them are reading on about a fourth grade level. “I’m going to read a word, and after I say it, you are going to say it with me. SUB-SCRIP-TION... What word? SUBSCRIPTION. Good. RE-CON-SID-ER… What word?” and so on and so forth.

I got here right before the seventh grader’s lunch period, and managed to locate some of my old favorites almost immediately, since they do not spend very much time in class, but rather prefer the bathroom and the stairwell and other places where not-so-much learning is taking place. MFT had informed me that a few teachers have quit or are in the process of quitting, and that the woman teaching all of my old kids ELA was leaving because my former students were being so horrible. This is really disappointing.

I ran into my principal and AP at a Mets play-off game [small world] and they told me how my kids keep coming to the office asking about me and saying things like “this new lady doesn’t know what she is talking about. We miss Ms. _______ [me]. We would listen to her. I don’t wanna listen to this lady,” etc. etc. This makes me feel good, but also a little bit terrible like there is nothing I can do about it but visit and it is entirely arrogant of me to think that I could come up to school and make any kind of difference just by visiting. It’s just so sad that things are falling apart here. The seventh graders have lost their hall privileges and teachers have to rotate from class to class like we did last year, and apparently one of my former girls has been giving blowjobs to the rest of the grade and this is causing drama because she has withheld her services from one of the boys and he is angry. Asides from the fact that it is disgusting that seventh graders are having sex, I can’t believe that this girl in particular has devolved into this role and I wonder why we can’t teach sex-ed in middle school.

I spent some time with Shamra in the hallway while the AP was reaming out her class [he is covering them for the day since their ELA teacher has quit], and she told me a story about the AP telling some boy he was going to “F him up” and that he said this other girl’s parents didn’t love her, which I’m fairly sure is not true. I could hear them all yelling on the other side of the door so I tried to keep out of sight but a few of them stormed out of the room, angry that he was keeping them during lunchtime, and when they saw me it just made things worse since when any teacher is mad at you and you see another teacher who isn’t mad at you, you automatically feel so incredibly fond of the teacher who isn’t mad that you fawn over them as if they are the nicest person in the world. I know that these kids don’t really remember what things were like in our class when I taught them, but I guess the unconditional fondness is easier in hindsight.

I ventured down to the cafeteria, which is always a bold move, and was by far my least favorite part of the day as a teacher. Even just dropping off and picking up kids was always slightly traumatic. The girls from my advisory came shrieking across the room to hug me and tell me how their new advisor doesn’t let them play any games or talk to them about their problems and I receive a lengthy dissertation on the state of mean-girl-gossip at school.

I sat with T-Rex over in the corner with his two bad-a$$ friends Jim and LaShawn. They had their greasy pizza trays on their laps and were talking about the sneakers they wanted to buy and T-Rex said he’s all done with baseball because “that sport is kinda whack and slow” and now he’s into basketball. Jarod and Orlando told me about how they are stuck in an all-boys class this year and Jarod asks “Ms. ____ did you do that on purpose cause I flirt too much in class?” and then says that Orlando’s girlfriend is from a different school and she’s “ugly and retarded.” Orlando says “She’s not ugly!” and Jarod replies “See! You didn’t say she wasn’t retarded!” Then a carton of milk flies towards our table, narrowly escaping my arm, and I decide to go sit with the girls.

Cammy and Chanya [who referred to me as an "original G"...] tell me how their math teacher quit and how the new guy is worse because he is “too orderly:”

“He sweeps in between EVERY class!”
“He doesn’t even have nothing on his desk!”
“I don’t even know where he keeps his stuff!”
“He thinks math is fun!”

ME: “Does he teach math well?”
THEM: “Well, yeah.”

I ask about the old math teacher… “Wasn’t he the one you all thought was cute?” and they get all giggly and blushy and say “Oh you don’t even know, when he smiled at you with those dimples it was like ohhhhhhhhh.” I asked why he quit and they said the class was too crazy and I wondered why they couldn’t even behave for a teacher they had a crush on. Then we talked about the length of my hair for an unusual amount of time [they can’t seem to get over the fact that it has grown…]

I moved over to where a bunch of girls from my old homeroom were sitting and when they started complaining about their ELA teacher [who I’m beginning to gather they do NOT know has quit] they said they hate her and I wanted to know WHY. They said she doesn’t do read alouds or shared reading like we used to [that was their favorite part of the day by far] and there aren’t vocabulary lessons [I always thought that was boring but I guess you get used to routines?] and finally, that they have been learning about the Harlem Renaissance for 2 and a half months and they are “totally sick of Harlem.” It’s hard to hear student perspectives on teachers and know whether they are full of crap or actually have valid complaints, especially when I don’t know these new teachers at all and have no basis on which to judge them.

Finally, I visited with Kenny and Arana and ask them about their super awesome after school program downtown on the Upper East Side and they seem to really be enjoying it—they didn’t seem to have any complaints [since I’ve never heard either of them complain about anything ever] and then lunch is over. Sheniqua takes my arm and leads me down the hall without telling me where we are going, and we arrive in the doorway of her classroom. She says "Ms. _____, our teacher is out today, and so you can teach us." The AP is inside since he was planning on covering the class for the period, and he say: "Yes, if you want to you can totally teach!" with bright hopeful eyes, and I am tempted but deep down inside know that fifteen minutes into the period when the novelty wears off the kids will go back to being their crazy selves who remember what things were "really" like when I was their teacher and it will be even harder to leave. Plus I have nothing to "teach" them. So I politely declined and came back up here to sit in the AIS room and listen to the phonics lesson and write for a bit.

I’ll write more when I visit again in December… Until then…