Good Cop / Bad Cop

I played the role of prick for much of the day, and I daresay that I played it quite well.

I’d like to believe that I ended the day being the good guy, and I still know how to do that, too.

First period went relatively well. The Instigator was gone. Boy with the Tattooed Hands was back in class without his mother for the first time in a long time. He did absolutely no work and was going at it with Lady Cheaterly the entire time. I ended up moving her to the other side of the room.

The Rapist showed up forty minutes late and then was in shock when he learned that I had marked him absent. I quickly jumped down his throat, asking him how on earth I could predict that he would be that late to class. “Man, you aren’t in a good mood today, are you, Mr. C--------?” I told him that I was until he showed up.

I gave the students time to work on their worksheets from yesterday and catch up on any of the old work as well. Most finished during class time and went on the computers afterwards. I spent my period sitting next to a few students and answering questions on their work. They worked hard, so it made me feel pretty good to help them out. The only hassle was Jam Master Jay.

Jay started his day by drawing a picture. He tends to enjoy sketching himself, aka Swagga Kid on every sheet of paper he can get his hands on. I walked behind him, grabbed his artwork, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it away. The whining commenced, but I kept talking to the class without missing a beat. A minute later, he was drawing another picture, so I gave him a check. Normally, I would let it slide, but he is so close to getting out of here, yet he continues to act up just to see what he can get away with.

I ended up giving him two checks and told him to “shut his mouth” once and to “shut up” once as well. My patience is wearing thin with him.

Second period went pretty well. I gave Shawshank a hard time because of his LSU tie, even telling him that he was in uniform violation. He followed me from the beginning, but several students had no clue that I was joking and it almost caused a little drama in the class. He told me he would wear a Florida Gator tie tomorrow. I warned him that some of his classmates might try to beat him up if he does that.

Some of the students had finished their work yesterday, so they were on the computers. I spent most of that period working with Prudence, Rosie, and The Silver Tongue with their work.

I have always been a mumbler and fast talker, so slowing down and being easier to understand has been a challenge for me with teaching here. I have to often ask students if they follow what I am saying and I have even developed the annoying speaking habit of asking “Okay?” ad nauseum. I was attempting to explain one of the questions which asked how far from an object’s starting point it was after five seconds. The students were given a chart with times and positions, and they needed to be able to find the velocity and then apply it. I tried explaining for maybe a minute or so and then paused to check and see if I was being followed. When I asked Prudence whether she followed, she nodded her head, but her eyes were so blank that I could nearly see through them. I smiled and told her that it was okay if she didn’t understand. I’d try to explain it again. She paused, said, “Well…” and then told me she only understood part of it. After getting through to her, Prudence figured out that in order to find how far from the starting position the object was, she needed to subtract the initial from the final. The Silver Tongue chimed in, “Oh! So you’re just minusing then?” As I confirmed, she blew a large bubble with her gum (the gum that she told me minutes earlier she didn’t have). I told her to spit it out but couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.

A minute later, we were starting to wrap up the worksheet when another student came to hand his work in. Prudence quickly erased one of her answers and began frantically writing something. When I asked what she was doing, she responded, “I was just trying to copy that paper.” I’m not sure why she would attempt to do that when her teacher was taking her through every single problem and the boy who she tried to copy from is currently at 67% in class.

With the last few minutes of class, I showed a few students their grades. Prudence and The Silver Tongue are both at solid C’s, while Rosie has a high B. All three can improve their grades and told me that they would like some extra work. That remains to be seen.

Third period was a bit larger today, with the additions of Strahan, Terry Schiavo, and one other boy. Terry Schiavo asked me before class if he could go to the special education classroom and watch a movie because nobody else was in my class today. I was in the doorway when he asked, and three steps towards him revealed that there were several students lined up outside my door. I told him no, but he entered the room across the hall anyways. I had to open the door and ask him to come with me. The sergeant across the hall chewed him out a bit. This kid is so out of it that he once asked the sergeant’s daughter for a phone number. Before returning to my class, I turned to the sergeant and said, “Just think: He could be your son someday.” That warranted a pretty dirty look.

I entered the room and knew that it would be a bit of a struggle. I have two students (Dogface and the boy that got stabbed with the pencil) that always say they are concerned with their grades, but they don’t seem to do much about it. Today was no different.

Dumbo had his back turned to the front of the class for a solid fifteen minutes. I checked on his bell ringer. Yesterday, he was only about to write his name and the date in 25 minutes. Today, he went above and beyond expectations, including the first three words of the question (Marc was trying). I looked at his paper, bent over with my pen and wrote underneath: (Name) is not. The kids got a kick out of that.

I have done a better job of not showing too much frustration in front of my students. Can’t let them know that they are getting to me. Strahan, who told me he wasn’t going to do any work, began mimicking everything that I said. I went up to him with a check in my hand and why he was still in school. “You will be back here next year as an 18-year old 8th grader.” He didn’t take too kindly to those words, and when I held out the check, he squeezed my hand while getting the check. I told him to write it for ten and quickly changed my mind after he kept whining. “Just get out of here,” I calmly stated. He mocked me once again and I just stood by the door with an arrogant smirk on my face. He showed off a gap-toothed glare and was out the door. I parted with “see you next year” and returned to my students, laughing as I did it.

I can’t say I will miss that fat, worthless slug very much.

Dumbo continued chatting with the students around him. Man Man and Terry Schiavo were both sleeping. I placed a worksheet on Schiavo’s head, which remained there for a solid 3-4 minutes. Dogface and Pencil Stabbed did their work, taking several breaks to talk.

I knew I wasn’t going to get much across during the period, so I was content to throw little jabs and observe my students’ stupidity. Dumbo took the cake.

I had to move him to the front because he was talking so much. Every time he turned around, I stood directly in front of him and waved my hand right in his face. I believe at one time I actually asked him, “Are you there?” I still don’t know if he was.

He was trying to pick a fight with one of the boys in the back of the class, a student I generally like. He once offered to cut my hair, so I will just call him The Barber. Dumbo was saying how The Barber looked high and was on cocaine. “Your eye’s shinin’,” he said. The Barber replied, “My dick’s shinin’.” I gave him a check and when Dumbo continued talking, I handed him one as well. He didn’t take it well, throwing it back at me. Maybe he wasn’t intelligent enough to know that a small piece of paper was unlikely to hurt me.

I should have kicked Dumbo out at that point, but I decided to wait around a few minutes to see what I could come up with. I am known for writing extremely long referrals, and I also know that if I can get some of these kids out for the rest of the year, that’s one less person that I have to deal with.

Dumbo delivered a minute later when he threw Dogface’s pencil back at him. It wasn’t hard, but I figured it was enough to take up another line on his lengthy referral. Dumbo refused to move from his seat for a good minute or two, saying he wasn’t going to go outside and run unless I made The Barber run as well. I didn’t sway, and a minute later, he was in the hall. When he overheard me telling the sergeant across the hall that I was going to write a referral, Dumbo became livid.

Inside, Dogface kept asking me to “be cool” and not write Dumbo up. Apparently, he is close to being able to go back to his old school, and one more referral will crush any chance that he may have. I didn’t waver on my statement and wrote up exactly what happened. I told Dogface, “I was never cool.”

Lunch was a pleasant surprise. Last week was Teacher’s Appreciation Week, and we had catfish lunches in the lounge. I am not used to eating lunch, so I felt slightly stuffed for the second of the day, but I can’t complain.

Fourth period was a joy, even with Suit Man suspended for a few days. I had Teletubby back and he proved that he is all I need. Wow.

Teletubby was going at it a bit with a female student, once again telling her that he ran the classroom. As I did previously, I looked at him and said, “Ignorance is bliss,” in a slightly more effeminate manner than usual. He chuckled loudly.

As always, class started with the bell ringer. Teletubby was in the back of the class, talking loudly with Third Bun in the Oven. I gave a boy a small Butterfingers bar for doing his work, because every other student in the entire class was talking. Teletubby was a bit upset with that.

The large creature approached my desk and started whining about Starbursts and Jolly Ranchers. I noticed he had a small hard candy in his hand. I asked to see it, and he told me that he had a cold. “Oh,” I exclaimed as I reached for it. I looked at it for a minute, unwrapped it, then put it in my mouth. “Mr. C-------, you wrong for that,” Teletubby observed. “Not bad,” I said.

To further inspire my precious children, I offered another candy bar as a reward for getting the problem correct. The same boy who got the first candy bar was the only student that was correct. Teletubby kept calling my name to check his problem. I did so and then started walking away. He asked if he was right, and I quickly responded with a “no” before continuing my walk. While I was going through the problem, Teletubby raised his hand, telling me that he would wait until I was finished before “going off” on me. I walked to the back of the room a minute later and asked him what the issue was. He kept whining about the Jolly Ranchers I was allegedly supposed to get for him. I decided at that point that he reminded me of a Jolly Rancher, and that became his class nickname for the day.

The bell ringer from today dealt with a guy who wanted to open up a juice stand, selling cups of juice. He set different prices each week for four weeks and as expected, sold a different amount of cups each week. I was trying to explain to the students that setting prices was a difficult decision because a person needs to figure out the highest price that they can charge and still sell a lot of units. Teletubby showed his business sense by adding that higher prices would mean more people would steal the product. We are thinking of starting a business together.

The girl who complained about the heat yesterday (call her Heat Stroke) was back in class today and talking up a storm. She decided to tell me that she is now dating Teletubby (an obvious joke) and she wouldn’t take her hands off of the large fruitcake. She started singing about him and then added my name in a few times. It was clear that she needs medication to settle down, because she continued talking the entire time. I saw her drawing a sketch of another boy in class, and she got out of her desk and walked around the entire room, showing it off to every student in class. The boy got her back by drawing a naked picture of her. Not very complimentary.

I took Heat Stroke out in the hallway for a minute and let her cool down (pun intended). I was too lazy to write up another referral, so I let her back inside, putting her in a corner. She was slightly better.

My favorite part of the period came when I was sitting at my desk. I told the students that if they finished their worksheets, they could go on the computer. Teletubby, who had spent much of his class time singing in his Mariah Carey wannabe falsetto, came up to my desk to ask if his worksheet was correct. It was very obvious to me that he had no idea what he was doing and had merely copied most of his answers from other students. I got to his last answer and I lost it.

The worksheet dealt with a situation where a skater is observed at certain positions at different times. The students are given a table of values and a blank grid. They were asked to grid his position as a function of time and then answer questions regarding it. There were two separate trials, both with constant velocity. In the first trial, the skater started at a position of 10 meters and traveled at a speed of 2 meters/second. In the second trial, the initial position was 4 meters and the skater was going 3 meters/second. The final question read as follows:

In the first trial the skater was further along at 2s than he was in the second trial. Does this mean that he was going faster? Explain your answer.

Teletubby’s full answer: 7.

I played it up a bit more than I needed to, but I started laughing pretty loudly. He responded by asking, “Mr. C--------, why is you laughing? Why is you laughing at me, Mr. C--------? Is it right?”

The tears started flowing a bit and I had no intention of letting them stop. “Some of it,” I blurted out between cackles.

After about a minute, I was able to wipe the tears away from my reddened cheeks and calm down. Teletubby was in his seat. He said, “Well, I needed yo help, but you was too busy cryin’.” I went over and helped him work out the problems. He gave me one of several of his patented pats on the back at that moment.

TB came into class before I made it to the hallway before fifth period. He offered me an oatmeal cookie. I said, “No thanks,” and then made sure he knew that he wasn’t supposed to have those at school. A moment later when all of my students were in the room, he began offering it up to other students and then decided that he would give it to the first student who got the bell ringer correct. I saved him the trouble, taking it from me and then I ate it in front of the whole class. Gasps. I later explained that I had to eat it because I knew the answer to the bell ringer before any of them had even finished reading the question.

That class went alright today, but I had a few students that got on my case. I was helping a couple of kids with their worksheets when Jamaican Mon asked me a question about one of the problems. I saw he had done it incorrectly and offered some advice. Unsure if he was following me, I asked, “Do you understand what I mean?” He immediately jumped down my throat, accusing me of talking to him like he was stupid (he is). He then told me that he knew how to do the problem, he just wanted to see how I would talk to him. He had no clue what he was doing and merely hoped to create a fight. I heard that he ended up in FLC at the end of the day, so I might not be seeing him again.

The new girl, who I call The Entertainer, also got on my case a bit today. I merely looked at her and she started yelling at me. “WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT? Shoot.” After a few more complaints, I took her out in the hallway. The kids get so defensive so quickly. I had no intention of getting her in trouble or even making a comment to her, but she went off and took a non-issue and turned it into one.

Despite the two students blow up at me, I also received some nice compliments from students. When The Mouth left to go test, she turned to me before exiting and said, “I’ll miss you.” I can’t believe I’m saying it, but in another week when I leave, I’ll miss her, too.

Homeroom = free time. I spent my time on the computer and called over a few of my students so they could see their grades. I hoped this would inspire a few of them (Psycho T) to do some of the extra credit that I offered.

I also called over Jam Master Jay to talk about the two checks that I had made him write earlier in the day. On his way over, he called me mean. I had planned on letting him rip up the checks, which I told him. I then said that I changed my mind because he was acting like a dink. Yes, I used the word “dink” in class.

After school, I had a couple of experiences that made me think.

Experience One: I was returning to my classroom from the office when I saw The Mouth next to the English teacher and a man I didn’t know. I found out that it was her probation officer. I jokingly approached her with a check, telling her that it had been too long since I’d given her one. I then heard her probation officer asking about her pregnancy. He wanted to know who the father was. I was the only one in the area besides The Mouth who knew. She told me that it was alright if I told him, but she couldn’t because saying the name made her sick. I told him that it was The Rapist.

Now, The Mouth isn’t exactly a prize, but I do genuinely like her and know that she deserves better than some prick who doesn’t even acknowledge her in the hallway. Granted, it was her decision to sleep with him, but it is a hefty price to pay. I look at myself as a relatively mature 24-year old. I also look at myself as somebody who is in no way even close to being ready to have children. The Mouth had told me something today about possibly being able to transition to her old school. I don’t think she understands how low that should be on her list of priorities. She doesn’t know what sort of responsibility she will face. I feel for her. I feel for the child that she will be bringing into the world. Not a good situation.

Experience Two: I tutored a girl from my homeroom again today. I haven’t written about her very much. If you can remember, she was the girl who went off on me when I asked the students to wait in the hallways so I could go to the office to grab my attendance sheet. Disregarding that incident, she is a pretty nice girl. For some reason, whenever I look at her, she makes me a little sad. You can tell that she hasn’t had an easy life and just doesn’t seem to have a whole lot of belief in herself. She is dating a guy that is locked up at the juvenile detention center and she just isn’t very smart.

The girl has a realistic shot to transition back to her old school. She was suspended only once and has good attendance. The one thing that is holding her back is her 1.2 GPA. The one class that she is failing: Math. After the incident in the hallway, I was talking to her counselor and offered to take time during my planning period to help her with her math. She has been in a couple of times. Today, she worked on a packet with me.

Her goal is to get a D in my class. If she can get a D, her other grades will bump her up to the 2.0 that she needs to get out of NHS. I think I came up with her nickname: Dee.

Dee currently has a 54% in the class. She needs to raise her grade to a 70% to pass. I am throwing every extra credit opportunity that I can to help her accumulate points. I am not handing the grade to her, but I am not going to feel guilty about holding it out for her to grab.

I believe she is going to grab it.

We spent about 25 minutes today going through a worksheet that is part of the extra credit packet that I made several weeks ago. I taught her range, mean, median, and mode today. I look at her and know that she doesn’t follow 95% of what I say to her. Most of the time, I end up leading her to the answer until I grow tired of trying to explain it and then I just give it to her.

Today she asked me a question that left me speechless.

Let me preface it by explaining what the “median” is for non-math types. In a set of numbers, the median is the middle number. Dee, who told me that 3 x 3 = 6, asked me what to do if there is an even number of entries in a set. She asked, “Don’t you add the two middle numbers together and then do something with that?”

It took me a minute to recover from what was an excellent and logical math question. Finally, I said, “Uhh…yeah. You find the mean of the two numbers then, so you add them together and divide by two.”

Five minutes later, it was time for the buses, so she got up to leave. “Yeah, I get this. Thanks, Mr. C-------,” she said as she walked out the door.
It has taken me a long time to adjust to an authority role (still not a “mister”), and I am not deluding myself into believing that most of these kids have any respect for me at all. I am also not so out of it that I believe that Dee will ever be a brilliant mathematician. I will say that I don’t think there is a snowball’s chance in hell that she would have asked that same question three months ago. I also will not even attempt to hide my smile on the last day of school when I can say I played a small part in getting her out of NHS and back to her old school. For Dee, that very well may be the biggest accomplishment of her life.