Morning Movies and Afternoon Heart-to-Hearts

I had a pretty easy morning. Numbers were down slightly, so only three of the five teachers had kids before lunch. All of the 8th graders were together, as were all of the 9th graders. I kept my normal homeroom consisting of all of the 10th and 11th graders. Having the kids for three hours, I decided it was movie time. I didn’t bring a whole lot of movies with me from Wisconsin, and most of those that I did are rated R. It meant slim pickings. I ended up buying a couple of new movies last night and the vote came down between those two: The Sandlot and Taken. After two separate votes, The Sandlot won, so I popped it into the DVD player.

Once again, my first TV was a dud, so I needed another one wheeled in. After the movie began playing, kids started complaining, asking that we watch Taken instead. I refused. One tall white kid, in particular, was really whining. He asked every five minutes if we could change the movie. The funny thing is I am relatively sure that he voted for The Sandlot in the first place.

As always with watching movies in class, I simply kicked my feet up and felt pretty damn good that I was getting paid to do nothing.

The movie ended about 25 minutes before lunch, and unfortunately, the entire network was down so I couldn’t let my students on the computers. I let them talk “quietly”. As I should have expected, a problem ensued.

The Boy with the Tattooed Hands had just been redirected for dropping a pointless f-bomb when I noticed he was throwing something at Lady Cheaterly. When another student showed me what it was, I noticed it looked very similar to what must have been peeled from the top of the desk that he was sitting in. When I asked him about it, he grew very defensive and told me to get away from him. I handed him a check and he started writing, simultaneously waving his hand at me to back off. I told him to write it for ten. He responded by saying, “I don’t care, nigger. I’ll write it for 20. Write me up. I’ll be back here next year anyways.” I followed his command and wrote him up. I’d like to believe that’ll be the end of The Boy with the Tattooed Hands for this year, but I don’t doubt that his mother will shadow him tomorrow.

I made Dee make up the quiz that she got a 1/10 on. I basically led her to every solution, but I think those extra points will be enough. Dee will get her D.

I didn’t have a class in my room after lunch. I let the science teacher borrow Taken so my homeroom could have their way and see the movie. I spent a decent amount of time filling out an inventory form for my classroom. After that, I wandered aimlessly.

I saw that Iron Mike, fresh out of the slammer, tried to start a fight with Rosie. I am not sure what will happen with the two of those. My prediction would be that Iron Mike will be gone for the week. I am a bit worried about Rosie because she is right on the cusp of transitioning back to her home-based school. I really hope she didn’t blow it.

I let the reading teacher take the TV from my room. After I rolled it down to her room, one of her students from my second period wanted to ask me a question. After he got his hands out of his pants (don’t even ask), she let him come out in the hallway and ask me.

This boy’s aunt comes in every week for a progress report. He never does anything unless asked repeatedly. He currently has a D in my class and needs to improve his math and PE grades if he wants to get out of NHS. I gave him the extra credit packet last week. He told me that he had given it to The Big White Kid to give to me. The Big White Kid swore that he set it on my desk. I couldn’t find it anywhere, and somehow this boy (I’ll call him “Power Off” because he typically is powered off) claimed that it was my fault. I asked him repeatedly why he wouldn’t ensure that I got it by handing it to me himself. He told me that he didn’t have time.

Anyways, here I am with an hour left in the day and I offered to help him with the packet. Power Off looked at the packet, smiling, and finally decided that it was too thick. This was ten minutes after I first asked him what he wanted to do. He decided that he would attempt to raise his PE grade up to a D instead by running for 20 minutes nonstop for three consecutive days. It may not appear to be that challenging for most, but there are some really lazy kids at this school.

I decided to tell my uncle just to hear what he had to say about it. He chuckled and decided to go into the classroom and pull Power Off. He forced the boy to work on his math, adding that he was lucky I wasn’t a girl, because “normally if you get rejected once, that’s it. You’re done. You don’t get a second chance.” Unfortunately, I am not that well well-versed on the book of love and have yet to grasp that lesson. Power Off came with me and I started him on the packet for the second time. Supposedly.

I guess this is the time that I should say that the school was faxed the LEAP scores today. I have yet to see them myself, but I was told who passed and who failed. There are five different categories: Unsatisfactory, Approaching Basic, Basic, Advanced, and Mastery. In order to pass, a student must score atleast basic on either the math or English section while scoring atleast approaching basic on the other section.

Only three 8th graders in the entire school passed and two of them I don’t even teach. One of them is a homebound student and the other is Miss Piggy, who no longer even comes to my class. If there is any one student in the whole school that I would’ve enjoyed seeing fail, it would have been Miss Piggy.

My lone success story in the 8th grade was TB, who I am pretty happy about. I have to go to Taco Bell and buy him his MexiMelt.

Unfortunately, the one student that I wanted to pass the most (Skinny Kid) did not.

He walked into my classroom while I was sitting next to Power Off, helping him with his math. Skinny Kid was smiling, but it wasn’t a happy smile. I could tell that he was forcing a smile to hide something else. The corners of his mouth fell slightly as he lifted up a packet of paper and said, “After all that work and this is what I get.” He lowered himself into a desk behind me and threw his head back, covering his face with his hands.

It was an awkward situation because it was obvious he needed to vent and Power Off isn’t the most empathetic soul in the world. He was laughing while Skinny Kid was talking.

After a while, Power Off was told to go outside and run. I was grateful I didn’t have to put up with his mumbling and stupid comments.

I learned a lot about Skinny Kid in the 30 minutes he was in his room, opening up and letting it out. It wasn’t easy to listen to, but I knew he needed an avenue to get out his frustration. It was his third time taking and failing the LEAP test. He was really worried that people would be disappointed and angry with him. He told me he needed to talk to the science teacher, then changed his mind and asked me if I would. He said that he wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye and tell her that he failed.

He seemed to be in shock, stating several times how he felt like he got all of the math questions correct. "There's a mistake. That ain't my paper, brah. That can't be my paper."

I tried to reassure him that nobody was angry with him and we knew he did the best that he could. I was a bit surprised that he didn’t atleast score an approaching basic in math to match his English score. However, I do know he has worked as hard, if not harder, than anybody else in that school. I even admitted to him that out of all of the students that I teach, I wanted him to pass the most.

He then got even more morose in his statements, saying that he didn't have anything left. He said he gave everything he had and this was what he got in return. He then told me that it felt like his life was over, God didn’t care about him, and he should just hang himself. I took that last statement with a grain of salt, but it still scared me and I made sure to report it after my conversation with him was over.

Admittedly, it is often hard for me to relate to these kids. I haven’t had the easiest life, but it pales in comparison to some of the things that they have faced. I hate seeing people in that state and could tell that Skinny Kid (formerly in Camo) was on the verge of tears.

I tried telling him how Michael Jordan got cut from his high school basketball team and later became the greatest basketball player ever to lace up a pair of sneakers. I told him how Barack Obama had a difficult upbringing and his father was a bum who abandoned him. I’m not sure if that registered or not. “Did Barack Obama ever fail his LEAP test?” Skinny Kid asked.

Then I tried telling him a bit about myself. I knew he was a baseball player, so I tried to relate to him on that front. I told him about how I played football in high school and got hurt during my senior season. I could never play again. “What did I do?” I asked.

He paused, “Give up?”

I responded, “No. I found something else. I wasn’t going to let the fact that I could no longer play football define my entire life. Just like you aren’t going to let the fact that you failed your LEAP test define your entire life. One thing that you learn about life as you get older is that it isn’t fair. Was it fair that I couldn’t play football anymore? No. I worked my ass off to play, just like you worked your ass off to pass your test. And you know what? I got hurt. You had a bad day. You gave the best you could on that day and it didn’t go your way. Now, you either let that beat you and give up or you keep on fighting.”

I asked him what happened the last year when he failed, whether he quit or not. He said that he didn’t. I told him that a person learns a lot more about themselves when they lose than they do when they win. I said that in ten years, nobody would care that he failed his LEAP test. I told him that I didn’t know he had failed last year and didn’t care or look at him any differently.

I tried making him look at the big picture. He will be getting out of NHS. He has the opportunity to take a retest at the end of June. If he passes that, he can go on to the 9th grade in the fall.

I then asked him, “If you strike out one time, the next time you are up to bat, do you let that consume you? Do you let that defeat you or do you keep swinging?”

“Keep swinging.”

Keep swinging. I came in here with my main goal being getting that number to increase. I wanted more students to pass their LEAP test this year than last year. I thought that would somehow validate me as a teacher. I am pretty sure the scores this year are lower than last year. I did have a bit more success with the 10th grade GEE. I had a couple pass as expected (The Big White Kid, The Great Black Hope) as well as a few surprises (The Rapist and Step Six!!!).

Just like I told Skinny Kid, that number by his name doesn’t define him as a person. It doesn’t tell the entire story, doesn’t illustrate the strides he’s made as a student and a person. I know that three months ago, if somebody had swung at him, there is no way he would be able to restrain himself from fighting back.

That test score number by my class doesn’t define me as a teacher, either. It doesn’t even begin to tell the story. I came in here with unrealistic expectations about what I would be able to get my students to do. The fact that, after realizing he failed his test, Skinny Kid sought me out for support tells more than any number ever could. That's my greatest triumph as a teacher.

I could tell we had both successfully fought back tears and the conversation became a bit more hopeful. I knew the day was about to end. Most likely one of the last times I will ever see this young man who has honestly had a pretty profound impact on my life. One of the last moments I will ever spend alone with him. He looked me in the eye. That face of defeat was gone. Looking hungrier and more hopeful than ever, he said, “I am going to take that LEAP retest this summer and I’m going to pass. Bleeeedat (believe that)!”

I do.