How To Save A Life

Let him know that you know best
Cause after all you do know best
Try to slip past his defense
Without granting innocence
Lay down a list of what is wrong
The things you've told him all along
And pray to God he hears you

As he begins to raise his voice
You lower yours and grant him one last choice
Drive until you lose the road
Or break with the ones you've followed
The Fray

We spend 2 mornings a week together, reading level A books as he eats breakfast in my classroom. 'The cat jumps over the couch...the cat jumps over the plant..." He struggles less and less each time and never complains that he's reading kindergarten level books.
He was my biggest behavior problem - now he's my biggest crier.
Where kids responded with anger they now respond with tears, my disappointment in them the worst consequence many of them could imagine.
On Tuesday, in between lines of a story about a balloon, he brought me closer to tears than I have ever been with a student.
"You know, Ms. G, I really appreciate what you're doing with us but me and M, we're gonna drop out."
"What are you talking about?" I asked. "You guys are both doing great."
"Yeah but we blew it. We're too old. We're just gonna be in here until we old enough to leave."
3 more years and they'll be old enough to leave. If they're not retained any more they'll, at best, complete the 7th grade.
At first I thought he was kidding, until the book remained on the same page for 20 minutes and I found myself pleading with him...trying to convince him that he was too good for the streets and this life. That I cared about him and would do whatever it took to get him to succeed.
"You always say that but it's too late," he said.
"It's never too late. We're going to get there together," I said in a voice that begged him to not give up.
He's the kid I restrained 2 Fridays ago.
The kid who was the biggest thug in my room until his mom, in a meeting I demaded before I would let him in my room again, admitted to me that neither she, nor any of his 4 brothers, can read.
It was at that moment, as I held him while his mom yelled, that I committed to do whatever it takes to give him everything I had.
People keep warning me not to give too much - not to try to save these kids because most of them don't want to be saved, but I don't know how not to.
How not to ask their side of the story before condeming or run outside when I hear them fighting during recess or hold them when they cry because they've finally realized the severity of their actions.
I don't know how to not fight for them or how to mentally leave them at school. I don't know how to teach them subtraction with regrouping so that it actually makes sense and I don't know how to get them to walk in 2 quiet, straight lines but I do...each and every day...know how to care about them.
Unfortuneately, that's not enough and if they're going to have the chance I want them all to have I need to step it up and figure out how to do the other things....

Chaos comes in bits and pieces.
Yesterday I had 7 extra kids in my room - 9 at some points.
That means 22 kids in a 12:1:1 environment.
Not good.
We started out learning, then keeping busy, then crisis managing, then just coping.
Iran walked around the table repeating 'blup, blup, blup'.
"Iran," I said with my hands on his shoulders. "This is not an appropriate reaction. I know there are a lot of extra people in here but we need to try really hard to make good choices," I said.
He stared at me.
"Blup, blup, blup," he said.
Malik was doing backflips off of chairs.
Christopher kept asking for me every 5 seconds.
"Christopher, I know there are lots of extra people in here and it makes things confusing, but I really need you to work on being a good role model right now," I said.
They don't know how.
They don't cope well with new people or a change in schedule and all of the coping mechanisms I've taught them (go to the rug, read a book, draw, hang out in my 'Austrailia' corner) were not available because THEY WERE FULL OF EXTRA KIDS.
Not just extra kids - the kids who were having behavior issues in other classrooms, because someone decided it makes sense to put them all in one room.
I'm beginning to have some serious questions for people who decided 12:1:anything was a good idea.

Maybe...just maybe

I can do this.
Today was good.
I woke up ready to go to school because everything for the whole week was planned.
During my prep I talked with a student who was having an off day instead of frantically making charts for the rest of the day.
During lunch I helped other 4th grade teachers instead of planning, and after school I planned math and guided reading for NEXT week.
Suddenly my life has purpose.
I know where we're going, even if it's only for this week.
I realized today there have been no fights in my room for over a week. At the beginning of the year I was happy when there were only 5.
Maybe...just maybe...we...together...can do this.

7 Hours of Mad Productivity

What I did today:
2 grad assignments
All of my week's grad reading
2 sets of progress reports (the ones I send home every week and the quarterly ones required by my school)
Graded 3 days worth of standardized tests
Graded spelling and math unit tests
Entered and sent my student achievement data to my program director
Wrote detailed lesson plans for the whole week in every subject (first time I've ever been able to mentally do this - yes!!!)

My brain is tired, but ready.
That's a good feeling.
No lesson planning at night this week - wahoo!
Now if I could only figure out how to work 5 days a week instead of 6...

Herbivores Have Mad Love for Worms

Today we went on a nature search. After observing nature for the past 2 days and learning about ecosystems for the past month, today we got our hands dirty…literally.
They came back in with clear cups full of worms, dirt, and leaves.
One of the worms escaped to the floor. My big bad thug boys were going to stomp on it.
“STOP!” I shouted. “DO NOT KILL THAT WORM!”
We all stopped. I had just yelled in my classroom. That was the only time it had happened that it had not been an issue of safety.
“Sorry for yelling but we do not kill living things in this room,” I said in a more calm voice.
“Man, herbivores have mad love for worms,” said Mario.
“Yes we do,” I said. “I’m sorry I yelled – it was not necessary or appropriate,” I confessed.
“It’s okay Ms. G,” said Jose. “You can work on it.”
My little echos…
We went about our day with worms watching us from their place on individual students’ desks. (Try letting them dig up worms and then taking them away – doesn’t work.) At the end of the day Iran asked me if I would like to keep his as a class pet.
I smiled and told him no. All of the worms needed to leave at the end of the day.

Today was a good day. Hands on activities all of the time = engagement = human like behavior from my kiddos.
Now if I could only figure out how to give them that each and every moment of their time in my room.

I Heart Electric Pencil Sharpeners

Our biggest issue today was pencil sharpening.
Our school doesn't provide pencils or sharpeners and while it wasn't such an issue in the beginning of the year, it is quickly becoming one.
The hand held pencil sharpeners I bought for my kids lasted about a week before they were either stolen or broke. Guess the $0.99 store isn't good for everything after all.
I had a few that still worked and had been letting the kids use them until they started breaking the lead in the sharpener, at which point I became the official pencil sharpener.
Bad idea.
Today, on our first of 3 'practice test' dates when my students take last year's ELA test to show them how much the need to learn before they take this year's ELA test, the pencil issue erupted.
They all needed 2 pencils.
No one had more than 1.
The ones they had weren't sharpened.
That meant that I was sharpening 25 pencils with a hand held $0.99 pencil sharpener in the moments before they were to begin a test.
The problem only got worse throughout the day so tonight I decided my sanity was worth $20 and bought an electric pencil sharpener. They will be allowed to use it - 1 at a time - first thing in the morning and right after lunch.
This should save my sanity and my fingers!
Now...anyone feel like donating pencils?

Better

Today was not great, but it was better.
Learning happened in my classroom today.
There were no physical fights.
Anger was released by Jose coming up and asking me for a hug instead of punching someone.
Transitions were smoother because I wrote directions on the board.
No one complained that the classical music was 'wack'.
When the math coach walked by singing 'Chicken Noodle Soup', one of my kids reminded him that, "that's not appropriate for a business setting."
Progress is what was needed on this day where the thought of seeing my students again made me want to call in sick.

THE SYSTEM IS FAILING MY KIDS.
No para again today.
Me and my 13 babies made it through on our own, struggling through every mini lesson, guided practice, and independent practice...every transition and melt down and change in schedule.
Slowly but surely it became Friday afternoon.
10 minutes until it was time to go home. In our own ways we were all counting down the seconds.
Then Jose, in his excitement to come to the board to participate in our math lesson, accidentally stepped on Adony's foot.
Jose is tiny.
Adony is almost 6 feet tall.
Adony gets up from his chair and gives a look to Jose that tells him to run.
Over backpacks and coats and garbage cans Jose runs with Adony right behind him.
He squeals - it's a game to him.
He trips and falls and Adony begins kicking him.
He realizes it's not a game and curls up into a fetal position.
In the 5 seconds it takes me to run to them from across the room Adony kicks his back, ribs, and head.
I restrain Adony and tell Jose to run down to the in school suspension room.
2 of the other boys run next door for help.
They all saw it before I did - Adony had snapped.
He began pulling on anything he could - the ledge at the bottom of the white board, chairs, door knobs, trim along the closet. "Relax, relax," I kept saying. Usually he would be calm by now. His body only got more tense and his heart beat more and more rapid. It wasn't until he was pinned up against the door, with my hand between the cold metal and his chest that I realized how serious this really was. He was beyond the point where he was able to bring himself back and was pulling me along with him to go finish what he had started.
"Call security," I yelled to the teacher next door, my bare feet on the floor. You can't restain kids who weigh more than you when you're wearing heels.
Before I knew it the social worker, in house suspension worker, and a literacy pull out teacher were all at my rescue...sort of.
They yelled.
And yelled some more.
They told me to let him go and he tore off down the hall.
In bare feet I caught him again. He was not ready for freedom.
Jose was removed from the building and as they once again told me to let him go I knew that no one else knew that his heart was racing and tears were streaming down his face.
I looked back at my classroom and realized that my kids were silent. 2 of them were crying.
I gave Adony over to security I entered my room and shut the door. He screamed and pounded the metal with his fist.
I WANT MY TEACHER. LET ME IN TO MY CLASSROOM! It was not a request. It was a demand. It took 3 of them to physically restrain him as I braced myself against the door so he could not open it.
"Put your homework in your backpack and your chairs up on your desk. It's time to go home," I said in a voice so calm it suprised me.
They did.
Silently.
By now at least 30 kids were in the hall.
This is the closest thing to chaos I've seen in a very long time.
One by one they left.
Outside Adony stared at the wall and waited for Jose.
Before they left there would be another, smaller fight.
I walked back in the building to pats on the back and comments like 'I don't know how you do it,' or 'I'm glad it's not me in that room all day.'
10 minutes after my last student left the yard I left.
It wasn't until I got on the bus that I realized my whole body was shaking.

No paras or push ins today.
Illegal in more ways than one.
Too many kids, not enough help, assemblies and library time that throws us out of routine.
Today was not a great day.
Tomorrow will be better. Fridays are always better.
Days like today I realize that despite sometimes good intentions, there are many people at my school who a) really don't care where my kids end up in life and b)are scared of my students.
Fear combined with people just earning a paycheck does not set a first year teacher up for success.
I have to fight day in and day out to make sure my kids are getting what they deserve.
Today they didn't.

My roomie has a quote on his door that says, "It is impossible to teach without the courage to love, without the courage to try 1,000 times before giving up."
I love my kids...their funny sayings, their artistic ability, the fact that they come to school everyday and how they hug me SO tight when they're angry...but there are moments when one can't help but feel overwhelmed by the situation and how hopeless it feels at times.
Everyday they show me what I'm made of. I hope I do the same for them.

Mice

I came face to face with New York City this weekend. On Friday evening, my nice quiet apartment invaded by a mouse.
He ran across the hall in the kitchen and I told myself to ignore it - it had to be my imagination, right? After all, I'm TERRIFIED of mice and both of my roomates were gone and my dad was 1000 miles away.
Pretty soon the mouse ran in to my room.
I screamed.
The mouse ran from my dresser to the bookcase.
I screamed more.
The mouse ran from my bookcase to my closet.
I stood up on my bed and began to scream even more.
I called my dad - no one was home.
I called a friend, who laughed. "What am I supposed to do?" he asked.
"I don't know but there's no way I'm leaving this bed until something happens to that mouse."
In the next 3 minutes the mouse ran back and forth between my dresser, the bookcase, and my closet, me screaming each time the furry little grey thing ran across the floor. At one point it stood in the middle of the room, not knowing where to go next, and I just stood on my bed and screamed.
Soon my friend arrived to rescue me along with one roomate. The mouse was not seen for the rest of the night, but appeared the next day ON OUR KITCHEN COUNTER.
Where are all of my midwest boys when I need rescuing?

Blood

Yesterday I left with blood on my arms and clothes.
Not my blood - blood of 2 of my students who in a 30 second episode beat each other's head against chairs and stabbed each other with pencils.
They sat in my room with paper towels over their wounds while I tried to overcome what had just happened so that I could actually teach something.
Nothing prepares you for days like yesterday, but even more than that, nothing prepares you for days like today.
When you get up to see your bloody clothes still soaking in the sink and despite the lump in your throat and nauceus feeling in your stomach you must go to work because you made a commitment.
A commitment to an organization, a community, a school, a classroom, their families....YOUR KIDS. Even in the moments where I feel like a failure I know that having me in the classroom is better than having a sub in that classroom.
Today was better - not good, but better.
It took me until at least 10 to breathe normally....to not be on edge or angry or apprehensive.
As they worked together through reading centers and guided reading classical music played in the background.
"Man, it's peaceful in here," said Malik. "This is mad cool. Do you like it Miss G?"
"Yeah, Malik. I do," I replied. I gave him a pat on the back. It was a moment where something profound could and maybe should have been said, but instead it was just a small little moment in this thing that has become my life.

Culture sneaks in....
When I respond calmly to their anger.
When I recognize good behavior.
When I teach from the doorway because my para is absent and I have a student who needs to take a walk to calm down. He paces while I teach and watch all of my babies from my maroon poster covered door.
When they call each other out for being disrespectful.
When they greet me with a firm handshake and good eye contact.
When they ignore Jose who sometimes crawls across the floor like a catepillar because they respect the fact that he is still learning how to calm himself down.
When they run up to hug me after recess and the boys - the ones that are too cool for that - give me a little wave from way across the school yard.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Today he won the lottery.
The kid who was supposed to be the toughest - who hides in closets (not this year mind you) - finally won the lottery.
He held his bag of cookies and danced around the room. When classmates offered to pay him for a cookie he responded in a voice that sounded a little too much like mine.
"You can't buy success," he said. "Hard work pays off!"
And that is how we left. With them all parroting my phrase in one context or another.
They're buying it - so am I.

Now for reading. I just got their scores back. 2 of my third graders don't even test at a beginning kindergarten level.
Kiddos - we've got a lot of work to do.

Things Change

And there are moments when this does feel like some kind of home (though not the wide open spaces, hang out with my niece, bike around lakes kind of home). My students are, day by day, becoming mine. We're figuring out each other's buttons and intentionally not pushing them.
They listen to me when they won't listen to other people.
They're excited to introduce me to friends when they see me on the street.
They love stickers and lottery tickets but love it even more when I pat them on the back or tussle their hair and tell them how proud I am of them for something very specific they did.
They're my babies - through thick and thin.

I debated posting this since many of the people that read this only know very small parts of my life.
However, in order to keep this blog an authentic account of the life of a first year TFA corps member, it’s important to talk about what happens when we’re not in the classroom.
Today was our first real day of grad classes at Pace. (By the end of my 2 years teaching I will have my master’s in Special Education.)
Our classes were actually meaningful and I left with so many strategies that I can take to my classroom on Monday to help me understand and be patient with my students.
What was even more useful was reconnecting with the people who are in the same boat as me - teaching violent kids in a room where they’re unsupported in a system that is failing both them and their students. We’re underappreciated and overwhelmed and working 70 – 80 hours a week to try to make the impact we came here to make, and at the end of the day we crawl in to bed exhausted, sometimes inspired, and many times asking ourselves how we can live like this for 2 years.
We came here from separate lives - colleges where we excelled and friends who knew us inside and out, families that loved us, relationships we’d been in for years and futures that seemed to be falling in to place. We came here for a cause – because we believe in “the movement” and wanted to do something for the kids in this country.
Little did we know how much it would cost. It’s hard to start over in a city of this size. You can go for days, sometimes weeks, without seeing familiar faces. People that can see in your eyes when you’ve had a bad day are half way across the country and relationships that lasted years (including mine) don’t make it through the stress and distance and long work weeks. Lives are changing and while friendships are being formed the most tangible thing we have left at the end of the day is this….cause.
It’s not even that we don’t believe in it…we do…but the connections that made us us are gone and we’re not the same people that interviewed for this a year ago.
We’re first year teachers in survival mode trying to make it in this city where real connections are few and far between and we’re slowly realizing that this is not just a 2 year commitment. We’ve committed to live different lives and it’s too late to turn back.
I think they’ve raised the price of dreams.

I Just Told Them

We had a class meeting. We talked about 'peace building' and what we need to do to make our classroom a better learning environment. I reminded kids how much potential they had and that I moved here to teach them.
Then, one by one I pulled them out of the classroom to tell them what I couldn't figure out how to show them - that I care about their future too much to let them continue down this path.
Some of them bought it. Some didn't. They will eventually because it's not a line - it's the truth.
Today was our only good day all week but it came at the right time. They left with smiles on their faces and fought over who would hold my hand and I was reminded that some of my babies are still.....babies....even at 13.
I also broke the no smiling until November rule today. Not that I hadn't smiled until today, but today I laughed - let my guard down and enjoyed moments with my kids without worrying about 'asserting my authority'.
We played a vocab review game during science today because our enrichment teacher spent his 45 minute period telling my kids they had failed their quiz because they were stupid and not going anywhere. Actually Mr. Bad Teacher, they failed because you have them copy definitions and give them no time to explore or LEARN them.
So today we played a game - Jeopardy with ecosystem vocab. It took 15 minutes to play and 50 minutes to plan but they LOVED it. My toughest kid, the one who hides in closets, kept getting answer after answer right. I couldn't believe it. Neither could he.
"I'm smart! I'm smart!" he said as he jumped up and down after each answer.
I wanted to hug him and say YES YOU ARE - hello! I tell you that all the time!
But today he came to the conclusion on his own and it was so fun to watch that I couldn't help but forget the fact that he was not raising his hand before he spoke and that he was not sitting in his chair.
Learning is happening in my classroom, damnit.
There may be fights and disrespect and disabilities I have not yet learned to work with but my kids are LEARNING.
At the end of the day that has to count for something, right?

I Asked For This

I wanted to teach special education.
I didn't want to team teach - I wanted my own classroom with kids who were my responsibility.
I wanted to build culture and relationships and I wanted them to be my babies.
I didn't know it would mean stabbings would go unpunished.
I didn't know I would be SO over ratio that I don't have workbooks for everyone.
I didn't know that my room would be the 'throw away' room - where people send their old curriculum and rowdy kids.
The end of the day today brought overturned desks and violence.
The day starts off well then slowly goes down hill, first when the enrichment teacher comes in, then right after recess. then the extra 50 minutes of the day when my kids are supposed to do worksheets above their level with only one of me and way too many of them.
By the end we are all angry....them at each other and me at the amount of instructional time spent yelling over kids and sometimes, on days like today, I'm angry at them for throwing away so much potential...
Kids refuse to work.
Kids repeatidly choose to be disrespectful.
There is no consequence other than my call home and loss of classroom privledges.
I love them and care if they succeed.
How do I go in my room and convey that tomorrow?

Something

I need to do something.
Yesterday after school one of my kids climbed on top of our tin roof and proceeded to run around/riverdance on top of the building. The janitor brought him down and reminded me that, in a month, it will be a funny story.
Today one of my kids broke the mirror on a teacher's car. He then stabbed another student with a piece of the window. The student was taken to the hospital in an ambulance.
My student was brought in, yelled at, and sent back to class.
In the last 2 hours of the day there were 11 fights in my room. I removed 2 kids for fighting and disrupting our learning environment and they came back from our discipline room with comics and smiles on their faces.
There is no system for major misbehavior in my school.
My kids can NOT be punching each other all day. How do you rely on classroom culture to fix these problems when you can't do team buildeing or culture building activities without students punching each other? How do you use the 'don't do this because you'll get in trouble' approach when there really isn't any trouble to get in to?
Call parents.
No working phone.
Visit parents.
Students are bussed and school doesn't have record of current address.
Someone knows where that kid lives.
I need to do something.
We will not learn in this environment.
The behavior of a few cannot hinder the education of the rest.
How do I balance reaching the disrupters with rewarding the workers?
How do I react out respect and not anger and how do I teach my kids to do the same?
Surviving isn't good enough.
"Bad day?" a veteran teacher asked me today.
"Yeah," I said, realizing that it was really only a bad afternoon and I should give my kids credit for a great morning.
"Don't worry," she comforted. "It's not you, it's them."
I couldn't decide if she was just trying to make me feel better or if she really believed that.
There is something I can do to change this situation, I just don't know what.
Veteran teachers, help!!!

We Survived

Me and my 12 kiddos (2 were absent).
They did great in the morning, the afternoon was considerably more rough. I showed up to pick them up after lunch and 3 were missing - running the halls of the other building apparently.
The after school "enrichment" program turned out to be an extra hour to do a pre-assigned worksheet that was way above the level of my kids. Instead of stopping them I tried to work in small groups and one on one, which meant that while I was teaching 1 kid, 11 others were building towers with base ten blocks or seeing if they could get them to stick to their forehead.
Bad teaching - bad managing. Tomorrow will be different. Come on teacher self, you know better than to let chaos happen.
And then there were the fights - 2 of them - on the way back from lunch. The first one stopped when I issued a consequence. The second one didn't, so I stepped in between them and said, "Who do you think you are? My students don't punch each other." They both gave me an 'I can't believe she just said that' look, and joined the others in line. Looking back I can't believe I said that either. We do funny things in moments like that...
There were many great moments, like seeing their faces when I told them my principal said they have potential, and getting them to realize that that meant both he AND I believe they can do ANYTHING. And the times they corrected each other for being disrespectful, and how they follow procedures like lining up and moving to the rug so perfectly we didn't have to practice either one.
I got 4 hugs on the way out today. After the manipulative throwing and fights and craziness and way too many worksheets and just plain bad teaching, I got hugs.
Kiddos, I promise you I will work harder for you than I ever have anyone in my entire life.

"A journey of 1,000 miles begins with a single step."
Chinese Proverb

Tomorrow my students and I take our first step in what will be a 10 month journey. I'm not as ready as I thought I would be. I'm not sure it's possible to be as ready as I thought I would be.
I spent the whole weekend copying and buying and creating and re-doing and dreaming about everything that could go right and wrong and I'm still not ready.
Thank goodness the first day of my first year of teaching will never happen again.
Kiddos, please know that however nervous or frazzled or unorganized I seem tomorrow I have a plan for you. A plan made out of a genuine desire to make sure you have choices in your life. I came here with a mission and I will put every ounce of what I have in to making sure you succeed. I will not tell you that staying in your neighborhood or living in the projects for the rest of your life is the wrong decision. When it comes down to it it will be your decision. But you will stay because it was your choice, not because you didn't have the skills needed to leave because tomorrow marks the beginning of a very bright future for all of us.

Community

We FINALLY have internet access - yay!
The past few weeks have been spent in training either with Teach for America, the Department of Ed, or my school. This week I spent 15 hour days in my classroom sorting through tons of curriculum (none of it is mine), meeting people, doing and re-doing bulletin boards, and yelling at kids trying to break in my room.
I'm beginning to recognize people on the bus and in the gym and on the sidewalk in my neighborhood. On Friday night I lugged everything I would need to prepare for Tuesday on the bus. A crate and a big pad of chart paper and numerous books and supplies screamed teacher to everyone I passed. One guy at the back of the bus insisted on giving his seat to me. As I argued with him telling him that I didn't need his seat, a lady sat down in the argued over seat and I was offered a seat by yet another person. I sat this time, saying thank you more than is natural in this city.
"You a teacher?" they asked.
"Yep," I replied in true middle school fashion.
For the next 45 minutes we talked about my former students and future students and why I was here. We talked about their struggles with drug addiction and unemployment and what it's like for people who fall through the cracks. They both live in shelters now.
We reached my stop and they shook my hand. "Welcome to our community," they said. "Keep fighting for our kids - we're glad you're here."
I got a couple of 'Amens!' from people sitting in our area of the bus and as I walked down my street with 2 bags, a crate, and aching muscles, the back section of a Bronx bus waved at me.