Every night, Alaina and I walk through the Moody Commons to watch the “crazies.” These so-called “crazies” are the ones who are working relentlessly on their lesson plans, collaborating, and studying. It doesn’t sound so bad, but it’s like watching a feeding frenzy. Every face is panic-stricken. There will undoubtedly be tears. And for some sick disturbing reason, watching these people freak out makes Alaina and me feel better. We’re not freaking out, our LP’s are pretty awesome, and we’re probably going to sleep before 2am.
I always prided myself on not crying. If my kids were especially rude one day, I wouldn’t let it get to me. If I’m still up at 2:30am, I’m not going to cry about it. No matter how bad it gets, I refuse to shed a tear. I’m having too much fun to cry about it. But they broke me today. For the first time all summer, I was the girl in the TFA office at the end of the day crying to Aisha and Eric.
The writing teacher has a really cool job. We get to read some of the innermost thoughts that our kids have in their little prepubescent heads. We have a rapport with our students that no other teacher could have. I’m also fortunate enough to get to eat lunch with my kids every day. Needless to say, I feel like I know a lot about them. I especially feel close to one of my students who tends to get picked on a lot during the day. She’s a very smart, very bright, very enthusiastic girl who loves to talk about anything and everything that comes to mind. She’s also African American. One of the few non-Latino/Hispanic students at Jackson. The kids tease her relentlessly.
Today during their 5th period class, a few of the students decided to write some horribly offensive and malicious racial words on this girl’s spiral. Her teacher immediately ripped the front and back covers off and went on with her class, but brought it to our attention right after class. Our collaborative took the evidence to Aisha and Eric (the school director and the operations manager) and filled them in on everything. Within minutes half of the room was in tears. Of course I knew that these things happen in our schools. We learned all about it from our Curriculum Specialist. But when you actually see it, and when it actually happens to one of ‘your’ kids, it’s the worst feeling in the universe. This girl has enough on her plate when she gets home every day. Then she comes to school and gets called words that no 6th grader (or anyone, for that matter) should be saying. She has no safety net. Everywhere she goes she’s in danger of getting put down. This constant injury has made her violent, and she’s been in trouble many times this summer for hitting people. But how can I yell at her now when she hits someone who has been calling her these names?
We’re taking action on Monday, but I wish we could do something about it now. I don’t know I’ll be able to relax and enjoy my long weekend when I’ll be constantly worrying about my student. Especially when we think we know who it is. When we find out who’s responsible, they had better tie me down.
I feel like I let it go too far. I’ve watched them tease her all summer, and I haven’t done enough to stop it. I’ve never heard anyone say something racially offensive to her, but I’ve seen how much it gets to her when they make fun of her hair or how big a nerd she is. I’ve even pulled a few of them aside and tried to reason with them. I tell them about how I still remember things people said to me when I was in middle school. They forget about it 5 minutes later, but I still remember it a decade later. Clearly that didn’t work. I feel like I’ve been so caught up in protocols and classroom management strategies that I forget the reality of the situation. I guess I just never knew how bad it could get.
On a more positive note, I am so blessed to have the team that I have at Jackson. Our entire staff is incredible. They’re brilliant, passionate people who have answers for everything. I want to BE Aisha when I grow up. I’m so lucky to have people like her to guide me and lead me this summer. If I’m half as good a teacher as Aisha, I’ll feel like I have succeeded.
