Poopie Boy

This post is a little long winded, but I felt like I needed to get this off my chest.
Today I am in a learning handicap class for 7th graders. This means that the students are several grade levels behind, and their maturity is even lower. The campus is in a rough part of town similar to the elementary school I was at yesterday. By junior high many of the students are already involved with gangs.
As I walked to my classroom I passed the campus security guard. I asked him for directions to my room, and when I told him which room I was looking for he laughed out loud. He then clapped me on the back and inquired how I had drawn the short straw. His advice to me was to not show ANY fear, or run. This was going to be a long day.
As first period started to come in I thought maybe I should reconsider, but then again I do love a challenge. The class came in cussing, yelling, and pushing each other. I was greeted with “Fuck, a sub” I can feel the love.
When the paraprofessional (paid teachers aid) arrived she ran most of the class, as paraprofessional often do. She was, however, resigned to their offensive behavior, and did not attempt to correct or reprimand any of them for their ongoing verbal explosions of expletives. It was clear right away who the worst offenders were. There was one boy who I will call John who, I was told later, had attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD.) This boy was up out of his seat disturbing other students, talking, and causing chaos. He had been instructed several times by the paraprofessional to return to his seat and get to work.
Let me take a minute to explain the dynamics of a special education class. There is always a paraprofessional in a special education class. Sometimes there is more than one depending on the severity of the student’s handicap. It is always a crap shoot to see what kind of paraprofessional a teacher will get. Sometimes they are great. Some working on their education and truly wonderful to work with, and then there are others that are entrenched and apathetic. The later was my aid today, but never the less these people are in charge when the teacher is gone. My only job is to make sure no one burns down the building. This is aggravating to me because I am in the special education credential program, and would be able to teach the class.
And so, the class continues in the way already described. As per the paraprofessional, she says that she does not want to send anyone out of the classroom because that is what they want. A free ticked out of class for the day. This means that there is no bite to the requests to sit down, get to work, and stop hitting people. I should have run.
Things go along in this manner for most of the period. There will be no reprieve at the end of first period either because this group of students does not change classes. Except for lunch and P.E. I have them ALL day. It was during lunch that the real trouble started. A campus supervisor knocked on our window and asked if one of our students could come in the room for lunch because he had just been punched in the stomach by John. John and Chris were the two boys that stood out during first period. They were mean, cruel, and headed for juvenile hall. The target of their ridicule was two smaller boys I will call Eric and Jose. For John’s infraction he was sent to the office for the reminder of P.E. apparently other teacher do not put up with as much as the paraprofessional does.
When the class retuned from P.E. John was back too, and something major had happened. Eric came up to the desk with a tear stained face and told us that Chris had kick the bathroom door open while he was in there going poop. John and Chris along with the rest of the class were howling with laughter. The paraprofessional’s response was that she would talk to them and he should go back to his seat. The laughing quickly turned into the nick name that Eric will probably have for the rest of his school years, Poopie boy.
The ridicule was so bad that the paraprofessional finally sent Chris to detention. John, however, escalated the ridicule. Making flushing sounds, plops, and remarks about the room smelling like fart. Anyone that did not know what had happened certainly knew now. By this time Eric is in shambles. The ridicule continues and I am looking to the paraprofessional to send John out. Finally, when it was apparent that she was not going to address the behavior, I stepped in. I called for the campus supervisor to come escort him to the office, but he bolted out the door without looking back. Yes, I should have taken the advice from the campus supervisor this morning…run.
All was quiet after John left, and when the last bell rang I was looking forward to getting out of that school, but why did I think this day was over. As the students were leaving I saw John and Chris standing outside the classroom door. John yelled at me that I got him suspended. This always amazes me, a student breaks the rules, I enforce the rules, they get into trouble, and I am the bad guy, amazing. Both John and Chris were threatening Eric and Jose. They were holding up fists and mock punching at them. Both boys retreated back into the classroom clearly afraid. The paraprofessional and I said we would walk them to the office.
Jose’s mom was already out on the street, so I walked him to his car. On the way Chris shadowed us trying to get to Jose. I told him several times to go home, but he kept on. I cannot believe the nerve of these kids. When I got Jose to his car Chris said “I’ll get him later.”
After the day was over I sat in my car and cried. This day just moved into my all time top five worst sub days.

Poverty

Today is the second of a two day assignment at the same school I described yesterday. You remember, drive-by, scary people, murders. The unfortunate side to all of the violence is the children. Over the past two days I have heard some sad things come out of these very mature 4th graders mouths.
I was in the office before school started and overheard two office staffers discussing the free and reduced lunch program. One lady said that the population at that school that qualified was 98%. That means that 98% of the population that have children who attend that school have an income of no higher than $15,000 per year.
The stress and ignorance of this level of poverty takes its toll on the kids. We were working on the weekly spelling list when it was time to move to another activity. The students had had more than enough time to copy down the words from the board. As I began to erase them several students protested. I told them they could ask me for them later if they had not completed the list.
Next, I assigned the homework: write each spelling word five times each. One of the students yelled out that he needed the spelling list put back up now because he hadn’t finished writing it. He told me that if I didn’t give him that list he would not do his home work. He said his mom told him it was not her job to help him with home work.

Great School

As a substitute I never know when or in what form a job will come. I prefer to know ahead of time where I will be working for the day, but because I am considered an on call employee I have to wait for the phone to ring. Another option I have is to call and see if there are any jobs that haven’t been filled. When there are not, a robotic voice tells me “currently, there are no jobs available. This message makes me sad.
I was about to pull my sweats back on and be a lump on the sofa when the phone rang. The assignment was 4th grade, and in a neighborhood that is less than desirable. Last week alone there were two drive-by shootings, several arrests, and a murder, but hey, I need the money