On Friday, I had a a big scene with JM. He's a Freshman who transferred from another school in Dec. He started out doing pretty well, but it was like his New Year's resolution was to screw up. Ever since we came back in Jan., he's been either sleeping or playing. I called his mom earlier in the week, and almost immediately my "crazy radar" started going off. I could tell she just wasn't all there. For example, when I asked her if he had ever been full time ESE, she said she thought he was full time ESE. Then she said if he was ESE he was stupid, and everyone would know he was stupid. Nice!
On Friday, (2 days after my phone call) JM was in rare form--came into class wearing a hat (big no, no), kept muttering under his breath, refused to get out his book or participate. Finally he asked permission to go to the office. When I said no, he said he was walking out. I said if he did, I'd write him up. He did, and I did.
Then he came back into the classroom, talking about the fact that he was having problems at home, his mom was in jail, he was living by himself, and and no one cared. He actually looked at me and said: "Can't you tell that something's going on with me?" I went into the hallway with him for a minute. I said, "I'm sorry you're having problems, but when you're disrespectful and disruptive, I don't have much of a choice. If you would come to me and tell me you're having problems, I might be able to help, but this isn't the way to do it."
I felt really bad, because he was almost crying, and of course these kids really don't know how to ask for help. All they know how to do is act out, and hope that someone will notice and do something about it. They are just like preschoolers in that way!
The whole time I was dealing with Jermaine, I could not teach the rest of my students, and I really hate when one student keeps me from teaching the other 20.
Later, I e-mailed both the dean and the guidance counselor, explaining what was going on. I mentioned about the ESE confusion. The guidance counselor said he wasn't ESE which made no sense, so I looked into it, and sure enough he is, but there was some mix up with his records when he transferred to this school. Anyway, I guess they're working on his problems.
Sometimes I think the reason I'm not cut out to be a teacher is because I don't have the energy to help these kids with their problems. I don't want to deal with their personal lives. I just want to teach them. I want them to learn to read, and then I want them to leave me alone. I am so different from the teachers in the movies. In "Freedom Writers", "Lean on Me" and "Mr. Holland's Opus" the teachers always go that extra mile for their students. They get involved in their lives, and they make a difference. I love, and am inspired by those movies, but I just don't have that kind of dedication.
In other news, I'm cautiously optimistic about my kids' improvement on their SRI's. This is the test we use to determine their reading level. They all took it at the beginning of the year, then in October, and again now. I am seeing a lot of improvement in many of their scores. I just hope it translates into FCAT improvement!!
As I was getting ready for bed I thought, I just do not look forward to going to work in the mornings. There is nothing at school that makes me happy. I get up early in the morning and get ready in the dark. I eat breakfast by myself. I go into classes where the kids don't seem to care, and are just unruly. I spend the day fussing at them. I worry about deans and DOE people coming to visit and evaluate me. I worry that no matter what I do, it's not good enough. I eat my bag lunch in an ugly little room, with people I don't really like. Then I have an hour and a half of either tutoring more kids, or trying to get caught up with grades, reports, decorating bulletin boards, calling parents, and planning. Many days I stay after school trying to get it all done. There's no joy in Mudville! I don't know if it's the subject matter I'm teaching, the kids, the other teachers, the school, me, or a combination of all those things, but it's just not enjoyable.
When I think about going back to law, there are parts that appeal to me, but there were so many things I hated there, too. Maybe part of getting older is accepting that work isn't supposed to be fun, but that sure is a bitter pill to swallow. I keep thinking that being happy is a state of mind, and that I have to make myself happy. I'm just not sure how to do that.
