It's the little things

"Why do you keep teaching in that school?" I hear this all the time.

First, the school where I work is excellent. We are a piece of heaven in the midst of chaos for a lot of my students. We have a former graduate who earned the Bill and Melinda Gates scholarship. That's a scholarship that sends students to school and covers every expense until they have earned their doctoral degrees. We have graduates who have received the prestigious Nordstrom scholarships. We have students coming back to visit to tell us how their college days, careers, and families are going. We have students here whose grandparents came to this school. Even though I often blahg about the instances that bring me down, there are many reasons why I teach and one big reason is the little things. The little victories.

Yesterday, Donovan asked to speak to me privately. All my students know if they have a concern, a question, a complaint, a desire to hit someone but don't want to get in trouble, they can ask to speak to me privately. Donovan asking to speak to me privately is huge. He was my student who all last year only spoke to me when he was calling me a "b" or telling me to go to "h." He's the one who earlier this year called me "liar" so many times, I was thinking of buying a vanity license plate with my new nickname.

As is all too often the case, the story Donovan needed to tell me broke my heart. He apologized to me for not turning in his science project on time because the night before he was helping his mother take care of his step-father who had come home drunk, throwing up all over the place. I thanked him for sharing and gave him all the feedback that we special ed. teachers are taught to give back in these kinds of instances. Then, we discussed the goals he has set out for himself this year, which includes graduating and adding another general education science class. I told him he needs to think about how seriously he wants to achieve his goals. I then explained that he needed to show me how serious he is about these goals and if he was, he would have to bring the project into me today. This surprised him because, as he noted, this was not a day students were going to be attending since it was a professional day (PD) for teachers. I told him someone would be in the office to let him in, and he could ask one of the office clerks to put it in my mailbox. Then, I let that conversation go and did not set myself up for disapointment or excitement or what have you.

After our morning PD and our celebratory lunch for the new principal, I went to my mailbox and there sitting in it like a pot of gold was Donovan's completed science project and the colored pencils he borrowed.

And that moment of seeing that science project in my mailbox is a moment I get to have every now and again as a teacher. And it is a moment that I never experienced in the corporate world. I am very lucky. And I feel honored over and over again that I am allowed to spend my days in the company of children who more than often beat the odds and pull themselves up by the bootstraps more times than I have ever needed to.

Smoking Pot

I have this student. He was one of my stars last year. So sweet. So helpful. Tried really hard.

This year, a completely different kid. When I give a direction, he crosses his arms, slumps back in his seat and sighs. If I call him on his inappropriate behavior, which escalates as the day goes on, he mutters under his breath, "she" this "she" that, "I don't care," "she can't make me do anything."

I've called his mom. I've talked to our security guard who is also the soccer coach to help him out. I've met with the school counselor several times about how worried I am that he is so different than last year. He is in the school leadership group that is run by the area police officers. He attends CAPS--a Chicago Police outreach program--on Saturdays. He is surrounded by support. And, he was chosen to participate in an after-school music program, which he has not been attending because, he said, he was grounded. He lied. His sister, very bravely, came forward with the truth.

From 2:45 to 4:30 every day, he is getting high.

Who is supplying him the drugs? Two people.

1. His cousin. A former student.
2. Ismael. A current student.

Fabulous.

A half hour after finding this information out, I attended a meeting where the theme was, "get those scores up."

O.k.

Now I am slumped in my chair and sighing.