After school one of my students came up to my class to talk about her failing grade. I told her it was because she did poorly on my homework and got a failing grade on a test. When we looked at it, we realized that her grade was so bad because she didn't finish since that day she had been pulled out of class for not having a uniform. Looking at her test, I realized that she had gotten nearly every answer she tried correct. When she started complaining that she should have gotten a chance to redo it, I told her that students were given a make-up date but that she didn't show (only two did).
Mr. Kudo: "Why didn't you?"
Kendra: "Because it was early, I can't get up that early. My grandma tried to wake me up but I didn't get up. How you gonna expect people to get up at 6:45 to get to school?"
Mr. Kudo: "No excuses Kendra. That may be a reason why you didn't get up, but it's not an excuse. You can complain all you want but I'm not going to do anything. You had a chance, you chose not to come."
Kendra: "But Mr. Kudo, what could I do, I didn't wake up? Would you expect someone who is dying to wake up early to make up your test?"
Mr. Kudo: "Yes."
Kendra: "Awwwwww c'mon, I couldn't wake up!"
Mr. Kudo: "What do you want me to do, start crying for you? Play you a violin maybe? You need to be responsible for your actions. Don't make excuses, just do what you need to do."
Kendra's eyes start glistening.
Mr. Kudo: "What grade do you want to get in this class?"
Kendra: "I don't know."
Mr. Kudo: "Think about it, you've got to know what you're aiming for."
Kendra: "A 3, I want to get a 3." (A 4 is an A, a 1 is a fail.)
Mr. Kudo: "Why do you want to get a 3? Why don't you want to get a 4? A 4 is better."
Kendra: "Because I'm a 3 student, I got a 4 once but since third grade I've been a 3 student. I am a 3 student."
At this point, I feel the ache in my stomache.
Mr. Kudo: "That's ridiculous. Kendra, you're one of the best students in my class. You know what your problem is? When I look at you I see a four student who thinks she's a three student. You should be getting fours in my class, in English, in Science, in every class you take."
Kendra starts crying. I think I might start crying too.
Mr. Kudo: "At the end of this year, you're going to be a four student. I know you're a four student and when this is all over you're going to know you're a four student. You are going to do wonderful things in this class and in life. You need to know that you're a four student. All you need to do is work hard, take responsibility for yourself and trust me when I say that I know you can do it."
Kendra, still crying: "OK Mr. Kudo, I'm going to try hard."
For every moment like that when you can see yourself making a difference there's another moment. Today it came in the same day. I've never been closer to losing control. Just as predicted, my student came in ready to rumble. Things just went downhill from there. At the end of four periods I was standing at the door blocking him from entering the room just so he wouldn't and harass the other students. At one point, when I came closest to snapping, thankfully one of my students, Gabby, happened to be walking to another class and came up behind me in the hall and gave me a hug. I think that small bit of affection may have been one of the most significant moments of my life because it clearly allowed me to regain control. Without that, I do not know where I would be right now, maybe in jail, maybe jobless, I don't know.
The horrible thing about it is this. Tomorrow I will meet with his mother who is already considering transfering schools. I must make a choice whether to persevere and keep working with him or to sacrifice him for the sake of the other 25 students in my class. It's all coming down to a cost-benefit analysis of children. I've never had to make such a difficult decision. The thing is that it's all so horrible and reasonable. This kid, I'll call him Juan, needs to be in special ed but his mother had such a horrible experience with his brother who was in special ed that she doesn't want to do it. Special ed doesn't just have a stigma, but in poor areas it's also understaffed and underserved. There are so few teachers that poor areas get some of the worst since really qualified ones can easily get jobs elsewhere with less trouble. His mom is a good woman who works a lot as a busdriver and even has a college degree from a school in the Dominican Republic that is as meaningless in America as her monolingual Spanish. And here's this kid, Juan, who has had trouble every year and is now so far behind that there's little hope of his catching up without significant 1:1 attention. Not to mention that many of this child's behaviors reflect some kind of sexual abuse in his past.
So now, tomorrow, depending on what I say, we'll make a determination about Juan. Either we'll encourage his mother to take him elsewhere or we'll give him another chance. But at what cost to the other children in my class? These are hard decisions without easy answers and they're so systemic and cultural that they really seem impossible and abstract and yet today, I saw all that theory, all that progressive ideology come to a head with one kid whose lifecourse will be determined tomorrow.
In truth, it's pretty clear to me that this decision has already been made by these problems and processes. It's only up to me now to play my role as a gatekeeper in the whole mess. We talk about making a difference, but what can we really do? How do we change this whole mess of a system if we can't even help one kid we work with everyday? Needless to say, I have never felt the pull of determinism so much as now. I have also never felt so resigned to my fate, and his.
Oh god...and grades are due Monday.
tim.
One of my students is losing it. Every day, he goes a little bit more off the deep end. Today, you could see it in his eyes when he came in the door this morning. He started shouting and singing in the middle of class and soon entered into a full breakdown where I had to seperate him. I caught up with him in the lunchroom where he was still going at it touching and hitting other kids. Word on the street is that there's some abuse in his past that has left him with this kind of behavior. Last year he was even switched to a different class because he exposed himself to a group of girls. Anyway, later security had to come get him. As I was taking my other class downstairs to go for the day he shouted at me, "Fuck you Mr. Kudo, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you Mr. Kudo, I hate you."
We have kids in some of our classes who are really fragile mentally. Nearly anything sends them into a meltdown and the school environment is so rigid and conformist that there's little allowance for the kinds of needs that these students have. The authoritian nature of the classroom may strike you as horrific if you come from the progressive side of the fence but what you have to realize is that you don't want people acting like this. If this student continues to be like this he's not going to have any friends, he's not going to succeed by any definition, and his life is going to be horrible.
Now, he does have needs that I can't provide for but of course, that's what special education is for. Here's where the story gets interesting and political. The Individuals with Disabilities Education Act governs the referral of students with special needs. The law of course was framed around the desire to get students the help that they need but the ideas in it were also weighed against costs and first and foremost, the isolating and stigmatizing nature of special education. As you're reading this now, you're probably thinking as I did before I entered education that special ed is where retards and autistic kids go. Well, there are some cases where that's true but in large part it's kids with behavior and learning disorders where they simply need smaller classrooms and more attention. In a special ed classroom, you'll have a 12:1 ratio - instead of a 25:1 ratio - and possibly two teachers. What this means anyway is that it's really hard to get a kid into special ed and it's also really hard to get a kid out of it. Likewise, and most importantly, parents often have the same impression of special ed as you do and don't want their kids going into these programs. So, now I'm left with a student who should have been in, and probably could have gotten out of, special ed years ago but didn't because his mother wouldn't allow it. Now this kid is preventing 25 other students from learning. With a cooperative parent, if we'd tried to refer him to special education it would probably take 6-8 months before he left my classroom if it even happened. With a parent who doesn't want their kid in special ed meaning that we'll have to have a tribunal decide what happens, it's going to take even longer and be even more arduous.
I don't really know what to think about this. It's incredibly apparent that this child and the other students in the class would be better served if he were in special ed and yet I understand the issue of disabled rights. Disabled students should have a right to be in a normal classroom especially consider that it helps with normal socialization. By the way, you really have no idea until you teach how much teacher's job is simply to make it so that these students can function civily in society. If you're a parent you probably know what I'm talking about as well. So with all the problems regarding special education I'm now stuck having to deal with a student tomorrow who cussed me out in front of all the other students. Now they're waiting to see what I do.
The issue is incredibly hard. My first and most intense desire is to punish this student as much as I can but deep down I know that's personal and not constructive. A teacher has to do what's in the best interests of their students no matter what happens. All too often students are let down because their teacher's couldn't remain removed from the fray. So, I have a student now who I hate but need to act as though I care about him. Working at The Bruin, my first reaction of course is to fire him, sorta speak. I want him out of my classroom but I have to acknowledge that I can't do that until he really needs to go elsewhere. Otherwise I'm just passing this problem along and doing so in a way that will hurt this kid's self-esteem and only lead to a greater feeling of rejection. Instead, I have to do what is probably the most difficult thing I've ever had to. I must support, encourage and love this student and do everything I can to keep my own feelings out of it. Personally, I don't think I've ever had to deal with anything more trying, frustrating and contradictory to my very being.
tim.
Though I don't write thank you cards, I do write blog entries. Thanks to those of you who remembered the birthday, especially those of you who called even if I was too drunk to answer the phone or too pert to seem nice.
In any respect, the birthday was pretty shitty as birthdays usually are. Probably the best thing to happen was the 4 train turned express the instant I got on and allowed me to get to work about 10 minutes earlier than usual.
On my way to the 1020 to meet Barbara, Jacob and Nicole, a gang of about 12 13-year-olds assaulted me. I was walking by when one of them purposely bumped into me to try and start something. Then they started hitting me and one of them tried to throw trash on me before they chased me for a block and got the bus. First a mugging and then this. I swear, what the hell is going on?
Probably the worst thing that happened all day though was at the bar. This girl bumped into me and then introduced herself. She was 23, celebrating her birthday as well if I can recall, and was blisteringly hot. She was also as drunk as me and my morals kicked in. If this ever happens again and I don't embrace the opportunity, sorta speak, someone shoot me. I don't know what the deal is, there was no reason I shouldn't have pursued this. I think deep down, this is like the whole drinking thing. Despite my rhetoric, I think I have an ethical dilemma in my subconscious and I can't get myself to admit that it's ok to be promiscuous. But just wait, it'll happen once and then oh lord. For those of you who experienced my freshman year after I started drinking, you know what I'm saying. Oh well, I guess I just need to do it. Ack.
tim.
So I was talking with a couple of other teachers at the school about this one student who is having a bunch of trouble in our classes. All of a sudden, my co-teacher says, "Yah, but I hear there's some vodoo going on at home." "Voodoo," I say. "What do you mean by that?" "Real vodoo, they practice it, the mother is a high priestess or something. Santeria actually." Hmmm...I'm a little afraid now to let this student borrow anything of mine lest she soak it in lamb's blood and then burn it over a flaming bottle of rum while chanting. The freaky thing really is — and let's be honest, few things warrant the use of the word "freaky" like the practice of voodoo — is that my co-teacher said it like it's common business.
So I saw "Raising Victor Vargas" the other day which is about this kid from DR, or the Dominican Republic for the rest of you, who is growing up in Washington Heights. It's a good movie but the thing that struck me most was how much I could relate to it now. Now look here, I'm not claiming to be down with the people, all I'm saying is that it made me realize how far I've come from my sheltered Samo existence that now I find the story of a poor Dominican kid relevant to my own personal experiences. We're not in Kansas anymore indeed.
I am in a serious flow with my classes now. More and more I get the "Ohhhhhhhhhhhh" response when I introduce new material. If you've ever experienced this you know that there's nothing quite like it. As a teacher, it's what you go for on a daily basis. In the long run though, all those "Ohhhhhhhhhhh"s add up to real change in a student. To be honest, since the beginning of the year I can already see how I've made a difference in these student's behaviors and in turn, in their lives. During one training session we had before school started I remember this woman saying that she got into teaching to give her students the loves of her life. I find that in any given day, a teacher picks her battles, has her priorities and definitely communicates her own particular message. For my roommate, it's being assertive. Sometimes I wonder what it is for me. I mean, think about it, if you could only teach one big fundamental thing, what would it be? I think in the end, what I teach is responsibility, which is weird, because it's probably the thing that my own father emphasized so much. It's a good trait, it encompasses a lot and it's gotten me far in life but I sometimes wonder if I should be focusing leadership, non-violence, respect or some other important attribute? It's pretty awesome to see kids parot what you say about responsibility when they respond to a kid who is trying to argue their way out of a situation by yelling, "No excuses." It's an altogether awe inspiring when a kid actually admits wrongdoing and knowingly accepts the consequences. Oddly enough, I'm reading Moby Dick right now so I thought I'd quote a small passage connected with this. You may draw your own conclusions as to its significance:
"For sinful as he is, Jonah does not weep and wail for direct deliverance. He feels that his dreadful punishment is just. He leaves all his deliverance to God, contenting himself with this, that spite of all his pains and pangs, he will still look towards His holy temple. And here, shipmates, is true and faithful repentance; not clamorous for pardon, but grateful for punishment. And how pleasing to God was this conduct in Jonah, is shown in the eventual deliverance of him from the sea and the whale. Shipmates, I do not place Jonah before you to be copied for his sin but I do place him before you as a model for repentance."
As a final note, let me just say that I always hated writing "Thank you" cards when I was growing up. I always felt they were contrived, obligatory and meaningless. In fact, in response to Christmas and Birthday gifts, I still feel that way. That's why if you're going to get me a gift somewhat soon...ohhh...say tomorrow, you're not going to be thanked. But, allow me to say that heartfelt thank you's, especially in the form of a card, can be truly meaningfull and heartwarming. Such cards almost justify the existence of Hallmark and their cheesy ads and Holiday specials. In any respect, let me quote at length from another piece of prose that is perhaps not as stylistic but is definitely full of meaning. It was written by one of my students who began the year grossly disrespecting me and making excuses for herself on a daily basis. All too often the only thing I heard from her was, "See! That's why I hate this class." Well, these are the words, in their true, incorrectly 5th-grade exactitude, in the thank-you card she gave me the other day:
"To Mr. Kudo
Thank you for being my teacher, and putting up with the things I do, you are really my favorite teacher. I am lucky to have you, Thank alot.
P.S. Don't ever leave us.
Love Yanique"
When I always thought of teaching, I figured it would be very rational. You'd get up there in front of the class and explain a concept and in response you'd get a loud "Ohhhhhhh" when they finally got it. All very orderly and high-fallutin.
In actuality, the whole thing is a lot more Pavlovian and involves painfull repetition and mimicry. The kids come in, I do what they're about to do. They practice what I just did. I do it again, they do it again, I do it again, they do it again. When I think they can do it well enough by themselves, I let them do it over and over again alone. The hard thing is to make sure that they know how to do it right when you let them go, otherwise they're going to habituate the wrong thing and you're going to have to rehabituate them and reteach them how to do it right.
It all seems very straightforward and you'd think that anything so rote would be easily accomplished, but that's not quite how it goes. There are some kids in my class that learn anything and everything very quickly. All you need to do is model the correct behavior, provide the appropriate reward for excellence, or the right voltage of electric shock for a mistake, and they'll pick up on it quickly. Doesn't matter what it is. Multiplication, how to get in line, how to respond to a statement, even what kind of attitude they should have. It's all pretty straightforward and sometimes, when I have the kids in line, I find myself saying, "Ok, stop, stay. Staaaaaaay. Ok, sit." It's kind of sick but it just shows you how many of the simple behaviors we know as adults were learned just like dogs learn. Of course, the unique thing about humans seems to be that we can learn about a million times more tricks than the average dog. The whole thing, when you really see it in action, makes you wonder what we're really made of. I just don't see sometimes how we're capable of breaking free of our adaptive yoke. All we seem to do is use our previously learned and successfull behaviors to try and succeed at various situations and we adapt them based on the reinforcement we get.
But all that is somewhat philosophical and scientific and quite besides the point of what I'm getting at. I guess I had thought that such a straightforward process would apply equally, the strange thing though, is that some kids just don't get it. You reinforce correctly everytime and they still don't learn no matter how long it takes. These kids remind me of Republicans and radical liberals. It's not even a matter of being sheltered, they're just slow, they really are. Of course, this is a dangerous belief for a teacher to take given the power of high, or low, expectations on student growth. After all, a teacher who doesn't think a student can learn is clearly not going to be able to teach that student at their capacity. To really succeed, you need people to believe in you and so many of these kids just don't have that . It's not that they're parents are bad, but that they they're just very realitistic, or perhaps a tad pessimistic about their kid's chances. It's the situation they live in, it doesn't show them that they have many options or possibilities.
Well, this thought was all quite thoughtfull and rather unfunny, but that's how it is sometimes. I find that the most pressing problems when it really comes down to it are neither sexy nor easily solvable. They're mundane and demand discipline, consistency and determination. All things that I've never been very good at. Oh well, I imagine I'll just have to learn a new trick or two.
tim.
I guess it's what's not posted that matters most. What was the last thing I wrote about? The Yankees-Red Sox series? It's pretty clear how that turned out. My favorite part of that whole ordeal, next to the amazing Game 7 itself, was taking the 4 train home that Thursday night and riding it past Yankee stadium. As we approached the stop, everyone stood to the West side of the train to catch a glimpse inside Yankee stadium which comes from a break in the wall just a little bit past the actual stop. The driver usually accelerates from the stop like any other but this night, he stopped so he could look in, waited a couple minutes, and then inched by the gap so everyone on the train could peak in. Only in New York.
Last week was an interesting one. We've started serious behavioral intervention with one of my students. A lot of the kids you see, you can't really talk to and so it's incredibly frustrating. So far as I'm concerned, it's those kids that don't really want to listen that fall through the cracks. This kid, Albert, is one of my favorites. Some days he's absolute hell, others he has a keen understanding of responsibility, virtue and the path to manhood. Anyway, he ended up in in-house detention last week and then, when he couldnt' handle it anymore, they sent him to my room at the end of the day where he promptly earned detention. As I sat with him that afternoon talking with him, he was in one of his good moods where his 10-year-old mind can reflect on where he is in life. It's funny to hear about where kids are coming from. On the one hand, sometimes Albert can be a kid and tease and be teased by other kids. At times, like a week and a half ago, his brother died suddenly of a heart attack. He could have refused to do anything as he dealt with it, but he maintained. He kept going as many an adult would fail to be able to do.
The scary thing though is this: one of the main reasons he does stupid things nowadays is because all the other boys in the class think that the girls will like it. Oh god, I knew 5th grade was a transition year but I never really realized it. Another day last week, one of my kids got her period in the middle of class. If that's more information than you were ready for right now, hey, guess what, it was a HELL OF A LOT more information than I was ready for. Some situations they just don't prepare you for.
Albert told me that this other kid was taunting him with this calculator he had brought to school the other day. "How was he doing that?" I asked. "He said it was a pimp calculator and only pimps could use it." "That sounds pretty stupid to me," I said. "Yah, that's what I told him, there's no such thing as a pimp calculator."
I don't know, sometimes the job really gets to me. Even though it's gotten a lot easier as I've improved -- today, for example, was a breeze -- subtler philosophical issues are coming up. I've been trying as best as I can to teach my kids to non-violently respond to problems by trying to ignore them, talk them out, or get a teacher's help. The thing is that you come to realize that these things I'm teaching them are life-long strategies. If I teach them to defer retaliation to the teacher, it's like telling them to call the cops. What happens though later on when the cops don't come when you call? Sure, if they go to college and are working in Manhattan that's an appropriate strategy but maybe not if they don't get very far from the Bronx. But if I teach them to fight back, am I lowering my expectations for their success? And this is just one of many problems.
I start to realize more and more how important and nuanced education is and how really, it doesn't get the focus that it needs. Every profession has a product and in mine, more than others, it's to produce people. How complex, how important, and yet how widely misunderstood! Now that I am a teacher, I see so fundamentally how many of our problems result from basic education. My best students may lack leadership potential. My worst students may have it in abundance. And yet, we need people with it all. And even if they are leaders, or scholars, what do they value in life? Where are they headed? I am in the classroom for about 6 hours a day. That's 360 minutes. I have 50 students which means that I only get to spend about 7 minutes a day with each student. When they go home, they're parents may be working, so what do they do? They watch TV or play videogames. It is the people who produce MTV and Grand Theft Auto who get to spend 6 hours a day raising our kids. It's not even about whether those things are influential or heinous. It's a simple fact that if you spend 6 hours a day doing anything it's going to be a priority in your life and you're going to emulate it.
Me? I've started acting like a 10-year-old.
As a final note: I love New York. I love that when I leave work here, or go out for the weekend, or do anything at all, I'm in New York. It still feels like I'm on vacation and really, I hope that never fades. There are few things better in life than sitting with a friend in a park in Greenwhich Village eating cupcakes during the fall and just thinking to yourself, "After years of wanting and saying that I would do so, I've finally moved to New York. I live in New York city."
I love my life. That is all.
tim.
Like an igloo.
It's cold as a motherfucker.
I am a snowflake.
Not that it matters, but I just saw the Red Sox get a little closer to another massive disappointment. You know a team is desperate when they try and beat up a 72-year-old man with holes drilled in his head to get an edge. But, if the fact that the Chicago Cubs very own fan stole a game from them is any evidence, there is no way in hell that God is going to lift the curse anytime soon. Even if they did get a little help from the New York Times. What is that about anyway? I always thought it was pretty cool having the NYT as my hometown paper until I realized that they are in no way a hometown paper. Oh well, at least there's the New York Post which just doesn't have the same verve when you pick it up from the newsstand at Main St. and Rose in Venice.
But all that is besides the point though I'm not really sure what the point is. Oh yah, I guess I got inspired to write this to tell you that only in New York can you walk around and see people standing outside glass storefronts that have TVs inside so they can watch the game. By every bar there was a little group of people standing outside and at the particular bar I ended up at, the old Asian man running the laundromat next store kept leaving his store unattended so he could run inside to check the score and catch an at bat. All this of course came after I had taken the 4 train home and got my peak at the game inside Yankee Stadium through the window.
To be honest though, I'm not really a baseball fan. Though how can you not watch it in this city? I mean, it's everywhere, in every conversation, in every subway train, in every newspaper. I had to give three warnings to kids in my class who would not shut-up about the Yankees-Red Sox series. At least I can threaten kids who don't behave with: "Don't make me call your mom and tell her not to let you watch the series." Sadly, many of the kids know it's an idle threat anyway. What parent is not going to let their kid watch the Yankees beat the Red Sox, again?
Anyway, this was just to let you know I'm doing well, especially with the news today that Kobe might be getting a bum rap in the trial. But, I guess that's what the defense team wants me to think. How uncritical am I? Well, in all truth justice, fairness, and all that crap don't really matter if I can watch Kobe-Shaq-Gary-Karl bumrush the Eastern Conference in the playoffs next year. It's just too bad that nobody is going to be standing outside bars watching that happen. Unless of course, they're playing the Knicks, in which case they'll be booing Keith Van Horn.
Talk to you again during the NY-Florida series. At least then Scott is going to have a hometown team with a chance to win the World Series in his lifetime. Not that it'll matter.
Tim
It's fucking cold here.
October 2nd and I already need a heavier jacket. This is not a good sign.
Needless to say, I've been taking the chill off with a little stiff drink every now and then. Or rather, every Friday, with the TFA members at my school. I thought I could drink. Really did. I mean, I used to wipe the floor with Mason. But no, no, I can't really drink at all. Prinstein, this guy I work with, he can drink. Last Friday, I'm told that me and him got going at this bar on 80th and Broadway. All I remember was the first tray of 20 shots. I'm told that there were at least two more. Never doing that again. Not that I really remember doing it in the first place.
School is what it is. Some days are good, some are bad. I think the biggest thing is just that I keep waking up in the morning and going. Today was a particularly good day since I got several, "Mr. Kudo, you're my favorite teacher" and "Mr. Kudo, you're my best teacher." But, you know, it means very little when children say that. Just yesterday the same kids were saying, "Mr. Kudo, I hate you, you're the worst teacher ever." I think I'm doing something wrong though, now kids want to come to my detention. Today a few asked to stay and cleaned every square inch of my room. If only I had this kind of power over my roommates.
Yesterday I gave this one girl detention and because of it, her mom told her that she wouldn't be allowed to do chorus. The girl cried hysterically for several straight periods. Finally, she calmed down in the last half of detention when all the kids started telling me about how their parents beat the shit out of them. It was strange. After each one told me something they'd all kind of be like, "Oh, you shouldn't have said that, he'll have to report you." So many of them have been reported or are foster kids that they know the system. Anyway, this one girl, Raven started telling me about how her mom would get these long nails and scratch her upper thighs and then beat her there with her belt so that any bruises would be covered by pants, shorts or a skirt. The response from the other kids? "Oh yah, that's why my parents beat me there too."
Broke up several fights this week. The worst one was between these two girls where I had to physically get in the middle and tear them apart. Bah.
My first day off the plane in New York back in July, I met this guy named Ever. He was from LA as well and we talked about all that was going to happen on the busride to Fordham University for TFA institute. He was excited to be a part of TFA and was looking forward to life in a new state and making a difference. Later, on the last day of TFA's training institute over summer, they bring all these new members onto a stage to do a journal reading where they talk about their experiences to date. He was one of the hardcore TFA people who do this. It's a really big deal too because the event is shown in recruitment events and the like. Anyway, I found out yesterday that he quit on his third day on the job. Isn't it ironic? Don't you think?
Still no luck with the hot blonde science teacher.
Two three-day weekends in a row coming up. Let's here it for the Jews. This is the only thing keeping me going right now.
Today, I lined up my kids outside to go to lunch. As they stood there, in two, silent, gendered, single-file, size-ordered lines, a class ahead of us was lining up as well. The other teacher was also a first-year TFA member. As his kids stood in a screaming mob in the halls, one of my kids tugged at my shirt and whispered to me, "Those kids are animals, Mr. Kudo." Indeed. It was strange to realize how far I'd come with these kids in only 4 weeks. Of course, later that day I was the one dealing with a screaming mob of a class in the halls just as my principal turned a corner. I swear, this guy only sees me at my worst. Anyway, I still have a long ways to go.
I must say though that the class is beginning to come together. Granted, we don't really learn all that much math, but at least they're starting to internalize some values. I've got this group setup thing with jobs for each kid and the whole thing is starting to build community. They've moved from saying "Shut the fuck up" to simply saying "Shut up." I'd say that's a step in the right direction.
Apparently, the new slang is that if something is messed up it's "O.D." or "Crunchy."
Today, my rowdy class was acting up so I had them sit at their desks silently with their hands folded for three periods. Mr. Kudo don't play. Anyway, during this time I begin talking about the value of teamwork and leadership and how we can't just abandon a member of the class if we don't like or get along with them. After about 20 minutes of this, one of them raises their hand and says, "Mr. Kudo, this doesn't feel much like school right now." "Oh really Raven, what's it like?" "Church. Mr. Kudo, you talking like a pastor." Indeed.
After class as the kids were helping me clean up, they started doing impressions of me. They say imitation is the highest form of flattery but I don't think that what I saw is what they had in mind...
There's two teachers at my school around my age that work near me, Mr. Losse and Mr. Yun. One is white, the other is Asian. My kids think both of them are my brothers or cousins.
Mr. Yun used to be an auditor. "Oh really, why'd you leave?" I ask. "It got really boring, so one day I just got fed up and decided to stop working." "Oh, like in 'Office Space?'" "Yah, pretty much, I'd just go in and get some reports and sit them on my desk and then kind of walk around. I spent a lot of time in the mailroom and just sitting at my desk but after two months I just kind of got bored sitting around for 8 hours a day."
Well, that's about all I can think of right now. It's 10:30 which is a half hour past my bedtime. Hopefully I won't die of hypothermia tomorrow and maybe, just maybe, I won't have to write any names up on the board. In any case, at least I'll be at Happy Hour when it starts.
tim.