To be, or not to be... resolute.

It's that time of year... the New Years Resolution List is making it's appearance on many a blog, Facebook profile, Twitter feed, etc. I made my first real public list of resolutions last year. Here's an abbreviated version of that list:

1. Get more sleep.
2. Say no.
3. Eat better.
4. Cook more.
5. Meet people.
6. Read.
7. Read.
8. Stop being angry.
9. Exercise.
10. Write.

Let me tell you how well these went...

1. Slept less.
2. Said no. Watched things implode. Went back to saying yes.
3. Veganism didn't go well. Gained 15 lbs.
4. If my microwave counts as cooking, I did well.
5. I met people... but they were still within my workplace. Fail.
6. Read for school.
7. See #6.
8. Fail... just, fail.
9. HAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
10. I wrote 21 posts in 2012. The goal was 54... 38.8% is a big fat F.

This brings up the question of did I feel resolute about my resolutions? Was I whole-ly committed to what I wanted to do in 2012? Is that the person I really wanted to be? Someone who slept enough, didn't overcommit, ate well, cooked, was sociable, read, exercised, and was never angry? Apparently not, since I am not that person and I'm pretty happy with my life.

Do I want things to be different? Yes, absolutely. Time moves forward, as do I, and staying the same is... boring, to say the least. But what do I want to be different? What am I determined to make happen in the next year? Do I really want to lose weight? Absolutely. Do I want to have a healthier overall lifestyle? Of course. Do I want to be more social and meet new people; possibly have a boyfriend? Definitely. But if I wanted to do those same things last year and didn't... where's the breakdown? What are my true New Year's Resolutions?

This is a tough question to ask, especially because my "new year" really starts in August instead of January. As a matter of fact, this is more the middle of my year.

In the beginning of the school year I was feeling resolute about many things. I decided to have a better work-life balance. I decided to improve in my craft. I decided to learn how to teach students in diploma-track classes, thus learn to teach new content. I decided to stop being vegan. I decided to take less administrative responsibility. Lately, my feeling about these decisions has been less than resolute, it's been somewhat halfhearted. My work-life balance is not what it should be (let's be real, anyone who gets home from work at 9pm at the earliest get an F for this category). My teaching hasn't been as good as it was in the past, let alone better. My main food groups are Lean Cuisine, Hot Pocket, PB & J, and Starbucks. I am secretly making administrative decisions because no one else is, leaving me as a ghost admin that just gets trampled over instead of respected.

Realizing that I am in need of some resolution revival, I'm making a mid-year inspiration list. Instead of listing new resolutions, I'm going to think of reasons to be resolute. Hopefully this works out better than coming up with new resolutions, since I can just carry over last years failed ones.

Reasons to be Resolute

1. Practice what you preach. In order to expect my students to live productive, healthy lifestyles, I must model that for them. It is not fair, or realistic, to tell them how to live, but not follow my own advice. 

2. This, too, shall pass. Far too often I think that this phase will never end, that I'm digging a hole that is really a grave, and that things will never change. While I do not think I should go too far down a dead end, I do believe that many of my frustrations will pass and the light is at the end of the tunnel.

3. A good man is hard to find. This can be taken as a romantic man or a metaphorical one. What is most important is to remember quality is what I'm looking for, and that is not always the quickest answer or option.

4. What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. I often get overly discouraged by my failures. Even though my dad always reminds me that you must fail a dozen times (at least) before you truly succeed, it's hard to remember that it's ok. Even if I fail, as long as I learned from it, that's what matters.

5. Rome wasn't built in a day. I think this is most important for me to remember as I work on creating new programs at school. It's foolish to think that I'm going to get it right the first, second, or even third time. The (arguably) strongest empire in history took hundreds of years to build up... Not that building programs should take hundreds of years, but I'm sure you can catch my drift...

6. It's not the end of the world. December 21, 2012 came and went. We're all still here. Clearly things aren't that serious since the world isn't ending.

7. When the going gets tough, the tough get going. There are those people you can depend on and those that you can't. When things get hard, it's important to remember those who you can count on to not only work with you, but remind you why you are there. If you don't surround yourself with the tough in difficult times, you must be ready to stand alone.

8. Quitters never win and winners never quit. I had a weak moment a few weeks ago when I messaged my friend Mr. B. He's our Athletic Director and the person who has asked me to run our after school study hall for our athletes. In a weak moment where I felt I wasn't needed, I asked him, "Do I really have to do study hall anymore?" He was shocked to see that I had a quitters attitude. Even though I explained some legitimate reasons why I didn't feel I was needed and thus didn't want to do it anymore, he asked me the simple question, "Do you think [the students] need it? What would happen without it?" I thought about it, and the kids do need study hall. I also didn't want the kids grades to fall, they then become ineligible for sports, and then our teams that have been working so hard to turn around our reputation go back to square one. Quitting isn't the answer. Reorganize? Absolutely. But don't quit. 

9. You can drag a horse to water, but you can't make him drink. Kids are not robots. Neither am I, for that matter. Even if all the tools and materials are there, if the person doesn't want to use them, they might as well not be there. Far to often I spend too much time being disappointed about kids, and myself, not using the tools that are right under our noses. There is only so much I can do, and being upset about someone not taking advantage of what is laid out in front of them is a waste of energy. Recognize it and move on.

10. If you can't dazzle them with your brilliance, then baffle them with your BS. Sometimes, people just don't get it. Other times, I just don't know what I'm talking about. Regardless, the art of bullshitting should never be underrated, as it got me through my first year of teaching. No matter what, figure out how to move forward and make it happen. There is no other option.

Here's to a (more) resolute 2013!

DTR

I'm not sure where this abbrev came from (like that I abbreviated abbreviation? I know.... to cool) but it's one of the more handy ones I've come across.

When you "DTR", you "define the relationship". This could be used in many circumstances, with the most common of them being in a romantic relationship. However, it can be used in some other situations:

Friendship

Co-workers

Family

Religion (DTR with Christ is a common thing, so I hear)

Since I had only heard the term in a romantic sense, I had a difficult time imagining why you would need to DTR any other relationship you have with people/things/higher beings. However, when I was talking with my friend Angela the other morning, she was hearing lots of names of students as I caught her up on everything that I was doing and she kept asking, "So, how do you know that kid? Is he/she your student?" And I had a hard time explaining how I know MS, AR, DT, and pretty much all the kids that I don't teach, because our relationships are... well... complicated?

This confusing situation happens quite frequently. I am very close with many students whom I will never teach. (I won't ever teach them because they are in general education classes.) However, I am closer with these students than almost every teacher that has taught them. When they introduce me, they intially refer to me as their teacher, but when asked what I teach, we look at each other, stumped.

"Well, I'm a special education teacher, but I don't actually teach _______ in class. I run tutoring programs that they participate in and a bunch of other stuff."

Does that even begin to describe my relationship with the kids I don't teach? Does that adequately rationalize why I get up early on a Saturday to pick up AR and drive him to the SAT across town with batteries, pencils, and a snack to boot? Does that explain why I drive over an hour to see MS play basketball with her AAU team? Does that connect with why I pick up DT every morning on my way to school? Does that connect with why I take VM to buy uniform pants because he can't afford them?

No... if anything, it sounds kind of creepy.

So how can I "define the relationship" with these kids, if I'm not even sure where it came from in the first place?

Kids have described me as a mentor, but that causes some confusion. Most of the mentors in our building are from outside programs that come to our school and target struggling kids. While I am close with some kids who one would consider "struggling", many of the kids I'm close with that I don't teach are not. DT, AR, and MS are in 3 AP courses (the most they can take as seniors). Many of my "students" have wonderful mothers (and some wonderful fathers) who provide everything they can for their children. Out of the 75+ athletes that I tutor and work with on a weekly basis, about 35 were on honor roll. So when I say "mentor", it gives people the wrong impression of the student, even though it's an accurate explanation of the things I do with the kids.

Kids have described me as an older sibling, crazy aunt, or mother. While that can describe my relationship with kids, it gets confusing when they look at both myself and the student and realize there is almost no way that we're related (remember, my school is 99% black... we have 1 Latino/Hispanic student). Of course, my students more and more frequently describe me as black, so that makes it a slightly more possible for us to be related.

Kids have described me as a friend. This doesn't happen often, usually in strange social settings. This is a terribly inaccurate description of our relationship for many reasons. There's a clear hierarchy, chain of command, discipline structure, or whatever you want to call it. There's a clear age gap that is quite strange for a friendship. There is dependency that is not normal in a friendship. I would never introduce myself a friend, but sometimes the kid is lost for words on what I am.

So if I'm not your teacher, family member, mentor, or friend... what am I? What is this strangely close relationship that I have with the students at my school who I do not teach?

Their person. That's what has been the most common explanation of what I am to them. When I meet a coach for the first time, the student explains that I'm "their person" at our school. When teachers ask who they should talk to about getting a student what they need, I'm "their person". When an administrator asks who the student needs in order to be successful, I'm "their person". When I take a student to the hospital, they write down that I'm "their person".

It may not be the most traditional of titles, but I am more than happy to be their person. It happens to be the most accurate explanation of our relationship. They look to me for a variety of things, but I do not look to them for anything but their best foot forward. My name is usually the first out of their mouths when they are stuck, and my arms are where they run to when they are in pain. I am a teacher, but I'm not their teacher. I am a sister, but I'm not their sister. I am a friend, but I'm not their friend.

I am a person. I am their person.

Would, Could, Should?

Do you dare to dream of the would be, could be, should be?
Can you imagine what would happen if all the what ifs came true?
Is it possible to have everything you hoped for, wanted, and worked for?
What would that day look like, if it all came true?

Would the waves that crashed down and drowned us in our doubts recede
Leaving a smooth beach for our hearts to walk on?
Would the volcanic ash that suffocated our souls clear
Letting the sunlight that is our goodness shine through?
Would the quaking of the earth that made us fall to our knees be still
Allowing us to get up, dust ourselves off, and march forward stronger, without falling back.

Could the day come where a helping hand is not hard to find, nor to hold on to?
Could the hour be upon us that every eye is watchful instead of hateful?
Could the moment freeze where all hearts are open and accepting, free from fear?

Should we sit here and hope for the future to be brighter than yesterday?
Should we rise to the occasion and not be a bystander, but a catalyst for this euphoric day?
Should we march forward, not leaping over hurdles, but demolishing them in order to make the path easier for those who follow?

Do you dare to dream of the would be, could be, should be?
Can you imagine what would happen if all the what ifs came true?
Is it possible to have everything you hoped for, wanted, and worked for?
What would that day look like, if it all came true?

Treading Water in a Weighted Vest

I felt this was an appropriate metaphor for my life at the moment, considering Sandy's visit to Washington, DC has caused significant flooding.

(All jokes aside, I hope that everyone is safe, sound, and dry in their homes.)

My life has a variety of challenges at the moment: I have a new set of classes this year, in addition to my old classes. I have become the de-facto after school coordinator for my school, and receive a constant stream of letters, emails, and phone calls relating to programs that want to get involved with our students. I have 48+ students who I am responsible for implementing their IEP goals, and for 14 of them I am their case manager. I manage a functioning Athletic Study Hall program that has tutors from 2 universities and 1 tutoring program that provides services for over 100 students and am expected to keep track of student progress and ensure our athletes are provided support in order to maintain a 2.0+ GPA.  I have become the person who sorts out logistics for our cluster programming, but it's a hot button for some that I do it so I have to keep it hush hush.

Despite all of these responsibilities, my sole title at my school is Special Education Teacher. It is not Special Education Teacher & Cluster Planner & Case Manager & After School Coordinator & Athletic Academic Coordinator.

Oh, did I mention that I'm the head coach for a U-11 Girls soccer team? But that's not at school, so I guess I can't add that to my faux title.

I am lucky to get 4 hours of sleep a night. It's a special day when Starbucks hasn't been the sole provider of my meals. I came home before 8:30pm on a school night 2 times in the past 2 months.  The word "exercise" has not been uttered since August. I went through a 2 week period where I couldn't raise my voice above a talking volume due to overuse. My cats have taken to sleeping on top of my face because they are angry that I'm never home.

I know. I need to take a break. I need to step back and figure out my priorities. You're not the first to think or say that to me. I've been hearing it for years. As my kids put it, "You doin' too much, Ms. Walka."

I'm fully aware that I'm doing too much. So I tried to pull out of things, but that doesn't always happen.

1. I told the soccer league that I coach for that I cannot coach in the spring. This is very sad because I love coaching, especially this group of girls, but I can not commit to weekends. It's just too much.

2. I attempted to have an administrator take over the after school programming piece and have them take the phone calls from the various organizations. Unfortunately, everything is still being forwarded to my email/cell phone.

3. I stopped going to Starbucks 5 days a week. I now only go once a week and I only buy my coffee and breakfast. However, I have started going to the Corner Bakery 2-3 times a week. Regardless, I stopped buying lunch from coffee shops.

4. I make an effort to leave the school building during the day twice a week. I'm usually walking to Subway with my coworkers, or by myself, but it's a nice little escape. Plus I get some lunch out of it which is nice.

5. I attempted to not be the person who does logistics for our cluster program. By attempted I mean that I did not do the logistics for a "funky schedule day" and then waited until the day fell to shambles. It was ultimately more frustrating and time consuming to not do the work than to do the planning. So... fail.

6. I met with our athletic administrators and attempted to get them to take more responsibility for the academic component of our athletics program. I also met with our principal in order to set up a meeting to reinforce that I am not the person responsible for ANYTHING in our athletics department. I requested this meeting 2 weeks ago. This meeting has yet to be scheduled by the administrators involved.

7. I've met with multiple mentors to improve my classroom instruction and the efficiency of my planning. I have received a boat load of resources, but they're all soft copies. It wasn't until 2 days ago that I could print at school (we have run out of toner and it's not in the budget for us to get any soon) so that left me with great resources that I couldn't use... At least I get to start using those soon!

I'm sure there are a few other things I attempted to pass to other people or get help with and failed, because I'm not only right where I started, but I'm deeper than before. I'm not trying to make it sound as though I'm the saving grace of my school, or that no one else can do what I do, because I KNOW there are PLENTY of people who can do all the things that I do. We are blessed to have many competent and capable people working within our school walls. So what is the problem? Why am I still doing all of these things that my intelligent and talented coworkers could be doing?

Maybe it's because I have shown that I am always going to make it work. It's easier to push it off onto Ms. Walker's plate than to keep it on their own or take on something new. Maybe their plate is full and I don't know it. Maybe their plate is smaller, so less can fit on it. Maybe my plate is really the entire dinner table. Maybe it's because my fellow coworkers know a thing or two about portion control and I don't.

Whatever the case is, I'm still stuck here, treading water in a weighted vest. On the bright side, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Maybe everyone is waiting for me to drown and then they'll take on a few things. Why make your life harder or more complicated if someone else is willing and/or able to do it? That means I need to learn how to just let go and let things fall apart for a minute. It's just that drowning is such a scary thought.

One of my favourite movies is The Prestige. It's a movie about two magicians from the turn of the 20th century and the rivalry that forms between them. I'm a sucker for magic. It gives you this hope in the impossible. Magic makes you think that a person can do anything, even make things disappear. When I make "the impossible" happen at school, people will often ask, "How did you do that??" and I always enjoy replying with, "Magic." I know no one believes me, but it's not that they need to believe that I'm magical, but it does make them question what I am capable of doing.

Unfortunately, when I explain how I do things by stating that it's magic, I let people off the hook of knowing how to do it themselves, or how to figure it out.

"Now you're looking for the secret. But you won't find it because of course, you're not really looking. You don't really want to work it out. You want to be fooled."

Everyone wants to be fooled. Maybe that's why people don't want to take on the things I'm trying to pass. Whenever I respond with "magic", the only people who push to find out more are the students. The adults just shrug off the answer and don't ask further questions. It's nice to think that these programs just exist in our building, not that they take an extensive amount of work (and time) to function.

In The Prestige, people drown due to "magic" gone wrong. It is the description of drowning from this movie that leaves me terrified to let things go and just drown under the pressure...

Cutter: I knew a sailor once, got tangled in the rigging. We pulled him out, but it took him five minutes to cough. He said it was like going home. 
**********************
Cutter: Take a minute to consider your achievement. I once told you about a sailor who drowned. 
Robert Angier: Yes, he said it was like going home. 
Cutter: I lied. He said it was agony. 

When In Doubt, Write It Out

I've had some very conflicting emotions this past week. While things are going relatively well (considering the circumstances), I've been more down and out than usual. For the first time in a long time I questioned my purpose and effectiveness at my school, and that was a very alarming moment.

I love my job. I love my students. I even love most of my co-workers. However, when the going got tough these past few weeks, and this week especially, I broke down and cried. I felt ineffective, incapable, and lost. After sleeping for 14 hours in the past 24, I rose up from my slump and searched for something to ground me in my purpose, sturdy my resolve.

That's when I came across the first piece I wrote when I started teaching. It was October 1, 2009 and I had been teaching for about 6 weeks. I was knee deep in children (16 going on 20) in a small closet with a carpet that made my head throb every time I walked in. The number of desks needed made it so there was about 15 sq. ft. of walking space, and nothing stuck to the walls because cinderblock was invented by the devil. I had an aide who beat children, and the other tried his best but was as lost as I was. My principal ignored that me and my students existed, and the only time he spoke to me was when one of my students was caught in the wrong location. "This MR kid doesn't belong here. Don't let him out of your site, Walker."

I was in a pretty low place. Even though I cried every day at 1pm to my mother (thanks for listening, Mom), I was more angry than sad. So what did I do? I wrote about it.

I Can. I Will. I Must.

I accept that DC schools are among the lowest performing in the country – at the moment.

I accept that my school was shut down because it did not meet AYP three years in a row.

I accept that I was placed in a classroom that is filled with students who have a disability I was completely unprepared for.

I accept that John cannot read the word “the”.

I can even accept that Joseph came from a school that refused to teach him.

I accept that Diamond has brain cancer and may not live to next year.

I accept that Denzel adds with his fingers – but is a regionally ranked basketball player.

I accept that my students have been neglected and forgotten in a broken system.

However…

I do not accept that Washington, D.C. chooses to label children as “Mentally Retarded” – for it scars my students deep in their souls – they are “Intellectually Disabled”, not retarded.

I do not accept that these children cannot learn – because they learn everything I offer them.

I do not accept that Clarice comes to my room nearly every day and says “Ms. Walker, can I be in your class? I want to learn how to read but my teacher won’t teach me.”

I do not accept that these children are a lost cause in need of babysitting – because they are independent and strong young adults.

I do not accept that DC public schools refuse to open their eyes to the traumatic experiences they have put these children through.

I do not accept that a group of students at my school do not have a classroom, or a teacher, because it is not an emergency.

Instead…

I accept the responsibility to educate the forgotten, the broken, the alone.

I choose to teach some of the most eager and engaging children and tell them they CAN learn, they ARE smart, they WILL read.

I empower my children with the ability to teach others what they know – not make excuses for what they do not.

I enable my children to fight for their right to an education – since nobody has ever told them they have that right.

I fight for the children who have been told they are not to interact with other kids because they are called “retarded”, “stupid”, and “unable to learn”.

I teach those who are feared, shunned, and misunderstood.

I tell my students every day that they are smart, beautiful, and able to learn – as some have never heard these words said to them.

I can, I will, and I must advocate for the children who have been forgotten, for the children who have been pushed aside and hidden behind a door stained with the stigmatized label “Special Ed”.

I refuse to sit and watch a population be discarded and neglected.

I teach 9-12^th grade, self-contained, MR Cluster students.

I come from a life of privilege and good fortune, but I have never been as privileged as I am now – teaching 17 children who are fighting the system and proving that they CAN, WILL, and MUST learn.

When I had finished, I sent it to my father, my biggest fan and best critic. Once he read it (and sent me some edits), he told me to share it with others. He was moved, motivated, and angry about what he had read, and he wanted other people to feel the same. (He and I, we're two peas in a pod.) So I sent it along to my mentor, and ended up being nominated to read it to 300 other educators. It has slowly spiraled through my education circles, and people have thanked me for strengthening their resolve in the mission that all children deserve an equal and excellent education.

The most important part of this piece was it gave me my mantra. No, not the "shit could always be worse" mantra that I seem to have had on repeat for the past 7 months, but the "I can, will, must" mantra. The driving force behind everything I do.

I can design and deliver an excellent education, both in and outside of the classroom.
I will work tirelessly to deliver said education to all children who enter my life.
I must do this in order to be a proud citizen of the great United States of America. There is no other option, this must happen.

A lot has changed since I wrote "I Can. I Will. I Must." We have a thriving program for students with Intellectual Disabilities at my school. It is no longer just me, but a team of teachers that educate these beautiful children. DCPS has not only paid attention to, but acknowledge our students, their accomplishments, and has begun working with other clusters to change their curriculum. The national language to describe my students' condition has officially changed from "Mental Retardation" to "Intellectual Disability."

But it's not all sunshine and rainbows. We're back to being severely understaffed because of budget cuts and lack of understand for what is necessary for our children. I have begun working with students outside of the cluster and have been exposed to new injustices within our building and district. It is these challenges that made me question my resolve and ability these past few weeks. However, it is also what gives me resolve to move forward.

Today, I move forward instead of backwards, regardless of the direction that the system is trying to make me go.

I Can. I Will. I Must.

I'm Really Good at Math... but Your Class Makes Me Feel Stupid

Self-advocacy is a life skill that every special education teacher harps on, every day, in every class. For our students with disabilities, it's crucial that they speak up for themselves to inform their teacher what is and is NOT working for them. As long as they are mature and honest in the conversation, just about every teacher is willing to adjust the curriculum, make modifications and accommodations, and hear the child out.

Today was a big day for SJ. This is my first year teaching her, but other teachers who have taught her for 3 years constantly chat about how SJ will be the angel student (sit quietly, follow directions, be respectful) but if she is lost, she'll never let you know. She'll sit there for an entire semester before telling you that she doesn't know what's up. That was, until today.

We have our first Algebra II test tomorrow and SJ wanted to stay after school and complete the review packet with me. When she sat down with me, she looked across the table at her old math teacher and made a goofy face. Ms. W (her previous math teacher) told her that if she needed something she needs to tell me. SJ shook her head and we continued working. At the first break we had, she got up and sat down with Ms. W and continued working through the packet. I watched them as they went along, trying to learn how Ms. W teaches in order to help me be a better teacher for SJ. We were doing a lot of the same techniques, but the difference was Ms. W knew exactly what SJ's deficits were, and I didn't. Granted, she taught SJ for 2 years in a row, so it's no surprise that Ms. W knew what SJ needed help with, but it still gave me a wake up call.

When Ms. W had to get up to do something, I moved back in to help SJ with the packet. Before we began working again, I asked her why she was so shy with me but so chatty with Ms. W. She explained that she really likes math and that it's her better subject, but she is frustrated with my class because it makes her feel stupid. Not only does it make her feel stupid, but the entire class is lost. Everyone was nervous about the Unit 1 test and she thinks that if I keep going at the pace I'm going everyone is going to fail.

My heart broke. It's only the 3rd week of school and I'm making kids feel stupid. The last thing I EVER want to do is make a child feel incapable or inadequate. The problem was that I was so busy worrying about whether I was meeting the Algebra II standards that I forgot I work with kids with disabilities who are functioning far below grade level. Scaffolding is everything, and remediation is a non-negotiable part of instruction. I was treating them like any other Algebra II class, when the truth is that they aren't. And SJ knew that.

She told me that her and the other kids learn slower, which is why they needed the smaller classes. She does better in one-on-one situations, but she understands that it's hard for me because I don't have an assistant in the classroom and it's just me. She felt bad for me because I am trying to keep things moving for the kids who come every day but have to deal with the fact that some kids come once a week or new kids come all the time. She wasn't mad at me, but she made sure that I understood that this class couldn't keep going the way it was currently moving.

Without a clue what to do, I asked her for advice. I asked what her previous teachers had done that was helpful for her. I asked what I can trust her and the other students to do and what I should make sure I supervise. SJ and I came up with a new structure for what the class will look like, and we agreed that if the test goes poorly tomorrow that we'll start everything over again on Monday, from scratch, using the new plan and see if we do better the second time around.

When Ms. W came back to our conversation, she asked how the math was going and I told her horribly. She was very confused and I had SJ explain what we had been talking about. I have never seen a more proud special education teacher. Ms. W was elated to hear that SJ not only told me that she was struggling, but was clear and explicit about what she needed in my classroom, as well as what the other kids needed too.

SJ's conversation made me really sad. I had spent 3 weeks teaching students with severe disabilities, and I couldn't even tell that they felt stupid in my classroom. I made SJ promise to continue to tell me how things are going, every day if possible, and to make sure that I never, EVER, make her feel stupid again. She promised, as well as thanked me for trying my best and listening.

That was one of the best "thank you"s I've ever gotten. When I asked my students on the first day of school what the most important thing for me to do was, they all unanimously responded, "Try to be the best teacher you can be." Thankfully, SJ and my Algebra II class realize that I'm trying my best, but I need them to help me out and teach me in order for me to be the best teacher I can be. The math will come eventually...

Bittersweet New Beginnings

This past school year, I spent a significant amount of energy on a particular student, Dan (not his actual name). He had started out in the ID Cluster but was moved to general education classes to earn a diploma because he was mislabeled (sadly this is not terribly uncommon in DCPS) and wasn't actually ID. Not to mention, he didn't have adaptive deficits or anything that would really indicate an Intellectual Disability.

When Dan walked into my class two years ago, my life changed instantly. Because of him, I was introduced to gen ed kids, as well as the world of athletics at my school. Because of him, I was introduced into the world of AAU basketball, and I started giving kids rides to and from school. Because of him, I began tutoring students outside of the group of kids I taught, and ultimately started my after school tutoring program. Because of Dan, my professional trajectory has permanently changed.

I picked Dan up for school and brought him home. I went AAU games on weekends, often driving him to and from them wherever he was living that week. I picked up his calls when his parents didn't, and gave him rides home when others failed to do so. When his phone was turned off because his parents couldn't pay the bill, I pulled through so that I could contact him and his family to get him to and from school. I went to school sporting events that he (and other kids I supported) played in, and brought him to all the ones he didn't. We celebrated his birthday with a few other students that he is friends with and that I am close with. I spoke with his parents daily about his grades and behavior, keeping them informed about what was going on in school. When he was suspended, I was called into the office in order to contact family or to let me know that he wasn't to be brought to school. When teachers struggled with him in class, I was contacted to figure out how to help him be successful, or set up conferences with parents.

In short, I was Dan's primary care giver, as the person who spent the most time with him during the day and administered discipline for his actions. I fed him multiple meals a day, most days of the week, and made sure that he was in school and in uniform. At a ripe age of 25, I was a parent of a teenager.

Dan had a rough school year. His first year out of the cluster wasn't easy, but he made it through. His second year proved to be difficult, some argued too difficult, and his grades saw a steady decline, starting at Cs and Bs and ending with straight Fs. His behavior got worse throughout the year, and his suspensions became more frequent. By the end of the year, Dan was your typical struggling student in an inner city school. His goal is to be the first person in his family to get a High School Diploma, but he was slowly becoming a statistic.

Throughout the year, when he would get really frustrated, he would say that he was going to transfer to our rival high school, which is a few miles away. I took it personally when he said it, even though that wasn't the case. It wasn't about me, but it was really hard not to take it personally when I spent so much time taking care of Dan and I knew he wouldn't get the support he and his family clearly needed at the other school.

Towards the end of the year he started saying it more frequently and we finally had a conversation about it. He explained why he thought he would be more successful there (he can start over, he'll work harder, his cousins go there, etc.) and I explained why it wasn't likely that he would be successful (he will have to rebuild relationships with teachers which takes time, he could get lost in the middle since his misbehaviors aren't that bad, the school is notorious for allowing kids to walk the halls which he loves to do, etc.). We agreed to disagree, and we were both frustrated with the other.

Unfortunately, Dan was involved with the illegal incident that happened on the last day of school that I wrote about previously, and we finished the year on very uneven ground. I was extremely disappointed and upset, and he was in total denial that he had done anything wrong. A week later, he called me asking for a ride home because his dad was out of town and his mom was At the beginning of an 8 hour shift - he was in a bad spot because he was about to get in a fight with a boy who was at his cousin's house (where he was) that was picking with him and no one was helping stop it.

When I picked him up, we had a long chat about how I found out earlier in the day he had withdrawn from my school. He said that his mom was going to enroll him in the rival high school and he was going to get a fresh start. He claimed he was going to summer school so he could move on to the next grade, but I knew that he hadn't enrolled. With him transferring schools, I explained that all my parental actions were going to stop. I would no longer drive him to school. I am no longer his meal ticket. I am not going to pick up any calls after school hours. I would not attend his AAU games, and I would not shuttle him to and from practice. I would no longer pay his phone bill if his parents did not, as I won’t be keeping track of his attendance. In parenting terms, Dan was being cut off.

Dan understood. It made sense. He was actively going against my advice, and I wouldn't have any reason to be interacting with him. Even though I love him as my own, and I will always support him to do great things, I cannot continue to be his “parent” if he was not going to be under my "roof." We said good bye and I told him to stay in touch.

6 weeks passed until I heard from Dan. He messaged me on Facebook this evening, just to say hi. We chatted about summer and school this coming year. While saying our goodbyes, I got a bit teary:

Me: Ok - I'm going to bed - have fun with bball and keep out of trouble - don't be a stranger!
Dan: ok i love you ms.walker

Dan is not very emotional (I mean, he is a teenage boy), and almost never expressed any sentiment (positive or negative) towards me. Considering he didn't reach out to me for 6 weeks after we said goodbye and the longest I had gone without hearing from him was 4 days, I was concerned that all my best efforts made minimal impact in his life. It was nice to be wrong.

While I'm going to miss him a ton, I'm not going to lie, I'm looking forward to not being a parent this school year. 

Putting Her Name In The Hat

I'm a very proud graduate of Cornell University. How I got there was no surprise, and nothing special. I was in 2 choirs, played 3 sports (one of which I was a captain), participated in 2-3 stage performances each year, danced for 10 years (jazz & Irish step dancing, with a brief stint in ballet), was captain of our Model UN team (and an award winning delegate), had a 3.5 GPA, took  5 APs, was on Honor Roll all of high school,  got a 1270 on my SATs, and was top 10 in my class at my small private school.

I was your typical Cornell student: above average SAT scores, GPA above a 3.5, extremely active in a variety of extracurriculars, and a natural leader.

Actually, I was below average, but that's ok.

As a freshman at Cornell I nearly failed out because I was delusional and thought I should be a Physics major. Cornell is ranked top 10 in the US for physics, and I was in classes with actually smart kids. They never went to class, turned in homework, never went to office hours, and then aced the exams. I went to every class, went to the professor's AND TA's office hours, turned in homework (it was always wrong), and bombed every test. I was failing 2 of my 4 classes before I could click my heels three times. I had to move down to "part time student" status by October and get myself in order. I quickly realized that I wasn't going to be a Physics professor like I thought, and started pondering other life paths I could take.

I dabbled here and there, thinking math - no, advertising! - no, how about marketing? - actually, I like Shakespeare.... can I major in Shakespeare? My parents sat patiently on the sidelines, trying to give me advice, but I was adamant about figuring this one out on my own - it's my life, after all!

At the end of my freshman year, my parents' words finally hit me. They had been repeating them since I got into Cornell, "Don't rush into anything. You don't have to know what you want to do right now. Just learn!" So learn I did. I learned that there was no need to pick a major until I absolutely had to and I could just take whatever I wanted. Well, that worked until I was a few months into my junior year and they threatened to "suspend" me if I didn't pick a major. So I picked the one with the least requirements and the broadest set of classes: History. I fulfilled my requirements (just barely), and graduated with a respectable GPA (it took 3 years to make up for the abismal first one...).

When I started teaching at my school, we were required to push a College Bound Culture. We were to advertise our alma maters, talk about them frequently, and every Friday we could wear our school's memorabilia in the form of a t-shirt or hoodie. It was disheartening that kids didn't know Cornell University - unfortunately they mostly knew schools because of their athletics teams and Cornell doesn't have much to brag about outside of hockey and lacrosse, which are sports that are pretty foreign to my kiddos.

Regardless, I constantly talked about my alma mater with pride and told stories of college life, what I did on campus, and how my life was changed for the better because of good ol' CU. I didn't think any of the students at my school would be interested in Cornell because

1. It's in the middle of nowhere. Cornellians joke that it's centrally isolated. Ha...
2. It's super cold the majority of the school year. Not lots of snow (occasionally we are blessed with it), just bitter, bitter cold.
3. They don't have good sports that my students are interested in. Our basketball team had a brief moment of glory in March Madness but that time has passed.
4. They don't know anyone who has gone there other than me. This means something really new and unknown which translates into scary.
5. Since I'm hard on them about their academics, they believe that I am a nerd, and thus Cornell is full of nerds. Since they themselves are not nerds, they do not want to be at a school full of nerds. (Contrary to popular belief, Cornell is not full of JUST nerds. We were named Hottest Ivy by Newsweek in 2007!)

The list goes on, these are just the 5 strongest reasons of why they wouldn't be interested. So you can imagine my shock when I was running study hall with our girls basketball team and was telling them about myself when the captain, MS, said, "You went to Cornell? You know, I'm going to go there." My heart skipped a beat. I stared at her, dumbstruck. "Really? You want to go to Cornell???" "Yeah, I mean, who wouldn't? That's a really good school isn't it?"

I lept out of my seat and tackled her. Gave her a HUMUNGOUS hug and started shouting about how I was so excited and all kinds of other things that no one could understand since my tone matched that of Alvin the Chipmunk. MS was confused by my reaction (shocker, I know) and didn't think it was that big of a deal. She's top 10 in her class, plays 3+ sports, has a decent GPA, and had won a $50,000 scholarship with the DC Achievers Scholarship Program. She's used to being on top and she didn't think it was weird for her to want to go to Cornell.

"Ms. Walker, chill out. You're acting crazy. I'm going to go to an Ivy League - that's what I want to do. You don't need to freak out."

But I did. And I continue to, because it is 7 months later and we are now starting the application process. This is a big deal. I have every reason to freak out. MS wants to go to Cornell University, and she's going to apply. I don't know if we've had any students apply to an Ivy in the past 5 years, maybe even 10? I don't know if she'll get in - but the fact that she's willing to apply and compete with those who were bred for the Ivy League gives me immense joy. She's honestly smarter than I am, and definitely has more grit and determination, so I know that if she got in, she would not only be fine, but also be a huge asset to the university. However, I know that their acceptance rate this past year was around 20%, so.... it's not impossible, just difficult.

No matter what the outcome, I'm just proud that she

1. Knows what Cornell is.
2. Knows where it is.
3. Wants to go there.

Keep your fingers crossed!

[Insert Painful Emotion Here]

Death

A few weeks ago, our community lost a student. The student died from internal bleeding, and it's unclear what caused it. While he had diabetes, we aren't sure if that was related to his death. While I am thankful that he did not die on the street from gang violence, his death is devastating regardless. I cannot imagine how his family feels, losing a teen. This feeling is terribly familiar to members of the community, but it was a first for me. I have been blessed with never experiencing a death of someone whom I have spent more than a day or so with. This is a student who I spent time with every day after school, helping him with homework, chatting about school, and just goofing around with. His quiet nature deceived many into believing he was shy and not very interesting, but he was just the opposite. The shell was just difficult to crack.
When I heard the news I couldn't even cry. I didn't know how to react. All I could think about was his family, and how much pain they must be in. Death makes you feel completely helpless, because there is nothing you can do to reverse it, nothing you can do to make the pain dissipate.  It just lingers until you are ready to let it go. But that's the hardest part, just letting go.

Felony

5 students, 4 of which are practically my own children, were caught stealing school property. I watched the security cameras tell the story, and slowly tears streamed down my face. As the cameras played, denial set in. "There's no way they could have done this... there must be something else on the cameras." "Well of course they would be there, that isn't weird." "They wouldn't do that to me... would they? They wouldn't disappoint me like that.... would they?"

They would.
They did.

As they all shouted and the wall of denial stood between them and me. I began crying harder, yelling louder. I must have thought that the volume of my voice would overwhelm their brick wall of ignorance, of not understanding the trouble they were in. Slowly they stopped yelling, and I cried harder. As I looked at them and they looked back at me, they began to realize what they had done. The police officers came in, and told us all this was a felony. They would likely be convicted of a felony by the DA.

Felony.
Permanent record.
Court.
Jail.
School?
Bye.
Scholarships?
Gone.
College?
.....

My mind raced as I listened to the officers. The suspects sat there and seemed unaffected. Did they not hear what I heard? FELONY! JAIL! PERMANENT RECORD! My ears were burning as if my eardrums were made of hot coals. All I could do was go to the bathroom and wail. Wail for their quickly evaporating near future. Wail for their ignorance to what was coming. Wail because I felt as though I failed to keep them out of harms way.

I understand this is no where near my fault. I was not directly responsible for what was stolen. These are not my actual children. I am not responsible for what they do.

However, I spend enough time with these kids to call them family. I care enough about them that I would risk most things for them, and have risked many. I love them as if they were my responsibility, and have told them this. So even though they are not mine biologically, they are mine metaphorically. But the pain I felt was not metaphorical, it was biological. Chemical reactions that I didn't know existed in my body ignited. Pain I didn't know I could feel swept over my body, causing me to double over, cry harder, search for the source. I wanted to hold whatever hurt, but the only thing I could grab was my chest. My heart felt as though it were broken. I finally understood where the term "heart break" came from, because I was sure mine stopped working.

Logically, I knew my heart shouldn't actually hurt. I knew that there was no reason for my body to be experiencing any pain. I had not hurt myself, I was simply upset. It wasn't so simple. I was painfully upset. Painfully disappointed.

I still don't know what is to happen with these students, which is the most painful part of all...

Waiting to hear the verdict.

Summer Reading List

There is a longer explanation for why I am reading all of these books this summer, but it has to do with me teaching 9th grade English. I've decided on four very broad themes: Governance, Morality, Black Literature, Adventure. While we'll only read 2-3 books for each theme, I'll be reading all of the books below to determine which ones we'll be reading. I have a busy summer ahead of me!

Ms. Walker's Summer Reading List

Governance 
Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins
Lord of the Flies, William Golding
Animal Farm, George Orwell
Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury
Dune, Frank Herbert
Inherit the Wind, Jerome Lawrence & Robert E. Lee


Transition to Morality: Brave New World, Aldous Huxley


Morality
Romeo & Juliet, William Shakespeare
Of Mice and Men, John Steinbeck
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Ken Kesey
The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald

Transition to Black Lit: To Kill A Mockingbird, Harper Lee
Uncle Tom's Cabin, Harriet Beecher Stowe


Black Literature
The Color Purple, Alice Walker
The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman, Ernest J. Gaines
Black Boy, Richard Wright
A Gathering of Old Men, Ernest J. Gaines
The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, Rebecca Skloot
Manchild in the Promised Land, Claude Brown
The Color of Water, James McBride


Adventure/Classics
The Odyssey, Homer
A selection of Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Life of Pi, Yann Martel
Dracula, Bram Stoker
Tales of Terror, Edgar Allen Poe

The Serenity Prayer (Remix)

God grant me the serenity

to accept the things I cannot change;

courage to change the things I can;

and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;

Enjoying one moment at a time;

Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;

Taking, as He did, this sinful world

as it is, not as I would have it;

Trusting that He will make all things right

if I surrender to His Will;

That I may be reasonably happy in this life

and supremely happy with Him

Forever in the next.

Amen.

--Reinhold Niebuhr

While I am not religious in any stretch of the imagination, I do believe in much of what this prayer is calling upon. So I wrote the "remix" to fit my prayer needs at school on a (seemingly) daily basis.

Dear soul of mine, please grant me the serenity

to accept the things I cannot change, no matter how hard I try;

courage to change the things I can, and those which others did not believe could;

and the wisdom to fight the good fight to the end.

Living one day at a time, changing one child at a time;

Enjoying one moment at a time, teaching one concept at a time;

Accepting hardships as the pathway to success;

Taking this sinful system,

not as it is, but as it should be;

Benefiting children and ensuring an equal education for all

if I fight for the forgotten, undesirable;

That I may be dissatisfied with anything but the best

and never forget what I'm fighting for: equality.

Amen.

Tsunami of Love

The tsunami comes.

You can't prepare for what it

will do to your soul.

Mountain of water

crashing onto my body –

My limbs become weak.

Sun shines within it

Radiating warmth from eyes

Restoring my faith.

Words flow over me

Consuming all of my thoughts

Infecting my mind.

"You're not getting it

I didn't know how to read!

She taught me how to."

"Teachers like her come

once every generation."

They are left speechless.

What do you say to

people who are drowning you

with love, affection?

Me, suffocating

Unable to breathe in air

My lungs are in shock.

The b-beat, b-beat

Of my heart resonates in

My weak or strong soul

Love has a way of

giving you strength in your heart

and also weak knees.

The tsunami crashed.

Love consumes mind, body, soul.

Juxtaposition.

Am I strong or weak?

Do your brave words give me strength

Or leave me crippled?

I am too lucky

to be so loved that I can't

eat or sleep or breathe!

I almost drown but

I decide I will ride the

Tsunami of Love.

Do It Anyway vs. Do It My Way

Every generation wants to be known for something great. Something they fought for.

Surviving the Great Depression
Fighting WWII
Fighting for Equal Rights (For anyone and everyone)
Fighting in Vietnam ("A" for effort)
Protesting Vietnam (Again, "A" for effort)
Not supporting the War in Iraq (Is that actually great?)
Electing the first Black President into office
Working towards legalizing Gay Marriage
Supporting Universal Healthcare (Again, debatable on whether this counts.)

Regardless of whether it's popularly great or just great because it's the first time it's done, these are all things that generations have clung to in order to form their identity.

I read a book recently called Do it Anyway: The New Generation of Activists by Courtney E. Martin. It was about my generation and what our great thing is, what we're fighting for. She begins with a verse written on the wall in Mother Teresa's home for children in Calcutta:

People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered. 
       Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives.
       Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies.
       Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and sincere, people may deceive you.
       Be honest and sincere anyway.
What you spend years creating, others will destroy overnight.
       Create anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous.
       Be happy anyway.
The good you do today will often be forgotten.
       Do good anyway.
Give the best you have and it will never be enough.
       Give your best anyway.
In the final analysis, it is between you and God.
It was never between you and them anyway.

When I saw this on the first page I laughed to myself, as it immediately made me think of my father. He always gives me these doofy wooden plaques to hang up in my classroom. They usually say something goofy, always something inspiring. When he gave me one that said Mother Theresa's verse, I looked at him rather confused, because we are not religious people. I asked him why he gave me something about God to hang up in my classroom.

"It's not about God, [Ms. Walker], it's about doing the right thing no matter what. Your kids need to know that more than anyone."

He was right. My kids will be faced with significantly more wrongs than rights. They will be burned by doing the right thing 10x more than I am. They will have more times up at bat with the choice to choose between right and wrong. They must remember that what matters is that you are a good person, regardless of motive. It's not about who you do it for, or what could happen if I do it, but why you do it.

The book continues into vignettes of 8 different Do It Anyway people. Each person has committed their life to fighting against injustice. This injustice may be in the classroom, in our justice system, with our veterans, captured by film, fought through philanthropic support, or abroad as a peace activist. The injustice is against a group of people, but they believe in the greater cause of fighting all injustice. Unfortunately, it's ineffective to fight injustice on such a broad scale, so one must focus on where their passion lies and fight there.

As I read through each vignette, I was baffled by seeing an average person do extraordinary things. They were often on a small scale, reaching no more than 1,000 people per activist. Although this scale is small in comparison to the Million Man March, it felt as though each activists' passion was as large as a million men. Could this be my generation? The everyday activist, committing their life to fighting the injustices of the world by planting themselves within the system and throwing wrenches in each defective cog?

I definitely identified with this person. I have decided to commit my life to fighting injustice within not only urban education, but special education. While my impact has only reached 60 students in my classrooms, the systems I've put in place in my school will eventually effect hundreds of children, maybe thousands if I play my cards right. I know that my students are getting a better quality education because I'm there. They have more opportunities now than they or their parents dreamed of because of work that I've done. So am I the everyday activist that Martin talks about?

Many of my peers can relate to Martin's message. We are the generation of Do It Anyway, fight because it's the right fight, it's not hopeless, and it's not about you, it's about the people you do it for. We're the selfless generation who fights for others for the long haul at great personal cost. Doesn't that sound romantic? As if we're everyday martyrs?

Well, I feel as though this mindset has inflated the heads of the majority of my generation, because while I see many Do It Anyway activists, I see many more Do It My Way activists. These activists are doing things that the Do It Anyway activists fight for on the daily basis, but change it up to fit their lifestyle and culture. It usually involves a flashy sign, an occasional protest with no clear end goal or vision, and misguided focus as to what the actual injustice is.

The most recent epidemic of Do It My Way is the Trayvon Martin story. By now, the entire nation has heard about Trayvon's tragic death. That he was shot by a man who claimed "self defense". Trayvon was wearing a hoodie, carrying Skittles and an ice tea while walking back home. The shooter has not been charged in the shooting, which has brought into question the circumstances leading to this tragedy. There is enough concern that there are federal investigators involved at this point.

This event has caused an explosion in both traditional media as well as social, in the form of news articles, pictures of people wearing their hoodies, and commentary about how racism is still alive and kicking here in the United States of America. This news is all presented as if this is a shock, as if this is not the norm in numerous towns and cities across America. Therefore we must avenge this one boy's death and fight racism here in the United States, once and for all.

Now, the Do It Anyway people have been fighting this all along. Fighting ignorance. Fighting racial profiling. Fighting a judiciary system that incarcerates one in three black men between the ages of 18-30. Fighting institutionalized racism in our Land of the Free. They find ways to fight this injustice using an everyday job, so they can fight the injustice everyday.

On the flip side, the Do It My Way people have been given an opportunity to fight on their own time, in their own way. This is through their pictures posted to Facebook, where they carefully place their hoodie to show their face with dramatic lighting and perfect makeup. This is through their Saturday spent on Freedom Plaza, wearing their hoodies, carrying their skittles, and making their signs about them being Trayvon Martin. What is the message that someone takes away from this? That YOU are Trayvon Martin. A suspicious person in a hoodie. That you could be a victim of injustice. Everyone is at risk, because people of all races gathered, wearing their hoods, and raised their hand when asked "Who here is Trayvon Martin?" But is that true? Is everyone really Trayvon Martin?

No. Just Trayvon. Not everyone can be the boy who was walking home in a hoodie. Let Trayvon be the matryr that we are making him into. Let him be the rallying point, but don't make it about you by saying that YOU are this lost child. Instead of wearing your hoodie, what are you going to do to systemically change this injustice? This is not about you identifying with Trayvon, this is about you fighting for him. So how will you fight?

After the big flare up, what will likely happen is the following:

- The majority of the Do It My Way will fall back into their everyday and use Trayvon as a conversation piece, still agreeing it was a great injustice that this poor child had to die due to ignorance and racism.

- Some of the Do It My Way will find Do It Anyway people and follow the work that they've been doing, giving more time than before to fighting injustices in our country.

- A few of the Do It My Way will be converted into Do It Anyway people and shift their life path to fight the injustice of institutionalized racism and racial profiling.

- The Do It Anyway will continue to do what they do, everyday, to fight the injustices against minorities in our country.

I am strong in my identity as a Do It Anyway person. I promise to commit my life to fighting injustices in our nation's education system that target children in low income communities, as well as people with special needs. I fight this fight every day by giving my students the same education I would give their wealthy, white counterparts in our nation's wealthiest counties. I invest [some may say sacrifice] my time, my money, and occasionally my sanity to carry out my daily duties as a soldier on the front lines of the achievement gap.

I will fight for what I believe to be right at all costs, against all odds, and with all my power. Even when I am faced with the impossible, I will Do It Anyway.

Will you?

"You should know there's a bomb in the school." [Snickering in the background]

When it gets warm, everyone gets antsy. It's finally spring, and the students knew exactly how to celebrate this gorgeous weather...

Call in bomb threats. Every day. For a week.

This is what is supposed to happen:

1. A blocked number shows up on the main line for the school. Ms. K or Ms. P picks up the phone.
2. A kid disguises their voice and says that there is a bomb in the school.
3. Everyone with a radio is notified that we must evacuate the building.
4. The fire alarm is pulled.
5. The school evacuates and goes to sit on the far bleachers, where there is no shade from the unrelenting sun.
6. We sit there, theoretically by class, until the SWAT team comes to the school and clears the building. Teachers are to be on the bleachers with their students, administration to be scattered along the front to keep an eye on everything.
7. Everyone with a radio is given the go ahead and staff start moving students back inside.
8. Classes resume where they were until a modified schedule is sent out and an announcement is made.
9. Day continues.

Estimated length of disruption: 1-2 hours

This is what actually happens:

1. A blocked number shows up on the main line for the school. Ms. K or Ms. P picks up the phone.
2. A kid disguises their voice and says that there is a bomb in the school.
3. Everyone with a radio is notified that we must evacuate the building.
4. The fire alarm is pulled.
5. (Most) teachers pack up their bags and grab their belongings, students are asked to finish the sentence or assignment they're on. Students start yelling and acting like there is a legitimate threat of the building blowing up. The teacher continues to pack their things as students walk out of the classroom unescorted.
6. Security is rushing kids down the hall, telling them to go to the bleachers.
7. When outside, students wander around the football field until herded like cattle by the teachers onto the far bleachers, where there is no shade from the unrelenting sun.
8. 70% of teachers watch their students go into the stands, then sit/stand on the field and chat with their colleagues.
9. 30% of teachers go into the bleachers and sit with their students or occupy a section that does not have any adults.
10. Deans/administration stand in the middle of the football field, facing the bleachers, speaking over the radio about whether everyone is accounted for or not.
11. While waiting on the bleachers for the SWAT team to arrive and clear the building, at least 2 fights break out, where the teachers who are sitting in the stands are the ones to continually break them up. Administrative support arrives after the fight has been mostly broken up and take the offending students off the bleachers.
12. A few more teachers go down to the field as they do not feel like breaking up fights.
13. A teacher or two comes onto the bleachers and positions themselves in sections where adults may be needed.
14. Students become restless and begin leaving the bleachers, first in small groups, and walking towards the gate to try and leave (which is supposed to be locked).
15. As students on the bleachers notice those students who have left the bleachers are not being stopped because adults are busy talking, a mass exodus occurs, with 70-80% of the students leaving the bleachers and attempting to leave the school.
16. Adults attempt to keep these kids back, but fail, as the masses are stronger and don't seem to care about pushing authority, and ultimately step out of the way to avoid injury.
17. The students who are left on the bleachers wait until the administration has deemed it ok to re-enter the building, then go back to their classes.
18. Teachers re-enter the building and go to their classrooms.
19. Classes resume where they were until a modified schedule is sent out and an announcement is made.
20. Day continues with around 100-200 students left in the building.

Actual length of disruption: 2-4 hours (depending on the day)

There are many things that are mind blowing about this scenario....

Let's start with that this happened 3 days in a row. Monday - Wednesday. Thursday came around and I started carrying a Bomb Threat Bag (BTB) because I had 4 meetings on Thursday that had to happen. I told the Cluster Team if there was a bomb threat that I was going out the FRONT door and holding my meetings on the street. They understood.

Second, if you know that blocked numbers are calling in bomb threats, why are you continuing to pick up the phone? This happens every year... Live and learn. It took until Thursday for the school to stop picking up blocked numbers.

Third, let's revisit where adults were during this entire scenario. I have many ideas for how to strategically place adults during such events as to prevent ANY fights from breaking out. None of these ideas were implemented as I was clearly told, "We need to be on the field so we can see what's going on in the bleachers." But... if you were in the bleachers there wouldn't be anything to see.... you could use your radios to communicate what's going on. "No, but then we wouldn't have a clear picture of what was going on and where we needed to be." Oh, of course. My mistake...?

My final point will be focused on the mass exodus of students. To be honest... I have no words for this symbol of incompetency. I feel the image says it all...


Just another week in DCPS.