A First

I wrote my last blog post in my classroom on Friday. Adam picked up the kids so I could work late--I was drowning under a pile of grading and it was the last day of the marking period. I only worked until about 5, as Adam wasn't feeling well and I felt guilty for staying late. I went to move my time card out, checked my mailbox, and found this:

Memorandum

To: Ms. U (me), Mr. D, Ms. R, Mr. P, and Mr. L

From: Ms. J, Guidance Counselor

Re: Female student name

Last week Tuesday, April 27th, female student name's brother was murdered. Please assist her with the classwork and homework assignments. Thank you.



That was a first.

Mother's Day

I had a hard week at work. Hard. Totally lost my sh*t and cried in my classroom, my Assistant Principal's office, and at home over these kids. Sometimes I think becoming a parent has been the worst thing for my teaching career. Before I was a parent, I'd have students with dead parents and I'd sympathize, listen to them, and tell them that they just needed to push through and make themselves into the remarkable people that their parents believed them to be. I mean, I had a sick dad my whole life, and while he didn't die until I was 22, there was always that threat. I thought I knew (kinda) what they were going through. But now, as a parent, I realize I don't know jack.

I have a ridiculous amount of students with dead parents. Both parents. And then there are the kids with one dead and one absent/incarcerated parent. These children are being cared for by older siblings, some who are only 21 years old and open gang members, who fight like rabid dogs over the orphaned children for the social security check that accompanies them. Rarely is the welfare of the child taken into consideration.

My complete emotional breakdown this week happened when I had to call home for a student whom I knew was living with his grandmother. I hadn't called since March b/c his grandmother was raising 8 grandkids and was losing her mind; she told me that she was about to sign my student and his twin off to foster care. We all know the foster care system is--at best--mediocre and at worst a nightmare. Although this kid has skipped my class, come to class high, inappropriately touches another girl in here (who lets him), and does no work and disturbs my class, I haven't called. Well, this week I had to. And his grandmother told me that she was going to family court today and giving him and his brother up. I got off the phone and cried. Wept.

I don't understand why I have so many kids with dead parents. I don't understand how they all died, when most of them were my age or younger. But I am beginning to understand the gigantic hole it leaves in these young people's lives. ENORMOUS. A mohterless child has to be the saddest thing ever. I just look at them and ache. I want to hug them, bake them cookies, etc, but it's not the same.

A student of mine lost him mom unexpectedly this fall while I was on maternity leave. He wrote a poem for our poetry unit that pretty much sums it up:

Ode

Ode to my mom for years of joy and fun.
I see many kids with their moms and I say to myself
"Wow, those kids are lucky."
So many people in my family try to take care of me
But none of them do it the correct way...
The Mommy way.

Mothers out there--love your kids like crazy. And all of us who still have our moms, be thankful....so so thankful.

Haus Frau

Years ago I bought a linen dress from Old Navy. It was olive green (my favorite color for clothes) and fit me at the time, then I lost a bunch of weight and it was too big and tent like to wear in public so I made it my house dress. Much like the little old ladies who wear house dresses, I wore my linen dress around the house when it was too hot to wear clothes that touched me. I wore it bra-less, panty-less, and just sweat in it until it stank and then I would toss it in the wash, hang it back on my closet like a robe, and wear it again until it became rancid.

Fast forward about five years. The house dress (which became lovingly referred to as my haus frau dress) is tucked into my bin of SKINNY clothes. It's stored in a bin in the basement of my neighbor's apartment b/c they are kind and generous folks with a finished basement space not dank and dusty and buggy like our unfinished storage. But it hit 90 degrees this weekend in NYC (WTHades?) and clothes were too much. I had to christen a new haus frau dress.

It's a nursing dress by the company Boob (great stuff). It was adorable when I was pregnant, but now I look like a lumpy sausage in it. But shoot, it can be a haus frau dress. It has the ability for my boobs to come out to nurse, it's long enough not to flash too much leg or girl parts to my family, and it is a dark enough color to wear sans underclothes.

Ahhhh, sweet relief. Those little old ladies got something going on with their haus frau dresses. Try it--you'll like it.

Overheard in the Classroom

I have to write this before I forget it:

Last Friday, the bell was about to ring and the lesson was over. The students were chatting by the window and I was getting a standardized test ready for the next period when I overheard a tidbit of incorrect sex info. Of course, I pounced on it. I asked the students (9th grade girls) what they were talking about. One brazen one said,

"Miss, if your boyfriend comes in you and you stand up immediately and go to take a pee, then you won't get pregnant."

And THIS is why we have six. pregnant. freshmen. S-I-X.

I stopped the whole class and clarified that your urethra, where your pee comes out of, is a DIFFERENT hole from your vagina, where you have sex. Therefore peeing does NOTHING to "wash away the sperm" (as another student mentioned) and prevent pregnancy.

Their response: "No, Miss, you're wrong."

God help the children of those children.

Doctorate Irony

A friend on facebook posted this article entitled "The Long-Haul Degree," a lamentation about the worthlessness of doctorate degrees, particularly in this economy. Word.

Any of you who know me know that I am constantly wrestling with my doctorate--and not even in the "Oh sh*t, I have to finish this!" type of freak out but more in the vein of "This has been an exercise in futility and now we're hopelessly in debt...." kind of agony.

As much as everyone claims my doctorate, once earned, will open doors for me, blah blah blah, I just don't see it. If I could go back in time and erase it (and the 40 grand of debt I accumulated getting it) I would in a HEARTBEAT. That said, I am a much smarter person and a better teacher because of it, but when folks say you can't put a price on education I beg to differ. You can. And it's expensive. And it keeps you from buying a place to live, and saving for your kids' college, and vacationing until, um, the year 2017 when you will have paid it all off. Oh, and did I mention that as a doctoral student in Education (or another Humanities area of study) that you're never really going to make any money. I am truly hoping that my doctorate work does not end up being what financially f*cks us (my now family of four) for all eternity. No joke.

Bitter much?

But the best part of this diatribe sparked tonight was that in reading the above mentioned article in the New York Times, who should advertise their overpriced institution but Teachers College, Columbia University, the school that will one day (hopefully a year from now) be my alma mater from which I will have received my Doctorate in Education and all this additional stress. I had to take a screen shot of it b/c the irony was too too thick not to share with the world.

Sometimes you just have to laugh at it all to keep from crying.

Freaky Friday

Alexandra is very much into dressing herself lately. She is also prone to throwing herself on the floor in a demonstration of sheer frustration with heaping sighs, singing along to her new CityStomp CD at top volume,and "reading" her books with various character voices...She is a riot. All drama, all the time. That's my girl.

Above was her outfit today. Nico's truck pants (made by Bethany), one leg warmer on leg, one leg warmer on arm, owl shirt, and her cat hat from Halloween. Freaky Friday indeed.

Love that baby girl!

Girl Fights, Sex, & Homelessness

Now if that title doesn't get pique your interest, than I don't know what will. If read this blog then you probably know that those three topics pretty much summarize my school year this year. The ninth grade girls fight like feral cats. If they aren't beating the bejesus out of each other, they're either having sex in the stairwell (no lie), getting pregnant (we have six pregnant freshmen), or talking about sex. And, lastly, there are a large number of students who are currently homeless, or, also orphaned and being fought over by siblings for the social security check that comes with a minor who has lost a parent. It's intense.

I have never worked so closely with a guidance counselor as I have this year, and thankfully our ninth graders have the best guidance counselor our school can offer. But, one woman is not enough.

With all these issues in mind, I have created a unit around the book pictured above that deals with all these situations of adolescence in a forthright manner. I keep getting asked questions that pertain to sex, fighting, loyal friends, bad friends, dead parents, etc, and it takes up class time. While I'm not a stickler to sticking to the curriculum when I feel the students need a topic addressed, it would be nice to have a few books that deal with these issues.

So I wrote a Donors Choose grant here. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE give money so I can get these books for my students and conclude their final year with a unit that will hopefully give them a forum to discuss, read, and write about some serious topics young people face.

Many thanks.