Not for the Faint of Heart ( or Sensitive Ears)

Today is Friday, which is my favorite day of the week, so it should have been fabulous. But everything seemed off today. This morning as I made an extra half pot of coffee for my husband, as I do each morning, I forgot to put the carafe back in. Pushed the on button. Yup. Coffee all over. Then at school during morning duty a kindergarten boy spit on another kindergarten boy. Then a 6th grade boy punched another 6th grade boy in the stomach. He said it was a "reflex." The other boy was doubled over on his side on the ground.

I thought the worst had passed. I was relieved that I could finally just close my door and teach my wonderful students. And all morning long it was just like that. We watched a video on animal adaptations and had a great discussion. I worked with my fourth graders on equivalent fractions. They literally sang my praises during their lunch. The came Literacy Intervention, my worst part of the day.

I hate this half hour. The three fourth grades intermix kids for extra literacy support. Ideally, all kids are getting support at exactly what they need support with...The reality is that all of my kids leave except for 3, and about 27 other kids come in from the other two 4th grade classes. These are not my kids, and the teachers they come from seem to allow behavior that I do not allow. It's stressful, and I spend the half hour missing my kids. I do have para educator help, so she takes half and works with them "somewhere else (I don't really care where; just take them away!)." There are some hard kids in the other two fourth grade classes, and I don't think either teacher is strong with disipline.

Anyway, one kid that comes to me for this half hour is Johnny. Johnny is autistic. He really should be in a self contained class, but his parents refuse. I had Johnny's sister two years ago-a wonderful girl whom I loved. But her parents were odd. Anyway, Johnny comes and only wants to read. If I try to get him to do more, he rebels loudly. So, do you know what? For a half hour, do I want to "work" with him and have him yelling and interupting the half hour for everyone? No, I do not. So I let him read.

Today when the kids came, one girl comes up to me and says, "Mrs. Teacher, Johnny isn't here right now because he is having a fit."

"In the hallway?" I asked.

"No," she replied. "Back at class." Good, I thought. Keep him there. I don't need to deal with him today. But before I know it, in walks Johnny. He sits down on the floor in the middle of the the room, and screams and cries. Also as if on cue, the office calls me. "I Johnny there?" the office lady asks.

"Yes," I yell, over Johnny's cries. "Can you hear him?" He was yelling, screaming, and crying so loudly I could barely hear Mrs. Office Lady over the speaker, and that is one loud speaker. "Is someone going to come get Johnny?" I asked hopefully.

Now Mrs. Office Lady sounds flustered. "Well...Aah...Mr. Principal and Mrs. Education Assisstant are both in a meeting right now. You'll have to wait until they are done."

"Great," I replied. Of course, no kid is doing their work. They are all intently watching the drama unfold, even though most are well-aquainted with Johnny and his behaviors. I work hard to get the kids back on track, and totally ignore Johnny. His crying does subside to a whimper, but when he hears someone snicker about him, he starts up again: "Why does everyone hate me?" or "I'm having a bad day..." You and me both, I think...

Soon, Mrs. Office Lady calls back. "How is Johnny," she asks.

"Still crying," I answer.

"I'll send Ms. Special Ed Teacher over," she said.

"OK," I reply. I continue to ignore Jonny.

Soon Mrs. Special Education Teacher comes. She walks into my room and sees Johnny reading quietly on the floor in the middle of my room. She looks confused and walks up to me. "What's going on?" she asked. I relayed that Johnny came into my class screaming and crying, but now he's settled. So she leaves.

After school Mrs. Special Education Teacher sent out an email to many people, including me, Mr. Principal, and Johnny's teacher. She said, "I was called to Mrs. 5th Grade Teacher's room to get Johnny, but when I got there, he seemed to have de-escalated. Perhaps Mrs. 5th Grade Teacher can shed some light on what got him upset when she talked to him."

I replied, "I didn't talk to him. I ignored him. He came to me yelling, screaming, and crying. He was so loud I couldn't hear the speaker when the office called. I sent an email to Mr. Principal to please send someone to come get him."

Mr. Principal replied, "I was in a meeting, unfortunately. Best to call the office for things like that."

I replied, "Well, the office seemed to be aware that something had set Johnny off, as they called me soon after he came. Johnny was yelling and screaming so loud I couldn't hear. When I suggested that someone come get Johnny, Mrs. Office Helper seemed flustered, and told me that you were in a meeting so I'd have to wait. I didn't counsel Johnny. I ignored him."

Then I went home. No wonder I'm so worn out all the time. What other job is so draining?

I Think I'm Going to be Sick Next Tuesday...Maybe Around Noon...

My classroom is just a cess pool of germs. I really hardly ever get sick, as I think that early on in my teaching I caught just about every bug out there. But this time, something caught me. I think it was Bobby, as he was out last week very sick with an ear infection. I've been pretty sick and my left ear hurts, but I've been going to school, mainly because planning for a sub is a pain in the ass, er, butt, er, rear...I think you get the picture.

But yesterday, by the end of the day, my eyes wouldn't stop watering. Plus, I yelled at the kids yesterday, and I never yell, especially this year with my fabulous class. So when I woke this morning with really weepy eyes (TMI, sorry), I decided right then to get a sub. By 6:10 am I had put in for a sub. I got dressed, and got to school by 7 am to leave plans. Since I had already put in for a sub for Friday, the very next day, I decided to just leave plans for the two days so I wouldn't have to worry about going back to school.

I made all my plans for Thursday, and sent various documents to the printer. I then went to the workroom to run everything off. As I was working, Ms. Education Assisstant comes in. I informed her that I had been feeling lousy all week, but woke up today feeling particularly bad, so I had called for a sub. She sighed, and wondered aloud if they got a sub for me, because there were over 200 sub requests for this day. Then she walked into the bathroom.

I seethed. Because why? Because I felt so crappy, and the district's inability to get me sub is not my problem, that's why! We have sick leave days. We get 12 days a year, and they continue to add up year to year. Since I'm never sick, I have a lot of sick time. So not enough subs in the district? Not my problem. I finished making plans for today and tomorrow, left each day clearly labeled in it's own folder, and left.

Turns out, our music teacher had to sub for me today. That meant that she couldn't get her program things done, and that anyone who had music today didn't get planning and had to submit a time sheet for working during their planning time.

Later in the day, I checked my school email, and here was an email forwarded to us by our office manager from the head of substitute sevices: "We went over the 300 mark today & tomorrow is almost 270. If not too late, please let your teachers know that the possibility of a sub if they enter in late absences is very slim. Thanks for your help & understanding."

I first forwarded the email to our union president, saying how this email, that we get time to time, ticks me off. I don't believe in the contract we have to put in for a sub by a specific time. If we have the sick day, and are sick, we can call in whenever. Who's problem is it? Oh, the district's problem!

The I sent a "reply all" to the email forwarded to us, so that all staff at my school would see it. I said, "Next time I will try to plan ahead for my illnesses."

Lecture Now, Ask Later

Email from Mrs. Office Manager last week to me:

Please remember to fill out the paperwork to go along when collecting money. This is a vital part of the audit process and we have strict guidelines to follow. There are forms in the staff lounge for you if you need more. Also, please email the office if you need us to pick up money from your classroom rather than handing it off to office staff on the fly.

Today for example, you handed Ms. Office Assistant a check to take to the office, yet the paperwork to go along with it, was not provided. Without the paperwork this puts us in violation of our guidelines. In the future please have the paperwork and money together. This will allow us to follow district guidelines.

Thank you for your cooperation.

My Response:

Actually, I didn’t hand Ms. Office Assistant a check. Bobby handed her a check because she showed up at my classroom just minutes after school had begun, asking for camp money. Had I done it on my own time, I would have filled out the form. Thanks.

Her Reply:

Thanks Mrs. Fifth Grade Teacher, I appreciate the clarification. I did confirm with Ms. Office Assistant, and I was miss informed (sic).

(If she had asked first, perhaps she wouldn't have been "miss informed.")

What I'd Like to Tell the Judge, But I Probably Won't

Dear Judge,

I am an elementary school teacher. But I’m more than just a teacher to my 26 fourth and fifth graders. I’m also their mom, friend, counselor, drill sergeant, CEO, and social worker. I’m a judge, jury, and law enforcement officer. Like you, I must listen to both sides of the story to make a fair judgment. I strive to make those decisions with fairness, empathy, and a touch of humanity. If I do my job well, you won’t see my students in your courtroom in the future.

Like a law enforcement officer, I have rules that I expect my students to follow. If they don’t follow the rules, I must decide on the consequences. That’s the hardest part of my job, as it is not always an open and shut case. I must take into consideration the offense, the offender, his or her background, and his or her previous record.

I’d like to give you a bit of information about my background, if only for a chance for some empathy or humanity from the court. I have been married for 20 years. Eight years ago my husband was diagnosed with Muscular Dystrophy. On that day, we were, in effect, given a life sentence. Even though the diagnosis was not life-threatening, it would forever change the quality of life that we knew. It is a steadily debilitating disease. In the past eight years, my husband has gone from being fairly ambulatory to needing to walk with two canes and relying on the use of an electric scooter to get around. I long ago saw that my idea of what we would do together once the kids grew up and moved away would no longer come to pass. There would be no walks together along the beach. There aren’t walks at the beach now. There is so much you give up when someone in your immediate family is disabled. If you aren’t in that situation, then you can sympathize, but you never will know exactly what it is like.

Last fall, my husband began to notice that he had tingling sensations in his hands and forearms, like they were falling asleep. His doctor concluded that it was due to his use of canes, his only way to get around without his scooter, which was causing the tingling, like carpal tunnel. But it continued to get worse. This past month he has hardly been able to use his hands at all. When his arms and hands are really the only part of him that is working, this is bad. The past few weeks I have had to help him on with his socks. I’ve had to help him on with his shirts. I get his coffee. I pour it. I do everything, while still taking care of my two teenage girls and teaching full time. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever picture myself having to take care of my husband like this before I was even 50.

Finally, he saw a spine specialist. An MRI showed that two vertebrae in his spine were slipping and squeezing a nerve. It was decided that my husband should have surgery on his spine to fuse those two vertebrae together. We were nervous, very scared at what could happen if something went wrong during surgery, and hopeful that this would bring back the use of his hands.

That is where we were headed the morning of my ticket. We got a late start since it takes twice as long for my husband to do the things he has normally been able to do. We left and hit the heavy traffic in in our little town; traffic that was made up mostly of parents and students heading to the high school. As the road split into two lanes, I kept in the right lane, knowing that the bulk of the traffic would be left, eventually turning into the turn lane to head to the high school. As I continued down the hill towards the stop light at the McDonalds, I saw a small pickup truck veer quickly from the left lane into the right lane, almost causing an accident. At that point, my only thought was to go around that pickup truck, as the driver seemed erratic. I was headed downhill once the light turned green, and I accelerated to move into the left lane since it was clear of all the high school traffic. Then I saw the lights of the police car, and we were pulled over.

I was panicked, as we had already gotten a late start to the hospital. I rolled my window down. I don’t exactly recall what the officer said, but I imagine that he asked me if I knew I had been speeding. I honestly answered that I really wasn’t aware at that point, as my only thoughts were to get my husband to the hospital for a spinal surgery because we were late. His reply was something to the effect that he’d move as quickly as possible then.

Now, I did not try to deny my speed. I also knew it wouldn’t do any good to explain about the truck. I was the one who got caught. If I see Billy throw a pencil across the classroom, I will have to speak to Billy immediately in the hallway, or later during his recess. If he says, “But Bobby threw it first,” I reply, “But unfortunately, you were the one who got caught.” I do know this.

But, let’s say I have a due date for an essay, and on the day it is due, some students don’t turn it in. I could punish all of the students who didn’t get their essay turned in. After all, it was my rule, my expectation. They broke my rule. But I must also judge each child separately. What is the home life like? Do they have parents at home to help them make corrections on their essay, to help them type it up nice and neat? Or are their parents immigrants who don’t speak English, and so can’t help them? Are parents even home to remind them to do their homework?
I also look back in my Grade book. Is this a student who usually gets homework in and so this one assignment not coming in is a rarity? Or does this child always get his or her assignments in late, and so this is a regular event?

The police officer called in my license to check my record. I’m pretty sure it was a good record. I was hit by another car on the freeway last November on Thanksgiving. Before that, I hit a car when I was changing lanes on I-5 about four or five years ago. I don’t believe I have a speeding ticket that would show up on my record. I think my last speeding ticket was in the year 2000 when I was heading up up a steep hill in another nearby city. I think I was going 35 in a 25mph zone. I’m pretty cautious. I try to always be aware of my speed. The morning of February 28th, I had a lot on my mind.

I think I have given you enough information so that you can get a clear picture of what happened. I’m obviously not a young, inexperienced driver who needs to be taught a lesson. The situation that surrounded my morning was stressful. I was not in my usual frame of mind. And to think that I had to start this stressful day with a traffic ticket…it just was too much. It did, however, make for a great story to tell each staff employee we dealt with throughout the day. They were all incredulous that I still received a ticket even though I had to get to the hospital. I hope I have given you enough information so that you can make a fair judgment with a touch of empathy and a touch of humanity.

Thank you.