Butt out!

Whenever possible, to make some extra money, I volunteer to cover classes for absent teachers. And whenever possible, to gather fodder for this blog, I volunteer to monitor the in-house suspension room. This bit of conversation between two high school sophomores (both female) is from my most recent visit. I am usually fairly confident in my ability to respond quickly and with some kind of wit, but this caught me by such surprise that I quite literally had nothing to say:

R: "Yo, I be lovin' Aeropotale jeans! Ima get my Christmas money and just buy mad jeans from Aeropostale."

K: "You tight, son! I don't know why you love them jeans so much. You look like you got white butt when you wear them! I need them fat booty jeans! I don't need no white butt. No offense mista, but it be all flat and sh*t. Give me them fat booty jeans!"

...for a white guy?

For those readers have ever been in/taught beginning band...

N: "Yo! Let's play 'You Fly'!"

B: "That's not the title, it's actually..."

N: "My fault, my fault. Let's play 'So Fly!'"

B: "It's actually 'Shoo Fly'."

N: "Na, na, na...it's 'So Fly' cuz I'm soooo fly!"

This just in

Apparently, though widely used, "Mad Brick" is not the preferred term to describe cold weather. Instead, use the term "Brick City".

An Example:

"Yo, it be BRICK CITY up in here."

Two for One

Since these two entries are related by subject matter, I present here a double feature:

Not too many weeks ago, during the heart of the fall semester, I received a text message from a good friend of mine, Mr. S. Mr. S teaches music to entitled suburban kids. The text message is as follows:

"Just heard 'you beastin'!' in the hall"

As some readers may or may not recall, my students were using this slang almost exactly a year ago; entry dated 12/10/07.

Because my students are the innovators and early adopters of urban slang, I have access to the kind of colloquialisms suburban kids can only dream of. Here are this year's biggest hits (with translations provided):

"Yo, I'm NICE wid' it, son!" (That is something at which I demonstrate proficiency)

"It be MAD BRICK out!" (It is very cold outside)

This next one I have heard as a verb and an adjective:

"You B.P.in', mista" or "You mad B.P. mista!" (Mister, you present symptoms of being bi polar)

"Yo, I'm DEAD ASS, son!" (I am serious, son!)

Special K

The technology teacher at my school has developed an easy yet brilliant system of assigning his classwork: at the beginning of each class, students have an email in their inbox waiting for them. This email details the days assignment, and work is expected to be emailed back to the teacher, with the time stamp reading no later than the end of class. One assignment was to watch two short videos on the the internet (relevant to the current unit of study, compose a 300 word response, and email it back to the teacher. For K, an eighth grade girl, this assignment was apparently too much to handle. Her composition, in its entirety, is provided here:

"i cant do no 300 words!!!11! mybe 200 or sumthin but not 300 thas to many!!!!!"

Surprisingly enough, this email was timestamped late.

Like a...

The following story is borrowed from Ms. T; a first year science teacher. I've overheard students saying that she is "the second best science teacher" at our school; not a garish accolade for someone so new to the profession. Here is her account of a Friday morning (with a bit of my own terrible paraphrasing):

The 'Friday Questions' box was designed to deflect unrelated questions so as not to interrupt class. I wanted the students to know that I valued their interest
and curiosity, but was serious about keeping the flow and routine of my class. At the end of the week, I took 15 minutes from the beginning of class to answer the questions in the box.

The questions were as follows:
1. Why so serious all the time?
2. Why aren't you married?
3. When did you lose your virginity?

At this point in the story, Ms. T, playing the part of serious teacher, reprimands the class for the inappropriate nature of the questions. She tells them how disrespectful such an abuse of the question box is, and how disappointed she is in them for their lack of maturity. Then, a voice from the class:

"Does that mean you're still a virgin?"

Like a fine wine

In a sixth grade class...

Mr. F: "Why can't you ever listen!? I was only able to become a good musician because I listened to my teachers."

T: "Because we poor mista!"

Mr. F: "I don't think those two things are related. I was poor when I was your age, but I'm still a good musician."

T: "But yous like 40 years old now!"

I realize that many of the quotes from students are exclamatory statements. This is because they yell, with almost no exceptions, ALL of the time.

I am in my mid-20's, for the record.

Retro-activitsm

A memo concerning budget cuts, dated November 14th, contained the following helpful pieces of information:

- Money allocated to a department is not guaranteed

- Money not spent by November 10th will be affected by the budget cut

Job Security

Every teacher, tenured or not, must be observed by an administrator a minimum four times per year. Because I was only observed one time as a first year teacher, my administrators this year are making a great effort to actually do what is legally required of them. I mention this only because I recently had a pre-observation conference with one of my administrators, which is supposed to set up the observation expectations of both parties. Here is how it began:

Administrator: "Now, Mr. F., I don't want you to think it's odd that I'm starting the pre-ob with this, as if we're trying to get rid of you. But, as you know, your position is in excess, and I just wanted to ask, how is the job search going?"

A note: "in excess" is school-talk for "We don't want to pay you anymore, but we have to wait until someone else hires you before we can stop doing so."

Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?

J is very excited to be in music, so I was shocked when one day he sat quietly with no mouthpiece and an unopened saxophone case. Because lack of preparation negatively affects students' grades (not the mention their music education), I decided to see what the problem was:

Mr. F: "So J, why no mouthpiece today?"

J: "Well...it got crushed."

Mr. F: "How did it get crushed?"

J: "Last Thursday."

(pause)

Mr. F: "Okay...that's WHEN it was crushed. HOW did it get crushed?"

J: "Well it's in the garbage now."

Mr. F: "Okay...that's WHERE it is. HOW did it get crushed?"

J: "Oh. It's probably in the incinerator."

(pause)

Mr. F: "J, listen very, very carefully. HOW, as in what happened, to crush your saxophone mouthpiece?"

J: "Well I just threw it out after it was crushed!"

(pause)

Mr. F (face in hands): "J, did it get hit by a car? Did something heavy fall on it? Did someone heavy jump on it?"

J: "It's in the garbage now, I don't know!"


I would finish the rest of the transcript, except it carries on for far too long with no results. I still have no idea what actually happened. It has been suggested that he was lying, but he was so earnest about the whole ordeal that I don't believe that to be true.

I sore

One of the things I enjoy most about talking with high school seniors is how candidly they speak about their four (or five...or six...) years at our school. Since they feel that they have nothing to lose (if they are eligible for graduation), they have no reservations about sharing their true feelings:

S: "Everything here is just MAD disorganized. And a little bit racist, you know what I mean?"

Mr. F: "I know exactly what you mean. Many students hate me simply because I'm white."

S: "Mista, I don't hate you because you're white. I hate you because your eyes are so pretty and it's just not fair!"

Heartbreaking

It seems that the atmosphere around and in my school is positively correlated with the weather, and lately it has been dismal outside. In perfect parallel with the downpour and lightning yesterday, I received today a thunderous package of IEPs. For those that are unfamiliar, an IEP is an Individualized Education Plan, mandated by the state for those students who demonstrate learning, input, or output deficiency. Simply put, a student with an IEP has at least one basic academic skill (reading, writing, comprehension, decoding, math, etc...) that is more than one level below the student's current grade. The IEPs that I received today are only for middle school students, grades six through eight. After reading through them, I've decided to provide some statistics which are, in correspondence with the title, heartbreaking:

Percentage of my middle school students with IEPs: 23.3%

Total weight of IEP package: 4 pounds

Average writing level: 4.2 (mid-level fourth grade)

Average reading comprehension level: 3.9 (high level third grade)

Average math level: 4.9 (high level fourth grade)

Lowest level (decoding): 1.7 (high level first grade)

Number of IEPs with at least 1 skill at grade level: 2


This is perhaps maybe the most sobering post I've ever written, but I don't see any sense in hiding the reality of the situation urban educators are faced with.

I hope the weather improves soon.

Tapes or CDs?

I overheard this in the middle of a conversation concerning an administrator:

"Yeah, well maybe he needs another autistic kid to grab his nuts!"

I cannot imagine any context in which this is not funny.

Sailing the ocean blue

Following Columbus Day this and last year, I asked students what they know about Columbus and why they think we have a day off for his achievements. From their answers this year, I have extracted the following information:

Columbus, in 1896, landed in Virginia, though he was attempting to travel to Africa.

After our Columbus discussions in the past two years, I have informed students that, in my opinion, they would benefit greatly from reading "A People's History of the United States" by Howard Zinn. The following is a brief discussion about the book:

Mr. F: "So in this book, the author tells the same history that you've all learned in classes, except from the point of view of the oppressed majority, not the rich, ruling minority."

K (loudly, staring in my eyes): "White people!"

Mr. F: "Absolutely, though in the book, many of the oppressed are actually poor white people from Europe."

K (still staring): "I hate Europeans."

Mr. F: "Well then, it's a good thing I'm American."

K: "Pfft"

I don't think that I have figured out the correct way to frame this post. The conversation, which was intended to demonstrate to the students that I am knowledgeable about things other than music, became something else completely. While I can laugh at it, I have to keep in mind that there is perhaps a more serious subtext.

Passing Notes, Part 4

I intercepted this juicy note while teaching an eighth grade Spanish class. To be honest, this really isn't that funny. Instead, I'm satisfied knowing that A, who never misses an opportunity to make eighth grade music class miserable, was sufficiently embarrassed when I found this note (which, sadly, was not read aloud to the class):

D,

I think your really cute I'm going through alot of sh*t right now and you ask me at the wrong time don't feel rejected because i wanna go out with you but not at this moment i think your cute and my friends think your cute! so don't take it personal <3 ok

ps i don't care if yo boys see this

<3 A


As always, grammar and punctuation were not edited or corrected in the transcription of this note.

A thrilling conclusion

I have been told that Woody Allen has been quoted (but most likely paraphrased) as saying, "Jokes are funny when you use them less than three times or more than seven". While I'm not sure that any of my students are familiar with Woody Allen or this particular philosophy, M fell just short of a possible goal of seven Michael Jackson/Thriller references in class.

Mr. J: "Is it possible to recognize a genre of music just by the percussion parts?"

(Reggae drum track plays, class sits in contemplation)

M: "Yo! That's Michael Jackson!"

Mr. J: "Michael Jackson is not a genre of music..."

M: "Oh. 'Thriller'!"

Mr. J: "Neither is 'Thriller'..."


Then a little later...

Mr. F: "Can everyone see why the piano is a percussion instrument?"

M: "Can you play 'Thriller' on the piano?"


Then a little later...

Mr. J: "Which of these instruments uses the bass clef?"

M: "Michael Jackson!"

Mr. J: "Actually, Michael Jackson has a very high singing voice, so he likely would use the treble clef."

M: "Oh, ok. Like on 'Thriller'!"


Then, at the conclusion of class...

Mr. F: "Okay. Don't forget your test is Tuesday! Everything we reviewed today will be on the test."

M: "Does that include 'Thriller'?"


So close, yet so far.

Class Participation

It is typical of adolescent students to either act or to actually be disinterested in whatever is happening in class. In order to circumvent a complete absence of participation, I sometimes will choose "randomly" among students for participants (though I generally call on the most notorious non-participants). One student, N, was apparently not prepared for this inevitable interaction, but knew how to end it quickly:


Mr. F: "N, could you please clap measure 3?"

(silence)

Mr. F: "N, a little louder please."

N: "Whu?"

Mr. F: "Measure 3. Let's go!"

N: "Nah, nah, nah."

Mr. F: "Yes yes yes. Ready and..."

N: "Cuz...you got the wrong n*gga."



Moving on...

The student becomes the master

On a day when, after waking up late, I neglected to even look at my hair (let alone trim my beard), some students leapt at the chance to tell me about it:

D: "Mista, you look NAPPY today!"
Mr. F: "Not that it matters, but I really didn't have time to do my hair this morning."
D: "Yeah. We can tell!"

T: "Mista, you look like Mr. Tumnus!"
Mr. F: "I'm sorry, I don't know him."
T: "No he's from Narnia! He's the goat man! You look just like him!"

F: "Mista, you know who you look like today?"
Mr. F: "I know, I know. Mr. Tumnus from Narnia. Someone already told me that one."
F: "No! You look like that monkey from Dora! What his name is? Boots! You look like Boots!"


Since I expend a good deal of effort and time here mocking students, I think it's only fair that I also use this forum to validate their mockery of me. The previous comments were unprompted, and in some ways, I am glad that my students have become comfortable enough to tease me (perhaps, even, in a manner more playful than malicious).

Divorce Posture

I somehow became involved in the following conversation while covering a yoga class (yes, we have a yoga class; for senior girls). It was never the students' intention to involve me in the conversation, but by virtue of being present for it, I became involved:

S (mid-sentence): "...always asking me if I'm sad that my parents are divorced. I'm fine; that sad stuff is for white kids!".

Awkward pause...

K: "Sorry Mr. F..."

Mr. F: "Don't worry, I'm not a white kid. I'm a white adult."

Awkward pause...

Mr. F: "And besides, my parents divorced, and I was fine with it. It just meant twice the number of presents at Christmas time."

S: "Mista, I'm BLACK. I'm gettin' the same number of damn presents no matter how divorced my parents are!"

Don't be such a n00b

This is a rather endearing series of responses provided by 6th grade students. I want to preface this entry with the statement that these students are are, without exception, new to music, and that this entry is in no way intended to degrade them (nor is it intended as a commentary on their past or current music education).

Mr. J: "Can somebody tell me what a staff is?"

D: "Staff are the people that work at Summer camp. You know, like counselors and stuff"

G: "Like a custodian?"

Mr. F: "There is actually a staff, even more than one, somewhere in this room. Can someone show me where?"

C: (points to Mr. F and Mr. J)


Continuing the lesson...

Mr. F: "This symbol, on the staff, is a type of clef. Does anyone remember what it's called?"

F: "A tremble clef!"

Mr: F: That's close...can someone help F out?"

G: "A trouble clef!"

T: "What? We're in trouble!?"

Ebonic Mnemonic: Year 2

The assignment: create your own mnemonic sentence to assist in remembering the lines of the treble clef (EGBDF for those not in the know). I was confident that no one was going to be able to top last year's winner (entry dated 9/8/07). I am happy to report that I was very wrong. This year's winner:

Every Gangsta Be Dissin' Fuzz

The journey of 180 days begins with...

I suppose I am rather fortunate that in the first week of my second year there is no particular story or event involving students that is worthy of recording here. However, my administration, as usual, has risen to the occasion and provided me with my inaugural entry of the school year. Here is a backhanded insult delivered by the administrators themselves:

"I've got good news for you. This year, we're going to treat music like a real subject."

Welcome back.

Won't you be my...

N is arguably my favorite student; a graduating senior, future doctor, decent saxophone player, and all around nice guy. In reality, the relationship we've developed this year more closely resembles one of friendship than anything else. Since I am most likely moving to a new neighborhood in the city, and N is a city native, it was only natural that I sought his opinion on the quality of certain prospective neighborhoods. This is the inside perspective:

N: "You don't want to move to my neighborhood. It's too far away and, well, not that safe."

Mr. F: "Well, what about neighborhood X?"

N: "When I was younger, like maybe 10 years ago, that was a terrible place to live. There were riots and crime and all sorts of stuff. It's not bad now, though. I mean, like in neighborhood Y, where Mr. W used to work, one time there was a dead body outside the school. But in neighborhood X, there really aren't dead bodies or anything. Okay, well, there might be, but see, people will kill someone in neighborhood Y and only bring the body to neighborhood X. So you should be fine in neighborhood X."

In the news

Some highlights from our school's latest press offering:

from "Students disagree about workload"


The teacher's perspective:
"Students aren't given that much work, to be honest. Students go home and play games for 3 or 4 hours, when it only takes 20 minutes to do homework."

The students' perspective:
D: "Teachers be giving mad homework for no reason"
T: "Ms. B be beastin' with the class and homework"

from "Punishments don't work, teens say"

J: "They just make us miserable and don't teach us anything"
J: "I'd never punish [my future children]. just yell and get over it because the punishments would just make them sneakier"
J: "Anyone who isn't my parent should just mind their business"

Hey June

During what may well have been my last seventh grade blood pressure raising, forehead wrinkling, aneurysm inducing rant, I may have discovered the crux of my problem:


Mr. F: "Congratulations! It's June! Some of you have matured a great deal, and are ready to become eighth graders. I'm so proud of you. Others, congratulations! It's only June, and you still treat me like garbage! Some of you still act the way you did on day 1 in this room. For ten whole months you've actually not grown at all! But that's okay, because some of you will get that second chance at being seventh graders. Maybe the second time you'll mature a little but. Don't worry, it's only June!"

A: "But mista, what you mean ten months? You just got here in January."

Members of Class: "No!"

Mr. F: "Thank you. At least some of you realize that since day 1...."

A: "Or February or whatever." Yeah, February."

Members of Class: "Yeah! February! That's right!"


I think it's fair to point out that in February, my frustration with these students flew off the chart. This led to a slew of seat changes, detentions, talking tos, write-ups, and suspensions. Apparently, that's what I needed to do to get noticed. I'm not worried; it's only June.

High Standards

While covering a class today, I noticed the following exam results posted as follows on the white board:


Unit 9 exam averages:
Period 6: 60%
Period 7: 57%
Period 8: 68% YAY! :)

I think it's important to point out that that the "YAY" followed by an exclamation point and happy face was written in and underlined twice with bright yellow marker.

Food for thought

High School student A on the pros and cons of out of school suspension:

"Yo, when I was suspended last year, I went to a school for 4 days that was like straight thugs. I'm talkin' real gangsta sh*t. They had metal detectors on every floor. Even goin' into the cafeteria. What am I gonna go, go 'round stabbin' the milk cartons? They had nice food though. The school is mad ghetto, but they got quality food. I'm talkin' like McDonalds quality."

This is not funny

There is nothing about this that is funny. It just so perfectly illustrates the polarity of experiences that I... experience at my job.

Somewhere during the day, a seventh grade female student C (remember, there is no greater evil than seventh grade girls) hugged me and said, "Mr. F, please come back next year". This made me feel the kind of validation and acceptance that has eluded me all year. It was a good day.

Then, later on in the day, walking outside of the school, I passed by the baseball team. As I was about to wave to them (from across the street), a student of mine, J, pointed his bat in my direction and said, loud enough for me to hear, "Yo! Look at this f*ggot!". It was a bad day.

There is nothing about this that is funny.

Gooooooooooaaaal(s)!

My advisory group, who provide a significant portion of my blog material, was asked to fill out a goal sheet. This sheet included questions about their end of the year goals, such as "What do you want to accomplish before the end of the May?", "How do you intend to reach your goal?", and "What has gotten in the way of your goal so far?". Most of the students wrote, in my opinion, admirable goals. Take A, for instance:

What do you want to accomplish before the end of May?
I don't want no more detentions.

How do you intend to reach your goal?
Do good in school. And listen to the teacher. And not talk alot. And not hit anybody.

What has gotten in the way of your goal so far?
I talk and hit and don't listen.

Both insightful and honest. Now take R...

What do you want to accomplish before the end of May?
I want to beat Guitar Hero 3 on expert.

How do you intend to reach your goal?
Play alot.

What has gotten in the way of your goal so far?
School got in the way.

Ba dum tsshhhh

In today's sixth grade class, a snare drum was placed very precariously on its stand. In what was an inevitable incident, a student managed to knock over the drum so that it landed on its side with a crash, and then proceeded to travel down two of the terraced steps of the band room. A silence fell over the class. Immediately after, L broke the tension by yelling out:

"Now that's what I call a drum roll!"

American knees...

I'm pretty sure that A, mentioned so many times in this blog, could provide in one day enough material to last me for a year. The following is A's own narration that accompanied a film about traditional Japanese music.

A: "Yo! These people look Chinese and stuff! Chingy Changa Ching!"

Mr. J: "A, they are from Japan. That makes them Japanese."

A: "Yo! Like Mitsubishi and Toyota and Honda and cars from Japan. I gotta nice car we drive it like this!" (Here, A imitates the screeching of tires while spinning an invisible steering wheel).

Mr. J: "Okay A, what else comes from Japan?"

A: "Yo! Sushi! I don't like sushi. Have you ever had sushi? Yo! Have you ever had Thai food? Thai food! Tofu! Is that like tofu!? Right, Tofu is from Japanese?"

Mr. J: A...

Alex: "Right? It's from Japanese right!?"

Ask and ye shall...

This is a conversation I have frequently, and I get some pleasure out of it every time:



Student (yelling): "Mista I need to use the bathroom!"

Mr. F: "I can't hear you because your hand isn't up..."

Student (annoyed, raises hand, yelling again): "Mista, I need to use the bathroom!"

Mr. F (in a peppy teacher tone, you know, the one your 1st grade teacher used): "The point of raising your hand is closing your mouth..."

Here, the student, more annoyed than before, silently raises his/her hand.

Mr. F (with a smile): "Please put your hand down, we don't have time for questions."

Sticks and Stones

These are the various ways students have tried (without success) to demoralize and degrade me:

"Mr. F, you ain't nothin'"


"Mr. F, you're like the sixth man for music teaching"
(that's a basketball reference)

"You're not like a real teacher anyway"


"No offense, but it's 'cause this class ain't real!"


And my favorite, a conversation that I cannot go a week without having:
Student: "We don't have to listen to you!"
Mr. F: "Why is that?"
Student: "Cause you just a substitute!"
Mr. F: Then why I am here every day teaching you?"
Student: "No you not!"

At this point, I give up on trying to reason with the student(s).


I am, by the way.

Hair today, gone tomorrow

Students have had much to say regarding my new facial hair:

"Mista, you look like Jesus!"



"Hey mista, the beard looks pretty good..."

"Really?"

"Um...no."


"You look like the kind of guy who looks in the mirror every morning and makes faces at himself sayin', 'Yeah, I look good!'.

One member of the staff couldn't hold back either:

"I know you're Italian. But with the beard, you look like a Hasidic Jew. I notice you are attracting all of the girls now!"

Are you sure(t) about that?

One of my cherished seventh grade students was seen wearing a shirt with this written on the front:

"An awkward morning beats a boring night."

I wonder if he knows how awkward he made my afternoon by wearing that shirt.

The easy life

My high school "History of American Music" class often complains about not having a performance component to the class (which only meets two days during the week). K, having been through the instrumental program in middle school, helped me explain why we don't play instruments:

"Look, I couldn't even play 'Hot Cross Buns'. That was the hardest thing I've ever done in my LIFE!"

BlueTube

I think it's only appropriate that this very morning, I covered the seventh grade math class mentioned in the previous post. While students struggle to remember factors and long division, they remember well the encounter from our last meeting...

M: "Hey Steve! Why is it so hard for you to find clues?"

Mr. F: I don't know M, why is it so hard for you to do your work?"

M: "But you need a DOG to help you, Steve!"

At this point, F overhears our conversation. Some necessary background information: F is a 15 year old girl in seventh grade.

F: "Yo, you guys talkin' 'bout Blues Clues? That sh*t be POPPIN', yo! I still watch that. Watch it every night!"

M: "What you talkin' 'bout!? That ain't even on at night!"

F: "I watch that On Demand, son!"

You blue it

Covering a seventh grade class that is not music may perhaps be my punishment for some great evil in a past life, so it only fair that I take every opportunity to win battles wherever I can. The following story documents such a victory:

In a seventh grade math class, M, a student who was in music for about 1 week earlier in the year, gives me a hard time. I have gotten into the habit of telling M that he should relish his time in seventh grade because it is likely to be the coolest that he'll ever be, and that it's all downhill from here. An exchange of this sort occurred in this particular class, and then...

M: You're not even cool! You look like Steve from Blues Clues!"

Mr. F: "Why are you watching Blues Clues? That's not very cool."

M: "Hey Steve! Everybody look, it's Steve!"

At this point, some other students begin to join in the fun. Over the din of seventh grade mayhem, I hear calls of "Steve!" and "Blues Clues!"

M: "Hey look, Steve! I found a clue!" (points to a blue paw print drawn on the board)

During the ensuing laughter, I erase the paw print and draw a blue 55.

Mr. F "Hey, M. I think the clue was for you. It's your final average for the year!"

Silence.


Cruel? Yes. Worth it? Absolutely.

Passing Notes, Part 3

This note was not passed in my class, but is still deserving of a post.

Okay so D told you what I said about my boo/man. Its not to be mean or anything I just don't like you and you don't like me right so we have something in common. I [think] you a ho and you maybe think I'm one too but so what just not talk or look or hug my boo, okay? And we will not have no problems a all and if he talk to you just say don't talk to me or don't talk back.


Another possible title of this post was "Girlfights".

Race pace

Continuing with the theme of race in the classroom...

"Mista, I don't mean to sound igorant or whatever. BUT... I'm just used to black people rappin'....and white people rockin'!"

- D, in the middle of a discussion about whether certain music can be considered "white" or "black".

Winning the race

Meet S, a sixth grade female so affected by the massive chip on her shoulder that she likely has back problems. S has vocally demonstrated repeatedly that she does not like white people, Arabic people, or just people in general...


S: (To an Arabic teacher) "I ain't from your country. I ain't one of you."

Mr. F: S, You're in enough trouble, don't make it worse."

S: "GOD Mista what is it with YOU people?"

Mr. F: "YOU people? What does that even mean?"

S: All ya'll Arabics and whites. I ain't playin'."

Mr. F: "S, you know that this is now a bias incident, right?"

S: F*** outta heah'. Mista, you shop at the WHITE store, get it? I shop at the BLACK store, get it?"

Mr. F: "S, that doesn't even make se..."

S: "White store!"


And on a separate occasion, with her hands covered in chalk from erasing the chalkboard, S had this to say:

"Mista, now I'm the same color as you!"

Through the grapevine

C, a sixth grade student in my advisory, was VERY concerned about the following discussion. To give some context, it occurred an hour or so after issuing several detentions and referrals to my sixth grade band class.

C: (with caution) "Mr. F, I heard some kids say somethin' about you"

Mr. F: "Was is about how much they liked me?"

C: (seriously) No...

Mr. F: Well then what was it? I won't get mad.

C: (continuing to be serious) I didn't say it! They just said that...you...

Mr. F: What?

C: I don't wanna get in trouble...

Mr. F: It's fine, you can tell me.

C: (with hesitation) They said Mr F. be fiendin'...but I didn't! I just heard it!

Mr. F: And that's it?

C: But I didn't say you were fiendin', they did...

Gettin' Tipsy

Here is another 6th grade advisory adventure:

B: "And then we had wine. Well I didn't, but my mom did. She didn't get drunk, though, because you can't get drunk on wine."

R: "Yes you can!"

B: "Not uh! Only beer gets you drunk!"

R: "No, wine can too"

B: "Women can't get drunk on wine! Only beer!"

He that is called "I am"

You may recall A, our 4'5" sixth grader, from November. He takes a good deal of pride in his beliefs, as is evident from these comments:


Teacher: For God's sake, can you be quiet?
A: "Why do you have to bring God into it!? He's our father! God's our father! Don't bring him into it!"

A, responding to the praise of another student: "Why is everyone always saying things to him!? He's not perfect! Jesus was perfect. He's not Jesus! D isn't perfect. Jesus is!"

If I were a better writer, I would be able to describe how difficult suppressing the urge to erupt into laughter is in these situations. I would also be able to describe A's earnest face and animated hand gestures. If I were a better writer, that is.

Short but sweet

When asked about why she consistently gets into trouble, V could only say this:

"I don't know! Why is Ms. Smith always ridin' my monkey!?"

That just happened

After seeing the same high school "seniors" wandering the hall day after day without attending class, I confronted them for what is surely the last time:

Mr. F: "Why do you even bother showing up if you're just going to skip?"

Student: (without stopping)"Shut up."


That's it.

Passing Notes, Part 2

This was actually a note written to me by D, a seventh grade girl. Grammar, punctuation and spelling have not been altered in any way:

Aly keep on trying to play me in music class saying stuff like you need to shut up and you talk to f*** much so I got mad and I said do you wanna take it in the hallway she said no so I left it at that and she keep on going on with her mouth so I left before I hit Her. and mr f also ask me to leave too cause I was arguing with her. also in the middle of class I started to play and not talk alot until Aly comment come out her mouth.

D

Teacher's Choice

I would not believe that I have said some of these things had I not been there to hear them. Most of these have been said to middle school students. Continuing a trend of less humorous posts, these are a actually a little tragic, and sadly, they have all been uttered too frequently.


"No, no. I'm sorry. I'm not listening to you. What you have to say is not important to me right now."

"Why do you continue to think that you make the rules in my room? You can follow my rules or you can get OUT."

"It is time for you to shut your MOUTH."

"Mr. F said your seat is THERE. No, no. Mr. F said. Mr. F said. End of discussion."

(while pointing at student) "Student."
(while pointing at self) "Teacher".
Repeat as necessary. A reminder of what grade the student is in can also be helpful, accompanied of course by more pointing.

My last phrase is actually a theme with variations:

Theme: "You're not sorry."

Variation 1: "You're not sorry. You're only sorry because I said something"

Variation 2: "You're not sorry. You will be, but you're not."

Variation 3: "You're not sorry. Sorry implies something completely different than what you are."

Variation 4: "You're not sorry. Next time, say, 'I did it on purpose', because then you would be telling the truth."

Variation 5: "You're not sorry. Next time, say, "I don't care', because then you would be telling the truth."

Wise beyond their years

Upon approaching a group of notoriously late high school students in the hallway, I decided to figure out the motivation behind their tardiness. This isn't funny so much as enlightening.

Mr. F: You guys are amazing. Really.

Group: What?

Mr. F: I mean really. You have perfected the art of the slow walk. I'm not even sure that it's physically possible for me to walk that slowly.

Group: Mista, you got long legs. We can't walk that fast.

Mr. F: M, you're taller than I am. Look, this is how easily you can walk at a normal speed. (Demonstrates walking normally)

Group: But mista, there's a difference between us.

Mr. F: What is that?

Group: You care about where you're going. We don't. And we'll get there eventually. Sometime.

Strange Bedfellows

While taking inventory of my school's current band music, I came across the following arrangements, resting peacefully side by side:



"Death and Transfiguration" by Richard Strauss

"Cry Me a River" Justin Timberlake

"Crazy in Love" Beyonce Knowles

"A Copland Portrait" Aaron Copland

Shooting the messenger

I've been reluctant to post this story, but it has been some time since this incident. Around Thanksgiving, teachers were given a memo instructing them to help curb the constant iPod and hat wearing in the hallways. The following occured the day I received the memo:

Mr. F: Excuse me, can you remove your hat please?
(notice the polite address, and the interrogative in lieu of an imperative...)

X: Excuse me, but can you take your f***ing scalp off?

Mr. F: What did you just say? I just asked you to take your hat off.

X: And I just asked if you could take your f***ing scalp off.

Mr. F: I think you need to relax all I did was ASK you. Now I am telling you. Take off your hat.

X: Take off your f***ing scalp.

Mr. F: You know I need to write this up, right?

X: I don't give a f***. F*** all ya'll teachers.

Passing Notes, Part 1

A note, passed in class between two seventh grade girls, was confiscated. These are the contents. No changes have been made:

Girl 1:
1) hi! babes I missed you!
2) gotta tell you something fumi
3) how was your trip?

Girl 2:
1 - hi! I missed you 2!! lolzz
2 - I got to tell you something sad!
But what do you got to tell me first?
3 - it was iight, well I met someone

OMFG!


It is remarkable that with so many words they said so little.

Getting a grip

The first thing I heard upon entering the building this week was this:

"So, I talked to his mother and it turns out that M's blackout WAS caused by the chokehold that T put him in. That's what the hospital told her."


For real.

Fashion faux pas

Mr. F: "Does anyone know what this word means? It's pronounced vi va chi."

N: "Isn't that the fashion designer guy?"

No rest for the weary

Over break, while attending a professional development conference, I received the following email:

S is suspended for spraying a fire extinguisher at Ms. L's door and then cursing at Ms. L. She is suspended "home" until January 7th. I did mail her math packet and ELA holiday plan home.


Have a nice vacation.