School's Out Forever

This past Friday was my last day of employment at my current (former?) school. Next year, I will be at a very different school in the very same city (this departure is on good terms for all parties involved). I don't plan on composing a summary of my experiences, nor do I have a culminating experience that typifies my tenure at the school. But this, my second year of blogging, began with an administrator, and here, 10 months later, ends with one as well:

A.P.: "Next year will be good for Mister F because he'll finally have a real job with real responsibilities."

Class dismissed.

Failblog

The end of the semester would be an appropriate time for another "Fun With Numbers" entry, but I find that the calculations are both depressing and redundant; many students fail my (and other) classes. That is old news. To keep things interesting, I recently asked colleagues for the various ways in which they have let students know that they had failed. Important pieces of information to keep in mind are that my school gives numerical grades,that anything below 65 is a failing grade, and that 55 is the lowest possible grade.

For occasions when a student speaks multiple languages:

"How do you say 'fifty-five' in (language here)? I want to get it right when your parents come up to school."

"How do you say 'Summer School' in (language here)?"

For other situations:

"Why are you asking what his grade is? His sixty has nothing to do with your fifty-five. You earned them separately."

"When your parents get your report card and ask why your grades are so bad, all you'll be able to say is, 'I plead the fifty-fifth!'"

"Tell me again, what grade is it you'll be repeating next year?"

"Hey, hey, don't worry about trying so hard right now. Just relax, because we'll have plenty of time to try again next semester."

I have only inserted one of my own. However, I have certainly borrowed almost all of these at one time or another.

Passing Notes, Part 3

This note was not intercepted in class, but rather left in the instrument storage room on the desk of my colleague:

To: The music teachers

From: Some Kid

Music sucks, Mr. J don't care, I HATE music

Music sucks, Mr. F don't care, I HATE music

Music sucks, Mr. J don't care, I HATE music

Music sucks, Mr. F don't care, I HATE music

8th grade sucks, that's the only people they care about

8th grade sucks, I don't like Mr. J and Mr. F

8th grade sucks, they think they are so perfect

8th grade sucks, (this) is a wack school

Forge Score and Seven Years Ago

Randomly, during an eighth grade graduation rehearsal, I had this conversation with one of my administrators. I think it's important to make note of the fact that I have not proctored, witnessed, or provided security for any middle school test in two years. Remember that this is an administrator; one of my bosses:

Ms. S: "Mr. F, could you come sign this?"

Mr. F: "Sure. What is this?"

Ms. S: "Oh this. It's just a paper saying we had test security. Which we did, I just need you to sign."

Mr. F: "But I didn't..."

Ms. S: "No, no I know. I just can't forge ALL of the signatures, you know? That would look bad, so I just need you to sign."

Beyond the Fail

The fact that music, as a subject, is not factored in to a student's GPA at times makes it difficult to use the idea of receiving a good or even a passing grade as an incentive for students to come to class, to behave in class, to not curse in class, etc.. One small weapon in my arsenal of incentives is that while music is not a weighted class, a passing music grade is required for a student to graduate from high school. Passing my class is really not difficult. I would say it is insultingly easy, and this is no blithe admission; I wish I could make it harder. To pass my class, you really just need to:

• show up on time (the class meets 3 times a week)
• have a pencil
• participate in class sometimes
• read basic rhythmic patterns
• do the 3 homework assignments assigned all semester

Seriously. I may as well just make the only requirement be having a pulse.

So I can't help but think it's comical that one student, N, has failed my class three times since I have been teaching (in other words, every semester that I have been teaching), and is well on his way to a fourth time. This was apparently news to him (though he averages 75% attendance, 100% tardiness, and 0% clue as to how to read music):

N (in front of the whole class): What I gotta do to pass your class! I come! I do work! I hit the drum, bang bang. Why I'm not passing your class?"

Mr. F: "We can discuss this in private. I'm not sure everyone needs to know your business."

N (continuing): "Why everyone else passes but not me? They talking to me about graduation next year, but they say I gotta pass your class. I failed three times now."

Mr. F: "Seriously, let's talk after class."

N (still ignoring me): "You're holding me back from my life! I know people that started with me that have masters degrees, but I'm stuck in your class! You're stopping me from getting on with my life!"

He'll be back in the music room next fall.

The Pig Picture

D can be described as the dumbest smart kid in the eighth grade; completely lacking in common sense, D has a knack for acing standardized tests while failing at putting together a saxophone (seriously; and it's only 3 pieces).  And it is now evident that he is well on his way to medical school:

D (hysterical and sobbing): "Mr. F, I can't play in the concert tomorrow!"

Mr. F:  "Is everything alright?  You seem really upset."

D:  "I'm sick, and won't be in school.  Does that mean I'm going to fail?"

Mr. F:  "Of course not, D.  If you're sick, you're sick.  No hard feelings, hope you get better."

D (unable to hold back tears):  "I have swine flu!"

Mr. F: "Why would you come to school if you knew that?"

D: "Well I haven't been to the doctor yet, but I'm pretty sure I do."

D was back in the school the day after the concert, well enough and just in time to attend the eighth grade class field trip.   At no point was he actually diagnosed by a medical professional with swine flue, bird flu, or any flu at all, for that matter.  He said the trip was "a lot of fun".