How is it only Wednesday?

It’s been a hell of a week. So far:

Monday:

• I had a student report to me some pretty unpleasant things going on at home. First Social Services call of the week.

• Another student told me he had a BB gun in his locker. Though he immediately said he was kidding, and I believed him, I still reported it, because come on. You don’t say that crap, EVER, but especially not on April 20th. They searched him, his backpack, his locker, his brother’s locker. No gun, but they found gang-connected bandanas. He was suspended for a day for representing colors.

• The Eyeliner Queen was suspended for three days for cussing out another kid. She was given an opportunity to try mediation, but refused.

Tuesday:

• The Charmer told me something that led to my second Social Services call of the week. With his trust issues, he kind of lost it when I told him I had to report what he’d said. He’s feeling angry, hurt, anxious, guilty, and I feel terrible that I’m part of him feeling that way. He’s not speaking to me.

• I started coughing so hard 8th period that I thought I was going to throw up. I told my kids to tell the teacher in the adjoining room that I might be dying, got a teacher from across the hall to come over, and hacked my way down the hall, tears streaming down my cheeks. A kid even came to check on me. Five minutes later I finally stopped.

Today:

• I sent a student to the office for pushing another kid in the hallway, to try to prevent a fight. DC then came to me and said it was his fault because he’d shot the kid with a rubber band, they’d gotten in a pushing match and it eventually degenerated to blows. No adult saw this. His name had not come up. It was out of nowhere. When I asked DC why he’d told me, he said he thought it was better to tell the truth now rather than try to hide it and have it come out later. I guess I appreciate his honesty.

• Another teacher told me that she suspects several of my favorite students of gang involvement. These boys are funny, smart, charming – of course a gang would want them. I want to cry.

If tomorrow’s not better, I’m going home, going to bed, and not getting up till June.