Early last week, DC and Oh Yes were rooting through my recycling bin. Oh Yes had a makeup social studies assignment to do, the same one that DC had done the previous day, but he was missing the word bank that went with it. DC was pretty sure that he’d tossed his in the recycling, so they started looking for it.
I was talking to a colleague when suddenly I heard DC say, “Um, Ms. Teachin’?”
“What’s up, DC?”
“We just found a picture of you in here and it says on it that Ms. Teachin’ is a big fat meanie.”
I laughed. “Well, you know, DC, I AM a meanie.”
He looked at me and very earnestly said, “Yeah, but you’re not FAT."
Apparently I may be cruel to the core, but at least I'm relatively skinny.
Showing posts with label Oh Yes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Oh Yes. Show all posts
My heart is a little broken today.
“What do you do when things like that happen?”
“Cry. Sometimes for hours. And then you’re just depressed all the time because what else can you do?”
********************************************************************************************************************
I had a student come visit after school today – we’ll call him Smiley. Smiley had missed class today for a dentist appointment, so he’d come to see what we’d done. I filled him on the speeches that had been presented and then gave him my end of the year assessment to fill out. I have kids answer a few simple questions, just to give me a sense of their perceptions: what did you like and why, what did you dislike and why, what did you do a good job with, what could you have done better with, what did I do a good job with, what could I have done better with. Content-wise, it helps me think about what I need to just tweak a bit and what I need to revamp dramatically, and me-wise, it both strokes my ego and keeps me humble.
After he finished, he stuck around to talk for a bit. He’s a chatty kid, and we get along well, though we’ve had some rough patches (he was the kid who said I wanted to get with him earlier this year, among other things – he has a temper and when he gets mad, it doesn’t go well, though he and I have worked hard on finding solutions to that). He had a friend with him (a kid I don’t have but know slightly), and DC and Oh Yes were also in the room.
I was messing around on my computer and he came to sit by me. I’m not even sure how we started talking about this, but he started telling me about all his family members who have been in jail, or been badly hurt, or have badly hurt someone else.
This is stuff I’ve heard from Smiley before to some extent. After we watched Freedom Writers, we did a Socratic seminar on it (more on that another time) and he talked a lot about his dad’s past as a gang member, and getting out, and the violence threatened against his family. When he talks about these issues, he speaks with a slight sense of importance, sort of a you’re-not-going-to-believe-the-shit-that’s-happened-to-ME quality, but mostly it just comes across as really honest with absolutely no filter.
So today he’s sharing more stories, and his friend is too, and I’m listening, and responding with comments like, “That sounds like a really hard thing to go through,” and, “I hope you’re not going to get involved in stuff like that,” and, “That’s really scary.” Because, really, what do you say to a twelve year old who’s telling you about how his uncle shot at a guy who was trying to steal the uncle’s car?
After fifteen minutes or so, Smiley started telling me about a cousin in jail. And then as I was listening, I noticed his eyes were looking a little watery. And then he started to cry.
He’s cried with me before, once when talking about his grandfather who lives in another state and whom he misses tremendously, once when I told him I was going to have to call home about a behavior issue. But I’ve never seen him cry in front of students.
This kid is cool. He’s athletic, funny, crazy, confident – pretty badass for a sixth grader. Crying is definitively not cool.
The other boys froze. Smiley was sitting on a desk with his feet on the seat. He hunched over and buried his face in his knees. I got up and put my arm around his shoulders, rubbed his back, told him how sorry I was and he was okay. After a minute, his friend moved around to stand next to him too. He collected himself after another minute, wiping his eyes and breathing heavily.
“You okay?” I asked.
He nodded, still a little teary.
“It’s hard to lose people you love. No matter how you lose them, to death or to jail or to someone else, it’s really hard, isn’t it.”
He nodded again, and started talking again. He talked about the man he’d seen die in a car accident. He talked about his uncle who’d punched through a window when angry with his aunt. He talked about another cousin who’d been in jail and had missed Smiley’s birthday.
It’s hard to know what to say in these situations…fuck hard, actually, it’s almost impossible at times. I want to be positive, I want to be supportive, I want to say the right thing, but….what IS the right thing? Here’s what I went with, after he talked about the cousin.
“Smiley, that’s why I hope you keep making the right choices. That’s why I hope you stay in school and get an education and do the right thing, because I would hate for the people who love you to feel the way you feel right now. It’s really hard for you to not have these people around you, and I would hate for anyone to feel like that about you.”
He nodded. “I just don’t want to go to any more funerals for the people I love.”
He left after that – mom was outside and he had to go. Before he left, DC came over to him and did a little fist pound thing. It clearly let Smiley know that DC heard him, and felt him, and they were together.
I managed to hold it together until Smiley left. DC and Oh Yes were playing pool (I have a mini pool table in my room – the kids love coming in before school or at lunch to play; it’s adorable), and I started tearing up. DC noticed after a minute. “It’s sad, isn’t it,” he said.
I tried to smile through my tears. “Yeah. It’s really sad. Um, do you guys have stories like that?” I know some of what DC’s been through, but not all. “You don’t have to tell me, but…I was just wondering.”
DC shrugged. “Not as bad as Smiley’s, I’ve never seen anyone die, but yeah. Some.”
Oh Yes was quiet for a minute. “Yeah, sort of.”
I nodded, they went back to playing and after several minutes and a quick trip out of the room to get through it, I managed to stop crying too.
A little later they were ready to go. It was late, so I gave DC bus fare (Oh Yes refused it). “Can I ask what kinds of things have happened to you guys?”
DC leaned on a desk. “It was really bad where I used to live. We heard gunshots a lot. Sirens all the time. Once there was a gang fight in front of my grandma’s house.”
I looked at him. “That just…I just don’t think kids should have to deal with that kind of stuff. It must be really scary. I mean, you’re 12. You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”
He nodded. “And that was when I was like six or seven.” Oh Yes leaned on a counter and stared into space.
And that’s when I asked. “What do you do when things like that happen?”
DC shrugged again. “Cry. Sometimes for hours. And then you’re just depressed all the time because what else can you do?” I know it’s a cliché, but he seemed so much older than twelve. His eyes…my heart shuddered to see them.
“I just hope you have someone to talk to. Someone who will listen when you need them.” DC nodded to that too, but Oh Yes kept staring into space. I looked at him. “Do you have someone to talk to?”
No response for a minute, then, “No. Not really.”
My eyes filled again. I blinked rapidly. “You need to find someone. It’s important to have someone to talk to.”
They left, and I left a minute later. When I got outside, they were fifty feet away. “Oh Yes! C’mere for a sec!” He turned and trudged back. “I just wanted to say that if you ever do need someone to talk to, I’d be happy to talk to you. About anything. And if you ever need help with anything, I’d be happy to talk to you about it and try to help you.” He nodded. “Okay, see you tomorrow.”
“Bye,” and he walked away again.
I wept the whole way home.
“Cry. Sometimes for hours. And then you’re just depressed all the time because what else can you do?”
********************************************************************************************************************
I had a student come visit after school today – we’ll call him Smiley. Smiley had missed class today for a dentist appointment, so he’d come to see what we’d done. I filled him on the speeches that had been presented and then gave him my end of the year assessment to fill out. I have kids answer a few simple questions, just to give me a sense of their perceptions: what did you like and why, what did you dislike and why, what did you do a good job with, what could you have done better with, what did I do a good job with, what could I have done better with. Content-wise, it helps me think about what I need to just tweak a bit and what I need to revamp dramatically, and me-wise, it both strokes my ego and keeps me humble.
After he finished, he stuck around to talk for a bit. He’s a chatty kid, and we get along well, though we’ve had some rough patches (he was the kid who said I wanted to get with him earlier this year, among other things – he has a temper and when he gets mad, it doesn’t go well, though he and I have worked hard on finding solutions to that). He had a friend with him (a kid I don’t have but know slightly), and DC and Oh Yes were also in the room.
I was messing around on my computer and he came to sit by me. I’m not even sure how we started talking about this, but he started telling me about all his family members who have been in jail, or been badly hurt, or have badly hurt someone else.
This is stuff I’ve heard from Smiley before to some extent. After we watched Freedom Writers, we did a Socratic seminar on it (more on that another time) and he talked a lot about his dad’s past as a gang member, and getting out, and the violence threatened against his family. When he talks about these issues, he speaks with a slight sense of importance, sort of a you’re-not-going-to-believe-the-shit-that’s-happened-to-ME quality, but mostly it just comes across as really honest with absolutely no filter.
So today he’s sharing more stories, and his friend is too, and I’m listening, and responding with comments like, “That sounds like a really hard thing to go through,” and, “I hope you’re not going to get involved in stuff like that,” and, “That’s really scary.” Because, really, what do you say to a twelve year old who’s telling you about how his uncle shot at a guy who was trying to steal the uncle’s car?
After fifteen minutes or so, Smiley started telling me about a cousin in jail. And then as I was listening, I noticed his eyes were looking a little watery. And then he started to cry.
He’s cried with me before, once when talking about his grandfather who lives in another state and whom he misses tremendously, once when I told him I was going to have to call home about a behavior issue. But I’ve never seen him cry in front of students.
This kid is cool. He’s athletic, funny, crazy, confident – pretty badass for a sixth grader. Crying is definitively not cool.
The other boys froze. Smiley was sitting on a desk with his feet on the seat. He hunched over and buried his face in his knees. I got up and put my arm around his shoulders, rubbed his back, told him how sorry I was and he was okay. After a minute, his friend moved around to stand next to him too. He collected himself after another minute, wiping his eyes and breathing heavily.
“You okay?” I asked.
He nodded, still a little teary.
“It’s hard to lose people you love. No matter how you lose them, to death or to jail or to someone else, it’s really hard, isn’t it.”
He nodded again, and started talking again. He talked about the man he’d seen die in a car accident. He talked about his uncle who’d punched through a window when angry with his aunt. He talked about another cousin who’d been in jail and had missed Smiley’s birthday.
It’s hard to know what to say in these situations…fuck hard, actually, it’s almost impossible at times. I want to be positive, I want to be supportive, I want to say the right thing, but….what IS the right thing? Here’s what I went with, after he talked about the cousin.
“Smiley, that’s why I hope you keep making the right choices. That’s why I hope you stay in school and get an education and do the right thing, because I would hate for the people who love you to feel the way you feel right now. It’s really hard for you to not have these people around you, and I would hate for anyone to feel like that about you.”
He nodded. “I just don’t want to go to any more funerals for the people I love.”
He left after that – mom was outside and he had to go. Before he left, DC came over to him and did a little fist pound thing. It clearly let Smiley know that DC heard him, and felt him, and they were together.
I managed to hold it together until Smiley left. DC and Oh Yes were playing pool (I have a mini pool table in my room – the kids love coming in before school or at lunch to play; it’s adorable), and I started tearing up. DC noticed after a minute. “It’s sad, isn’t it,” he said.
I tried to smile through my tears. “Yeah. It’s really sad. Um, do you guys have stories like that?” I know some of what DC’s been through, but not all. “You don’t have to tell me, but…I was just wondering.”
DC shrugged. “Not as bad as Smiley’s, I’ve never seen anyone die, but yeah. Some.”
Oh Yes was quiet for a minute. “Yeah, sort of.”
I nodded, they went back to playing and after several minutes and a quick trip out of the room to get through it, I managed to stop crying too.
A little later they were ready to go. It was late, so I gave DC bus fare (Oh Yes refused it). “Can I ask what kinds of things have happened to you guys?”
DC leaned on a desk. “It was really bad where I used to live. We heard gunshots a lot. Sirens all the time. Once there was a gang fight in front of my grandma’s house.”
I looked at him. “That just…I just don’t think kids should have to deal with that kind of stuff. It must be really scary. I mean, you’re 12. You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”
He nodded. “And that was when I was like six or seven.” Oh Yes leaned on a counter and stared into space.
And that’s when I asked. “What do you do when things like that happen?”
DC shrugged again. “Cry. Sometimes for hours. And then you’re just depressed all the time because what else can you do?” I know it’s a cliché, but he seemed so much older than twelve. His eyes…my heart shuddered to see them.
“I just hope you have someone to talk to. Someone who will listen when you need them.” DC nodded to that too, but Oh Yes kept staring into space. I looked at him. “Do you have someone to talk to?”
No response for a minute, then, “No. Not really.”
My eyes filled again. I blinked rapidly. “You need to find someone. It’s important to have someone to talk to.”
They left, and I left a minute later. When I got outside, they were fifty feet away. “Oh Yes! C’mere for a sec!” He turned and trudged back. “I just wanted to say that if you ever do need someone to talk to, I’d be happy to talk to you. About anything. And if you ever need help with anything, I’d be happy to talk to you about it and try to help you.” He nodded. “Okay, see you tomorrow.”
“Bye,” and he walked away again.
I wept the whole way home.
A Delicate Balance.
I got myself into a potentially awkward situation on Friday. DC was in my room after school working on a narrative he was behind on. He wasn’t happy about being there – it was Friday, after all, and he just wanted to leave – but he’d agreed to do it and I wasn’t going to let him out of it. He yanked his binder off the shelf, tossed it on the desk, and flopped onto the seat, throwing the kind of attitude that only a teenager can really do effectively.
I ignored him.
His best friend came in to also catch up on some work and sat down at a different table group. DC leaned his head on his hand and sighed loudly. He rolled his pencil back and forth across the desk.
I ignored him and sat down with his friend, Oh Yes (so named because he says that remarkably frequently in a remarkably sweet way), to go over what he needed to do.
Another student came in to say that Ms. Reading had donuts, so I went over to see if she had any left. She had two, and I asked if she’d mind giving them to DC and Oh Yes, because my room was chock full of sulkiness and I thought the donuts might help dissipate some of it. She was down, so we went back to my room.
“Hey, guys, I have these two donuts left and I thought you might want them.” When she offered them the treats, Oh Yes was all over it. DC shook his head. Ms. Reading and I exchanged looks – I shrugged. “Here, DC, I’m going to leave it anyway. I sure don’t need it so maybe you’ll do me a favor and take it.” Not a word. “Are you okay?” He nodded, and that’s when I saw a tear drip off the end of his nose.
Ms. Reading left, and I asked Oh Yes to go get a drink of water for a minute. He understood and scurried out of there.
This was the fourth time I’d seen DC cry. First time had been right at the beginning of the year; I’d had all kids who hadn’t done their homework two days in a row call home to tell their parents. They’d been warned it was coming and I wanted to start the year off with the message that homework matters and if I assign it, you damn well better do it. He’d been maybe the third one in his class without it, so I started dialing numbers. Finally his dad answered. When DC told him why he was calling, his dad started yelling so loudly that kids across the room dropped their pencils in fright. I grabbed the phone from DC, sent him out of the room, told dad it wasn’t a huge deal but next time he needed to get it done, and sent DC to the counselor after he washed his face and collected himself. It was awful.
The second time was after he and I talked to another teacher about his grades one day. She was clearly irritated at how little work he’d turned in, which I understand, and he was clearly completely intimidated by the situation. I tried to defuse it a bit, but his eyes were awfully full and the tears spilled over as soon as we walked out of the room. That time I reminded him he was a good kid and gave him a few minutes to get it back together. He seemed okay pretty quickly.
The third time was a day that I’d snapped at him, maybe two months ago. Honestly, now I don’t even remember what I said; I was tired and frustrated with the day and with him, and I didn’t think about HOW I was saying WHAT I was saying, and it hurt him. I apologized right away, but it didn’t do any good, and I spent the night feeling terrible. The next day I apologized again – this time I explained where I was coming from, I talked about how I’d misinterpreted the situation, I told him how sad I was that I’d hurt him and how bad I felt about that, and I said that it was important to apologize to people we care about when we hurt them, so that’s what I was doing. He didn’t say much at the time, just listened and nodded and said we were cool when I asked, but that day he stood with me and joked around while I was doing hall duty, and I knew it was okay.
This time, I remembered how upset he was the time before and so I approached him carefully. I figured he was mad that I wouldn’t let him leave – I didn’t think I’d handled it cruelly or thoughtlessly, but it didn’t matter what I thought, it mattered what he thought.
“Can we talk for a sec?”
He nodded.
“You seem really upset. What’s going on?”
Nothing.
“Something I did?”
Shook his head no.
That surprised me, but okay, great. “So….then what is it?”
Nothing.
“DC, you seem really upset and I’d like to help if I can. Honestly, you’re kind of freaking me out right now. What’s going on? Is it something to do with school?”
Nod.
“My class? Reading? Social studies? Science?”
I got a quick shake no on everything till science, then he nodded. DC doesn’t do well at science. He doesn’t like it, he’s in a class that gets in trouble a lot, he doesn’t do his work…it’s not a great scene. He’s passing right now, albeit barely.
“Science. Did you get in trouble today?”
Head shake no.
“Did you get yelled at? Are you missing more work? Are you failing again?”
Nos on all.
“Honey, I want to help you, but you have to talk to me. What’s going on with science?”
He took a deep shuddery breath and wiped some tears away. “When Ms. Science yells at me, she makes me feel so bad about myself. I feel like she thinks I’m worthless. She acts like I’m dumb and useless.” His voice was low and flat.
“Oh, DC. I’m so sorry. That’s a crappy way to feel.”
He nodded and blew his nose.
“Why are you thinking about this now?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know...I just started thinking about it.”
I handed him some more tissues and thought for a second. How could I help him? “Okay. The way I see it, you have two options. The first choice is to just ignore it. You have a month left of school. Get through the next four weeks and then you never have to worry about it again. The other choice is to talk to her about it. It’d probably be kind of hard to do, but that way you stood up for yourself. That’s what I’d probably do, but it’s up to you.”
All was quiet except for sniffling.
“What do you think? Do you want to talk to her? I can help you if you want.”
He whispered, “I don’t want to be there.”
Oh. “You want me to talk to her.”
He nodded.
Um. “DC…I don’t think I can do that. First of all, teachers respect it more when a kid is part of the conversation. I know I do. But also, as much as I care about you and as much as I want to help you with stuff, I’m not your parent. I’m your teacher. There are things that I just can’t do. So I can do it WITH you, but I can’t do it on my own. I’m sorry.”
He said he’d think about what he wanted to do, and then he got to work on his essay. A few more used tissues filled the trash, but he was fine by the time he left, and we left it at that.
He wasn’t at school today, so I don’t know what he decided. If we do end up having the conversation, it might be uncomfortable – I like and respect Ms. Science very much, but my heart broke a little bit seeing how distraught DC was over the situation, and if he does decide to talk to her, I don’t see the conversation going well. Because remember time two of tears? That was Ms. Science. They just don’t connect. And I will feel caught between advocating for my student and not upsetting my colleague.
I’ll touch base with him tomorrow and we’ll see where we are at that point. Hopefully I can manage the balancing act that will be required should he decide to go forward. If not, well, only a month left, right?
I ignored him.
His best friend came in to also catch up on some work and sat down at a different table group. DC leaned his head on his hand and sighed loudly. He rolled his pencil back and forth across the desk.
I ignored him and sat down with his friend, Oh Yes (so named because he says that remarkably frequently in a remarkably sweet way), to go over what he needed to do.
Another student came in to say that Ms. Reading had donuts, so I went over to see if she had any left. She had two, and I asked if she’d mind giving them to DC and Oh Yes, because my room was chock full of sulkiness and I thought the donuts might help dissipate some of it. She was down, so we went back to my room.
“Hey, guys, I have these two donuts left and I thought you might want them.” When she offered them the treats, Oh Yes was all over it. DC shook his head. Ms. Reading and I exchanged looks – I shrugged. “Here, DC, I’m going to leave it anyway. I sure don’t need it so maybe you’ll do me a favor and take it.” Not a word. “Are you okay?” He nodded, and that’s when I saw a tear drip off the end of his nose.
Ms. Reading left, and I asked Oh Yes to go get a drink of water for a minute. He understood and scurried out of there.
This was the fourth time I’d seen DC cry. First time had been right at the beginning of the year; I’d had all kids who hadn’t done their homework two days in a row call home to tell their parents. They’d been warned it was coming and I wanted to start the year off with the message that homework matters and if I assign it, you damn well better do it. He’d been maybe the third one in his class without it, so I started dialing numbers. Finally his dad answered. When DC told him why he was calling, his dad started yelling so loudly that kids across the room dropped their pencils in fright. I grabbed the phone from DC, sent him out of the room, told dad it wasn’t a huge deal but next time he needed to get it done, and sent DC to the counselor after he washed his face and collected himself. It was awful.
The second time was after he and I talked to another teacher about his grades one day. She was clearly irritated at how little work he’d turned in, which I understand, and he was clearly completely intimidated by the situation. I tried to defuse it a bit, but his eyes were awfully full and the tears spilled over as soon as we walked out of the room. That time I reminded him he was a good kid and gave him a few minutes to get it back together. He seemed okay pretty quickly.
The third time was a day that I’d snapped at him, maybe two months ago. Honestly, now I don’t even remember what I said; I was tired and frustrated with the day and with him, and I didn’t think about HOW I was saying WHAT I was saying, and it hurt him. I apologized right away, but it didn’t do any good, and I spent the night feeling terrible. The next day I apologized again – this time I explained where I was coming from, I talked about how I’d misinterpreted the situation, I told him how sad I was that I’d hurt him and how bad I felt about that, and I said that it was important to apologize to people we care about when we hurt them, so that’s what I was doing. He didn’t say much at the time, just listened and nodded and said we were cool when I asked, but that day he stood with me and joked around while I was doing hall duty, and I knew it was okay.
This time, I remembered how upset he was the time before and so I approached him carefully. I figured he was mad that I wouldn’t let him leave – I didn’t think I’d handled it cruelly or thoughtlessly, but it didn’t matter what I thought, it mattered what he thought.
“Can we talk for a sec?”
He nodded.
“You seem really upset. What’s going on?”
Nothing.
“Something I did?”
Shook his head no.
That surprised me, but okay, great. “So….then what is it?”
Nothing.
“DC, you seem really upset and I’d like to help if I can. Honestly, you’re kind of freaking me out right now. What’s going on? Is it something to do with school?”
Nod.
“My class? Reading? Social studies? Science?”
I got a quick shake no on everything till science, then he nodded. DC doesn’t do well at science. He doesn’t like it, he’s in a class that gets in trouble a lot, he doesn’t do his work…it’s not a great scene. He’s passing right now, albeit barely.
“Science. Did you get in trouble today?”
Head shake no.
“Did you get yelled at? Are you missing more work? Are you failing again?”
Nos on all.
“Honey, I want to help you, but you have to talk to me. What’s going on with science?”
He took a deep shuddery breath and wiped some tears away. “When Ms. Science yells at me, she makes me feel so bad about myself. I feel like she thinks I’m worthless. She acts like I’m dumb and useless.” His voice was low and flat.
“Oh, DC. I’m so sorry. That’s a crappy way to feel.”
He nodded and blew his nose.
“Why are you thinking about this now?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know...I just started thinking about it.”
I handed him some more tissues and thought for a second. How could I help him? “Okay. The way I see it, you have two options. The first choice is to just ignore it. You have a month left of school. Get through the next four weeks and then you never have to worry about it again. The other choice is to talk to her about it. It’d probably be kind of hard to do, but that way you stood up for yourself. That’s what I’d probably do, but it’s up to you.”
All was quiet except for sniffling.
“What do you think? Do you want to talk to her? I can help you if you want.”
He whispered, “I don’t want to be there.”
Oh. “You want me to talk to her.”
He nodded.
Um. “DC…I don’t think I can do that. First of all, teachers respect it more when a kid is part of the conversation. I know I do. But also, as much as I care about you and as much as I want to help you with stuff, I’m not your parent. I’m your teacher. There are things that I just can’t do. So I can do it WITH you, but I can’t do it on my own. I’m sorry.”
He said he’d think about what he wanted to do, and then he got to work on his essay. A few more used tissues filled the trash, but he was fine by the time he left, and we left it at that.
He wasn’t at school today, so I don’t know what he decided. If we do end up having the conversation, it might be uncomfortable – I like and respect Ms. Science very much, but my heart broke a little bit seeing how distraught DC was over the situation, and if he does decide to talk to her, I don’t see the conversation going well. Because remember time two of tears? That was Ms. Science. They just don’t connect. And I will feel caught between advocating for my student and not upsetting my colleague.
I’ll touch base with him tomorrow and we’ll see where we are at that point. Hopefully I can manage the balancing act that will be required should he decide to go forward. If not, well, only a month left, right?
