Читать книгу Forgive Us Our Trespasses - Diane Gensler - Страница 11

Chapter 3

Thy Kingdom Come

After my welcome note had been taken away on that first day, I had no time to dwell on it. I put it out of my mind and focused on the students who would be arriving within the hour. I had a long day ahead with lots of work to do. I was excited to meet my students, but at the same time, there were random butterflies doing figure eights in my stomach. I expected that I would experience this, but once the children joined me, the butterflies landed, and I felt enveloped by a warm cocoon and the sanctuary we created together. Being with them made me happy.

The first bell rang, and since I couldn’t see the front of the school, I could only imagine the throng of children pushing their way through the doors. Several moments later there was the turbulence and cacophony of a herd in the distance. Then, like cattle who couldn’t be wrangled, an offshoot headed down the hallway, a mixture of third through eighth graders. Students of various sizes donned in plaid and navy school uniforms with backpacks and lunch bags were “looming large on the horizon.”

Mrs. A reappeared right after the bell rang to inform me that all the teachers have hall duty every day and are required to stand in the hallway between classes to monitor students. That was news to me. It was a good thing my classroom was ready since I wasn’t going back inside until the students arrived.

I have to stand in the hallway every day? There goes more of my valuable time. Can’t they find other people to monitor the hallways? Was this in my job description?

We both stood lookout by our doors. The sixth grade homeroom students knew which classroom was theirs since most of them were next door in fifth grade the previous year. Plus, they knew if they had Mrs. A or “the other teacher.” I greeted my students with a pleasant “Good Morning” that would become my daily routine. They brushed past me into my classroom, mumbling something unintelligible, not very concerned with the new teacher but more annoyed by the early hour, the lack of sleep and the end of a slower summertime pace. As I greeted each student, I kept my other eye on the incoming traffic to make sure there were no jams, collisions or road rage. Since the hallways had no lockers, it was an easier job than in public school.

As the children entered, I instructed them to sit anywhere for the time being. I had arranged the desks in a more modern way than they were accustomed. While my teaching partner had the traditional layout with all the desks facing forward toward hers, I chose to arrange the desks around the perimeter of the room, facing inward, two rows deep forming three sides of a rectangle. The front of the rectangle I left open, and I could easily walk over to anyone. It allowed open space that I planned to use if we were going to act something out or needed floor space for a project or assignment.

Mrs. A. had appeared in my classroom the day I had rearranged the desks.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“I’m trying a new seating arrangement. I think I like it. It’s a little different and leaves space for students to sit on the floor when we do an activity.”

“Well, we’ll see how that works,” she snarled, turning on her heels and walking out.

I guess she doesn’t like it.

The arrangement worked so well that I never changed it. The students enjoyed sitting on the floor when working on group book projects and other assignments. Even the DARE officer (police officer who comes to teach the kids to “say no to drugs”) commented how much he liked the arrangement, especially when he had them act out skits.

While the school seemed to be a mixture of old and new, the actual seats for the students were “vintage.” I imagined that students who attended this school in the 1950s used the same desks. They were the old wooden chairs with the desktops attached and space underneath for books. You often see the more modern version of plastic, fiberboard and chrome today on college campuses or in places where space is limited.

On this first day, a larger seventh grade girl muttered, “Oh dear,” as she wedged her wide bottom into the narrow seat opening. She must have been accustomed to this, because she withstood the obvious discomfort without complaint, and thankfully no one teased her. I asked her later in private if she’d like me to find her a different type of seat, and she said “No, thank you.” I thought that her manners and the politeness of her classmates spoke well of the school.

I guess she doesn’t mind cramming herself into this seat every day. I would have jumped at the opportunity to sit in something else. I guess she doesn’t want to call attention to herself. She’s right. That would make her stand out, and I can’t think of another solution. I’m sure they won’t let me change all the desks in my room.

“Ms. B, I’m a lefty not a righty,” Billy asserted.

“Oh.....Just do the best you can for now,” was all I had to offer.

“I’ll try to find out if they make these seats with the desk on the other side,” I remarked at the end of the class period after I had watched him contort his whole body like Houdini to be able to fill out a form. I never found one after asking just about everybody in the school, including the maintenance worker.

How can they not have one lefty desk in this whole building? They obviously don’t care about students with differences.

The next day I suggested that my lefty student put an empty desk adjacent to his and use that surface for writing instead. He declined that offer.

I presumed my students would be the most well-behaved students since this was a Catholic school, and they were required to wear uniforms, attend religion class and church services, and adhere to strict rules I heard about in the faculty meetings. For example, I was told to assign homework every night. I didn’t agree with this, because that’s a lot of homework accrued for one night from every teacher. Plus, my lessons didn’t always require work to be done for the next day, nor did the students need to do work every night to reinforce the learning that took place. And sometimes they just deserved a break!

I was also told to be strict, and that if a child came to class without a writing instrument, he or she was to a receive detention on the spot. I didn’t agree with that either. As a matter of fact, several months into the school year I had a student come to class for an entire week without a pen or pencil. When I finally gave him a detention and asked him the next day for the consent form signed by a parent, he said, “My parents told me to tell you I’m not going to serve it.”

“Why not, Joseph?”

“That’s what they said.”

I called his home and left several messages for his parents who never called me back. I trudged outside to the parking lot during dismissal, risking life and limb to find his mother amid the stampede of students making their end-of-the-day, I-can’t-wait-to-go-home escape.

I shouted her name, but she didn’t answer.

I ran up to her and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, but you know your son got a detention from me, right?”

“Yes, I know.”

“I know?” You have nothing else to say?

“Well, he didn’t return the consent form. He can’t serve it without that. Did you sign it?”

“You’ll have to talk to my husband.”

“Can’t you sign the consent form? He needs to serve this detention.”

“I’m not going to speak to you about this. You’ll have to talk to my husband.” She walked away.

What?! What’s with that? She acts like I did something wrong. Why can’t she address this issue? This is pretty “cut and dry.” It’s not like this is something disputable. The kid came to English class repeatedly without something to write with. It’s the policy of this school to receive a detention for that. I was even nice about it, and let him get away with it for days. Why won’t she answer me?

I never found out what the story was, but later I assumed it was yet another parent who didn’t approve of my teaching in the school and was giving me a hard time. When I sought the advice of other middle school teachers, they told me to “let it go.” Did they know something they weren’t telling me?

After a number of students had gathered in the room on this first day, I peeked in to find average eleven and twelve-year-olds greeting each other after time away and chatting about summer vacations. I forgot most of them were familiar with each other after attending school here since kindergarten. This wasn’t usually the case in public school. Some of them were so tall, they could have been eighth graders. And some of them looked like they still belonged in elementary school.

Oh, they gave me some babies, I thought. I’ll take good care of them.

After the frenzy in the hallway died down, and it appeared that all my students were present, I entered my classroom and shut the door. I was about to address my homeroom class when the loud speaker crackled and a voice announcing the start of school broadcast into the room. Nobody seemed to notice my slight jolt, and I shut my mouth. I was so eager to start that I had forgotten about the morning announcements!

I froze in place and listened with the students. After a few words, everyone stood for the Pledge of Allegiance. I placed my hand over my heart and recited the words along with the students. I was checking around the room to ensure that everyone was reciting it and scoping out any troublemakers that weren’t. So far I had a group of good American citizens.

Next, the recitation of the Lord’s Prayer began. The children automatically bowed their heads.

Why hadn’t I foreseen this? I thought. Hadn’t I learned my lesson yet? Didn’t I think there would be prayers?

The Virgin Mary already had her head bowed not far from the loudspeaker. In order to be respectful, I bowed my head also, but I did not utter the words. I raised my head once to check that all the students were reciting the prayer. It appeared that these students were very respectful or very well-trained. After the Lord’s Prayer everyone seated themselves automatically with military precision. There was no need for any direction from me.

So glad I don’t need to say anything!

Finally, I walked to the front of the room and introduced myself, welcomed the kids, and took attendance. I tried right away to learn the names of the twenty-five students in my homeroom class. We were discussing their class schedules, and I was trying to ensure that everyone was familiar with where they were going when the bell rang. Some of the students stayed with me for English Language Arts while others moved directly across the hall to Mrs. A. I was glad that I had some of her students in my homeroom so that I could get to know other sixth graders.

After the brief shuffle, I looked around at the different faces. I had directed the “new” students to also sit anywhere until I moved them to assigned seats which I did speedily after I introduced myself again.

I took a deep breath, as this seemed like a very ordinary first day of school. I suppose I hadn’t known what to expect after receiving my “love note.” No hands flew up accusing me of being a Jew and asking why I was in the school. So far so good!

I distributed copies of “Ms. B’s Classroom Rules, Regulations and Policies” and went over each item, trying to sound like a cross between a drill sergeant and a nun. It’s always important for a teacher to lay the ground work right away so students know your expectations, what you consider proper conduct and what your procedures are for managing your classroom. In other words, this is to stop bad behavior before it starts. They can’t use the excuse that they didn’t know. If anyone considers misbehaving this early on, this will give them pause, at least temporarily. Even on the first day of school, it is usually easy to identify the more challenging students, especially if they call any of the rules into question.

With my rules, regulations and policies, I tried to be concise and specific. I was conveying to my students that I expected appropriate and orderly behavior and for students to come to class prepared and organized. But I also expected them to enjoy themselves, learn a lot and even have fun, which I made sure to tell them.

Then I had my administrative duties to perform with forms to complete, textbooks to assign, and dress code and fire procedures to review.

Time flew, and before I knew it, they were out the door, and my seventh graders sat before me. I felt confident and happy. One class down and two more to go. I liked the kids. I think that in all my teaching days there was never a kid I disliked no matter how he or she behaved, as I got to know each and every one of them quite well.

It was the same procedure with my seventh grade class. It isn’t difficult to tell the difference between sixth and seventh graders. Sixth graders appear less mature and developed. A lot of physical growth happens over the summer so that seventh graders are usually taller. They gain more confidence and have a more developed sense of humor (sometimes to the point of being mouthy).

Seventh graders ask all sorts of questions. I had to tell them to wait until I was finished reading through the rules before I would take questions. They asked good questions, mostly about tests and quizzes and my grading policy which was not specifically mentioned on the handout.

Once they left, I could finally go to the rest room. During my teaching experience, I became an expert at holding my bladder for long periods of time. While some people might brag about awards or commendations, I boasted about how many hours I could go without a bathroom break.

I was glad it was lunchtime. I was starving! I barely had anything to eat before school started. I didn’t want to go to lunch alone, so I walked across the hall to ask Mrs. A if she was going. I found her sitting at her desk with an unwrapped sandwich placed neatly in front of her. She was chewing a bite when I walked in.

“Are you going to lunch?” I asked her anyway.

“I meat in my massroom,” she said with a mouthful. She didn’t even swallow before she answered me.

I guess I won’t be eating lunch with her this year. I don’t know anybody else I’d want to eat with. What am I going to do?

I had packed my lunch since I was unsure where the cafeteria was, what food was available, and if there was enough time to buy lunch.

So I begrudgingly walked back up the steps, down the long corridor, and into the faculty room on the corner. I stopped and took a look around. It was a cramped little room with round tables. There were a handful of teachers in the room, but none of the middle school teachers. Nobody invited me to sit at their table. I took a deep breath and sat by myself. I could hear the chatter of the other teachers but their talk was about the younger students. Except for the foreign language teacher who asked how my first day was going, nobody spoke to me. I was a little puzzled, as I thought more people would have asked or at least said hello.

I went directly back to my classroom after lunch and used my planning period to straighten up, review my seating charts and students’ names, write notes on my lessons from today and prepare for tomorrow. Forty five minutes goes by fast.

I had met a few of my eighth grade students before the school year started, since they had visited during teacher preparation week.

I was out in the hallway hanging a sign on my door when I noticed a group of kids closer to the lobby greeting teachers. I could hear exclamations from the teachers, and I saw them go out in the hallway and hug the students.

What well-liked students. Or it’s just such a small school that everyone is very familiar with each other.

These students were slowly making their way down the hallway. I knew it was only a matter of time before they visited my classroom.

Sure enough, about fifteen minutes later there were four adolescents invading my room. They didn’t wait for an invitation but seated themselves on the back ledge by the windows.

Look how comfortable they are. They seem very familiar with the school.

From across the room they told me their names and asked mine and what I was doing.

I stopped the paperwork at my desk and walked over to answer their questions.

“Are you our new teacher?” one of them asked.

“I was waiting for you to ask me that,” I replied, smiling. “Indeed, I am.”

They pointed out the two that would be in my class and told me whose classes they had last year. They were talkative and full of youthful enthusiasm, telling me what they did over summer vacation and what high school they wanted to go to. I was impressed that they made this effort to meet me.

It was the first day of school and here they were as formal students. It was 1:30 PM and time for my last class. Even though I knew ahead of time this was a much smaller class with only twelve kids, the reality hit me when they were all seated and most of the seats were empty. I thought that having a small group would be a real pleasure and a relaxing ending to the day, but I was wrong. It wasn’t going to be so easy. A number of these kids were full of personality and energy and would prove to be more challenging.

It didn’t take them long to start asking me questions.

“How old are you? Where did you go to college? Are you married? Do you have any children? Do you have a boyfriend? Have you ever taught before? Is your hair naturally curly?”

It’s a good thing I’m not a beginner teacher.

Among these vibrant personalities were a few students so quiet that I wondered if they could speak. I would attempt to “draw them out” throughout the school year. The other students more than made up for their silence.

Unlike my other classes, I let these students choose seats the first day. This was a fatal mistake. After Day One, it became difficult to get the talkers to be quiet. I moved them around and put them in every other seat to create some distance between them.

Since this class was small, we could move through material more quickly. After we completed the administrative minutia, we started an actual lesson.

Wow. I’ll have to remember to plan a lot more for this class. This is exciting that we actually get to do some real work today!

Their first assignment was to write a brief autobiography which would serve not only as a way for me to learn about them but also as a diagnostic tool to assess their current level of writing. This composition assignment would take several days to complete. We started with an interest inventory that I had pulled from my stored teaching materials. (An interest inventory is a questionnaire about likes and dislikes). Then students wrote a first draft. I always completed my assignments along with the students and often shared my writing. That was the case with this assignment as well.

Being outspoken students in an open atmosphere I tried to foster, the students freely made suggestions. One student, Greg, suggested they read each other’s completed papers and guess who’s who.

What a great idea! These kids are going to keep me on my toes! It’s not often that a student has a good suggestion for how to do a lesson!

I used his suggestion, and the students enjoyed it. I also learned miscellaneous information, such as Greg had a sister in the fifth grade; Peter had a twin brother in Mrs. A’s class, his younger sister was in my seventh grade class and his older siblings had all attended this school; and Talia’s mother teaches at this school in a lower grade.

Showing their inquisitive nature, they asked to hear my autobiography, so I shared. I started with my name. Then I read, “I was named after my grandfather, David. Therefore, my Hebrew name (I am Jewish) is the female version of the name David.” I said where I went to college and my previous work experience. I read, “I welcome all my students this year and look forward to a fabulous school year where my students and I will accomplish many goals and enjoy the learning experiences we will share together.” I looked up at the kids.

“You’re Jewish?!” Colin asked without raising his hand. Most of the students looked astounded.

“Yes, I am,” I answered. “Please raise your hand next time.”

“Are you allowed to teach here?” Mary Ann asked without raising her hand. How quickly my rules, regulations and policies seemed to fly out the window.

“Yes,” I answered. “Please raise your hand in class.”

“How is it that you are allowed to teach here?” Douglas asked, raising his hand as he asked the question.

I remained silent until he raised his hand and waited for me to address him. He repeated the question.

“Well, I’m teaching you English Language Arts,” I explained. “That shouldn’t interfere with anything else.”

I was glad to see that Jennifer raised her hand and waited for me to call on her.

“Do you have horns?” she asked sincerely.

“Do I have what?”

“Horns. I heard that Jewish people have horns on their heads.”

“No, I don’t have horns. Jewish people do not have horns. Although sometimes my curls do stick straight up,” I said pulling on a curl. That got a little laugh.

Oh my G-d! I can’t believe she just asked me that! They really think that? How can they believe that? What have they been told and by whom? I heard people believed that, but I thought that was a long time ago.

Colin waited to be called on.

“Yes?”

“Can we ask you about your religion?”

“Of course you can. You can ask me whatever you like. I’d be happy to answer any questions if I actually know the answer. But not if it takes away from a lot of class time. And it’s time to get ready for dismissal.”

I wondered if these kids were ever exposed to people of other religions. It reminded me of when I discovered a close elementary school friend was a Jehovah’s Witness. One day when we were playing on my parents’ patio, I asked her questions about it. She was answering me when my mother interrupted. She must have been listening.

“Diane, come in this house this instant,” she instructed me. “Laura, we’ll see you later.” She slammed the door shut.

“Stop listening to her. You shouldn’t be listening to her talk about her religion.”

“But, mom, I asked her about it. She was only answering me.”

“I don’t want to hear it. You shouldn’t be learning about any other religion.”

“But, mom, I was interested. I want to find out what it’s about.”

“If you don’t follow my directions, you won’t be allowed to play with her anymore.”

“Okay, mom,” I acquiesced.

To this day I believe my parents overreacted. It would have been educational for me to learn about her religion. I also think my parents had received a lot of door-to-door solicitors trying to convert people to Jehovah’s Witnesses, so they were wary. Laura and her family were not one of them though. I didn’t want anyone at this school to think I was soliciting either. I knew I had to be careful.

All in all, I was pleased with how the first day had gone. My butterflies had flown away and wouldn’t reappear for the remainder of the school year. However, I was emotionally and physically exhausted and couldn’t wait to get home. The welcome note had already disappeared from my mind.