We’re hatching baby chicks in science class. As of Thursday, Ms. Peters' class had seven, the special ed class had one (which, interestingly enough, appeared to be special ed), and my class had twenty-two. Ms. Jefferson had one chick that was just starting to break out.
By the end of the day it was clear that something was wrong with Ms. Jefferson's chick. It was struggling but hadn’t made any progress. Ms. Jefferson asked me to help it hatch. You're not supposed to but I've seen them die in the egg. I decided to help. I broke off a little piece of eggshell and the chick broke the membrane. I broke another piece of shell and again it slit the membrane. Very carefully, I broke off little pieces of shell and the chick followed me. Finally, its head was free! Success! Ms. Jefferson was relieved.
I decided to stick around until the chick was completely out of the shell. What a disaster. It flopped out of the egg, dragging its guts behind it. The chick hadn’t formed properly. This was why it couldn’t get out of the egg. Ms. Jefferson wanted to leave it over night.
We came back Friday morning and the chick was still alive. It was flopping around inside the incubator and dragging its entrails around with it. Now, it seemed to be in pain. I told Ms. Jefferson that we couldn't let it suffer. I would do the job if she couldn’t. She didn’t want to be around when it happened so she left the room. I carefully picked the chick up and twisted its neck until it broke.
I disposed of the body, took a healthy chick from my room, and placed it in Ms. Jefferson’s incubator. The kids never knew. Was it the right thing to do? Should the kids know that the chick was born unhealthy? It could have been a wonderful teaching moment. Could they have handled it? Would their parents? I feel bad for Ms. Jefferson. My class hatched twenty-two. Her class hatched one and it was sick. The kids were saying things. Ms. Jefferson is not coming back next year. The school board is not going to renew her contract because of the testing incident.
This is the story of a burned out teacher who works in a dysfunctional school. Everything you are about to read is true. Names have been changed to protect the guilty. Warning: This blog contains depictions of actual middle school events and may therefore be inapropriate for children.
About Me
- Mr. Moore
- Rahab J. Moore wrote this journal while in his third (and final) year teaching at George Washington Middle School, a dysfunctional middle school in Alexandria, Virginia. He has since transferred school systems and is happy to report that he is no longer a "burned out teacher". Mr. Moore continues to update his blog. He welcomes your comments.
1 comment:
Dear Mr. Moore,
I'm writing to ask permission to use a short excerpt from your website
in a textbook of English that I am currently working on and am going to
self-publish later this year. Your writing style is a perfect fit for my book.
Please let me know how you'd feel about this (my email is bees@uh.cz). Of course, I would include a link to your website as well as any other info you'd request.
Thank you.
Milan Sacha
the Czech Republic
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