Dr. King Would Be Proud; Monday, January 17 – Friday, January 21

It’s been a week. Monday was the Martin Luther King holiday. Tuesday morning the kids were fighting before the opening bell. Dr. King would be proud.
My evening classes started on Wednesday. I don’t get along with my professor at all. I was sitting in class biting my tongue. She kept saying all these negative things about teachers that made me upset. I kept telling myself to take it easy, "This is my last semester. I just need a 'C'." Finally, I burst. I pointed out the flaws in her argument and how she was contradicting herself. I made her look bad in front of the class and that can’t be good. I’m going to have to stop paying attention in there.
Thursday was Inaugural Day. It was supposed to be a half-day/teacher workday but it snowed out.
Today, Malcolm wanted to use the phone. I wouldn’t let him. We’re getting stricter after a bomb scare on Wednesday (that’s a whole other story). Malcolm asked to speak to he alone in the hall. He handed me a business card from the local police department. He told me that they had pulled him out of class and that they were looking for something that was in his house and had been involved in a malicious wounding. He said that he had to call his mother to get it out of the house. I told him "no". After class, I called the detective on the business card. I got the answering machine so I left a message. I still wasn’t satisfied so I went to talk to our school police officer. She verified that the police had removed Malcolm from class to talk to him. I told her what he told me and asked if it made any sense. It turns out that the police are looking for a BB gun. Someone shot a 6-year-old kid.

As Bad As They Have Ever Been

I came dragging into school late today. I was still recovering from last night. The morning was full of science fair forms. We have to have all the paperwork for the city fair by Wednesday. Of course, we didn’t know who would need the paperwork until last night.
Most of the day went by fine. My second block class, however, was as bad as they’ve ever been. They wouldn’t stop talking. They wouldn’t stop singing. They wouldn’t stop insulting each other. I sent a lot of them out. I sent Rodney to the office. It continued. I was incredibly frustrated and angry with them. Rodney came waltzing back into the room in the last minute of class. I yelled at him and kicked him back out. How can you send a student back to class after I am frustrated enough to send him out?
My after school soccer team played today. We won, beating the only team that’s beaten us. This was their first loss and they were bad sports about it.

Science Fair is Over

The Science Fair is over. I am exhausted but not as exhausted as I’ll be when I’m teaching tomorrow. I finally left the school around 8 p.m. Science fair was OK. Some of my students did well. A lot of my former students also did well. A few of my students qualified for the city fair but didn’t show up tonight. I had to gather all their boards for them.
I actually nodded off in class today. I knew that I was running out of energy for teaching so I put a video in. I sat down to watch with the class and almost fell asleep. I had to force myself up to stay awake.
During reading time Rodney insisted that he needed to go to the library. He claimed that he took his book back without reading it because someone had written in it. Then, he claimed that his Spanish teacher sent him to the library. The story sounded suspicious so I started questioning him. After several minutes, he admitted that he was lying and claimed to have left his book at home. I refused to send him to the library. Finally, he went and got his book off the shelf and started reading. Why does it take so much work to get him to do what he’s supposed to do?

Science Fair, Tuesday, January 11- Wednesday, January 12

This is science fair week. I had to stay late yesterday to help with the judging. I was supposed to stay late on Monday too but it slipped my mind. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who forgot because several of us received nasty emails from the science department chair. Tomorrow night is the public viewing and awards ceremony. I probably won’t get home until nine or later. I hate this time of the year.
As part of my work with Rodney, I was asked to keep track of how many times I have to talk to him in a single period. I’m keeping a little tally sheet. It’s amazing how many times he gets in trouble every day. I hadn’t even realized. It’s pretty much constant. Today, he was yelling across the room, couldn’t stop talking about Thomas’ shoes (I finally put him out for that), was playing paper football on at least three different occasions, talked during the quiz, etc.

What Do You Mean I Have Bad Attitude?

I finally made it to a doctor and got some antibiotics over the weekend. I also got this really great cough syrup. I took a teaspoon before bed and I haven’t slept like that in a long time. But when it was morning, the alarm was sounding in a very far off place and my legs and arms didn’t want to move. I skipped the cough syrup for the day—it’s not supposed to be used when driving so I figured it’s not safe for school use either. I have to be fully alert.
Cardoza finally came back from a long suspension for fighting. I gave her a copy of her interim grade report with all of her teachers’ comments on it. I had completely forgotten what comment I put down for her. Suddenly, she was up in my face with plenty of attitude. “Mr. Moore, what’s this about having bad attitude? What do you mean I have bad attitude?” If the situation weren’t so real it would have been comical.