Where the heck to begin? This week thoroughly sucked. I don’t know why, but my omnipresent sense of humor is not working as well as it has in the past few years to get me through the madness at work these days. Before I throw out the latest incidents for your consideration, let me take the time to give some background:
After being accepted into the New York City Teaching Fellows (an organization which places men and women from other professions into a Master’s program in teaching and places them in at-risk schools), I began teaching within a program called New Beginnings. My students were thirteen- to eighteen-year-olds with every type of problem and situation you could think of or dream up. The program had a principal who visited the various New Beginnings sites once or twice a month at most, and the assistant principal was really in charge, as the one on site on a daily basis.
My AP was a former corrections officer, very tall and very laid back. This appointment was a nightmare for him, but he was a genuinely well-intentioned man who had a great deal of potential. My colleagues were fantastic: dedicated, full of humor, and we cared about one another. Our cooperation made it possible to get through a very grueling set of circumstances, including lockdowns, the need for police intervention, students threatening teachers, themselves, and fellow classmates, and so on and so forth. However, many of the New Beginnings sites were simply not in places where they could be run efficiently, and there were considerable clashes in philosophy and protocol between the DOE folks and the people running the community-based organizations (CBO’s) with which the program was affiliated. New Beginnings was not a well-run ship, and it sank.
I was nearly sent to teach at Rikers, which would have been fine with me, since at least I would have a captive audience and this time there would be a guard in the classroom, a perk which would have been appreciated at New Beginnings, if not a sound educational strategy. Instead, at the last minute, I was told to report to a program for pregnant and parenting teens, again ages thirteen to eighteen. We had some drama, but not nearly as much as New Beginnings. Once again, I noticed the serious shortcomings in organization, materials, and the site. In my second year, we had to leave the building suddenly due to no heat during a very cold January and high levels of carbon monoxide in the building. (In addition to staff and students, we had a nursery for students’ babies and toddlers.)
We moved mid-year to a former Catholic school building. Toward the end of the year, we learned that several programs within the Alternative High Schools and Programs were being “reorganized”. Many teachers were “excessed” and could not find jobs.
Some time in August, I received a letter indicating that I should come to an interview at the district office in Queens. I was given a scenario to read and consider and five minutes to formulate a response. I did my thing, and about a week later, was offered a position at my current site, where ESL and pre-GED students are prepared for the GED and beyond: college, various vocations, etc.
The central ideas and objectives of the program are sound and necessary: to provide ESL services and literacy instruction for students, career and college counselling, and social services for those who require them. Students are age eighteen to twenty-one (with an occasional seventeen-year-old) and for whatever reason wish to get their GED’s rather than complete high school. (We have many very recent immigrants who feel that they are too old for high school and want to get language skills before going further in their educations. These are by far our most dedicated and serious students, and the ones whose families take the most significant interest in their performance and behavior.)
We provide services for students who are virtually illiterate as well as students who are just about ready for the GED, but require some more assistance with reading, writing, math, or some combination thereof. This year, I have three classes of students whose reading scores range from 3.6 to 5.5 — those are grade levels. In order to take the GED, students must be operating at a ninth-grade level.
One of my classes is with me for three periods a day. The other two have me for one period a day, and they are with other teachers for the other part of the day. (This is called a cohort — I am responsible mostly for social studies and science instruction, another teacher for English, and another for math — but all three of us must be willing and able to handle all subjects.)
This “cohort” system is new, implemented, along with several other interesting ideas, by our new assistant principal. (This program, too, is run by assistant principals at various sites, while our overworked principal must go where he can when he can.)
I was very hopeful at the beginning of this year, thinking the insanity extant in the program — or at least at my site — would be whittled away with the help of close collaboration between and among the staff, students, and new administration. Despite a few very promising signs of progress (a planned Student Council, an energetic effort to plan activities and trips, an attempt to “spice up” the community aspect of our site) the main festering sore of ridiculous expectations and wrong-headed, potentially dangerous policies, still loom large.
When students exhibit problem behaviors, teachers are to follow a “ladder of referral,” which is as follows:
a. Speak with the student.
b. Call the student’s home.
c. Ask for parent or guardian to come in for a conference.
d. Seek help from the class guidance counselor.
e. Involve the dean.
f. Involve the assistant principal as a last resort.
This is perfectly reasonable, except for the following:
If you treat young adults like children, they will rise to the occasion and act like children. Our students are legal adults, most with jobs, some with children or children on the way, and many not living with parents or guardians. They are college-age, and as such, the very concept of calling their homes if they are late, absent, not participating, or worse is absurd. It is resented by all of them except those with a family culture that appreciates it. Also, if family involvement was not there for the students in elementary, middle, or high school, why should anyone expect it to be present now?
These kids are old enough to die as soldiers. They are old enough to vote. They are old enough to go to strip clubs. Give me a break.
Teachers spend a ridiculous amount of time addressing and documenting stupid regulations such as: no hats, do-rags, hoodies, cell phones, other electronics. There are no immediate consequences if the students ignore such requests — nine out of ten times no one is available to remove the student, and one must follow the “ladder of referral” anyway. A student may only be removed if he or she is disruptive enough to impede the delivery of instruction to the other students. Of course, teachers (including me) have recently found that even health and safety issues are not good enough reasons for immediate removal of students.
Last Friday, a student became belligerent when my para wanted to take his cell phone. He began cursing her out. We had already written up and talked with this student several times, and reported him. My para left the room in search of the dean, who was absent. The guidance counselors were in a meeting, as was the assistant principal. My para did convey our need to have the student removed, and the AP said she would come at the conclusion of her meeting.
Meanwhile, the student rose from his seat and literally slammed the door of the classroom open, and exited. When he returned, he did the same. (He had done something similar, again regarding his cell phone, the day before.)
We were told later by the AP that he would not be allowed to return to school until he brought a parent or guardian with him. She told this to me and to my para, and mentioned the incident to our staff meeting that afternoon.
Monday morning, the offending young man came into the classroom. I asked him if he had a note allowing him back in, and if he had brought someone with him to school. He said no. I reminded him of what the AP had said. He got up and left the room. My para followed, located the dean, and filled him in. the dean said, “Let him back in the class; I’ll pull him later.”
(The AP sent me an email a few moments later saying essentially the same thing, but I did not see it until later in the day.)
Meanwhile, the reappearance of this little shit raised the interest of my often adorable, but sometimes highly irritating, over-the-line Smart Mouth and Class Clown, who proceeded to recognize that if there were no consequences for a prick who curses out staff, he could use his comedic and distracting talents to his heart’s content. It did not seem to bother him that his classmates wanted to learn; he was having fun.
I wrote an email to the AP, stating that I was appalled that this message was being sent to the class, and to me and my para, and that we felt threatened not only by this student’s anger management issues, but by the message being sent to both him and the rest of the class.
She replied that they would reach out to his parents again later in the day, but that unless the student was so disruptive that instruction was impossible, he should remain in the class.
She also said that while she would never intentionally act to render a teacher appalled, she was far more concerned with protocol.
Fast-forward to yesterday. A student who has only been in my class for a week, who does absolutely nothing, despite being spoken to by me and another teacher in our cohort, started hocking phlegm into a bottle on his desk. The noises were as expected and disgusting, and he was seriously grossing out a few of the students. Finally, one of my most serious students rose and strolled over and tossed the bottle into the garbage, to the young man’s glee.
After lunch, this student upped the ante, and began hocking directly into my garbage pail. Again. And again. And again. I explained to him why he had to stop, suggested that he see a doctor about his need to do this, and told him to cease immediately. My para asked if he was listening to me when he did not reply. He responded, “Not really.”
I wrote an email to the AP, and my para wrote up a description for the dean. The AP responded a few minutes later with the phenomenal idea of following the ladder of referral (see above).
I was incensed. Here we were, swine flu spreading, the regular flu season about to begin, a building already unhealthy with air pollutants, the possibility of tuberculosis and who knows what else, and I was being asked to call home and ask for a conference??!! What exactly has to occur before the ladder of referral is deemed inappropriate? Does something have to be thrown at someone? Does a student have to pull down his or her pants and urinate or defecate in my pail? Does someone have to indulge in masturbation, or would a mass circle jerk warrant calls to everyone’s home after a chat with the onanists had failed to procure improved behavior?
Two young ladies from my class who were particularly nauseated by this young man went to complain to my AP, and were asked “Who sent you?” They were also told that “Ms. Grassman has to follow the process. A process is a process.” (One of the two young ladies came to tell me this, as she believed she had gotten me in trouble.)
This shit would not happen in college, nor at a place of employment without immediate and decisive action.(Oh, and by the way, out of the sixty or so students in all three classes, Parent Teacher Night and Parent Teacher Day rendered five visits from relatives — three from my main class, and two from one of my cohort teacher’s class.)
There are no consequences to speak of, no probationary period, no back-up for teachers at all. In fact, a colleague was left to fend for herself against a parolee student who was spewing nastiness at her and had done so to other students earlier — she had called for security, and the dean came in, attempted to appeal to the young man’s better nature, then when the thug would have none of it, the dean left the room for another ten minutes.
We had an incident a couple of weeks ago where a security guard was slashed by a student he was apprehending. We were told at that time that random scanning of students was being considered, yet nothing has come of it.
I and most colleagues suffer from daily headaches, serious allergies, and fatigue, and we are noticing a consistent problem with respiratory infections and headache complaints from our students, yet we are told it is because of high carbon dioxide levels, and it is suggested that we keep our windows open. Of course, the students sitting near the windows get cold, then close them.
We expend more time and energy on the students who do not try, who show no respect, and who do not show up than we do on the students who attend regularly, work their butts off, and show respect.(We are supposed to do “outreach,” and call each student’s home any day s/he is late, does not return after lunch, or is absent.) It is a backwards, assways cauldron of chaos, poor planning, and coddling. There is no writing component to our intake process, the program’s assessment tests, and/or criteria for moving students to “the next level”. In fact, the existing criteria are not consistent from semester to semester. Tests are scheduled, then do not happen. The same test (the Test of Adult Basic Education — TABE) is given every 100 hours of instruction until a student reaches a reading level of 7.0, then is considered ready for the GED prep class proper, regardless of writing skills or math abilities. They are ill-prepared for the test and they are absolutely unprepared for college or gainful employment. It is a crock of shit, but when I and others attempt to insist on collaboration, or insist that, as the ones in the trenches, things must be changed, we are met with the silent treatment at best and hostility at worst.
Last year, I started a dialogue with the superintendent, who insisted that she was open to such communication and collaboration. Once I started pointing out the problems with the program and requesting or suggesting specific solutions, she asked the program principal to “take care of it”. Just for purposes of full disclosure, our superintendent’s educational credentials are those of a drama instructor.
Well, this program is definitely drama — bad drama. Until someone starts listening to the teachers rather than those who deal with these students one at a time (when they deem it important enough to do so) or not at all, it will remain a slow-moving juggernaut of frustration, high failure rates, and a target for yet more ill-conceived, wrong-headed “reorganization”. The neediest students in the city will be the ones harmed most, and this will translate, in some cases sooner and in others later, to great costs for our society.
