Some ups, many downs
As my sister pointed out in a mock-miffed tone (or maybe not so mock) last weekend, every time she’s checked on my blog lately, she keeps seeing the same old posting. I know. I dropped the ball. As my fiancé pointed out, if I’m going to promote my blog, I need to keep feeding it (and the curiosity of my readers).
There are, of course, many reasons I’ve slacked off lately. For one, I’ve been trying to have a life. If I get a chance, I’d rather spend the evening with Lisa than grading papers or calling parents. On the other hand, I routinely spend anywhere from nine to 11 hours each day at school, so I really only get to see Lisa on the weekends.
But the main reason I haven’t been writing much lately is that it’s all just been too depressing. Or not depressing enough. Dramatic anecdotes make for the best blog fodder, of course, and there haven’t been much of those lately (but wait for my next entry—it’s a doozy).
I made a note to write about some of my positive experiences, like “Tavis,” a student who failed last year, who did almost nothing but screw around in class last year, and who, this year, has one of the only A grades in my first class. I even asked him once: “Where is the old Tavis, and what have you done with him?” Then I said “Don’t answer that—I like this new Tavis better.”
I’d like to say I did something wonderful to affect his turnaround, but unless you count failing him last year, I didn’t really do much. When I asked Tavis what motivated him to come to school on time every day and do all of his work this year, he just said it was failing last year that finally kicked him in the butt. This was a kid I had all but given up on at the end of last year. When I gave him his summer school application, he returned it at the end of class with these words on it: “Not going sorry.”
And now he’s not only passing, but getting an A.
The bitter part of this story is that, because Tavis was so uncooperative last year, the staff had him evaluated for special education services. And he got them: 900 minutes a week, the max anyone can get. Since the academy hasn’t been able to find and hire a special education teacher, however, there is no way Tavis can get his special education services while he is enrolled in the academy. So next semester, he gets transferred out to the regular high school. He doesn’t want to go, and I don’t want to lose someone who is now practically a model student, but rules are rules, I suppose.
Then there is “Jaxon.” I couldn’t stand Jaxon last year. He was rude, disruptive, disrespectful. He never did any work. He intimidated all of the other students. The best thing about him was that he was always getting suspended, and so was rarely in school. He failed my class, and every other class he had, except, maybe, math.
I knew I’d have him again this year, so I made a conscious effort to mentally wipe the slate clean. He came back to school with his customary swagger, but he didn’t give me too much trouble. He must have given someone trouble, however, because within the first two weeks of school, he had been transferred to the school at the juvenile jail. I didn’t find this out until Jaxon had been absent for over a week, and I called his mother to ask where he had been (to be honest, I didn’t really care, but it’s my job to try and keep attendance numbers up in my classes, so I call). She told me was in juvenile jail, and told me the date he’d be back in my class.
I steeled myself for the worst when Jaxon came back. He’d been in the prison system, and I wanted to be ready for whatever changes his experience had made in him.
Jaxon came back—and actually came to every class on time. He did all of his work. He asked me questions. He even took out his earrings when I asked him to. Not right away, and sometimes he’d put them back when I wasn’t looking, but Jaxon was a much improved student after his stay in the slammer. I found myself actually looking forward to seeing him every day, to teaching him. By the end of the first quarter, he was earning a C in my class.
And then his schedule got changed.
I don’t know why, but Jaxon’s schedule was changed, and that meant that instead of having me for the first two periods of the day, I would have him for the 4th and 5th periods of the day. Since the change a little over two weeks ago, I’ve seen him maybe twice. One of those days was yesterday, when he had a note from his mother saying he had been sick for two weeks. Maybe he was, but I just don’t think I’ll be seeing Jaxson in class much anymore, because 4th period is right after Division.
Attendance is all-important in the CPS system. Our target is 90 percent attendance for the kids who are enrolled. The school’s budget is based on our attendance figures. Official attendance, then, is taken from about 10:20 to10:30 every morning. This time is called Division. Attendance isn’t taken first thing in the morning because attendance at 8 a.m. is so spotty. When my 8 a.m. class starts, I routinely have anywhere from four to six students in my room. This is out of a roster of 27. By 9 a.m., maybe another dozen or so will show up.
Everyone knows that the only attendance number that really matters is the division attendance number. If you start missing Division 10 or more times, the attendance office can and will start trying to get you dropped from the official rolls, because those absences directly affect the amount of money the school receives from the city and state. But students can miss an actual class dozens of times, and they won’t get kicked out of school—as long as they go to Division. So by Division time, 99 percent of my students show up. And some of them disappear immediately afterwards, even when all they have to do to come to my class is stay in the room.
I’ve called one mother once each week to let her know her son comes to division, but rarely, if ever, comes to my class. If he isn’t in my class, he can’t do his work, and if he doesn’t do his work, he will fail (and did fail the first quarter). She is obviously concerned. She has come up to the school numerous times to meet with me and the other teachers. She brings her husband. They both lecture their son. They both say they will stay on him, and I believe they do. But he still doesn’t come to my class.
There are, of course, many reasons I’ve slacked off lately. For one, I’ve been trying to have a life. If I get a chance, I’d rather spend the evening with Lisa than grading papers or calling parents. On the other hand, I routinely spend anywhere from nine to 11 hours each day at school, so I really only get to see Lisa on the weekends.
But the main reason I haven’t been writing much lately is that it’s all just been too depressing. Or not depressing enough. Dramatic anecdotes make for the best blog fodder, of course, and there haven’t been much of those lately (but wait for my next entry—it’s a doozy).
I made a note to write about some of my positive experiences, like “Tavis,” a student who failed last year, who did almost nothing but screw around in class last year, and who, this year, has one of the only A grades in my first class. I even asked him once: “Where is the old Tavis, and what have you done with him?” Then I said “Don’t answer that—I like this new Tavis better.”
I’d like to say I did something wonderful to affect his turnaround, but unless you count failing him last year, I didn’t really do much. When I asked Tavis what motivated him to come to school on time every day and do all of his work this year, he just said it was failing last year that finally kicked him in the butt. This was a kid I had all but given up on at the end of last year. When I gave him his summer school application, he returned it at the end of class with these words on it: “Not going sorry.”
And now he’s not only passing, but getting an A.
The bitter part of this story is that, because Tavis was so uncooperative last year, the staff had him evaluated for special education services. And he got them: 900 minutes a week, the max anyone can get. Since the academy hasn’t been able to find and hire a special education teacher, however, there is no way Tavis can get his special education services while he is enrolled in the academy. So next semester, he gets transferred out to the regular high school. He doesn’t want to go, and I don’t want to lose someone who is now practically a model student, but rules are rules, I suppose.
Then there is “Jaxon.” I couldn’t stand Jaxon last year. He was rude, disruptive, disrespectful. He never did any work. He intimidated all of the other students. The best thing about him was that he was always getting suspended, and so was rarely in school. He failed my class, and every other class he had, except, maybe, math.
I knew I’d have him again this year, so I made a conscious effort to mentally wipe the slate clean. He came back to school with his customary swagger, but he didn’t give me too much trouble. He must have given someone trouble, however, because within the first two weeks of school, he had been transferred to the school at the juvenile jail. I didn’t find this out until Jaxon had been absent for over a week, and I called his mother to ask where he had been (to be honest, I didn’t really care, but it’s my job to try and keep attendance numbers up in my classes, so I call). She told me was in juvenile jail, and told me the date he’d be back in my class.
I steeled myself for the worst when Jaxon came back. He’d been in the prison system, and I wanted to be ready for whatever changes his experience had made in him.
Jaxon came back—and actually came to every class on time. He did all of his work. He asked me questions. He even took out his earrings when I asked him to. Not right away, and sometimes he’d put them back when I wasn’t looking, but Jaxon was a much improved student after his stay in the slammer. I found myself actually looking forward to seeing him every day, to teaching him. By the end of the first quarter, he was earning a C in my class.
And then his schedule got changed.
I don’t know why, but Jaxon’s schedule was changed, and that meant that instead of having me for the first two periods of the day, I would have him for the 4th and 5th periods of the day. Since the change a little over two weeks ago, I’ve seen him maybe twice. One of those days was yesterday, when he had a note from his mother saying he had been sick for two weeks. Maybe he was, but I just don’t think I’ll be seeing Jaxson in class much anymore, because 4th period is right after Division.
Attendance is all-important in the CPS system. Our target is 90 percent attendance for the kids who are enrolled. The school’s budget is based on our attendance figures. Official attendance, then, is taken from about 10:20 to10:30 every morning. This time is called Division. Attendance isn’t taken first thing in the morning because attendance at 8 a.m. is so spotty. When my 8 a.m. class starts, I routinely have anywhere from four to six students in my room. This is out of a roster of 27. By 9 a.m., maybe another dozen or so will show up.
Everyone knows that the only attendance number that really matters is the division attendance number. If you start missing Division 10 or more times, the attendance office can and will start trying to get you dropped from the official rolls, because those absences directly affect the amount of money the school receives from the city and state. But students can miss an actual class dozens of times, and they won’t get kicked out of school—as long as they go to Division. So by Division time, 99 percent of my students show up. And some of them disappear immediately afterwards, even when all they have to do to come to my class is stay in the room.
I’ve called one mother once each week to let her know her son comes to division, but rarely, if ever, comes to my class. If he isn’t in my class, he can’t do his work, and if he doesn’t do his work, he will fail (and did fail the first quarter). She is obviously concerned. She has come up to the school numerous times to meet with me and the other teachers. She brings her husband. They both lecture their son. They both say they will stay on him, and I believe they do. But he still doesn’t come to my class.
posted by Christopher at
9:28 PM
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