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I'm posting here rather than Facebook about the demands of my new job. That way I can write about what's real rather than covering up. After all, who reads this?I teach French to 9th through 12th grade students in a long-time "failing" school. If you picture those inner city schools in movies with forceful kids dominating hallways and classrooms, you would see only a snippet of what is actually true. My school is clean, polished, and looks successful. The principal, who has directed the school for one year now, is gradually turning it around. He looks for success in any way he can find it. He demands adherence to the rules for students. After all, establishing procedure, following successful practices--these are the groundwork for success. You would think creativity, high energy, working outside the box--that these would produce a successful school. But first, but first, there must be order drilled and instilled into students. A creative, innovative teacher cannot work in chaos when only a handful of students are interested and the others intent on making sure that success does NOT happen. Why would that be? Why would they want failure? Just listening to other teachers talk about their experiences makes me brace up, buck up, anything to rage, rage, (not literally) against the chaos of the lives of these students. Truthfully, there are only a few that I have problems liking and only because they are belligerent. Belligerence does not beget a happy teacher.

So Friday, here's what happened: Last class of the day, filled to the brim with students. Oh, sure, here comes a transfer into a class of 30. Now we have 31. This is the class with four girls, three of whom have bellowing voices. They talk in those voices to each other and across the room. "Boy, don't you touch me again. You touch me, I'm gonna come over there and punch you," bellows the ringleader to some boy who did not touch her. She's just showing whose boss of the classroom. I tell her to do her work. "What do you think I'm doing?" she bellows. But there's that cell phone, the presence of which is against all rules. "Hey, girl!" she shouts across the room. "Blah blah blah," hollers to her friend over there. "Sudie (not real name), you need to put that phone away, get your paper out, and pay attention." "You not taking my phone," she lets me know. You might think this girl dresses like a hoodie, but, no, she always is dressed to the nines, even in school uniform. Her hair is immaculately styled. She looks like a "good" student in all sense of the word. But no, she is a problem. Finally, after an hour of their bellowing, I buzz for security. The students who are trying cannot hear me nor can I hear them over the loud talking of these girls. Why did I wait so long? Because I am supposed to follow a precise procedure, in order, including calling parents, before I send students out of class. However, I'm having them removed because they are seriously disturbing the learning process. The students and I cannot avoid hearing their conversation because it is SO loud AND learning is difficult in this situation. Know what these girls said to me and security: (1) You better not be sending us out of this class (2) I don't want to be here any way (3) We better not be the only ones being sent out. Everyone else is talking, too. I sent four out, the loudest ones with the most prolonged talking/bellowing. As they stormed past me, I wanted to throw up, not out of nervousness, but out of disgust at such behavior. Me, me, me, me--there must be a reason why.

Evaluations start this week. Not only have I not mastered the lesson plan style with all its jargon, most importantly, I have not mastered the classes. I jumped into this job like a pit bull (not that I am one) dropped into a pit of bears. So, the bears are working hard to destroy me, but the pit bull was still alive at the end of the day. Bloodied, sure, limping, yes, but I was still in the game. I went to see the new friend I made the first day I was there--the Spanish teacher. I cried on her shoulder. For a woman of many words, after I told my story, she looked at me, then said, "I got nothing. I don't know what to say." Then another teacher came in, then one of the security guys. They closed the door and we had a real heart-to-heart. They gave me a new perspective. I won't share those thoughts at this time, but I feel I understand things a little better.

Anyway, all weekend, as I drive along, I find myself bellowing comments out loud like those girls. I know I don't have control of this situation, so I am reliving it. What do I do? I know I'm calling parents this afternoon and doing all that documenting the discipline administrator wants. And planning! You bet!