"You Made Him Bleed"

All of the Halbrook children had gone through my school.  All in all, they were nice kids and with good, loving parents.  But the youngest Halbrook, Curtis, was the one that broke the mold.

Curtis was (is) a good kid.  But there was no denying that teachers weren't exactly hoping his name would wind up on their classlist.  He the definition of a whirling dirvish.  He couldn't sit still.  He never raised his hand.  He was seemingly never in his seat.  He was occassionally and unexplainably found underneath furniture.

When Curtis was in 4th grade, I got received a panicked voicemail after I'd left the office from his emotional mother, followed by a dissertation style e-mail.  Apparently Curtis had told one of his classmates he was going to kill him, and possibly extended the threat towards his teacher (though that couldn't be verified).

Curtis is about 4 feet tall and maybe 45 pounds soaking wet.  He's totally harmless.  His mom was terrified I was going to try and kick the kid out of school.  Sadly, in the day and age we find ourself, we see kids being suspended and expelled for far dumber reasons thanks in part to misguided zero tolerance polices.  So I suppose on some level, her panic was justified.

I called mom the next morning and talked to Curtis teacher.  It took little effort to get all of us on the same page.  We weren't after Curtis, and we weren't kicking him out of school.  We all agreed his comments were not literal in intention.  When I asked his teacher what she felt an appropriate consequence would be, she replied, "Just scare the shit out of him."  Curtis's mom thanked me for my understanding but begged me to please call him down and 'scare the shit out of him' so he learns a lesson about making comments like that.    Easy enough right?

The next morning I called Curtis down about nine o'clock.  He sat in the chair across from my desk quietly.  I continued working at my computer, occassionally looking over with an angry glare.  After letting him sweat about five mintutes I turned and began.

"Curtis, what do you think the consequence is for threatening to kill another student?"

He looked at my blankly and replied, "Um, I don't know, but I'm never gonna do that again."

"You know Curtis, I'd love to believe you but I'm responsible for everyone's safety here.  I'm not sure I can just risk everyone's life by simplying accepting your promise.  So again, what's the condequence for threatening to kill someone?"  He didn't know.  "Well, I know what I do when I don't know something- I Google it!"

I Googled 'student threatens to kill another student.'  Sadly I got about 48 million hits.  I started reading them to Curtis as I scrolled through.  "Florida student arrested... student charged with threatening... students arrested after threatening classmate... police arrest student who made threats...."

Curtis was becoming more pale.  I continued.  "So Curtis, it would seem that the penalty for threatening to kill someone is... you get arrested!"  He just stared.  "I think I'd better get your teacher down here since you apparently threated her and determine if she'd like to press charges against you."  Curtis continued to just stare.  He certainly was taking this seriously, but frankly I was hoping for a little more emotion/reaction.

I had the office  page his teacher.  When she arrived and sat down next to Curtis, we continued on.  "Ms. Gomes, I'm a little over my head here as principal.  We don't deal with a lot of death threats here at school, and I'm not sure how to handle this.  Curtis and I Googled to find out what happens when a student threatens to kill another student and it appears in most cases you get arrested. I'm starting to think that the best move here might be to have the PD come over here and arrest Curtis."

With that Curtis howled, "Ohhhh nooooo!" and collapsed his head into his lap aggressively crying.  Just as I was about to start letting him down, he lifted his head back up and blood was pouring out his nose.  "Now I'm bleeding!" he wailed.  Ms. Gomes looked at me with astonishment and said softly, "My God, you made him bleed."

Curtis's teacher was trying to keep Kleenex on his nose bleed, but he was sobbing so hard and bleeding so freely it wasn't doing much good.  Blood was everywhere.  Curtis looked liked he'd gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson.  His white shirt was covered in blood.  Blood was smeared on his arms, the chair, the carpet, his pants, and the tissue box.  Tissues soaked in blood were everywhere.

By now, the nurse had joined us.  As she worked trying to pinch the nose, Ms. Gomes continued to fumble with the Kleenex to prevent some blood from spilling.  Curtis continued to howl thus making it worse.  And me?  I just stood there in disbelief.  I still had to finish this song & dance and tell this squirt he wasn't going to jail!

"Curtis, you need calm down and pay attention.  We need to finish this important conversation.  I understand you're upset, but imagine how your classmate felt when you told him you were going to kill him."

Eventually, Ms. Gomes declared she wasn't going to press charges as long as he promised to never say something like that again ever.  Curtis passionately promised, and the nurse took him away.

I certainly hope Curtis learned a lesson that will stick with him.  I feel like he's probably pretty lucky that he ran into a principal and teacher who were understanding and interested in helping him avoid the behavior in the future rather than simply issuing consequences.  He might not be so lucky next time.

Doggy Style & The IEP Process

Several years back I had a teacher go on a maternity leave.  The teaching assistant in the room was a certified teacher who had done a nice job and I felt earned herself the opportunity to take over the position.

Ms. Cook was a pretty young lady who was just starting out her career, and as could be expected, she had some nerves about her new responsibilities.  During her first week in the teaching position came the first IEP meeting she was responsible for attending.

Mrs. Miller was pretty much batshit crazy.  She was the student's grandmother who was raising the boy in the absence of his mother who was out of the picture for reasons unknown.  Mrs. Miller was also one of these parents who had a terminal disease yet never actually died or appeared to decline in anyway.  However, every time we had to call her on a behavior issue we would be reminded of her illness.  I'm certainly not a doctor and hate to make humor out of someones sickness, but I seem to have two or three medical miracles on my parent list every school year.

On the day of the IEP we all packed into one of those, way too small, horribly uncomfortable conference rooms.  The IEP process is pretty canned, with each professional in the room receiving an organized point in the meeting to share on the students progress or lack thereof.  Not today though.

Mrs. Miller kept interrupting- not protest or even discuss anything related to the comments of the staff, rather to make these rambling speeches about how children need love to grow or how schools couldn't replace churches.  At one point in the middle of the social worker's update on the boy (as we neared the end of hour number one), grandma interrupts again.

"Excuse me, but you have to understand, when you've got that pipe in your mouth, and all you want is another hit, and you're gettin' it on....!"  At that point she offered a few quite animated hip thrusts (previously unseen in school IEPs to my knowledge), looked Ms. Cook who must have thought she signed for the circus (no comment), slapped her on the knee and said, "You know what I'm talking about girl!"

No child left behind, right?

The Art Of Appreciation

I can count on one hand how many times in my career a parent has gone out of their way to compliment my efforts or performance to my superior.  Frankly it isn't exactly frequent that parents offer compliments  directly with me either.  While one could certainly draw the conclusion that I'm not particular good at my job, I'll share that after many years of working in administration, I've receive very few compliments about my teachers.  Generally, our school is high performing academically, and has a low incident rate in terms of misbehavior.  Surely some of them have done something well.  Right?

Educators, even the best ones, are painfully aware that regardless of how hard they work and how talented they may be, they will have no shortage of complaints and negative calls each year.  It's not only easy to pick up the phone and bitch when something goes wrong- it's often anticipated.  We know that when little Billy goes home upset that overprotective Mom will be calling.

This of course can be disappointing.  Teachers and principals feel under appreciated.  They do complicated work, often for average salaries, and are subjected to a consistent battery of (changing) demands as to how they could better do their jobs (more learning, more safety, more engagement, better cafeteria food, more kindness, and oh, do this spending less money please).

Then I stopped to reflect on my own behavior.  I certainly call and complain when my pizza is 20 minutes late being delivered.  I've never called and thanked them when it showed up early, steaming hot, and perfectly cooked.  I don't recall ever calling an airline to thank them for getting me to my vacation 20 minutes early with quick luggage distribution (though it's happened), and I'm fairly certain I've never thanked a movie theater manager for the clean seats and non-sticky floor I found inside the theater.  Sure, I'll tip a little better when I have good service somewhere but rarely (if ever) do I verbally acknowledge the effort or share my satisfaction with a supervisor.    

I'm part of the same problem and no better than the parents I feel under appreciate myself and my profession.  But I don't have to be.

Every week or so I head to the same grocery store whose deli is noted for low prices, high quality, and great selection.  If you want something from this deli you better be prepared to wait because it's always a zoo.  It seemed every week I would wind up (by coincidence) being helped by the same guy.  These people are literally out of breath and sweating on weekends trying to help people as quickly as possible.  Yet each time this guy helped me he was remarkably friendly, never made me feel rushed- even when I was indecisive or asked several questions with a line forming behind me.  The other day when I was leaving I happened to see the store manager walking by and I called him over.

"You've got a kid working in the deli.  Shorter guy with dark hair."  You could see the managers face as he began to brace for the complaint I was about to hurl and how he'd have to defuse it.  Instead of course, I shared my appreciation for the kid's help and how excellent I thought he did his job.  The manager was floored.  "Thank you so much for telling me this.  I've never had a customer compliment an employee like that since I worked here."

What I did cost me nothing.  It took no time, and I expected nothing in return.  I felt good about the exchange, and no doubt so did the manager and the deli worker when his boss shares with him the feedback he received.

I've tried to do more of this sort of thing.  When the high school kid working at the pet store showed my how to change the water in my new tank, I called the manager when I got home to tell him how great his instructions were, and what a nice kid he had working at his store.  After taking my daughter to a store in the mall where you make your own teddy bear, I told the young girl who helped us that she was remarkable with children and hopefully would consider a career in education.  I shared this with her boss too.

My actions are unlikely to increase the appreciation showered on education (though the impact of such positive interaction could be huge but remains immeasurable).  But I can tell you that I feel better and am a happier person when I am looking for positives and complimenting people, than waiting for the next mistake to pounce on.  As a manager, I'm trying to focus on the good my teachers offer more than their weaknesses, and I encourage staff to make on-going positive phone calls to all of the students in their class.

I won't knowingly be part of the problem.

Crime Isn't For All Kids

There have been certain kids over the years who I have had to sit down and say, "Look, you stink at misbehavior.  You get caught every time.  Crime just isn't for you.  It might be easier for you to just behave."  Kurt was one of those kids.

Kurt was impossible not to love despite being a handful in the class.  He was a little guy with fire orange hair that allowed him to stand out beyond his obnoxious classroom behavior.  Kurt was harmless in his intentions, but one of those kids who seemed to be out in the hall getting lectured for one thing or another every day, every year, etc.

One day while in 4th grade, Kurt was asked to hand out math folders (he was the type of kid who you had those time consuming problem solving meetings on and came away from the table with great strategies like, 'maybe if we gave him some jobs and let him move more it would solve everything!').  One cute little girl's folder was missing when he finished.  Kurt didn't know where it was, and the girl swore she never got it.  They checked desks, lockers, and everyone made sure they had their own.  Nothing.  

When hope appeared lost (and lot's of time wasted), Kurt noticed a similar looking folder under a pile of papers on the teacher's messy desk.  When they pulled it out, sure enough, it was the girls.  Kurt was a hero!  The teacher was baffled. 

The problem for our hero here was that on this particular day, the teacher was taping herself as part of a reflective self improvement effort.  When she watched the video (which the kids knew about!), there was Kurt, sneakily jamming the folder under the papers.

When Kurt's teacher questioned him the next day on if he knew how that folder got where it did, predictably  he claimed to not know what made water boil.  "Kurt, you do remember that I was taping that day, don't you?"

Kurt's face got as red as his hair.  Like I said, some kids just suck as being bad.  

Tell Me, Where Did You Sleep Last Night...?

I participate in a men's bowling league.  It's a nice temporary escape from reality and helps sharpen my conversational skills with men who spit a lot and neglect bathing.  

The other night a guy a few lanes over came in with a couple of kids.  I won't pretend to know the whole back story.  I assumed they were his children, but I suppose it's equally possible he was 'watching' these two kids for someone else.  He bought the children some soda, a pizza, and hoped they'd leave him alone while he rolled.  

A bowling alley on men's league night is about as appropriate a place for children as a strip joint.  The language would generally make most sailors blush, and alcohol, tobacco, & personal shame flow like water.  As I am not beyond belting the occasional expletive after leaving the fucking 10 pin (again), I wasn't overly thrilled to have two small children ear shot from me.  This is after all, my night off from being a dad and an educator.  

Around 9:00 pm, the older of the two kids (I'd estimate 3rd or 4th grade) went to sleep on some coats along the back wall roughly between the beer counter and the 'not responsible for lost items' coat rack.  Seeing a kid sleeping on the ground upset me....and then my mind went back to my day job.

What happens at school the next day?  This little girl has spent her evening, basically by herself surrounded by loud noises and strangers who smell like a perfect blend of Camel Wides, lane oil, and BO.  She was sleeping on the floor, in public, while her teacher perhaps assumed she was in a warm bed (and had been there since a reasonable time).

Will her teacher assume she's studied for her test?  Will she give her a second chance to prove she has learned the material if she fails because she's tired and couldn't study because she wasn't at home though it was beyond her control?  Will her teacher scold her in the hallway for not having done her homework?  Or will the little girl cheat and never learn the material so she's isn't punished by grades and lectured by her teacher?  Will the little girl thoughtfully explain to her teacher that she was couldn't work on her poster board because she was at a bowling alley and didn't get home till after 11:00 pm when her daddy stopped drinking and woke her up to ride home?  Or will she lie or not mention it because no kid wants to ever believe their parents are losers no matter how obviously it may be to others?

Are there perhaps kids in this little girls class who have it worse?  Is sleeping at a bowling alley better or worse than trying to sleep while parents fight (or party) late into the night?  Do teachers, particularly of young children who have little/no control over their time, stop to consider the above questions/scenarios when they are making sweeping decisions about grades, learning, and possible punishment?  My fear is not nearly enough.  

  

"He'll Thank Me Later."

One of our students came to school this week, a third grader, and confessed that his father had hit him with a belt because he was not answering math facts quizzing fast enough.  He told his teacher he knows the answers, but he gets nervous (no shit...).  Further, the child is autistic.  Most of us at the school don't think that the father really understands this or the associated challenges.

Stories like this are heartbreaking and send emotions reeling.  What the hell is wrong with this father?  You should have to pass a test to prove your capable to have kids! That poor boy!  (Insert your favorite agency) should be called! That child should be taken away from that monster!!!

All fair and perhaps true.  What really hits me though was when I stopped to think about the father's perspective.  This man, however moronic or ill advised is actions may be, believes he is helping his son and supporting the school! He no doubt believes that math is important and this son needs to demonstrate success in school in order to prosper at some later time.  How else would/could you explain his actions?

What could cause anyone to possibly believe flogging a boy over math automaticity was a good thing?  Maybe we need to look in the mirror.

Generations of sorting & ranking kids, creating unnecessary competition among students, class rankings, etc. have helped create a culture where these (often terrible) things go on.  I can think of countless (perhaps less extreme) examples of punishments (and rewards) set forth by parents based on school performance.  This is list that includes things like withholding food, denying participation in sports/clubs, and (perhaps) less extreme physical actions like spankings.  This is done in the name of 'tough love' with a 'they'll thank me later' mindset.  Maybe.  Or they'll  suffer psychological damage and do the same thing to their own kids when they struggle in school.    

It is imperative that we begin to shift from a culture of sorting & ranking to a culture of learning.  We must legitimately welcome failure as part of the learning process and reteach our parents who were schooled under a pedagogically dated way of thinking.  There will always be lousy and abusive parents I fear.  Let's not provide any excuses for them along the way.  

It's The Little Things That Piss Me Off Vol. 2

Impossible mandates, crazy parents, bullying... Sure those things are job irritants.  But it's the little things, the day-to-day things, that really drive me nuts.  Do I have bigger problems?  You bet.  Right now though, I'm not worrying about them. 

"Did You Two Call Each Other? Hehehe."

Look, there are three primary colors, three major secondary colors, plus black & white (which I guess aren't considered actual colors)- that brings the count to 8.  My success on the craps tables is enough for me to acknowledge I'm not Rain Man when is comes to calculating odds, however in a building with dozens or even hundreds of people working, even I can calculate that the odds of two people wearing a blue shirt on the same day are pretty decent.  

There is no single piece of office humor more unfunny and yet unrelenting than the "Did you two call each other" followed by the light-heart laugh which falsely suggests the speaker has said something amusing.  This knee-slapper is apparently as times as the road crossing chicken!  

Sometimes this gets taken to even more idiotic level when one of the people wearing the same color provides positive affirmation to the original comment by showing visible awe and says something like, "I know!  And I saw Jennifer earlier and she's wearing blue too!"  

Also covered here is the equally stupid, "I didn't get the memo" crack from the individual who isn't wearing the same color as two other people in the hall at that moment.  

Let's shed our neckties and our professional dignity- it's Friday! 

There are many, many, many misinformed people who believe that teaching is an easy job and a profession that is chosen more for the time 'off' than anything else.  Teachers seems to be constantly trying to defend the worth of their profession with people who work outside the field and disparage our work.  Why the hell then would so many educators fight soooo hard to wear jeans at least once a week.

The notion that it's okay to dress unprofessionally 20% of the time (every Friday) is absurd and degrades our profession.  When parents visit schools and see staff in jeans, t-shirts, shorts, sandals, and other ultra-casual dress items it reinforces the negative stereotypes that dog our profession.  When the community is asked support schools through referendums, we want them to envision a classic professional, not someone who appears to be heading to Ribfest.  It's considered a "white collar" profession for a reason.

Please note that the faded t-shirt with the elastic long gone from the neck line that just also happens to have your school logo on it also looks like total shit.  Couching it as having school spirit is just bad rationalization.  Take it off, maybe use it to dust, and then throw in the garbage.

This awesome clip from Curb Your Enthusiasm hits the nail on the head.

"I've only got a fifty."

This certainly isn't instructional, but after a long week I enjoy a social libation (or seven) with colleagues.  Every school or district I've ever worked at has always had at least one guy who seems to never have anything but large bills when the check arrives.  "Can ya get me?"  Trust me dude, the bar can provide you change for that Jackson.  Just toss it in there and watch the magic of modern mathematics take place.

Often times this person arrives a little late to give the impression they haven't been there long enough to warrant contribution to the tab of people who have been there from the beginning.  They also usually have great taste.  "Do you have Grey Goose?"

Installment one this mad rambling can be read here....