Circa Last Weekend

My first-ever pep rally happened last Friday, and this is what it was like: The band blasting rousing rally anthems—deafening. The dancing majorettes in their yellow gym shorts demonstrating impressive muscle isolation in the most sexually suggestive manners imaginable. My student “BMW” dancing with the hugest smile on her face. Astounding amounts of noise and barely-contained chaos, enough volatile enthusiasm and undirected youthful energy to rattle the gymnasium. Flailing arms and legs and horns and drums, the shreds of disintegrated banners the only remnants, at the end of the day, of these impromptu mock-battles between juniors and seniors. It was simply amazing. I could hardly figure out whether to smile in wonder and pleasure at it all or worry about someone getting hurt. In those few minutes of anticipation, while we waited for our hall to be called to the gym, my student “Mocha,” one of my loudest but smartest, most mature students, asked me why I talk so softly. I explained how (1) I want to be calm, and (2) it forces people to listen instead of making noise. She tilted her head and admitted, “I never thought of it like that.” Another student wanted to know if everyone from Walla Walla talks that way.

The weekend in Oxford was vaguely, mildly disappointing. Somehow I imagined there would be more socializing, more hanging out and swapping war stories over a cold one or two out on the Square on Friday night or something. But everyone seemed too tired, too wrapped in their own problems. And we (still?) seemed to be putting a brave, reserved face on things. There was too little in the way of humor and group camaraderie to go around. Was it just me? There was a little complaining, a horror story or two, but what I miss most—and perhaps it will come with time—is the perspective to laugh at our problems and feel inspired by each other because we are dealing with the same stuff. Instead, we were all still counting our blessings and/or no one wanted to lose face. Except Dignity Peel. Her greatest accomplishment: “Not quitting.” I love that kind of brutal honesty. I felt exactly that way for my entire first year in Peace Corps.

The past two weeks have been up and down. There are plenty of little headaches, to be sure, such as the endless paperwork, and students stealing petty things from me. Like my aqua blue “gel” pen, which I found, and the girl who denied denied denied it even though I saw my pen sitting on her desk five seconds earlier. And the back page from my hall pass, which has simplified my bathroom policy considerably. Student: “Can I go to the bathroom?” Teacher: “No.” Student: “Why?” Interestingly, the students have been reasonably trustworthy so far with the calculators. I only had one set of batteries stolen so far. I confiscated my first CD player today. My good friend, Jay-Z, the one who brought his mom that first week of school and then talked with me until 4:30 that afternoon, has been showing up late to class, ignoring the punishment I give him, and now his mom will have to come back to school to pick up his CD player. He is not a bad kid, when he can be bothered to show up and try. He thinks because I “talked” to him about his behavior, he should not receive a consequence. He is just one of many. Got hit in the back by a wad of paper on Monday. Wrote up who I thought it was. Then Mr. Bic came in and lectured the class about being “ignorant” and how it was a felony to assault a teacher, whether it hurts them or not. Classroom management is not my biggest concern, however.

Highlights have included a couple days when I have been able get my Algebra II classes up and working examples, graphing linear equations and inequalities on the board, helping and teaching each other, as I simply sit back and take pride. The students really enjoy it, and they seem to be learning a lot from each other’s mistakes. I am trying to make class more like that, as much as possible. I tell them my arm and voice are tired, so they need to help me teach.

My biggest concern is that literally no one is passing Transition to Algebra at the moment. And most are failing Algebra II. Even when the class sessions seem to go well, most of my students do extremely poorly on their quizzes and tests. Just got my student’s data sheets from the office this morning, so I hope and plan to make a number of phone calls within the next few days. Hopefully that will make a difference. I mean, 19%?!?! Are you even trying? How do you say WAKE UP?!?!

But about the weekend, I must say, Ms. Monroe, you rock! (1) Love the way you became “such a hard ass” and “put it in writing” about late work. Now people like me will be less likely to turn in stuff late. We hope. Seriously, I like the way you admitted a weakness and addressed it with a written policy. (2) When you had us talking about our problems and then you told us to think of one thing in our control that would “make a world of difference,” that was brilliant! Excellent conclusion, segueing into the next segment by having us make resolutions and release our imaginary balloons. Keep on, Ms. Monroe! You should be a teacher! My resolution? Make those damned phone calls.

The weekend was framed on Thursday before and Monday after by outings originated by War Gecko and her harmonica-playing sidekick, Moses Miller. Accompanied at times by an ex-TFA, tall and lanky, a singular dancing spectacle in his Blues Brothers get-up, getting down and grooving good and low, foot-tapping and shoulder shaking with his shades on and cigarette dangling—people getting their pictures taken with him. The guy who moved to the Mississippi Delta in order to manufacture protein from catfish skins. And the French tourist she talks to in her Peace Corps French, who came here for the blues. Gecko ordered fried green tomatoes for me.

Overall, this week is going much better than the previous few. My outlook has changed considerably for the better, thanks to a deliberate decision, on the advice of Gecko, not to bring work home with me. I never did it anyway. Now, because I am not packing anything home with me, I actually get more done, because I force myself to do a little grading or something in the afternoon before leaving school. And now my time is truly my own. Unburdened by the guilt of procrastination, my feelings toward school have improved quite a bit. I actually spend some time thinking about my classes after I go home, which is a step in the healthy direction.