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20 may 2002

through the looking glass

One more week.

One more week, at least for awhile, during which I must be in optimal physical condition so I can help break up whatever fight occurs on my watch. I've recently developed this nice body hook thing, effective for coralling kid, then leading said kid to office.

It's difficult to have a sense of humor about all this fighting. Everyone says that it's part of ending the school year. Some students feel as though they have nothing to lose in having these last words, such as they are. For many, it's just an early vacation. For others who don't actually come to blows, the fight will pick up later in the neighborhood.

The worst days I've had start with a fight. Before school begins, all students must assemble in the gym. Before 1st period, teachers pick up each class and lead them to the room. This prevents student loitering and general morning chaos. Most mornings, the kids sit in the bleachers, talk, and wait.

Other mornings...uh-uh. Someone comes in looking for a fight, or feeling thin-skinned enough to get roped into one, or tries to pull off his cousin and ends up throwing a few punches, too. This would all be manageable enough--if it wasn't in the gym, being witnessed by 300 other kids. So now you've got two or three kids beat up and on their way home--and a homeroom whose adrenaline is so jacked up on the morning violence that they can't focus on tying their shoe, much less classwork.

One of my coworkers was sick on Thursday and Friday, so I ended up with his 6th grade class all day. Nice kids, for the most part. A few have real mouths on them, and a couple are all-purpose troublemakers who are doing well to even be in school. Thursday began with a fight, and a good one at that--an 8th-grader crossed the gym to beat down a 6th-grader. Others got involved. Everyone got excited. By the time I got them up to the classroom, they were bouncing off the walls.

What to do what to do what to do.

Nothing.

I did nothing.

I turned off the lights, and quietly sat on a stool in front of the room. Just sat, and waited, because really I had no choice. I don't have a particularly loud voice. I mean, I can if I want to, but I don't much care to waste it on yelling over a bunch of overstimulated kids. Besides, why add to the volume? Where's the fire? Testing was over, and honestly, we're just trying to get through the next week together.

Gradually, they began to calm down.

I then rose from the stool, and began to write on the whiteboard. Nothing much, just the lesson for the day. Returned to the stool, and sat.

And so, we began the lesson. I still had to call down a couple of individuals here and there, but it was much more manageable than if I had joined the fray.

Friday, of course, ended with a fight. Two, actually. One in my class, and one in my partner's. There were (I think) four others in the school that day. My partner and I thought it would be a good idea to have our classes compete against one another in kickball.

We were wrong about that.

As soon as I got my class outside, two students who had been teasing one another all day ran to the far field and continued to get louder. Finally, she began to hit him with a closed fist--hard--all over his arms and torso. They were so far away that it was difficult for me to register what was going on at first. Was this playing, or what? I walked down there, to see her smack the glasses off his face and scream at him. He was still teasing her, but never threw a punch. He's a big kid who, honestly, probably deserves a little sense knocked into him. He drives the other students nuts, taking them to the brink of anger, and then backing off immediately so he doesn't get himself in trouble. He doesn't need to hit back--he's big, and kind of mean.

The girl who hit him is no angel. She's very smart, talented, and popular--but has the biggest mouth. As an added bonus, she sees herself as utterly victimized by the school, the system, life in general--even though she's got it better than many of her classmates. When I grabbed her off of him to go to the office, she threw one of her tantrums, said she'd get her momma down here to tell this school off, yakety blah blah. Whatever. Being in the principal's office clammed her up pretty good, and she admitted that she instigated the fight. At least she's honest, I guess.

I have to be careful in how I approach and try to resolve a lot of this stuff. I was, after all, lucky. I grew up in a time and place where I never had to fight for much of anything. That, and I had a lot of people on my side. My world is not the world of my students, and I think that's the most difficult thing of all. When a lot of our kids call home, the phone has been disconnected for awhile. When her momma's boyfriend couldn't pick her up, one girl stood there and said, "well, I guess I can walk to my grandmama's house and break in the window."

I've never understood the power of taking things one day at a time...until this.

This boy, the one who got his glasses smacked off after driving nearly everyone around him bananas--I got to talk with him at the end of the day. I sat him down and made him look at me good. This is what I told him, "One of these days, I'm going to see your picture in one of two places. It can be on the front page of the newspaper for saving someone's life, or doing well at work, or discovering the cure for something. Or, I can see your photo in the post office. Pick one."

He quietly told me that he can't control himself a lot. He wants to be in the newspaper for being smart, but it's hard. It's hard being him.

He doesn't know quite what he's fighting for yet.