Thursday May 04, 2000
Realization is a slow process. For me, a moment came today when I discovered that the reason it was so slow for the last few days is because the principal has been out of the country. The amazing thing is that place functions the same with or without him. This place is a dump.

I am supposed to take the kids on a field trip next week, but the Werewolf herself told me that there are going to be 22 teachers out on that day and I will have to find coverage for my classes on my own. Who ever heard of a teacher having to find his own coverage. That just blows me away.

So now I am kind of stuck in a quandry, but one that is really no different from any that I have encountered this year. I am so ready to leave this place. I hope that the school calls me tomorrow and offers me a job, but if they don't, I will have to just send out more resumes and hope that I get a job somewhere else.

Friday, May 05, 2000
I have barely written in the last two weeks. However, I am encouraged today to sit and document some things that have been floating around for a while. A supporting note from a friend recently indicated that I 'need to write more, because I want to know how the saga will end.' It made me realize that there is a story to tell behind all of my anger and frustration. Rather than subverting it, I need to just vent and get it out. Some of it is tragic and some funny, but all is truthful.

The day started with a violent episode. I saw a parent literally crack their child's skull with their bare hands. The hits were so loud and so hard that I ran to step in from the other end of the hall where I was witnessing a surreal image of child abuse right before my eyes. Fortunately, the teacher having the 'conference' stepped between the parent and child just as the parent was stating, 'I will fucking kill you when you get home…this ain't nuthin!!!' Meanwhile, the kids is sobbing his eyes out and can barely see straight. She really smacked the living fuck out of him. Repeatedly. I just could not believe that a parent could be that abusive, but thinking about it, I'm pretty sure it is the norm for this community. Parents come in all the time and take their children out in the hallway for a 'conversation,' but now I'm pretty sure what takes place during the dialogue.

Tragically, the strangeness does not end there. I get a note from the AP advising me not to let in a certain student because the child has earned their way to 'opportunity school.' In case I haven't mentioned it, opportunity school is a place where student either have an 'opportunity' to repent and get their school life back together again, or merely enjoy the 'opportunity' to have their ass beat in by someone twice their size. The weird thing is that I see this child at school trying to get in to his classes but no one will let him in. Poor kid. As I'm witnessing this, I overhear two kids saying 'I should just kick him in the nuts.' The other one replied, 'I tried that already and it didn't work.' You just know its gonna get stranger…

And it does. Two kids nearly get in a major fistfight in my class over who got a textbook first. There are 46 kids in a class with only 41 seats and only 28 textbooks. A third of the kids do not speak any English. After this boils over, my kids are lamenting that they are having a hard time with an open book and an open note test. They have the answers right in front of them, but they are either too lazy, or just lack the basic education skills to answer a simple question. I realize that it is a little bit of both and in my generous nature, curve the tests significantly.

In fact, a careful review of my gradebook shows just how often I curve the grades. If I had to assess each child based on the districts' mandated grading scale I would not be able to pass a single student in my classes. I only give homework one time a week. All of my tests are open book and open notes. And I usually curve the grades 20 points or more. In fact, when I had to list the students that would be getting awards, it was hard to decide what to do: give awards to students who had low D minus averages according to the district scale, or simply not reward any students for their 'hard work.' In the end, it was easy to rationalize not rewarding those who were underserving. In good conscience, I cannot award someone a prize for doing shitty work. So I compromised and awarded those who tried real hard given their basic lack of education for the last 7 years of schooling.

As I walked down the halls, I heard an announcement that some teachers needed to pick up their students from the cafeteria. This announcement has been made for the last 3 weeks. What kind of teacher needs to be reminded to fulfill their contractual obligations? Then I overhear that one of the teachers is having an emotional breakdown in front of her kids. The teacher is crying her eyes out and telling the predominately black children in her class that because they are all crack babies, they don't live in a nuclear family setting, and they eat crappy foods like fried chicken, they will never amount to anything. Even if frustration is rampant at the Shits, this 'educator' clearly crossed the line with this dialogue.

Of course, the week would not be complete without a major encounter with the Saucy Wench. As I mentioned before, I had planned on taking the kids on a field trip over the next few days to the history bee competition. Since there are only like 6 kids going on the field trip, the sponsor and I decided that transportation by bus would be cost prohibitive. As a result, we had all agreed that transportation by car would be the best choice. On Friday, I was told by the Queen Bitch that the other sponsor would not be going. I pondered this for a minute, and then realized that she wanted me to be the one to break the news. I stood there for a second and then asked her if the co-sponsor had been informed of this. She shook her head and I knew right then and there that the week was complete.

The expectation seems to be that you have to always wipe your ass as Shitsville with someone elses used toilet paper. My problem has been that I refuse to do it.