No More Mute Button

Michael and I were fated to spend a LOT of time together. Of course, we didn't know that when we first met, but I don't think it would have mattered. He's just a likable kid. To me. I'm pretty sure he had some teachers who would argue. Let's see if I can paint a picture to give you some idea of The Michael.

First of all, Michael is an albino African-American, which makes his appearance unusual and has caused him to develop quite a thick skin for teasing. Second, he was adopted very young, and his adoption was a formative event for him in his home life. Third, he was diagnosed as ADD/ADHD but he never managed to have or take any medication (ugh). Fourth, he was (and is) absolutely, unequivocally, brilliant. However, Michael struggled academically due to some combination of the other social and attention factors.

Michael's freshman year was my first year of teaching at MLK. He presented perhaps my most challenging classroom management obstacle. I simply did not have the strategies for how to deal with someone who could not/did not sit still and try to do their work...ever. He's just one of those kids who can get under a teacher's skin. Ask obnoxious questions like a three year old: why? why? why not? Or, get smart and ask provocative questions that the teacher can't answer. That gets REALLY annoying! After failing first quarter, we worked it out that he would be my assistant to help work out some of his energy. He did better after that.

Sophomore year brought increased challenges. I was in a classroom in a different part of the building, and it had no windows. I thought Michael would seriously bounce off the walls that year. When I finally found a strategy that would contain his energy, I couldn't believe it worked. I also couldn't believe I actually resorted to using it on a regular basis. Michael responded positively to an imaginary remote control. I could hit an imaginary "pause" button, and he would freeze and stay frozen until I hit the "play" button to return him to action. I would placate him occasionally with a "slow forward" or "rewind," and he would behave for entire class periods at a time. Oh, "mute" was a true lifesaver! I think the other students appreciated a break from his constant motion and interruption. Anyway, other than poetry, which seemed beyond his rather more science/math sensibilities, we managed to get through that year.

Believe it or not, Michael and I were together for junior year as well. By now, I would have thought that Michael would have been tired of me, but no (at least, not that he told me!). I was in a third classroom; this one had big windows and was in a remote part of the building. Michael was working a job now and the responsibility seemed to settle him down academically as well. He was also taking more difficult science and math classes, so he was being challenged in other classes. In my class, he was more than capable of reading and answering questions. However, formal writing continued to be a struggle. He's actually a good writer of standard English; he's just overly succinct. He's clever, witty, and quite humorous, when he's not being absurd. On the other hand, it was quite refreshing to have a student capable of being absurd and who knows he's being absurd, so go figure.

Senior year, and Michael and I were free of one another in the classroom. However, he couldn't stand the thought of a year without me, and he came to visit each and every day. Actually, I shared a classroom with another favorite teacher of his, and he was able to visit both of us with one "pop in." He took great care of the computer lab that we had in our room. It was during this year that Michael discovered girls. Well, one girl in particular. Tonia was a lovely, intelligent, quiet girl, and I thought they made a great couple. What I didn't expect (and I suspect they didn't either!) was for them to get pregnant. Michael freaked out, had his panic moment, then settled into the idea of being a father and support to Tonia.

During his freshman year, my students got on a kick about wanting to know my middle name. I told them that after they graduated, if they asked, I would tell them. Immediately after his graduation ceremony, Michael bounded up to me, huge grin on his face, and said, "You have to tell me. You have to tell me." I had no idea what he meant. When he reminded me, I couldn't believe he had remembered all that time! So, of course, I made good on the promise. ADD he may be, but there's nothing wrong with his memory.

Michael and Tonia are married and have 2 beautiful children. She is a stay at home mom, and he works to support his family. He's in school to turn his fascination with computers into a career. Recently, he found vital information to help him on his search for his birth mother. He's still as hyper as ever, and he can still drive me crazy, but I haven't had the urge recently to hit the mute button. May his "play" button continue working for a long time to come.

Life Goes On

My second year at MLK brought its own set of challenges and obstacles. One of the most intriguing was a "mixed" class of students. First, I had a small group of 10th grade boys who were decent students but needed personalized instruction to stay in school. They were going to be a challenge all on their own. Then, my department chairperson came and asked me to take on four additional students. A group of academically advanced girls needed junior English first thing in the morning before heading off to the local community college for most of their classes. As the junior English teacher, I felt compelled to take them on. However, that meant adding them to the mix of struggling boys. What a crew!

The girls were wonderful and incredibly self-motivated. Ultimately, they graduated high school with associate's degrees from the community college, and they all went on to get college degrees. I believe at least one of them already has a master's degree. I enjoyed the time I spent with smart students doing good, solid academic work. 

However, this blog entry is really about the boys, well one of the boys in particular. 

Robert intrigued me from the first time he stepped into my classroom. He looked like a thug, carried himself like a thug, and, well, was in fact, a thug. He lived in a world filled with a code of ethics based on violence, deceit, and twisted loyalty. However, he was a polite gentleman and downright chivalrous to me on a daily basis. He was also eager to learn. I mean wide-eyed-"what-are-we-doing-today"-ready-for-the-hard-stuff eager to learn. But don't let his friends know that! His tough guy exterior belied his interest in words and language. He would slough into class with a devil may care attitude right as the bell would ring or maybe a few minutes after, but I could see his eyes light up when I would start teaching something new. 

He could write! His poetry about his life was heart wrenchingly honest and provocative. He had a clear, crisp voice and perspective about the life he was leading. He would slip poems into my drawer on the sly and come see me later to get my feedback (privately, of course...his friends could never know!). I loved those conversations about his work. He so wanted to be a good poet. He wanted to be better.

Then came the day that almost ended it all. On the morning under discussion, Robert walked into class wearing his winter coat all zipped up and slumped into a desk. He looked tired. When I asked if he was okay, he simply nodded and leaned his head against the wall. I left him alone for a couple minutes before going to check on him. 

When I glanced over at him again, he had unzipped his coat a little. I could see blood on the t-shirt he was wearing under the coat. I didn't want to alarm the whole class, but I had to know what was going on. So, I took Robert to the back of the room and asked what had happened. Well, that didn't really help because there were only 8 students in the room. So, Robert ended up telling the whole class what had happened.

Robert had been out workin' the neighborhood with his cousin overnight. They'd been driving their territory looking for customers who wanted to buy their product. Robert had been riding in the backseat of his cousin's car. Apparently, they got a little too close to a rival gang's turf because someone shot a few warning shots in their direction and a stray bullet hit his cousin who was riding in the front seat. Blood had sprayed all over the car and the other three passengers. The driver had gone straight to the hospital where they'd spent the rest of the night getting his cousin the help he needed.

When I asked Robert why he hadn't gone home to change before coming to school, his reply was, "I didn't want to be late for class, Ms. Hoskins. You said we was doin' poetry today. I didn't wanna miss the chance to read my new stuff. I got it right here!" He took a wad of wrinkled paper out of his pocket and grinned at me. I couldn't believe this guy wanted to be in class after the night he had spent. I couldn't frame my mind around the horrific events and the normalcy of coming to school. However, in a world of crazy events, I guess life goes on...