Speechless (almost)

Wow. WOW. It has been a busy week, and there have been so many ups, downs, goods, bads, and all-out crazies that I am completely ready to resign for the next 48 hours.

Teaching overall is getting more comfortable, and it doesn't take me nearly as much time as it used to to plan a day's worth of lessons. I used to spend hours planning a single lesson, and now I spend about one hour for multiple lessons! It makes teaching seem more doable, which is nice. The kids and I are also getting more used to each other, and I feel like I am developing a sixth sense that allows me to know when to push them, when to hold back, when to insist on certain things and when to relax a little bit. It has been such a blessing!

One example (and unquestionably my favorite moment of the week) happened on Tuesday when T. (student) refused to go to French class. T. is one of our two special education students, and he has extreme attention and behavior difficulties, and just two weeks ago we had to call security on him because he was pushing over desks, throwing things, etc. Since then he has been a little better, but on Tuesday he chose to be very adamant and vocal about not going to French (which is understandable if you read my earlier post about THAT teacher), and I couldn't even think of anything to say to him in the moment, so I didn't say anything. T. walked with me and the rest of the class down the hall to French class, all the way yelling out "I ain't goin' in there! I hate French!" And drumming along the walls quite loudly as he went. I dismissed the other students to go into he classroom, and turned to T. who was still drumming a fast beat pattern on the wall. He had found a hollow spot and the rhythm resonated throughout the hallway, and since I still had no words to say to him I just stood there. Normally I wouldn't allow him to do that, but as I stood waiting for some inspiration on how to deal with this child it suddenly occurred to me that he was quite a percussionist. Being a musician myself, I know how hard it is to keep up a very fast and regular beat, and with the intricate offbeat pattern that he had woven in it really was impressive.

"T., you are a very good drummer," I told him.

"I know that!"

"Well I didn't know that. Sometime I'll have to bring in a drum and you can play for the class."

"I have drums."

"Well sometime I'll LET you bring them in and play for the class."

I gave him a pat on the shoulder and walked away, hoping that he would decide to go to French class before another teacher caught him. The drumming stopped as I turned the corner, and when I made it back to our own classroom I was relieved that T. hadn't followed me.

When the hour of French was up I went to get my class. T. was the first one out the door, but (surprisingly) he didn't have any complaints and came to line up right next to me. Then as the other kids lined up, T. did something that left me absolutely speechless. He took hold of my hand and held it, and then draped my arm around his shoulders and leaned his head against me. T., who shuns any physical contact that isn't aggressive, and whom I had NEVER seen display any kind of affection!

T., who has no father to speak of, whose mother is in and out of prison, and whose mother told us the last time we called that when T. is in school "he ain't my problem no more." T., who can't read or write and spends half of the day in a special education classroom where he is taught he alphabet for the thousandth time. I had struggled to understand him from day 1, and at best I endured him. I had avoided his dreadlocks like the McDonalds they smelled like, and his general lack of hygiene made me less than eager to work with him one-on-one. God forgive for not seeing this child for what he is! I am so grateful for the inspiration that allowed me to love him.

The rest of the week was still crazy. A fight broke out in the hallway outside our classroom on Wednesday between two 5-grade girls. The instigator, I learned, is one who gets into fights regularly. She is also the daughter of a prostitute, and the school found out that she has begun her own "training" to continue in that profession. It broke my heart to hear that.

On Thursday there were gunshots just a block or two away from the school, so they called a lockdown and we spent the day inside with security at all exits and walking the halls. It wasn't quite like a normal lockdown, since usually that means to sit with your student in the room with the door locked and the lights off, pretending nobody is there. The teachers said it happens too often around this school to cancel instruction for it, so we were told just to close our door and keep away from the windows. I never found out what happened outside, but we walked home at the end of the day without seeing anything, so I guess that was good.

I am hoping that next week will be calmer, but you never know. I am just grateful to still be learning as a teacher.