Scared of Girls

Friday. Tenth grade world history, special ed. Fifth period. 

Because it was a special ed class, I had an instructional assistant. Ms. M warned me about fifth period. Specifically, about the three boys on the baseball team. They would likely be late. Why? 

The classroom is located on the end of the building. There's an outer door that opens into a kind of foyer. If you head straight ahead, you find the classroom. Right next to the classroom, if you head to the left instead of straight, is the girls' restroom. (And next door to that is a locked faculty restroom. Very convenient.) 

These three boys... don't want to be seen near the girls' restroom. Or be seen by the girls in the restroom? The aversion is unclear. 

So, passing period. I prop open the classroom door to make sure the kiddos will enter (and not hover outside). Angelo and Kyson whooshed into the room, headed for the table next to the TV (if you look at the above photo, there's a standing desk to the right of the TV; that's where they were). They turned towards the whiteboard, and hid their faces. 

They would not be convinced to go to their seats, not until the door was closed. 

Deep sigh. 

The bell rang. I closed the door. And Angelo and Kyson took their seats. Soon thereafter, Noah whooshed into the room. He made sure that door closed behind him.

And... I... Huh? 

Ms. M made the comment, out of their hearing, that it wasn't like they had to go through the girls' restroom to get to the classroom. 

I am very familiar with this classroom. Exactly a year ago, I was doing a long term in this very classroom (for a vacant class). And I could not tell you what the girls' restroom looks like. I've never been in there. 

But for some reason, those boys (and only those boys) do not want to be seen by the girls. 

While the door was closed, Angelo, Kyson, and Noah were fine. Well, not "fine". Noah claimed he had already completed the day's new assignment (it had been posted first thing in the morning, so he could have accessed it in his previous classes), and so he spent the period moving about and getting his lunch (he had a baseball game later that day). 

The three boys were not well-behaved. 

About a half hour before the end of the period, Noah and Kyson had to leave for their game. They stood before the door, waiting for the minute they could go, but they opened the door just a crack. Just to look. 

They begged to leave early. Well, earlier. Nope. 

I guess they were trying to get out while the coast was clear. Of girls. 

The second they could go... whoosh. 

That's... that's a new one on me. Wow.

Sophomore Meltdown

Wednesday. Tenth grade English, special ed. Seventh period.

It's district writing assessment time, and that includes the special ed students. Ms. C gave me very specific instructions on what to do. 

Their routine is to grab a Chromebook, log in, and do a warmup. But we were switching things up so they'd have more time to write. As I got class started, I informed the class they wouldn't need their Chromebooks, so would they please put them back. 

Adrian was not pleased. While the rest of the class put their computers back and I passed out the packets they'd need for their writing, Adrian wailed. He did not want to give up his computer. 

Luckily (or maybe obviously), Adrian had a one-to-one aide. Mr. J went over to Adrian and pointed out that Adrian was disrupting the class. Adrian needed to put his Chromebook back. 

Adrian? Laid on the floor. Wailing. 

One is not often treated to a fifteen-year-old throwing a toddler temper tantrum. At least he wasn't flailing his limbs and screaming. 

While the rest of the class looked on, Mr. J calmly pointed out that Adrian was disrupting the class, and maybe Adrian needed to take a little walk to calm down. Adrian didn't like that idea. He didn't want to be in trouble. And somehow that got Adrian off the floor. He put away his computer. And we continued class. 

Of course Adrian complained about the essay. And the topic. (They had an argumentative essay. Topic: the space program--continued funding, yea or nay.) And he objected to how they spelled "center" in the articles they were to use as their sources. (Apparently Adrian is obsessed with English spelling and said it should be "centre". Well, if he wants English spellings, fine.) 

Did Adrian finish the essay? Nope. But he did actually write something. So, that's a win. 

Dude-Bros

Monday. Esports. Fifth period. 

I mean, it's a class where they play video games. Cake, right?

I was walking the room, making sure the students weren't doing anything stupid, as is my job. And I got pulled into conversation with three boys... Deep sigh. You know this isn't going to go well. 

So, there was a lot going on. And in retrospect it's hard to remember what bit came first. In the note to their teacher, I explained them thusly: They didn’t seem to be doing much other than being provocative. 

Marco found a totally inappropriate game to play. (Title: Five Nights at Epstein's. Normally I'd search it up so I could link to it for you, but no.) I pointed out the inappropriateness of this endeavor, but Marco didn't see my point. His compatriots logged in and played the game, too. They claimed that Mr. P wouldn't mind. Sure he wouldn't. 

Jorge explained to me how the Jews controlled everything. I countered with how wrong and racist that whole argument was. I even pointed out how the people pushing those theories were the very ones who were backing ICE and such. And, that since the three boys were varying shades of Latino, they were directly targeting them. No dice. 

And the three of them actively mocked the very special ed kids who were also in the class. Those kiddos weren't in the room at the time, so I didn't realize what they were doing, but in retrospect, it was clear. 

The instructional assistant that came with the special ed kiddos is someone I have worked with many times. She clued me in. This was Mr. P's worst class. Obviously. And the maturity level of those boys was the main reason for it. 

Which leads me to believe that much of the problems currently in our country have to do with these kinds of dude-bros being too stupid to realize that they're stupid. We're spending way too much time trying to appeal to their better natures. Sadly, they don't have better natures...

I mean, we can hope those kiddos will grow out of it. I don't know. I think they were an object lesson to me. Don't bother. The rest of that class was fine. Focus on them. Not the dude-bros who don't even realize that they're the ultimate losers in this particular game.

Too Much News

I don't know what I want to wail about today. Do I mention the moving forward of the building and staffing of the concentration camps?

• Construction Contracts Awarded for ICE Detention Facilities in Maryland and Arizona
• A "Humanitarian Response" Firm With No Federal Contract History Is Staffing Planned Immigration Detention Center in Maryland
• For ICE to build concentration camps quickly, they're leaning on this 'Dept. of War' program
• Texas’ one-of-a-kind concentration camp for children and families
• How a Planned Disney World Vacation Turned Into Four Months in Immigration Detention

Or do I talk about how the main thing the regime wants is to enrich themselves?

• Documents Reveal a Web of Financial Ties Between Trump Officials and the Industries They Help Regulate
• Explore Financial Disclosures From President Trump and 1,500 of His Appointees
• The Case For Billionaire Realism

Or maybe about how whack-a-doodle they are about the Middle East?

• US commanders want to make war with Iran as ‘bloody’ as possible to bring about biblical end times, officers report

It's hard to narrow it down, really. I want to talk about all of this. And more. There's just too much to keep track of. Why did this madman have to become president? Why?

Missed Winter

I have just been so tired. I was dragging all week. I'd get home from work, eat something, and then close my eyes... After a long nap, then it was time to get ready for bed. Sigh.

But I did manage to sew the shoulder seams. 

And that was all. Sigh.

So, I have officially missed the winter with this sweater. I mean, unless, is it still cold where you are? (We have finished our cold winter weather. I switched my bedding to my summer sheets.) 

Maybe this week I'll get it done? I really don't have a good excuse at this point.

At least eldest nephew will get to wear this next winter.

The sweater's previous posts:

• Starting the Sweater
• Getting to the Back
• Missed Deadline
• Distractions from Knitting
• A Month Late
• Inching Along
• Tracking the Growth
• Weekly Sweater Update
• Moving Right Along
• Good Progress
• Almost to the Interesting Part
• Plot Twist
• Not Worth the Effort
• Sleeve Progress
• Continuing Sleeve One
• Sleeve Two!
• Continuing Sleeve Two
• Setting a Deadline
• Almost There
• How I Keep Track
• Some Assembly Required

A Likely Story

Friday. Twelfth grade English. Second period. 

It was almost an hour into the ninety-minute period (block schedule) when Jocelyn arrived. She asked if her friend, who didn't have a second period, could "hang out" in class with her.  

While Jocelyn informed her friend that she'd have to go elsewhere, I noticed that Jocelyn had handed me a yellow late pass. The pass said 8:39. It was 9:24. 

When Jocelyn returned to me to get the day's assignment, I asked her where she'd been for the better part of an hour. 

Jocelyn explained how there was a long line in the office to get a late pass, how she picked up a random yellow pass from the counter, and how the time stamps on those passes didn't mean anything, really. 

All of this? Lies. 

Rather than get into an argument with Jocelyn, I nodded, and she sat down and got to work. 

After second period was snack. I went to the attendance office. 

I told the clerk what Jocelyn had told me. As expected, she laughed. 

When a student arrives late, they get a pass. The attendance clerk stamps the pass with the time stamp machine. Then they're shooed to class. Most students arrive at class within a couple minutes of that time. (If the class is far from the office, it might be closer to five minutes.) 

If the student is more than a half hour late, the attendance office switches from yellow passes to red passes. Student gets it time stamped. Then the attendance office inputs the tardy as "excessive". 

The attendance clerk said that Jocelyn's grandmother had called the school wondering why Jocelyn had so many tardies. So, the clerk said she'd call Jocelyn out of class the next period and they could call the grandmother and talk to her on the phone together. 

Only... 

The next period the school had an assembly. (It was to celebrate students with good grades. It was beach themed. Perfect, actually as it was a 95℉ day.) I actually saw Jocelyn. She arrived late. She left early. And then I saw her strolling around campus when my class returned to class. Because, of course. 

I checked the attendance software, just to see. Jocelyn had been marked truant for both my period and the period after. The clerk left a note that she had been unable to find Jocelyn in the next class. 

Jocelyn is a senior. We're about one quarter away from graduation. I hope she doesn't miss it due to how much class she's been missing. 

From the Garden

I finally got to go back to the continuation high school. (And now I'm sort of shadow banned, but that's a whole different blog post.) 

Wednesday. English. 

As it was Wednesday, it was gardening day. Unlike the last time I pulled this gig, this time we actually could work in the garden. 

There was a "garden ranger" who ran the class. She did a short lecture on natural versus chemically derived ingredients, had them make some tea, and had them do some planting and pruning. 

(At various points she videoed the kiddos. Apparently, there's a program to bring gardening into schools. Here's their Instagram. And here's one of the videos she shot that day.) 

Fourth period. She had brought in some mint plants, and the earlier periods had found a spot to plant them and weeded the area. Fourth period got to plant them. She had them lay out the plants in a sort of grid. 

Seth took his shovel, and he stuck it where he wanted it. He jumped on the shovel, pounding it into the ground. He methodically did this three more times, and very quickly created a hole large enough to put the mint plant in. Clearly he had done this sort of thing before.

Seth explained that his grandmother had an award winning garden. It looked like he had assisted her. 

After they had planted about half the plants, Seth invited me to plant one.

Well, didn't want to, really. So, I gave some excuses. My hand hurt. I didn't have the strength. Etcetera. 

Seth? Yeah, he called me out on that. Shot down my arguments. And fair, really. 

I'm usually the one making the kiddos do things they don't want to. This period I had two students who were unwilling to "get dirty" (there are sinks; they can wash their hands after), and I was urging them to work. So, I'm not doing it? I knew I had to. 

So, I did. Slowly. And badly. But I managed to dig a hole with Seth's guidance. And he put the mint in the ground. 

I got a bit of sun that day. And many of the kiddos did kind of enjoy it. It looks like it's a great program.