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.

Finishing Reward

Last week I ended up with an unexpected vacation. There were just no sub jobs to be had. So, when on Thursday night I was able to snag a gig, I didn't even mind that it was a middle school class for a teacher I've heard the students complain about. And according to the calendar, an assembly was scheduled. 

It turned out to be a dual language immersion class, so while it was a middle school history class (world history for seventh grade and U.S history for eighth grade), it was taught in Spanish. 

Of course, this isn't an issue on sub days. It wasn't a class for Spanish speakers; it was a class for students who were working on being fluent in Spanish. I'd had many in other classes. They spoke English fluently. 

Fifth period. Seventh grade world history. 

It was after the assembly (Olympics-themed) and after lunch. So, basically everything for a crazy period. But, they were actually not too terrible, for middle schoolers. 

I was to sign off their packets (per the teacher's instructions) when they finished. When I explained the assignment, one boy asked, "What if I already finished?" Because naturally. 

I couldn't check his work because it was in Spanish, but he had written something for each question. From what I had seen earlier in the day, it appeared that he had, in fact, finished the assignment. And at times like that, I let them have free time. (No reason to give extra work to the one student who is ahead.) 

I walked the room. Ended up behind the kiddo who had finished. He was playing a game on the Chromebook. It took me a moment to recall he was finished so as to not growl at him for being off task. I moved on. 

"You're not going to say anything about him playing a game." 

This was from another student. (No one complained about a student on a game while I was at the front of the room.) I shrugged and said he had finished his work. 

"Does that mean we can play games in class?"

Without coming out and saying yes, I heavily implied that I wouldn't care, once they were done with the day's assignment. 

I did sign off most of the students' papers, so apparently they didn't get too distracted by games or such. 

It's really all I want most days in classes like that. It was nice things didn't go the way I had feared. 

The Usual

Tuesday. Seventh grade science. 

I had gotten the assignment at 1 AM. In their Google Classrooms, the teacher informed the kiddos that he'd had a medical emergency. He left them plenty to do. 

And some of them did the work. 

Others...

Two boys immediately logged onto a game. Fortnite, I think. I told them they had work to do. As I walked up behind them, they showed their screens with the actual work. And no open game tabs. 

They set it up with two desktops. (I think that's what it's called.) I do similar. You can flip between one screen with appropriate tabs, and the other screen has something else. (Usually for me it's blogs.) Somehow, they thought they were fooling me. I don't know why. 

I told them to close the game and get to work. Of course they didn't. 

My philosophy in this circumstance is that it's their grade. If they don't do the work, they don't get the points. I can point out that they're not making good choices, but they're their choices. (I also note who was blatantly not working in my note to the teacher.) 

Considering the time of year, things went pretty well. At least they entertained themselves. Better than what they could have been doing. 

I'm ready for some time off. It's coming soon. 

Pac-Man Fever

Thursday. First period. Co-taught freshman math. 

It was the last ten or so minutes of class. I was seated in a corner, watching. And then, the opening strains of the music for Pac-Man rang out loudly in the middle of class. 

I walked over to the student. Stood there. He looked up.

And he got very, very defensive. "I'm completely finished with my work. I have no other work to do. Class is almost over. I can play this game."

I continued to stand there. 

That's when he realized why I had targeted him. 

"Oops. Sorry."

He quickly muted the sound, and continued with his game. 

He had headphones on, so he hadn't realized that his game's music was being broadcast to the entire silent classroom. 

(He was right. He had finished his work. He could play a game for the remaining time in class. But, we weren't supposed to hear his game.)