you sound like a old lady

One of my students just called me. Random. I give my cell phone number to all the parents of my students, as a show of investment, and sometimes to students (as shown by DJ calling up last week...) but usually only so their parents can call me. But tonight...

"Hello?"
"Hello?"
"Yes, who's this?"
"Ms. A?"
Red flag.

"Yes?"
"Hey."
"Who is this?"
"Is this really Ms. A?"
"Yes, this is really Ms. A. Who's this?"
"Um, Jazzy. You aren't really Ms. A."

It should be noted about this point that I had a long day. Actually, I've had a long several weeks, but a particularly long day. So I came home and promptly opened a beer, and had finished it, on an empty stomach, right before she called.

"Yes, it is. Why do you think it's not?"
"Um. Well if it is, what class am I in?"
"You're in section *** and you have class in *** and *** with Ms. *** and Ms. ****. Can I help you with something, or did you just call to see if this was my number?"
"Yeah."

The thing is, she's actually one of my best students. Then she asked if another one of my students called. Evidently a bunch of the girls in my class decided to phone bomb me to see if this was really my number, but she's the only one who went through with it. She ended the conversation by telling me I sounded like an old lady, and then started playing the, "You hang up first" game. It occurred to me that a warning sign of being old is not doing that anymore... I'd forgotten about it until she did it with me, and I (like an old lady) actually hung up.

This came after a very, very long day... after many talks with a friend of mine who consistently stays at his (semi-corporate) office until 8 or 9 and occasionally even 11 pm, and realizing how amazingly behind I am on CYA paperwork, I made a resolution to not leave school tonight until I had finished everything, since for once in a very great while I had no after school group, no capoeira plans, and no class. Like most of my resolutions, that took all of about four hours to get trashed.

I'm still mostly living in M's room, despite spending several periods a day chasing down my resource kids and several periods in L's room with my class. M has now been out for several weeks, and will probably be out for several more if not the rest of the year. I'm actually convinced this is the reason they haven't made me a full time resource teacher; my class (being something like 70% special ed) is one of the biggest behavioral issues in our grade, and to add to the school's multitude of problems by taking me out if they didn't absolutely have to would be a step above (or below, I suppose, depending on your viewpoint...) stupid incompetence. I guess they realize they would wind up having to deal with the consequences of my class having a free-for-all with only subs (and poor L, three periods a day...) in the room. What they did do, to compensate for L's class, was move in a guy who's been a long-term sub in the building for two years now but most of this year in the eighth grade (his former classes are currently on their 3rd teacher of the year, 2 of the 3 being long-term subs) into M's position, so at least there's one consistent person on a daily basis for the weeks M's out. The problem today was that this guy was out sick too, so we had a sub for him, but he had to leave the second half of the day when L's kids were in the room with a whole random assortment of subs. Yeesh.

Anyway, if you know me, you know I'm a bit messy, and a bit of a packrat. It's genetic, I'm convinced; either that or I blame it on my loving but cluttered upbringing (maybe kind of a nature/nurture mix?).
I look like Martha Stewart, however, next to M, who has saved graded student work she never handed back to the kids since 1997. (And possibly earlier) I have spent probably the equivalent of days in the classroom after school trying to clean and organize, and it just never seems to get better. With the situation today, the sheer level of crap hit ammunition level, and I just could not be in that room with it that messy and get my paperwork done... so I decided to straighten up. Four hours later my principal walks by...

"N, are you STILL here working? It'll be here tomorrow."

And so will the kids, I wanted to say... and now that we're on lockdown, I don't even have their gym periods to clean up.

"Five, ten minutes more max. This isn't Abington. And the only people left in the building at this point are the men."
"Point taken. I'll be out of here as soon as I'm finished this last thing..."

Abington, fyi, is a plush suburb in which I'm sure it's probably safe to sleep outside on the sidewalk. My school's neighborhood... not so much. The men she was talking about were the custodians (who had to come by three times to empty my trashcans of the crap the kids had left everywhere...), who are generally speaking really nice guys, but this year include at least one, who, in the words of our building engineer, has an elevator that doesn't go all the way to the top floor. So yeah. My room looks better, if not ideal, but I have NONE of the paperwork done. (And what do I do when I come home? Work responsibly? No! Drink beer and blog, of course.)

Speaking of neighborhood, I found out today that Urkel's dad just died. Now, Urkel's evaluation for special ed reads like the I Want To Kill Myself Times. Taken away from his parents multiple times for neglect and abuse, foster parents, dad in prison for years, etc. But they actually seemed like a fairly close-knit, if intimidating, family. They were, however, the only family I didn't feel it would be prudent to do a home visit with last year, based partly on his file and partly based on meeting them and just having a weird feeling. Urkel, however, is back on my caseload, as I moved him out of part-time last year and into resource. I went to talk to him today, as he wasn't in the last few days I was trying to get in touch with all my resource kids. He told me he was at a funeral. I asked him if it was someone he was close to, and he told me it was his dad. He told me it wasn't a big deal, though- he sees dead bodies, like birds, all the time.

"Yeah, but Urkel, your dad isn't like a bird. Someone you live with, who's known you your whole life, the physical reason for your existence in the universe... not really like a random pigeon in the street, you know?"
He laughed but then said seriously, "He didn't know me my whole life. Just 11-13. The rest of the time he was in jail."

Sometimes, you just don't want to know. (A lot of the time, actually. In fact, the more I think about it... most if not all of the time...) I've got no idea how much he told me was true, but his understanding of it was that both his parents were doing something criminal, probably drug dealing, and when they got caught his dad took the fall for both of them, hence them getting back together 11 years later when he got out. They had some problems, dad moved out, started up the old business, and... that was it. Something went bad somewhere along the line, and someone came into his dad's house and shot him.
I'm so used to dealing with overemotional kids this year that it was weird to switch back to Urkel... standard reactions of sympathy don't always apply with ED kids. I asked if they were close, and he told me they were getting closer, but...
"Then he died." He shrugged. "Oh well."

Too tired now to post the links about school violence, but can I just say, I heart Sue Snyder. God bless you and any journalist who actually writes about schools and school conditions instead of waxing poetic about whether Kevin is supporting Britney through her rehab or Anna Nicole's estate soap opera... so so tired of it.

And, also, just tired. Night, folks...