In celebration of a kid who never quits

I have a student who has a serious medical condition. He will not ever get better-- his condition is degenerative.

But he moves on.

He will not be defined by anything but who he is rather than what has happened to him.

He is the most interesting kid. Even though his condition makes it difficult for him to express himself, he still makes the attempt, each and every day, to express his very deep thoughts. He is always paying attention, even if he is pain, even if he is uncomfortable, even if this has not been a good day thus far.

I love how the other kids all accept him for who he is. I love how they all help him get ready as he comes in every day. I love how none of them get impatient when he struggles to get the words out. I love how he was listening to one of the princesses go on and on about some silliness, and he got the perfect wisecrack out, and everybody laughed-- even the princess. When he laughs, his entire body curves up into a smile, and he crows with joy.

I love how he sees connections that no one else does. I love how he never ever gives up-- he is the living embodiment of Winston Churchill: "Never ever ever ever...."

I love how nothing ever seems to get him down, even though he has been abandoned by everyone who should have stood by him, and now each new day is a challenge of just seeing if he can get through the day without falling or choking or getting stuck somewhere.

I love the fact that he reminds of why I entered this profession so many years ago, and I wish with every fiber of my being that he would go on forever.

Each day is a blessing. I try not to worry about his tomorrows. That's what he teaches me, every day. He absorbs each second with a verve and a strength that I wish we could all tap into.

Thank you, Bud. It's your day, today.

Well, certainly, let's make an education the last priority!

I received a royal summons to attend to a counselor when he was actually in the building in between his numerous workshops. He wanted to talk to me about one of our students. Seems the young lady has overextended herself-- has taken on a bunch of leadership positions and extra-curricular activities, and is feeling very stressed. As the counselor recounted the list to me, it certainly WAS formidable.

The counselor asked the young lady if there wasn't anything she could cut back on, and she really didn't want to give any of it up. But here's the punchline: the kiddo was most concerned about my class, and basically wanted to be excused from doing most of my assignments for the next six weeks so that she could fulfill all her other activities, but didn't actually want to approach me herself (I wonder why?). So instead, she thought it would be okay if the counselor talked to me for her, and the counselor asked if I couldn't somehow do something to lessen the load.

I'm thinking about presenting a lesson on the concept of "opportunity cost" and prioritizing.

Infuriating! Idiotic!

One of my AP students came into my room and handed me her homework. "I may not be here for class, Ms. Cornelius."

"Oh? Why not?" I asked.

And then she started crying. Big fat tears from eyes squeezed tight.

"The school... the school... they are kicking us out and say we don't live where we are living...."

To sum up, it basically equals a lost job, a lost home, living with a family friend until they move into a new apartment in a few weeks. They pulled her out of her class and told her she was no longer enrolled and to go home. They did not contact her parents, and she doesn't drive. So she huddled in my room for two hours until she finally could get grandma to come and pick her up.

By the way, during that time, she voluntarily took a quiz (got a B on it, too, even with the tear stains) and took notes from class discussion. Even knowing she might not be back.

Now, they ARE living in our district, and I have told you before that this district is usually more than willing to allow any batch of malcontents to remain in our district even if they claim they are living at the Mailboxes-to-Go store down the street. And once granted the boon of a completely free edjicashun at the expense of the actual residents of this district, these non-resident kids promptly proceed to fight, skip class, sass teachers, call other kids fags, and whatnot. These kids still roam the hallways of our district. There are several dozen of them in my school alone. Some of them even live in a nearby state. They cause chaos and disrupt learning as naturally as breathing.

But hey, let's fitfully start enforcing attendance on a kid with a B grade point average in honors classes. Let's KEEP the miscreants and toss out the students! Because I notice they haven't dragged the other kids out of here that we all KNOW live twenty miles away.

This is a hard-working, diligent young person who has kept working through economic turmoil, who has been and remains a resident of our district.

And -- well, let me just go there. Let's also consider that, as a student who falls within TWO targeted categories on NCLB, this kid's presence at our school should actually be considered a blessing when it comes to making AYP across targeted groups. Maybe that would help overturn this stupid decision.

Makes me want to barf.

And yes, I did suggest to her that the magic words to make this all go away were "homeless student," since they believe that her family is lying about living wherre they live.

Open thread: Sounds "questionable" to me...

A friend of mine has a daughter who is looking for a teaching job next year, partly due to this policy: Teachers in her high school have been instructed to allow students to retake tests repeatedly until they pass them, no matter how many times it takes. The district doesn't want any students failing.

I doubt that ANY district WANTS to see students failing. But where is there ever accountability in this kind of set-up?

What do you think?

Status report

The classroom is normally packed with bodies. But apparently there is some kind of combination of insanity and crud drifting the halls of the high school, that crazed year-end malaise of those who suddenly stick their heads up out of the fog and realize that they are this close -- thisclose-- to not earning their credits and it's time to try to sic their parents or grandma or whomever on the mean teachers who haven't performed miracles for them, who haven't just given up on expecting them to do their homework and even study. These are the people who are going to claim that you've never spoken to their kid, never suggested coming in for help, never been available after school every single day, and so therefore there has to be an appeals process somewhere whereby they will magically be granted a grade that is more commensurate with their lofty expectations.

There is the mad scramble of kids who spend hours each day updating their Facebook page to claim that their honors classes take too much of their time and they can't possibly remain in them next semester. But they can write stuff like: "Connor is now sneezing." Four seconds later: "Connor is thinking about pie." Two minutes later: "Connor has a rash in his armpit." This is going on during the same three hours that the kid is claiming that he spends EVERY NIGHT doing his AP Chemistry homework.

There is some sort of flu going around. It's the kind of flu that makes one incapable of dragging oneself out of bed for school but dressed and ready to party when someone texts that Janie's parents are out of town this weekend. One of the students in this classroom has had this flu every single day for twenty school days in a row, but Mom has been allowed to call him in sick, and these absences are excused. The semester ends in 8 days, and this student now wants all of his makeup work. He was going to come in this morning, and we were told to look for him. But the seat sat empty again. The last time this kid was in class was eighty years of United States history ago.

There's the kid who makes you laugh because he just told you that his English teacher has started taking his vampire book away from him until he finishes the two page paper that is due in twenty minutes. Talk about bringing out the hammer!

There's the kid who just went to the bathroom and threw up, and is now lying to me about it so she doesn't have to go to the nurse. I'm hoping that I don't know the reason why she just threw up, because all three possibilities or a combination thereof would not be good at all.

This classroom is usually packed with bodies. Right now it is just packed with teen angst.

But it is Friday, and a storm may be heading our way. A storm may be already here.

Heh. Tell me something I DON'T know...

This caught my eye, and teachers everywhere are rolling their eyes that this is news. However, also note the statements I have boldfaced:

Adolescents and preteens are swearing more publicly than ever — especially at school, experts say.

It's conversational swearing — in the hallways and in the classroom — that is on the rise, says Timothy Jay, one of the leading scholars on cursing in the United States.

Teens are more likely to drop casual expletives, or "fillers," than the generation before them and have more trouble adjusting their conversation to fit their audience. That means adults — especially strangers who cannot sanction the teens — hear more of the same language that the teens' friends hear, says Jay, author of "Why We Curse" and "Cursing in America."

He estimates that the average adolescent uses roughly 80 to 90 swear words a day.

"Elementary school teachers report that children are using more offensive language at school than they have in the past," says Jay, who is compiling data for a study he will complete in the fall examining preteens and swearing. "They have been breaking the rules at school more frequently in the last 10 years."

Jay, a psychology professor at the Massachusetts College of Liberal Arts in North Adams, Mass., has been studying swearing trends since the 1970s.

"Our language values are shifting, and it's just different, not better or worse," he says.

At R.W. Emerson Junior High School in Davis, seventh-grader Kaley McGrew, 13, hears peers using curses as fillers when they can't think of another way to express themselves.

"Some people swear, and they don't even think about what they are doing; they just say it," she says. "It's just become casual to them, but to some people who don't swear, it can be shocking."

The Emily Post Institute's Cindy Post Senning, co-author of "Teen Manners: From Malls to Meals to Messaging and Beyond," recommends talking to adolescents about the public image they want to convey through language.

"Some people use swear words with friends and nobody is offended," says the etiquette expert. "The problem is that it becomes a habit and it can offend unintended listeners."

Post Senning suggests working on helping teens control their profanity rather than disciplining them for using it. And evidence supports her idea: In a 2006 study conducted by Jay, 94 percent of people who reported being punished for cursing continued to swear.

Cursing is a behavior learned from family members, according to Jay.

"It starts as soon as they learn how to talk," Jay says. "At a young age, they're attentive to emotions. When you're swearing to be funny or when you're angry, that just draws them right to it."

Jay said that although the Internet, television and other media may be making adolescents more comfortable with swearing, it is their parents' own language habits that are the biggest influence.

The solution, says Jay, is for parents to teach the etiquette of swearing.

"Kids should know about the power of language," Michael Leahy, a counselor at Emerson Junior High, agreed. "Parents should remind them about how important words can be and when you should use them."

Okay. First of all, how is it NOT worse for kids to regularly use the "B" word, the "C" word, the other "B" word,the "A" word, the "F" word, the "N" word, the "MF" word and the slew of other words I am too tired from hearing in the hallways today? Jeez, the fact that we are afraid to say that ANYTHING is wrong is how we got in this place to begin with. Moral relativism leads to moral vacuity.

Second of all, the second comment reminds me of the time I called home to a parent to talk about his child's constant use of profanity, and the man responded profanely with a promise to beat a certain part of his daughter's anatomy. I nearly choked from the irony of it all.

Third, it just cracks me up to think of the phrase, "the etiquette of swearing." It just sounds like a complete oxymoron, even though I understand what the point of that comment was. However, as a parent, I really want to emphasize when NOT to curse, rather than to discuss when it is permissible. I think there's quite a bit of difference between the two things.

Just who do you think you're hurting here, kid?

I just got finished grading a stack of essays, and once again, there is a troubling pattern that emerges. A certain student-- let's call him Timmy-- has once again slapped together a mishmash of an analytical essay, even though he had over a week to write three pages... in a college credit class. I had a feeling from the smirk he gave me when he handed it in that it was going to be the purest moonshine, and the essay didn't disappoint. Undeveloped, unresearched, unwept, unmourned, unsung... sorry, I got carried away for a second. I asked for a minimum of 750 words, and he used the word count feature in his word processor and printed at the bottom of the page that it was 752 words exactly.

Since it was typed, and he doesn't have a study hall, the best that I can say is that he didn't do it the hour before it was due. It was chock-a-block with comma splices, sentence fragments, random abbreviations, slang (for example, one does not use "Dude" in an academic paper unless perhaps it is an analysis of The Big Lebowski, but I digress), and cliches. There was not a single reference to a specific event in the entire thing. Then there was the section where he committed major historical errors on the scale of claiming that the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor and Moses led the animals two by two onto the ark of the covenant.

From what I understand from some discreet inquiries, he spends much of his time outside of school playing basketball and hanging out with friends. He is a bit of a party animal. He boasts about not doing school work. That's all fine, and it's a free country. He is welcome to waste my time grading the dreck he deigns to turn in, and he's welcome to wallow in the grade that he has gone to more effort to earn than if he just put his head down and did a half-decent effort at the assignment. He is also a potentially intelligent young man with an IQ of probably about 125, were we privy to such things, which we are not.

I feel like telling him that I can outlast him, so if he's waiting for me to "yell" at him (the generic term used by kids for any sort of word other than praise), he's going to just keep on waiting. But the poor little guy thinks he's being clever and putting one over on the system. He'll get his ridiculous little D and pass the class, sure, but someday....

Someday...

Someday, he'll find out he can't get in to State U with that GPA, much less the out-of-state school he's been talking about. I've tried gently to counsel him; I've called mom, but...

he just... doesn't... believe... us.

And he is only hurting himself. Sad.

Thanks to this site for the cool illustration.

From the "I am NOT Making This Up" Department...

We've had several visitors at our school over the past few weeks while colleges have been on break between semesters. I was standing on the sidelines at an athletic event after school one day, cheering on the team, when suddenly a young man stepped up next to me. Then he hugged me and said he wanted to thank me.

He looked vaguely familiar, but it took me a few seconds to recognize the face. It was young Barbarino, who had been one of my students in one of my honors classes the first year I was at the high school after leaving the middle school. I had also had him as a student at the middle school. Neither of these experiences had been particularly pleasant, as he had been a young man more prone to complaints than getting his work done.

From the second he set foot in my class, it was a contest of wills. He wasn't going to do the reading. He wasn't going to do the essays-- or at least, he wasn't going to do them except on the back of a cocktail napkin, written in ketchup. He complained that I didn't explain everything in the book so that he wouldn't have to read it, since reading was a waste of his time. He made weird noises. He wanted to put his head down all the time. He maintained a 57% average all the way through the semester, and then finally scraped enough together that he got a 60 percent -- a D minus. And yet, he wouldn't transfer to another class, either. For some reason, he didn't want to be rescued, but he didn't want to pull his own weight, either.

I got some insight into his problem when his mom came up for conferences. All she talked about was his older sister, who was pre-med and had gotten straight As and been drum major while volunteering at an adult day-care center, and on and on. During the entire conference, I repeatedly tried to redirect the subject back on to her son, but to no avail. So what he wanted was to act up and get my attention, since he was a ghost to his mother. She threw up her hands at trying to get him in line, and basically let me know that school problems were the problem of the school.

But now, here he was, taller, bearded-- and um, thanking me? He told me he was in graduate school now, and he appreciated me never letting him get away with avoiding his work. He laughed uproariously at the memory of me hoisting a desk over my head in the crowded classroom to put him out in the hallway when he came to the class unprepared, which happened more than once. He thanked me for making him come to my class after school to teach him how to write historical essays. He apologized for being "such an unbearable little shit." I assured him he wasn't unbearable-- and we laughed again. He said he wanted to prove to me that he had finally grown up and was no longer a "screw-up." He said what I was trying to teach him had sunk in-- just three years later than I would have liked. He left me with a pat on the back and asked if he could come see me the next time he was on break.

I said, "Gladly."

It was an amazing experience.

"The world is made for people who aren't cursed with self-awareness."*

Let me now recount to you, beloved readers, one of my favorite anecdotes from recent parent-pedagogue parleys. Apparently, I, alsoomse, and sciguy, who posted much briefer versions of this conversation in the comments to my post about chasing my own tail, have the same students.

The scene: The eleventh hour of a day that I have spent in a moldering classroom in clothes that are wilted versions of pressed business attire. Bloodshot eyed, our intrepid heroine clutches a mug of tea and proffers a bowl of mints toward a parent and student with a small smile.

Parent: We just don't understand why Popsie has a D-.
Ms. Cornelius: Popsie doesn't always demonstrate understanding of the material. First, Popsie has told me he doesn't read the material in the textbook. He just hunts around for the answers.
Popsie: I don't like to read. I read slow.
Parent: I read slow too. Popsie comes by it naturally.
MC: Popsie, you will always read slowly if you don't practice by actually reading. And it certainly takes longer to hunt for the answers than to actually sit down and read the 5-6 pages all the way through. (Thereupon MC suggests several small tricks for increasing reading speed-- and MC had earlier broached the question of whether Popsie had ever been tested for a reading disablility, and the answer was yes to the testing and no to the disability.) I could help you more if you could stay after school for some coaching.
Parent: Can't you just tell students what is in the book?
MC: (In her head: "No, because that would just make the textbook a great expensive place to rest one's head whilst napping.) No. That would just encourage the kids who are reading their book not to read their book, and it would actually increase the amount of homework everyone has. Do you ever see Popsie study?
Parent: No... But still, why does Popsie have a D-?
MC: (Repressing sigh) Popsie, when I ask you if you understand everything we've covered today, what do you say?
Popsie: (silence)
MC: Do you let me know when you don't understand?
Popsie: No....
MC: Popsie, how many other kids are in the class?
Popsie: Almost thirty.
MC: Right, so I can't ask Popsie fifteen times (without embarassing him) if he needs help if he won't tell me the truth. Now Popsie's average on quizzes and tests is 54%. And when the bell rings at the end of class, Popsie is the first out the door. Did you study for the last quiz, upon which you earned a 42%?
Popsie: No, I didn't understand it....
MC: Did you stay after school with me so that I could help you? I am here every day for thirty minutes to one hour.
Popsie: No....
MC: Did you stay with the Homework Club?
Popsie: No....
MC: Did you try using the internet?
Popsie: I don't like the internet.
MC: (Trying to keep from looking heavenward in mute appeal, I try another tack.) Popsie's response questions grade average is a 72%.
Popsie: Yeah, when you grade my questions you always mark some of them wrong.
MC: Sometimes they ARE wrong. And sometimes they're not finished. But what else do I do?
Popsie: You write suggestions for where to find the correct answer next to the wrong answers.
MC: Do you ever attempt to look up the correct answers?
Popsie: No.... But I like it when you talk in class. But then I don't remember.
Parent: So why does Popsie have a D-?
MC: Because Popsie hasn't done any of the many things that would change that D- to something else.
Popsie: I don't like having a D-.
MC: Do you not like it enough to actually do something to change it?

And that's the way it is. Apparently, just because Popsie is here every day, he should get at least a C. I give this conversation a three out of four possible extra-strength tylenol rating. Because that's how many it took to make the throbbing go away. Can you chase three tylenol with a glass of wine? Darn.



Extra points to the reader who can tell me the source of the title of this post.

The Naked Ape

My colleague Mike over at Education in Texas, whom I pray is safe from the latest storm, mentioned a humorous essay about dress codes at educationnews.org. The author's basic point was that no one seems to be enforcing dress codes in the schools he visits.

Let me illuminate the realities of dress codes, using my high school as an example. We have one female assistant principal. The male assistant principals do not wish to deal with this issue. When students have been sent to the principal if they were either unwilling or unable to don a fig leaf to cover their nakedness, we have typically been given one of two responses: "I've seen worse," (this is an actual quote) or "I don't have time to deal with this," which may be a cover for embarrassment or fear.

I am one of three females in my department, and for various reasons, the other two don't count when it comes to this issue. I do believe that in our PC and litigious time, our mostly young male teachers are potentially asking for a heap of trouble if they confront a young female (can't use the word "lady" for someone dressed like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman) regarding cleavage and thigh exposure. I have a few basic principles to which I adhere, and one of these is a plea to only have the rules you are willing to enforce, and another is a belief in the broken windows theory. Further, if I were a Supreme Court nominee, I would babble on about the importance of precedent. Stubborn, stupid me actually therefore spends lamented minutes a week in conversation with Junior Jezebels re: basic modesty. For this I took out thousands in student loans and worked the midnight shift at the front desk of my dorm for four long years?

About once every other day, one of my male colleagues comes scurrying to me pointing out some shocking little piece of eye-candy to ask my intervention. A few days ago it was the young assistant principal who encountered an outfit so provocative he couldn't ignore it, and asked me to corral a young hottie dressed in strategically placed string. So at least he stood behind me with his arms crossed, looking like a bull mastiff with a toothache, while I did the actual dirty work:

MC: "Hon, can you c'mere for a second?"
Delilah: "Whut?"
MC: "You are unfortunately in violation of the dress code, and I need to know if you've got something else to change into."
Delilah: "GHuh? Whut's wrong with my clothes? I've got two shirts on!"
MC: "Actually, you've got two quarter shirts on, one see-through and one crocheted, and basic math says that that still equals, at best, one-half a shirt. See, when you self-consciously tug the hem of the top layer down, you expose too much cleavage. When the hem immediately snaps back up like a rubber band, we see the bottom of your unmentionables both north and south of your navel and about a foot and a half of midriff. So you need to get a real shirt on, please, so you don't put someone's eye out."
Delilah: "Man, this is WHACK! A'ight, a'ight! Geez!" AP nods his massive head toward the end of the hallway. Exeunt.

Why is this important? I think that a school is for students, not strumpets. We're not asking them to wear uniforms or habits. They can come to school in PJs and slippers. And when we ignore a rule, especially one we've made a big deal out of, we look like jackasses, or, if you prefer, the federal government.

Thank You, Lord

We are now two weeks or so into the school year, and I've got to say that these are some of the nicest students I've had in a long time. They are obedient. They are thoughtful. They are friendly. They are supportive and loving to their fellow students who have developmental delays. They are trying to reassure the new kid from the Middle East who is afraid he's going to fail because he can't do the work that they are doing yet.

Even better, they laugh at my history-geek puns, jokes, and weird stories.

They have willingly taken all the notes I've required with no complaints and they have made sure that my discussions are not lectures, but discussions, and they have asked some really good questions. They have dedicated themselves to learning my word of the day each day and even have used them back to me in assignments without being asked: confluence, caveat, libertarian. They have gently chastised their fellow students who have asked me to repeat something right after I've said it, so that I don't have to.

I give these kids, their parents, and their former teachers the credit. A small voice inside me whispers, "Too good to be true!" but I've basically told that small part to shut the heck up.