How Hip I Am

It was one of those days of hysterical laughter. After the fire alarm went off and they couldn't stop it but made us go back into our classrooms...can we say pointless? the day wanted to be a wash, but I kept trying to bring it back to the literature. I love book clubs because the kids can really teach each other and themselves most of the time. And I get a chance to watch them do it and laugh hysterically a lot.

So today a student raised her hand and asked me how to spell "soldier" to which I replied, "How do you think you spell it?" She tentatively started out, "S-O-L..." "Good," I replied, "keep going." "J-E-R?" "Hmmm. Not exactly. Unless you want to spell Soulja' Boy!" She looked at me funny, mostly because I overemphasized the two parts of "Soulja'" in a way that kids don't. They say it as if it were spelled "Soldier." I like to call out their funny morphed words for how they are really spelled.

I went up to the board and wrote "Soulja' Boy" and repeated it again emphatically a couple of times. This got the class laughing. "I think that the word you are looking for is 'soldier'" I said. And I wrote that one up on the board, too. "I know, it looks like it should be pronounced "sold-ier" but the "die" blend together." I realized then that I had underlined the word "die" in soldier. "Whoops! Sorry about that one! No one is taping me on his iPod right now, are you? That was not a political statement about how I feel about the men and women who are serving our country."

More laughter.

It's even better when I use teen slang in a really awful, older person way and then dance a little, too. Or when I tell my class that I was there with Tupac when he died and I held his hand in the hospital.

Actually, I did live in Las Vegas when he was killed, but I can't believe how many kids want to believe me for a second or two. Or how being uncool can be cool. But only if you do it in the right way and are appropriately ironic about it.

Amazing how kids understand irony.

One of the Hard Things About Teaching

Today is not going well. We're learning a lesson in fear and control and the power that one person can have over 1500 people in a school building. One of the hard things about teaching is helping students understand violence.

Yesterday a message was discovered in the boys' bathroom that was of the "I hate this school and everyone will be dead on March 14th" variety. Security and the police were brought in to investigate and determined that it was not a credible threat. Teachers were notified by the end of the school day of what happened and that there would increased security on campus today. Nothing was said to the students or sent home to their parents.

Of course, news travels fast and changes fast when traveling via text message, MySpace, and e-mails. At 9:00 PM I heard from the student I pick up in the morning. All her friends weren't going to school and she needed advice about what to do. She sounded really afraid, and this morning she confessed that she didn't sleep at all last night.

With half a dozen police toting weapons, teachers shutting and locking their doors each period, and only about a third of the student body here today, it feels a little like a war zone. And I am angry. I am mad at the student who thought he could control us with fear, and I am mad that he has succeeded. I am angry that our culture is one of violence and that schools...places that should represent security...are such easy targets for violence. I am frustrated that the day was a wash, but even more that so many kids are genuinely fearful of this place. I am sad that I too spent the morning thinking about what I was going to do if this thing was real.

I talked to my parents last night but I didn't tell either of them what was going on. Some kids who were here today hadn't told their parents either, and I can understand why.

But those who came all wanted to know: WHY? Why are we a society so plagued with violence? Why do we all feel so afraid? Why does feeling so controlled and scared feel so wrong? Why don't men with guns make us feel any better?

Today, I don't have the answers. That's one the hard things about teaching.

The Kids Have My Back

This morning right after warm ups, my evaluator, Mr. Morris, walked into my room. Mr. Morris, bless his soul, is an ex-Marine with no teaching experience but lots of experience being a Marine. He and I have had an interesting relationship this year, based on a joke about hugging that got out-of-hand. Neither he nor I have very good social skills. Anyway, he's my evaluator and an assistant principal, and of course I've never scheduled an observation with him so in he walks today.

I'll tell you what, the kids have my back. First of all, he walked into the greatest class of all classes, my freshmen honors students. But if you didn't know that they were the greatest class in the world you might think that I had performed some magic spells on them to make them behave in extraordinary, intelligent, adorable ways. You might say that I was a miracle-worker in the classroom. I am not. They are just that good. They don't even really need me. They could teach themselves and do a better job. After warm-ups, in which the kids raised their hands and gave perfect little answers, I decided to move on to this week's vocabulary list. But before I did, I asked them if they all knew the testing schedule this week and where they were supposed to go.

(While I am not, philosophically, a proponent of testing, I do want my students to know where they are supposed to go and what the schedule is. It seems inhumane to leave them in the dark).

All of my students smiled and nodded their heads...yes they know the schedule and yes, they know where to go and no, they don't have any questions. Okay, I say, great! Le's move on then. During the vocabulary lesson, Mr. Morris took his leave and we finished up. I turned the lights back on and I saw a small hand go up in the back.

"Ms. Stutelberg, can you tell me what room I'm in for testing?" Sure, of course, I looked it up for him and was about to put the list away when another little hand went up.
"Ms. Stutelberg, can you look up my room, too?" Well, okay, yes, but I asked after warm-ups and you didn't say anything about it then. I told him his room.
Hand started shooting up all over the room. "We need our room numbers, too!" "What's the schedule tomorrow?" "Should we go to first period or check in at our room?" "What tests?"

I got a silly teacher look on my face and said What gives? No one had any questions earlier. Then Rachel smiled at me with her so sweet little smile and said, "Mr. Morris was in here, Ms. Stutelberg. We wanted you to look GOOD."

Probably, more likely, they didn't want to make themselves look bad in front of Mr. Morris. He's a little intimidating. But I do appreciate the sentiment.

And then I couldn't resist a joke on Eric. He was holding up his half-eaten bag of trail mix. "What are you doing with that food Eric?" I asked. "I'm offering Chelsea my nuts!"

"Eric, no one wants your nuts. Put them away."