The Home of the Brave

Today I subbed at a school that took me an hour and two buses to get to. I earned every stinking penny of my pay. Maybe I'm just completely romanticizing the brilliance of students past, but today I continued to be completely baffled by how little students know, how little they are able to read and follow directions, how little they think, for cryin' out loud. 


I can't tell you how many times I heard "I can't do this" or "I'm not doing this" today. I'm of the persuasion that all children can learn and do learn (they have the top 40 memorized and can hack into the school's computer systems, can't they?), but not all of them want to learn what we have to teach.


I was also hit with the realization that I completely took my former students' obedience for granted. All I had to do at my last school was give 'em "the big eyes," and I heard "Sorry, ma'am" and they got back to work. "The big eyes," unfortunately, is not an effective form of discipline at the two recent schools I've been to in England. 


Just like last week's students, they talked and talked and talked and talked, they got up and walked around, they switched seats, they threw pens, they swore, they left their work and books behind and just left the classroom trashed, they texted on their phones, they listened to their i-pods, they hit and kicked and snatched each other's possessions and did "Chinese burns" (I think we called them "Indian burns" growing up) on each other. Some didn't attempt to do any work. Like... none. Like... nothing. At all. 


I couldn't decide which fires to put out first. There were so many. I could have spent my whole day putting out fires, but it seemed pretty pointless since it was clear that they couldn't stay quenched for very long. I tried my best, employing every classroom management trick in the book (MBWA [managing by walking around], standing in close proximity to trouble, separating trouble, isolating trouble, making eye contact, using hand signals, having mini conferences, cutting deals, asking them to fake it 'til they make it ["You don't have to read silently, just pretend to read silently"], giving them options including nap-taking, etc.) None of it worked for longer than a few minutes.  I just had to let a lot go today. A lot. A lot a lot. I hated that.


I had my first ever class of behaviorally challenged students. No one told me they were behaviorally challenged. I figured this out all by myself. With most of my classes today pushing 33, I knew this class of 16 was going to try me. And try they did. The whole hour. I could tell you stories about at least 10 of them, right off the top of my head. But you've got lives, so I'll just give you one snapshot.


A12 year-old girl got so angry when I told her to keep working that she banged her head against the metal cupboard next to her chair. 


Then she drew all over her arms and uniform with a blue Sharpie. 


Then she asked if she could put on a talent show in front of the class. 


I know. Random. 


Then she asked if I would sing a song. Since no one was really accomplishing much, I figured, why not? 


Then she screamed, "SHU' UP!!! MISS IS GUN SING FUH US!!!"


Then I sang the first song that came to my head. The Star Spangled Banner. With tickets for the London 2012 Olympics going on sale today, I reminded them that they were going to hear our national anthem a lot next summer. They didn't get the subtle pro-American trash talk. But, while I was singing, it was quiet for the first, last, and only time the whole hour.


Then I yelled "PLAY BALL!" and did a fist pump.


Then the head banging Sharpie artist told me I should go on Britain's Got Talent.


Then I told her that I'm not British.


At the end of the hour I let her sing Don't Stop Believin', and she threatened everyone to listen or else. 


She was terrible, but it was kinda cute.


I'm thinking about re-naming The North Barn and calling it The Home of the Brave. What do you think?


Cheers, and God bless America.

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