Teaching journal 6/3 - 6/6

The end.

This is it, folks. Thanks for reading along. The feedback I’ve gotten from this journal entries have been so kind and supportive. I’ll keep writing over the summer, so I hope you stick around. And of course, I’ll keep you all up to date on where I end up.

Monday, June 3, 2024 

A little nervous for today. Last week of school, kids are antsy. Also nervous because I planned Jeopardy to prepare for our vocabulary test tomorrow. Last time I did Jeopardy, it went really well, but final week is another beast. You never know with the energy of these kids. I imagined students, going full-blown feral, Road Warrior-style. Imagined myself a charred skeleton, still smoldering at the front of the class while kids made TikToks of my burning corpse. 

But it was all okay. 

It actually turned out to be one of the less annoying days I’ve had in a while. I guess I had gotten so used to the chaos of the zine project that it became normal. But now, so close to the end of the year, the students seemed—not eager—but open to learn.

I didn’t even take their phones—a little gift from Mr. B for the last week of school—and yet, most students remained engaged. I mean, for at least 30 minutes. Out of a 90 minute period. Considering so many students are checked out, I’m gonna take the W.

We played vocabulary Jeopardy, and like last time, I gave the students a cheat sheet in case they wanted to copy the questions/answers. I told them they could use it on tomorrow’s test. I also said that I had pulled questions straight off the test. Still, only a handful of kids took advantage. Oh well. I tried. Say la veee. 

I got an email today from HR letting me know that I would now be able to bid on the internal job board. Pickings were slim. Most of the English positions left were at middle schools, which, you know. I did my student teaching at a middle school, and it wasn’t terrible, but kids at that age have the worst obsessions: Andrew Tate, Teslas, and the most inane and vile shit on the internet. Do I even want to know about skibidi toilet? No sir, I do not.

There was an opening at Twain, which is a remedial school for students with higher physical and emotional needs. There’s a Twain campus connected to Hoover High School, so if I got a job at Twain, I would still be teaching in my neighborhood, and in the proximity of all my teacher friends. So I didn’t hesitate to put that as my first choice. 

Teaching at a school like Twain would definitely be a challenge, but I feel like I’ve spent the past two years with students who had higher needs than the typical population, so I would be somewhat prepared. However, I’m not good at handling change, so any and all future opportunities sound a little terrifying.

I talked to my supervisor Karrie on the phone today, and she asked if I had learned anything about my placement. I told her about Twain and some of the other prospects, and then explained my aversion to change. She responded: “I want to meet the person who is good at handling change.”

But I have a feeling that I’ll end up at a middle school next year. Skibidi goddamn it.

Tuesday, June 4, 2024

The students took their final vocabulary test today. I haven’t graded them, but I was able to glance at some. I think they did all right. I saw a few students using their Jeopardy cheat sheets, which made me happy.

Can’t lie: I took a lot of joy in watching The Cheater struggle through the test. He came in late as always, and his little buddy wasn’t there. The Cheater didn’t know who to sit next to because the students know I write multiple versions of the test, so he sat by himself. He was even present yesterday when I was giving away answers, and I think I saw that realization dawn on him. He did not look happy. Will this change his behavior in the future? Probably not. But if that’s my parting image of The Cheater—squirming in the realization of his own failure—then I’ll take it. 

I had a kid who turned back a test that was wet for some reason? How these kids manage to spill over everything is truly amazing. Put that on the list of lessons I should've taught: replacing glue stick caps and drinking a beverage without spilling. 

Before the vocabulary test, we did a brief karaoke practice. In first period, the kids were not very enthusiastic, so it was basically me singing in front of the class by myself in my dead, off-key voice. But the acoustics in that wooden room are warped enough that I like how I sounded. Kind of like singing in the shower. 

But third period just loves to sing, and they love the song—”Stand By Me” by Ben King. It’s such a delight to sing with this as a class. “You have the voices of angels,” I told them.

During my prep I packed up a lot of books to send back to the district office. Blasted The Misfits in my classroom, and enjoyed it more than I thought I would. Those acoustics, man. 

While taking down my classroom, I was reflecting on the classroom environment I cultivated this year, and I feel very good about it. Something to pat myself on the back about. Yes, it became increasingly difficult to settle kids down to start class—especially with the influx of new students around March—but once everyone was settled, it felt very supportive. The students were on board with whatever I was trying, and did what I told them. I wasn’t even taking their phones this week, and they’ve been respectful about it for the most part. It feels like they have my back. 

Wednesday, June 5, 2024

It’s the final karaoke day. Sad. Karaoke has become my favorite kind of oral assessment. I hope wherever I end up next year, I can think of a way to incorporate it. 

Normally, I give students the choice between a slow and regular version of the song, but “Stand By Me” is such an easy song that I didn’t offer the slow one. And students didn’t need it. I pretty much gave everyone an A. I’m pretty sure everyone left feeling successful.

The Cheater and his little buddy showed up 10 minutes before the end of class. I think they thought that they were so sneaky—slipping in at the last minute to avoid karaoke—but I made them do it anyway. 

But when The Cheater sat down, he turned out to be the best singer in first period (!). He definitely knew the song already and he sang it with all the correct intonations. I was like, “Damn, Cheater, that was amazing.” I take back what I said yesterday—this is the lasting impression of The Cheater that I want to leave with. 

One of the Haitian girls in third period had some sort of medical emergency. 

I was sitting with the first karaoke singer and I heard all these students in the back saying “Mr. Bradford! Mr. Bradford!” I get annoyed during one-on-one conference situations (i.e. karaoke) because other students don’t have the boundaries or self-awareness. It seems they often only want my attention when I’m busy. So when the kids were calling my name, I just held up my finger, indicating that I’ll look when I’m good and ready.

But when I did, I saw a bunch of students surrounding the girl, who had her hands to her neck and was coughing. I immediately felt terrible, and tried my best to not look panicked. Dancing Girl looked very concerned about her friend, and the Haitian boys were all trying to do some form of makeshift Heimlich, but were just sort of hitting the girl on the back. I cleared the area of everyone except for Dancing Girl, who had procured a fan and was giving her friend more air. 

Luckily, Mr. P came in right at that moment, saw what was happening and called the nurse, who came in and took the coughing girl away. She could walk on her own, so that was a good sign. 

I asked Dancing Girl if she knew what the problem was, and she said her friend had been having breathing issues all day, and that her head was “spinning”. I’ve been lucky so far in that I’ve had few medical emergencies in the classroom so far, so this shook me. I’m very thankful that Mr. P was there and acted fast. 

Word has gotten around with the ELD students that I will not be at Hoover next year. They asked me why, and I really don’t have a good answer for them. I say that my boss decided to move me. It’s not my choice, and I am sad. The kids say they will miss me, and I tell them that I’ll miss them too, and then they’ll often go in for a hug. If anybody reading this is considering a job in education, I highly suggest doing a few years with English learners. These kids are the real deal. So earnest, so genuine.

Of course I’m sad to be leaving them, but for the most part—the bigger part—I just feel so proud of what I have done in the last two years: helping 100 kids just feel welcome and safe and the United States.

Thursday, June 6, 2024

That’s it. It’s the end.

I’ve concluded that I hate like the last day of school.

It begins nice. Something almost parental kicks in, and you’re able to forget all the frustration and hardships you’ve endured throughout the year. You only see the kids’ best selves, even kids like The Cheater and Dancing Girl. It’s kind of like getting drunk with someone you don’t like and realizing you’re not so different after all. Hey, remember all those times you lied to me about your phone? Water under the bridge, my dudes

Then third period rolls around and the kids have just completely lost their minds. The’re running up and down the halls. You’re just doing your best to keep students in the classroom, trying to think of ways to entertain them. Hey, let’s draw on the wall! Let’s watch Youtube! Let’s make TikToks! Let’s bust out the vape pens!  

And all that goodwill and happy emotions drains out of you. No less than 10 times during third period I whispered to myself, “Get me the fuck out of here.” 

Throughout the week, a handful of teachers have been sending all-staff emails informing us that they’re not going to be at Hoover next year, and that they’ll miss everyone, etc. 

For a moment I wondered if I should do the same. I won’t. It just feels kind of weird to have been at a site for two years, and then leave with sparse acknowledgement, as if I never really existed. I’ll probably never see a lot of these people again.

But I also get it. By the time summer looms close, most teachers just want to retreat into their private lives. And it’s been A Year for everyone, so I get why people wouldn’t want to indulge in any goodbye fanfare. S

till, it felt anticlimactic and a little sad. My exit from Hoover will not be a bang, just a whimper.

But if anyone from Hoover is reading this, just know that I really enjoyed working with you, and feel like my life is better than when I started there. Thank you. 

As I was eating alone in my classroom, a kid ran down the hall and started retching up something vile in the hall right outside my door. I just watched through the frosted glass. If I was a better person, I’d open my door and let him use the trash can, but I just slowly kept chewing my burrito, thinking somehow this is a fitting end to the year.

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