Teaching journal 8/12 - 8/30

Starting over, crawling through the first month of the new year

Hear that? The joyful sounds of children laughing, swearing, setting off fire alarms with vapes, saying “bruh” every third or fourth word? The delightful melody of high school. 

When I last left you, I had been excessed from my old job as an ELD teacher, then laid off, then reinstated, then left floating in the unknown for an entire summer. A week before school started on August 12, I received an email that I was placed at Crawford High School as part of their English department. I was stoked: Crawford is in the neighborhood, so no commute. I could continue to serve the City Heights community. Plus, I’d finally be able to use my English credential. After two years of teaching English newcomers, ,I was excited to dig into literature and writing. 

The classes I’m teaching are two classes of American Lit, and one class of AVID (a college prep course that stands for Advancement Via Individual Determination). Do I know how to do any of this? Absolutely not. In a lot of ways it feels like I’m starting over. Every day is like one of those video games where you’re jumping from one falling ledge to another. 

School has been in session for three weeks, and it’s felt like three years. 

My AVID class is made entirely of freshmen, and up until the end of last week, there have been 45 of them on my roster. They’ve finally shifted kids around so my roster is now below 36 (as per the union, 36 is the cap for class size, but you can’t just turn kids away). With that many bodies in one room, no one can learn anything. The noisy kids reign and the quiet kids just huddle in the corner, traumatized by the Lord of the Flies scenario. 

Suffice it to say, AVID is my abyss. It looks back at me every night when I go to sleep and every morning when I wake up. If I survive this year, please clap. If I don’t, put “AVID” on my headstone for cause of death. 

The American Lit classes are chill. Mostly 11th graders. Some of them are engaged, but most aren’t. It’s my first experience with the apathy of Americanized teens. English learners are eager to learn, and they’re looking for adults who will welcome them and help navigate new environments. It’ll take a while to get used to this. 

Another thing about teaching native English speakers is they have a fascination with my personal life. Within the first week, I already had students making comments about my Twitter profile. So that’s going to affect how I do the teaching journals this year. I might have to put up a paywall. 

Since every day has felt like a struggle to just keep my head above water, I haven’t been able to fully document the happenings of each day, but there have been highlights. I’m optimistic that things will get easier. They have to, right? Right?? 

- On the first day of school, I decided to start each class by doing a terrible karaoke rendition of Taylor Swift’s “Anti-Hero”. Figured this would be a good way of jumping headfirst into the deep-end, showing students that they were in a space that was safe to take risks, make fools of ourselves, and be vulnerable. Nobody seemed to know the song, and most kids looked at me with a mix of bemusement and pity. 

- The AVID curriculum includes a lot of and weekly circles where students share their thoughts on a variety of introspective topics. These fucking circles, man. I dread each Friday when we’re supposed to do them. It takes forever to clear the room for desks, have them put their chairs in a circle and actually have them listen to each other. Nobody shares anything substantial, and I just sit there, watching them with dead, dead eyes as they pass the talking ball around the circle. 

- On the third day of AVID, a very nice girl told me after class that I “should be meaner”. I usually don’t get that until a month or two into the school year.

- By some beautiful act of serendipity, I was given room 311. Naturally, I had to capitalize on this fortune, so I made this banner to hang in the room. 

I tacked it to the wall near the entrance of the classroom. Then one day after all the AVID kids left, I noticed it was gone. Some little asshole stole it. Ripped it straight off the wall. I just sat there, staring at the empty wall, trying not to cry. One of the freshman girls came back and I was like, “Do you know who took the poster?” And she was like, “No, but I’ll find out.” She started making calls. Then she and her friends left and returned with it a few minutes later, having fished it out of the trash. She’s getting an A forever. 

I went home and dwelled on it. A lot of revenge fantasies ran through my mind. I was steadfast on weeding out the culprit by interrogating the whole class. I had this elaborate scenario all set up where I’d give everyone a Post-It and have them snitch on who they thought who did it. I wanted to turn friends against each other, create little snitches. Totally healthy, totally sane. 

That morning, I ran into Mr. P—my friend and former colleague—at the gym. I told him about the 311 poster scenario, and he recommended I just lay down a guilt trip. 

I followed Mr. P’s advice. Still, I did shame them along the lines of “You know who else I have to hide things from to prevent destruction? MY DOG!” (maybe not the most hinged thing to say to a group of 13-14 year olds, but still proud of it). I then said, “I don’t care who did it. If you want to apologize to me in private, that would show a lot of honor and integrity, and all will be forgiven. But if you want to take the coward’s way out, that’s fine, too.” At that, class oooh’d. 

Later that day, I got this apology email. 

At least, I think it’s an apology. Anyway, still laughing at “I’m no chicken”

- I’m afraid I’ve already made enemies with the head security guard. All respect to the man, he’s got that school under control. Kids don’t roam freely between classes, which was a huge issue at my previous school. 

But during the second week, there was a huge fight at lunch, which he and his crew had to break up. I imagine both his temper and adrenaline were high, because as I was trying to start third period American Lit, he walked right into the classroom and started yelling at kids for having their phones out. I don’t allow phones in the classroom, but I don’t take them away. Plus, these are 11th graders, plus the range of abilities and English proficiencies is vast in the classroom. With so many IEPs and designated English Learners sharing the same space, policing phones falls lower on the priority list. 

Anyway, when the security guard came in, I was like, okay, he’s got my back. But then he came in and did it again. This was even before I had even taken attendance. After he was gone, one of his minions yelled at one of my students from the doorway. “If I see it again, it’s mine!” The kids were shaken, I was shaken. I had someone close the door so there could be no more intrusions. 

After school got out, I wrote an email to the admin to explain how hard it is to build community when the security guy’s always walking in and yelling. The principal was very receptive, and said she’d talk to him. 

A few days later, some of my students left class about 30 seconds before the bell rang, and the next period, I got a note from admin to keep students in until the bell rang. I could be wrong, but I imagine this could be the security guy’s retaliation. 

- One of the freshmen—super distractible and perpetually whining—asked me what was wrong with my eye. “What do you mean?” I asked. “It’s like fat,” he said. I realized he was talking about the bags under my eyes. No sir, I don’t like that child. 

- 20 minutes before class dismissed for this Labor Day weekend, a student asked, “Mr. Bradford, can I go to the bathroom to pop this zit on my chin?” 

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