Posts from — May 2007

Today, I found out that, allegedly, a teacher physically assaulted a few students in his classroom. Just hearing that ring off my ear made me jump out of my Rockwells. What the hell just happened there? Then again, I look at his situation and say, “Wow, I feel like I saw this coming a long time ago.”

Which brings me to this question …

What happens when you’re just about ready to quit? Not to say that I am at this point and time, but how does one get to the point where they literally lose their minds in a really tight situation?

Usually, demeanor-wise, I try to stay calm as water … and about as unpredictable, too. After all, if the kids get a whiff that you’re not going to do anything, then they find ways to get under your skin and break your psyche. It’s almost sadistic in a way, but some kids take pride in breaking their authority figures down. A few of my kids even quipped, “I can’t believe Mr. Vilson hasn’t left yet; last year we made 2 teachers leave in the first three months.”

That’s a feather in my cap if I’ve ever heard one. Unfortunately, though, what that means is that less patient and caring teachers than myself, and there are quite a few, eventually find a breaking point where they either quit altogether or act completely irrational.

The first time I ever found that point happened sometime around April of my first teaching year. I broke down and almost didn’t make it home, I was so distraught. I eventually found the resolve to come back (5 hours of writing and playing video games did the trick). Even then, that was the most extreme case in which I felt the kids in my homeroom weren’t doing what they were supposed to, and I almost quit that very moment.

I can’t say the same for others, though. What happens when a teacher physically abuses a student? Were there signs before that that there was a sense of support for the teacher amongst his peers, teachers, and administrators? Were there tell-tale signs in the kids’ demeanor that might have given off that he or she was a potential threat to the kids’ safety and education? I often think about what could have led that teacher to get to the point where that sort of incident happened.

This is not to say that there isn’t a shared responsibility in all of these situations, or that there’s not this “innocent till proven guilty” clause, but we as educators need to think more critically about proactive solutions instead of reactive solutions. Maybe we need to intervene when we see the teacher wiping away their face for some reason, or when we see that first verbal lashing the teacher gives the kid, or when their language is that of a teacher who’s more concerned about their next check than their next class.

Most vital to our success, though, is when we reach that breaking point, we need to reflect on what our next action is, before that next one as our teacher is our last …

jose

On Wednesday, during the afternoon homeroom period, a couple of my boys were walking with girls’ shoes in their hands. I didn’t understand why until I saw one of my girls walking into my classroom with her socks on. I put on my teacher face and pulled the three boys out of the classroom who I suspected. Little did I know that there was a fourth boy involved with this ordeal, and he placed them under a desk. Then, when I asked what was going on, they pointed to the desk and she immediately got her shoes. Another boy, not involved with the situation, said in his glorious candor, “Watch! If she keeps messing around with them, she’s gonna get raped!” I didn’t hear this, but the girl’s best friend told me this.

After letting go of the kids, I realized how, in some ways, there’s truth to that statement. The kid, who’s the rancorous and candid type, struck a chord with me. I didn’t know what to say at first. Rather, I did, but I didn’t know how to say it in a way that the girl could understand. After all, how does one go about telling a little girl that her own classmates’ assessment of the situation with her and the boys was squarely accurate?

After some serious thinking, I sat her own when I gave the rest of the class free time. I asked her, “What was going on there on Tuesday, when you walked in barefoot?” In her hyper-with-a-dash-of-Dominican accent, she tells me, “What had happened was, one boy told me something I didn’t like, and I told him to stop, and then he kept talking shit, so I hit him, and he didn’t stop, so I hit him again. Then he said, ‘Let’s take her shoes’ and so they grabbed me and took my shoes, and ran with them, and yeah, that’s what happened.”

I said, “So wait, what you’re saying is that after you told him to stop, he still didn’t?”
“YES!!!”
“Well, the reason I’m asking this is because I’m concerned. I really am,” I said as I took a small pause to gather my thoughts. “It concerns me because, you remember those workshops that we had upstairs about relationship abuse? Well, it might be your shoes now, but, if they don’t stop, it could lead to something you don’t want to have happen to you. Understand?”

“But Mr. V*****! What can I do if they won’t stop?!”
“Sop hanging out with them. When you grow up, you’ll see how important it is to be a strong woman. You can’t have that happen, you understand?”
“Thank you …”

Later on, another guy made an unrelated but joking remark about her, and she smacked him. He then said, “What just happened?” She smacked him in the arm again. I looked at her with the teacher face, and asked, “NOW why are you hitting him?”

“Because it’s fun, and I know he won’t hit me back! He doesn’t hit girls, ha ha ha.”
“OK, but remember what we were talking about earlier?”
“Yes, Mr. V. Sorry, dude.”

---

These situations often remind me of my role not just as teacher, but parent and counselor. The process of abuse is often cyclical, where the guy touches the girl in an inappropriate way, and she learns to treat other men the way she was abused. Then she comes across a much nicer guy, but abuses him because that’s what she knows. He learns that the only way to attract girls is through abuse, because she hangs out with abusive guys and the only way he got to talk to this girl is if she abused him.
Obviously, human nature convolutes these situations more often than not, but it’s important to recognize, on Mother’s Day, the importance of strong women capable of teaching their children about true strength and character. While these young girls’ only role models include the likes of Paris Hilton, the Cosmo models, the Flavor of Love girls, and the the plethora of starving girls in the music vids and album covers we’re bombarded with, the true mother stands as figure we hold the highest expectations for.

Here’s hoping, if she becomes a mother, her child will learn the lessons she has …

jose, saluting the past, present, and future moms out there …

“There’s no crying in baseball!”

The seminal catchphrase we as sports fans of any level in reference to pro athletes we see everyday on TV. We expect these figures to play with heart and emotion, yet when we see them on screen, we also want them to deflect any signs of weakness. We also get angry at players that whine and moan through the course of the season because we understand that some of their contracts can buy out entire nation’s GDPs. Some of their grips, comparing their situations to slavery or harassment often leave us bewildered.

Even still, I thoroughly believe crying in sports is more than justified; it’s a rite of passage into true hero status. I remember the first time I watched an athlete cry, and it was probably Jackie Joyner-Kersee crying as she tried to cross the finish line at the 1992 Summer Olympics in Barcelona, Spain. That image planted the seed for my perception of athletes as emotional gladiators, leaving it all on the field.

It also meant that my images of Andre Agassi, Kobe Bryant, and Adam Morrison were held to a JJK-standard of crying. Frankly, none of their crying could hold a light to that moment, though all of their crying is somewhat believable. Someone like Terrell Owens or Barry Bonds, though, has as much business crying as Rod “Show Me the Money” Tidwell.

What did the argument in for me, though, was when I watch young basketball or baseball players play their sport. Some of these kids practice day and night, foregoing whatever they’re supposed to do, like homework and showers, to practice their sport. They have this big dream, and idolize a sports hero. They continue on into higher stages of the game, and are chosen based on their work ethic, G_d-given abilities, and/or their heart, and the higher they get in their field, the more the sport becomes a part of their actual person.

The athletes that we watch on TV, then, have succumbed their lives with football. It’s no longer a livelihood the way most people can just apply and become a certain thing. These people have worked damn near forever to get to where they are at such a young age. So when I see crying in any sport, I’m thinking, “How much did this moment mean to that athlete?” and “How many beatings did this person take to get to where they are?”

Sometimes, it makes me think my job as a teacher can’t be that bad. Then I realize that if I multiply my salary by 100, I’d have the average pro athlete’s income per year. No sympathy here, herbs. Can’t blame me, though …

jose, who should have a new poem ready for y’all soon.