Minority Report

“I ain’t goin’ across the hall. You go across the hall.”

That’s how a 14-year old seventh grader responded to me today when I asked her to leave the classroom after being disruptive during a test. Would you have ever spoken to a teacher like that? Would you ever really speak to anyone like that? And that’s just one instance with this girl. Just two days ago she had overnight suspension for walking out of my classroom after I told her to sit down. She’s also previously said, under her breath, “I don’t like your a**,” after I gave her silent lunch for continuously talking during class. She’s now been written up three times in my class alone, and her mother came out earlier this week to talk to me about it. We were standing outside my classroom while the drop-out prevention officer mediated the conversation, and M.’s mother reamed her out in front of me. But here’s the fundamental problem:

All M. was doing was laughing at her own mother.

Her mother was full of empty threats, and M. knew it. They’ve had problems with M. in the past, and nothing has ever been done about it. If this girl is going to stand up in front of her mother and laugh as she is disciplining her, how will I ever get her to respect me?

I think I know the answer to my own question, but it scares me. I’m going to have to spend one-on-one time with her to show her that I care and that there’s a reason that I’m pushing her.

There is nothing in the world I want to do LESS than spend one-on-one time with M. It’s harsh, I know, but I’m just being honest. This girl has a nasty attitude, and a very tough front up that is hard to break. And I’ve written her up 3 times, so why in the world would she want to spend time with me? But I know if I truly want to see progress with M. (and she desperately needs it—she is grade levels behind in math), I’m going to have to go above and beyond for her. The real question isn’t can I do it, it’s will I.

One day last week, as I was driving home, I began to think about why it is my kids seem to respect me so much less than other teachers. They’ve told me it’s because I’m young, I’m new, and I’m not black. And it really hit me that for the first time in my life, I’mthe minority, and it’s possible that I’m being treated this way because these kids think there is something inherently different about a white person that means they should be treated differently. It’s not surprise that white people are not in abundance in Enfield. Walking into a football game one day, I felt all of the parents’ eyes on me. At first I was paranoid that I was dragging toilet paper on my shoe or that I missed a button my shirt. And then I realized that I was the only white person at the game, and that was enough to draw some attention. Now don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’m not trying to make myself a victim, point fingers, make excuses, or say that my students or their parents are racist. But it is entirely possible, and probable, that some of my kids think that because I’m white they should treat me differently, whether they recognize it or not. It is the first time that I can understand even an ounce of what it’s like to be treated with prejudice, and I must say I’m not a fan. Every day I just want to scream, “I’m still a person, an adult, an AUTHORITY figure! Have you no decency?” I may be young, I may be new, and I may not be black, but I still am pouring everything I have into this job, these kids, and this school, and it is hard to fail so badly every day. But it comes with the territory.

When I took this job, I didn’t know I’d be dealing with M. I had heard stories about kids like her, but you can’t even imagine how frustrating, infuriating, and terrifying these kids can be until you are in the situation. But I’m here, and M. is here, for at least another 8 months, so I’d better do something to get this situation under control.

Just another day in the life.

Happy birthday Dad, this one’s for you—I love you!