7-24-08 - Isn't It Ironic?

The alarm sounded this morning and I groaned with a voice now a year older!  Now that I am an adult, for some reason the day has lost its exuberance.  Of course, having a birthday in the middle of the summer was always a bummer as a child.  I remember during elementary school, when a kid had a birthday their mother would bring cupcakes for the class and we’d always sing a round or two of the Birthday Song… usually with lyrics that included the line “Happy birthday to you, you live in a zoo… you smell like a monkey and look like one too”!  The teacher would always correct the class and we would giggle with pink icing on our chins and noses and celebrate the day! 

 

 

        

                   

But kids who have birthdays in the summer were always challenged to have parties at home and hope their friends weren’t on family vacations!  Of course I never complained… my mother was extremely creative and I was always enchanted with some spectacular designed cake that always tasted better than those silly cupcakes anyway!

                           

 

It is a little ironic that now that I am an adult, I have the pleasure of spending my birthday with my peers during Summer School.  As we age, I guess we actually appreciate being surrounded by loved ones.  This year I have been blessed not only with a smooth running summer school, but also an awesome staff.  When I walked in my office, I could not see the surface of my desk which was filled with multiple pot/vases/containers of flowers, cards, presents, cake and a beautiful sketch of one my Shih Tzus, Puddin Pie, lovingly drawn by one of my favorite teachers.  Knowing my passion for roses, my office manager filled a vase with twelve incredible yellow roses (of Texas) that immediately brought a tear to my eye.  Heck, I’ll trade this for all those pink cupcakes in the world… even the ones with sprinkles.

 

 

                  

 

As I thought about it, life is simply full of irony.  For example, this week I was notified that I was listed on Marquis Who’s Who Among American Women in their 50th anniversary edition (actually not a big deal, I had several former students nominate me for Who’s Who Among High School Teachers… which did mean something because they thought enough of me to name me as a teacher who influenced their lives) The irony of this is the same day, I lost a game of dodge ball to a group of severely handicapped kiddos.   I must admit it is a humbling experience getting tagged with a ball from a kid who can’t walk in a straight line!!!!  Now I am actually feeling closer to the “Something” than 40!

 

It is also ironic that as school officials we spend more effort dealing with adults than we do kids!  One reason I dreaded getting out of bed is that would have to face a student and his grandfather who I was forced to kick out of summer school this week... both of them!  After being warned a number of times by one of our campus supervisors not to wear a rock band t-shirt with weapons on the front of it, young Truman thought nothing of wearing it to school a third day. 

 

When the campus supervisor attempted to stop him to discuss his out and out defiance, he began cussing and simply walked pass her.  Another campus supervisor stretched his arms out in an attempt to stop him from passing through the gate.  Truman pushed into his arms, then swirled around with fists posed for a fight yelling, “You f**king tried to choke me”!!!!   He was diverted by the first campus supervisor and he proceeded to curse her all the way to the staff parking lot. 

 

She radioed for an administrator and I found him using language that would cause any sailor to blush! At first he refused to stop for our assistant principal and I who quickly caught up to him in the trusty golf cart.  When I reminded him that summer school was a privilege and I would dismiss him, he then turned his anger on me and kicked the golf cart and slung his notebook into a six-foot chain link fence.   Now concerned for all our safety, I radioed the office to call a police officer.  He then began yelling again “He f**king tried to strangle me” as he began to call his father on his cell phone.  

 

The campus supervisor walked up and explained the situation and stated that he was not “strangled” but actually he had forced his way through the other supervisor’s arm and pushed him out of the way.  When Truman finally handed the phone to me I explained the situation to his supportive father, who asked to speak to him again.  While passing the phone back and forth Truman who was still running around in a daze cursing at the top of his lungs dropped and broke his cell phone.  (Isn’t it ironic?) 

 

I called his father back on another phone and he told me that he would send his grandfather to pick him up.  When the police arrived they managed to calm Truman down… amazing how a man (or woman) in blue can invoke civility in a situation.   Truman remained calm, until the police officer told him that we were not going to have him arrested… then he shouted, “I know the law, my father is a lawyer and I know my rights, they can’t touch me”!   “That man f**king strangled me.” Who exactly was it who told the children that we couldn’t touch them??  I frequently tell them if they are running around out of control acting like baboon I can (and will) LEGALLY touch them!  

 

When his grandfather finally arrived I sighed, thinking here is a reasonable adult… I thought wrong!  His grandfather kept arguing that he was getting kicked out for wearing a t-shirt.  I finally got frustrated and told him, “Sir, you are fortunate you are not picking you grandson up at the police station.”  “We could have easily gone for expulsion, for his pushing a campus supervisor.” 

 

Now sitting in the car, Truman stuck his head out of the window and yelled, “I didn’t touch him, I just…” and began punching his fists in the air.” His grandfather wasn’t hearing me, and kept repeating… “Why are you kicking him out of summer school… why can’t you cut him some slack, he was worked hard all summer and now he is getting kicked out.” 

 

At that moment, Truman had his finest hour when he started banging his head into the seat and metal post in his grandfather’s car.  The police officer pointed out the obvious  “He is going to destroy your car.”  His grandfather curtly replied, “It’s only a car.”  I stepped back… and shook my head realizing the irony of the situation, I was trained to deal with children, not irrational adults.  Why can’t adults just butt out and let us do our jobs?  Obviously the reason Truman behaves this way is because his family has never held him accountable for his actions!

 

I did kick him out of summer school… I did not want to put my staff in danger with his voile behavior.  If I didn’t teach this child accountability it was quite obvious that he would never understand it.   I had only been in my office about thirty minutes when the phone rang with his grandfather on the other end begging me to reconsider again, or at least allow him partial credit for his efforts.  He explained that Truman was now living with him.  His mother had passed away last year and he could not get along with his new stepmother.  

 

After seeking wisdom from those I trust to know the law, I offered to give the young man his final exam, but only if he wrote letters of apology for the two campus supervisors.  I also reminded them if this ever happened again he would be referred directly to the School Board in an expulsion hearing.  They agreed and this morning I had to face the both!  

 

Despite my angst, I was humbled by the display of love and support for my birthday.  When they arrived I put him in an empty office to take the exam… I needed him to be away from my birthday bliss.  I instructed his grandfather that he was to pick him up immediately following the exam.  I do not know the pain that thrives in this young man, but it has such control that it drives him to the point of rage.  I sincerely wish I could have shared my inner joy and peace today with him and his family. 

 

I also found it quite ironic that we can teach him science standards so that he can pass his exam, but yet we are unable to teach him basic skills to survive in today’s society.  Perhaps we need to revisit an old civics textbook printed back in 1965 when schools were allowed to develop good citizens as well as how to demand our individual “rights.” 

7-14-08 - Oh No, Here She Comes Again!

Ever have one of those days when nothing makes sense?  The old saying goes something like the boss yells at you, you yell at your secretary, the secretary goes home and kicks the dog.  In my case I go home and prune the ivy!!!  If plants could talk, mine would probably say something like “Uh oh… I know that slam, she’s home and we are in deep doo doo”!  “Run ivy, I think she has the pruning shears…whew, I think she’s headed around the corner to decapitate the roses… oops no, she’s getting the ladder… what is she doing in the willow tree”?  “OUCH!!!  Don’t snap so hard”!  “I wonder who rattled her cage… I bet it was one of those smart mouthed teenagers, nope I it’s gotta be a man, no way, that kinda pruning has to be directed at her mother!”  As I was folding up the ladder I actually caught myself looking at the droopy Hygeranium saying, “If you don’t shape up, you’re next”! 

 

OK… I know I need some serious therapy, but today had been Monday all day long!  Summer school is always a joy… this year it has been unusually peaceful with the possible exception of the seventy instructional aides who were hired for the twenty-four special education classrooms.  Every day for the past week, one of them has come to the office for a workman’s comp form because of a “job-related” injury.  My job is to ensure everyone gets the appropriate paperwork and medical attention lest we get sued.  Last week we filled out a form for an aide who made a decision to unload a severely handicapped student from the back of a city bus without the assistance of anyone or a chair lift.  She was quite surprised when the student grabbed a hold of her back and they both went tumbling to the ground.  She sustained substantial injuries to her knee and legs and was very upset about the whole ordeal.

 

This morning, I was greeted by yet another aide who failed to inform me of an injury she sustained the previous day.  A student she had just finished diapering “head butted” her hand and left bruising.  She had gone to the doctor who gave her a restriction of lifting “less than 5 pounds.”  How on earth could she do her job with that sort of restriction, I asked my office manager?   So… I sent her home for the day until I could clear her with Risk Management.

 

Just about the time I made peace with myself for knocking this aide out of a days pay, our Assistant Principal walked into my office, closed the door and said, “I need to talk to you.”  As I have stated before, closing the door is never a good thing.

 

He had just gotten a report that a student had made a weapon to bring to school to attack a young man that had pushed his friend at a fast food establishment over the weekend.  This student had taken a metal bicycle pump handle and had tied a screwdriver to the end of it to “shank” the kid.  Granted I was tempted to offer him physics credit for his MacGyver-like ingenuity but instead we filed a police report and dismissed him from summer school.  Before he left I reminded him that he was now dealing with real life… he would not get 500 bonus points for stabbing this kid, but since we were dealing with real blood and organs he would get a one way ticket to juvenile hall.

 

As soon as I had sent him on his way, a colleague who was hired to give diagnostic information to teachers and students preparing for the California High School Exit Exam walked in and sat down.  He shared that he just had a very frustrating conversations with one of our teachers. She invited him into her class to “Explain to her students why they where taking the class if they would not be taking the exam in July."  "They would surely forget everything before November.”  Now this was frustrating to both of us, because on several different occasions both of us had explained to this teacher that only the Seniors of 06-08 were allowed to take this administration per the State Department of Education.  Evidently this information was not adequate for her as she insisted that he personally come to her class to explain, “Why.”   This was the cherry on top of the sundae for me.  I “marched” to her classroom, requested she step in the hall and privately explained my disappointment with her negative attitude displayed before her students.  In no uncertain terms, I “directed” her to go back in the classroom and attempt to fix the damage she had done.

 

I returned to my office, still huffing and puffing at a teacher who would not educate for the simple benefit of mastery of knowledge, when the secretary walked in the office with a gentleman who looked like Santa’s thin twin brother… he insisted to look in the school’s bike rack to see if a nephew’s stolen bike was there.  I shook my head and said, “Sir I can not authorize you to do this, you need to file a report with the police department and they will do an investigation.”  He then huffed out himself. 

 

At that moment my colleague, who was still sitting in my office, exhausted from attempting to explain the necessity of educating students to a confused teacher, and I burst out laughing so hard we both teared up.  Had the world gone bizerk?  I failed to ask this gentleman what exactly would he do if he found the bike.  Did he plan to steal it back or merely wait around the corner of the school to pounce on the poor unexpecting kid?  For heavens sake!

 

The day FINALLY ended, and let’s just say I am glad the plants can not talk!

 

 

7-2-08 -- Living in a Techna Colored World

As I sat in my office literally twiddling my thumbs waiting for something that might spark my attention, my summer school secretary walked in the door with a folder of “things to sign.”  Perhaps I shouldn’t admit that ordinarily I sign the documents knowing that the paper before me is simply a formality of things that are of the mundane.  Today’s papers were student request for work permits.  In California, schools must approve students “right to work” based on their grades, attendance, etc…  I glanced at a number of unknown names to see which fast food joints were still safe to patronize lest I get  “extra attention” to my order when I noticed Laura’s name.  Working in a school of nearly 3,000 students recognizing a kids name is not necessarily a good thing.   I knew Laura because for a number of years I had taken her brother to truancy hearings and he had still not gotten the message.   I remember in the spring, her counselor had denied an entertainment work permit given she was developing the same attendance issues.  So, I did what any good school official would do, remove the paperwork and noted “denied due to attendance issues

 

Now in a black and white world, this would have been the end of the matter.  She simply did not qualify for the permit… unfortunately we live in a techna-colored world.   That afternoon when Laura came to pick up her permit she meekly requested to speak to me.  Not being an advocate of the “gray area” I explained to her that she had twenty-two days of absence and that she simply did not qualify for the permit.  She hung her head in shame and walked out my door.  Having an overwhelming sense that I had done “the right thing,” I dismissed any pings of guilt and went on with my day.   After all, this young lady needed to understand that there were consequences for her poor choices.

 

Later that afternoon, the phone rang and I was notified that a very upset mother wanted to speak to me about a work permit.  Knowing exactly who was on the other end of the line I rolled my eyes, sighed loudly and girded myself for a symphony of lame excuses.   When I picked up the phone they began rolling, “my daughter is a good kid,” “two of those days were excused entertainment work days, and four were a religious retreat” “my daughter makes always good grades,” “she has allergies,” and my absolute favorite, "where is this policy written?”  I calmly attempted to answer her questions holding on to the fact I knew I was “RIGHT.”  Then her mother broke into tears and told me that her husband was off work with injury and they needed her to work this summer.  In my most pious tone I ended the conversation, “I am sorry that your daughter’s attendance in the fall is prohibiting her for qualifying for a work permit, but I simply can not approve it.” 

 

I hung up the phone and became agitated… howdare this woman use emotional blackmail to beat the system!  What a terrible lesson for her to teach her children that they do not have to take responsibility for their actions!  After all a fifteen-year-old girl should not be shackled with the burden of supporting her family!   Shortly after the mother called the district and complained (they all do!) the policy was clearly explained and I felt supported as an administrator.  I basked in my “rightness” until I walked down the hall to find my principal hiding in his office so that I could “gain the experience” of being summer school principal.  I explained the situation to him entirely including the part where the mother called the district office and they supported my decision when he looked up at me and said, “Pam, we are going to disagree on this one.”  I was furious!  How dare he disagree with me, didn’t he know “I was RIGHT”!   I explained, “how will this kid every learn responsibility if I grant this permit to her”?  He countered, “perhaps it will teach her responsibility since you are required to be to work on time.”  GRRRR!  I hate it when he disagrees, then makes perfect sense.  I huffed out thinking to myself; this is why these kids act this way… no one holds them accountable!

 

When I returned to my office I had yet another message from Laura’s mother.  She wanted to know “exactly where” was that policy, she was looking and could not find it.  When I called her back, she answered the phone, “Hello this is the Smith residence, God bless you.”  The greeting itself irritated me, as my morning devotional was titled “When the bumper sticker doesn’t match the driver.” Once again I attempted to explain the situation to her to no avail.

 

As I left the office that afternoon, I kept trying to convince myself that I had made the right decision.  After all… it was black and white.  I struggled all evening attempting to convince myself that I had done “the right thing.” Then that small quiet voice in my head asked the question… is this “the right thing” or has it turned into an “ego thing.”  Was it about policy or was it simply about Pam “being right”?  I conceded that in the morning I would check the coding for the absences, perhaps she was “excused” for some of the absences.  When I arrived the next morning, I had a message from a good friend at the district, who fights beside me in the war against truancy, asking the same question.  Although Laura was a “borderline case” I could issue a work permit.

 

So… at 7:30 I called Laura’s mother, greeted by a very sleepy, “Good Morning, God Bless You,” to let them know I would sign the paperwork.  She started crying again and told me that I didn’t know how much this meant to them.   She was right; I may never know how much this meant to them.   But I did learn that there is a fine line that separates doing what is right, from “doing what is right.”  We have all in cases where our lives somehow hinge on the compassion of others.  May we never forget these instances and may we all have friends who “just have to disagree” with us.  Lesson learned.