Oh, hey there!

So it's been over a month since I've last shared...

I've needed inspiration. Or something.

What you've missed:
It was the day before Christmas break. I basically had three rules: Don't hurt each other. Don't leave the classroom. Don't bother me. They were so wild that day that I wasn't even going to attempt to teach. Unfortunately, all three rules were broken each block. It started snowing first block and Robert decided to JUMP OUT THE WINDOW to frolic in it. Mass hysteria ensued. I closed the window and blinds; if he was agile enough to manage leaping out of the window, he was sure as hell in good enough shape to walk around the building and enter through the front office.

DJ (yes, the DJ I've previously written about) got mad when he messed up a lab experiment. When I turned my back, he hurled his cup across the room, sending it flying into my supplies cart, which held about 92384756 shot glasses brimming with vinegar. My room smelled like feet for a solid week. Actually, I believe Brett put it more colorfully: "Mann, it stank like FROG ASS in here!"

Norman looked at me one day in class with a goofy grin on his face, head cocked to the side. "WHAT?" I finally ask.

"Ms. M put on a little weight since she started teaching at RMS!" Apparently, my face conveyed some sort of horror. "No, no, Ms. M! It's a compliment! You was too skinny!!"

"Yeah," Jemon pipes in (as the rest of the class closely examines my midsection and thighs) "She even gettin' a little booty on her!"

"Jemon, that's NOT OK to say. That type of comment would have NEVER crossed my mind to say to a teacher," I say incredulously.

"Yeah..that's cause you didn't go to RMS!!"

*Disclaimer: I have not let myself go. In my defense, I was wearing baggy pants that day...right? RIGHT!?

On a sad note, Rashee may be gone from RMS for good. I had a heart-to-heart with him the other day, pleading with him to make good choices and use his talents productively. I told him I understood that he hated school and the work it requires, but that sometimes as a man you have to do things you don't like. You suck it up and you do it. I tried to make him see that just because you don't see the immediate rewards of hard work in school does not mean that they're not coming. I told him that if he continued down the path he was headed he would wake up one day and realize it was too late to be a lawyer or an architect. I told him I got on to him because I cared about him and expected a lot from him. He listened. He wouldn't look me in the eye but he was serious for once. He looked so sad, in fact, I couldn't stand it.

"Rashee," I said. "Do you think I give a shit about tectonic plates?"

He looked up quickly and laughed, surprised. "Naww, Ms. M. I guess not."

"OK. Well let's go back in there and get through it together."

In one ear and out the other. Today he got suspended for 10 days and has to appear in court. The court will decide whether he gets to come back to RMS or not. If he doesn't, he'll be sent to an alternative school where he'll be surrounded by kids just like him--kids teetering on the edge. I'm afraid he'll just slip through the cracks there. I may never see him again, but I will never, ever forget him as long as I live.

The way he left was fitting, I guess. A voice comes over the loudspeaker. "Ms. Malley?" Malley is Rashee's last name. The whole class dies laughing, as this is what Rashee calls me from time to time. I look around quickly, but he is out of the room (thank goodness). "MS. MALLEY?" The whole class laughs harder, me along with them. "Ahem--I mean Ms. M, can you send RASHEE Malley to the office for dismissal?" He would have eaten that UP had he been where he was supposed to.

And since I've had a lot of time to reflect...
I've realized this job showcases my weaknesses. And I think the hardest part--yes, even more than getting regularly cussed out, yelling more than I speak, and physically breaking up fights-- is leaving every day feeling like a failure. Everyone needs validation, and to feel like they're good at something. I used to be good at some things, but I don't remember what they are anymore. I definitely haven't been a good friend or daughter or sister since I've taken this job. And I DEFINITELY don't get any validation there.

Duh. You're not supposed to get validation from work, or from any other things on this earth for that matter. I forget so easily.

I've also realized it's silly to think that what happens in the classroom and what happens to these kids is under my control or dependent on me at all. This is the Lord's classroom and his kids; not mine. He cares about them more than I ever could. And every day I come home thinking about how I'm screwing this up is a day that I indulge in a little twisted vanity. To think that I am big enough to stand in the way of God's plan for these kids is ludicrous, really.

Also: this job does not define me. It is a job. Yes, it consumes all my time. Yes, I need to be doing it well. But it is a JOB. Those who love me most do not do so based on my performance as a teacher. Five years from now, this will just be a memory. In the words of my kids, "Chilll, Ms. M!"