"If you're pissed, how come you're laughing?"

This week, like all weeks had its ups and downs but in the end, I'd rather be at high school than anywhere else. Two days ago, I had broken my Strategic Readers into two groups. We were reading and suddenly is was brought to my attention that Ca was playing a game behind his book. I thought he was reading and I was really taken aback so I laughed. It was clever, I had to admit. But T and Ca thought it was funny to goof off so the next thing out of my mouth was, "You guys are pissing me off." Probably not the best way to phrase it on my part. T's response was, "If you're pissed, how come you're laughing." He had a point. Sometimes the kids are just really smart about their disobedience. Sometimes they really are just funny even when they're bad, so my response was: Become a teacher and you'll find out.

That story was my lead in to the one I really wanted to tell. So I felt disrespected by T and Ca, so the next day when Ch gave me trouble and wouldn't read what I asked him to, I told him I was going to hold him a minute after class. I gave him a chance to redeem himself after a few other people read and he still wouldn't read. So after class, I made him stay and I tried to talk to him but he wouldn't even talk to me. I was really worried that Ch was mad at me. The kids are so fickle. One time I told a kid to behave appropriately toward me and he didn't talk to me for a week. Now that kid is really good for me and gives me no problems, so I'm glad I said something, but it was just really hard to see that when I discipline a kid sometimes they get mad. It's hard because I really love them, which is why I discipline them in the first place. Anyways, I pray for my kids in the morning while I drive to school and I was praying that Ch wouldn't be mad me.

This afternoon when fifth period rolled around I was standing in the front of the classroom, waiting for the kids to come in, when Ch came in, throwing his arms around me in a huge, enveloping hug, saying, "I'm sorry Ms. Jackson." I had no idea what to do because we're not really supposed to have a great deal of contact with the kids, so I just threw my hands up in the air and said, "I'm sorry too, Ch. Let's have a better day." It really was funny. And oddly moving. When I told Mr. Willoughby, he asked if Ch was appropriate when he hugged me, and I assured him Ch was. Then he said, "You know. That's a really big step for Ch. To apologize." And I knew that it was. For a kid to come in, especially a mouthy kid, to come in and sincerely apologize, unexpectedly and unwarrantedly, was so surprising and encouraging.

I am so glad tomorrow's Friday. I just really need to rest.

We're studying poetry, and I've been trying to write along with my kids. Here are the results. (I think I will post some of their poetry this weekend.)

Memory

I missed this old house: the train, the clock tower, the fridgerator
Sometimes you don't realize those things til it's too late
Usually it's about people

how they said "pome" instead of "POem";
how they cried when they heard that song on the radio, and you thought it was crazy like spring flowers that pop up too early;
how they used to pour their unfinished coffee back into the pot, just so it wasn't wasted, even though you thought it was disgusting.

[if we missed while we had, we would never lose a moment.
those wasted moments are missed photographs carried in your mind until they vanish due to lack of exposure.]


Onomatopoeia

Revenge explodes with a bang
leaving steaming residue
everywhere.

Release is a sizzle, a blanket.
Soothing, shh, the hate away.


Joy

Joy is a Woodchuck on the
roof in the crisp autumn
weather, waiting for the
first leaf to fall.