Chapter Twenty-Seven: And Smile, Smile, Smile

Section III: Autumn & Winter 2002 – the second academic quarter
Chapter 27: And Smile, Smile, Smile

The first quarter is complete, the second quarter is young and full of potential. I am energized to be back and, full of optimism, I make a “big picture to do list.” During the second quarter I want to focus on the needs of two smaller groups of students: girls and elementary students. I want to improve relationships between students and teachers, parents and faculty, between me and the staff and between me and The Boss. To achieve this I will need to hold onto the part of me that keeps me sane in an insane world: my sense of humor.

I confess: I seek out and nurture comedy. My need for hilarity is almost as basic as my need to run. I learned at a young age to use my wit to defuse tense situations and calm angst. I also have the bad habit of using humor to defeat boredom, making me quite undesirable in long, dreary meetings, lectures or classes. But my love of comedy does allow me to relate to our many class clowns at Prospect. Despite the pace and stress of most Prospect days, I can usually find time to marvel at the absurd and share anecdotes that evoke laughter from my staff.

During the first few days of the second quarter humor is provided by two unlikely sources: a new, highly educated teacher and Darius, one of my favorite students. Of course, the walkie-talkies are a constant source of amusement and since the dialogues are broadcast across campus, we all have a front row seat to these comedy routines. Often two conversations will take place simultaneously and confusion will reign as the messages mingle. Many of the walkie-talkie skits involve counselor Rusty.

Buffy, my new elementary teacher, is not having a good time with her class. She is on the walkie-talkie at least once an hour. She has a high-pitched voice that doesn’t always translate well across the air waves, especially not to people who are hearing challenged.

“This is Buffy I need a counselor.”
“Yes Buffy this is Rusty.”
“Rusty none of them are listening.”
“None of them are missing?”
“No, none of them are listening!”
“Who is missing?”
“Rusty no one is missing, no one is listening.”
“This is Rusty, I can’t understand who is missing, please say again.”

**************************

“Mr. Rusty?”
“Yes this is Mr. Rusty.”
“I need a student removed....”
“Who is the student?”
“Claymont Peters.”
“Did you say Kwayme McPhee?”
“No, Claymont Peters!”
“Peter who?”
“CLAYMONT PETERS!!!!”
“Please don't shout, I can't understand you.”
“I need Claymont removed from my room.”
“OK Mr. Simmons.”
“No this is Mr. Neeley.”
“OK Mr. Neeley, send Kwayme to me.”

Rusty isn’t the only staff member who makes us smile. One of our short-lived teachers gave us a punch line bound to get a chuckle every time it’s mentioned.

Is there a Doctor in the House?

I was amazed when Dr. Marsha Scott Dudley said she wanted to teach at Prospect. She was a part-time professor of education; she taught college students how to be teachers of at-risk students. But while getting her doctorate she somehow managed to escape teaching the very youngsters about whom she would later instruct. She said she was excited about getting out of the “Ivory Tower” and doing the real work of teaching. I hired her and she spent her first week instructing me and my staff on better ways of doing things. Ruth, my cafeteria manager, referred to her simply as “Doctor” as in “Doctor says I should cut up the fruit before serving. Doctor wants fruit cut she can cut up her own damn fruit.” After two days on the job, Doctor submitted to me a single spaced, seven-page list of “suggestions” filled with helpful hints such as: “students should sit, feet flat on the floor and hands folded when listening to the teacher” and “each student should have his own text book.” I looked forward to her first day in the classroom: the students would keep her too busy to stick her nose into everyone else’s business.

On Doctor’s first day in her classroom, the day did not start well. At 7:30 am, Rusty called me on his walkie-talkie (he inadvertently took it home). A car accident happened right where our school driveway meets 35th Street. Rusty said it looked like a serious accident. A car made a left turn into our driveway across oncoming traffic and plowed into a car that was just leaving the school and was then sideswiped by the oncoming traffic. Both front doors of the car were smashed in and it looked like it would be a long time before the wreck was cleared. All of my employees would be late given their inability to navigate past the accident.

The driver of the car was Doctor Marsha Scott Dudley.

Incredibly neither Doctor nor any other crash victims, was injured. Her car was totaled. She came to see me in my office. Her car was a Mercedes and she loved it and she was horrified that it was gone and that she might have to drive some hideous rental car while insurance sorted itself out. I listened to her car concerns thinking she was in shock. Did she need some days off? Yes. She took a week.

On Doctor’s first actual day in her classroom she had four students: two boys and two girls. Owen and Tayshaun told Doctor they “got rid” of a previous teacher and they would get rid of her. Doctor told Tayshaun to tuck in his shirt. Tayshaun pulled his jeans down to do so; he pulled them down far enough that Doctor could see his boxer shorts. She got on the walkie-talkie and demanded the Deputy arrest Tayshaun immediately. I dashed off to remove Tayshaun from her classroom for the rest of the day. Counselor Rusty enlightened Tayshaun on the definition of sexual harassment. After student dismissal, Doctor came to see me. She was agitated. I tried to make small talk about how she was feeling post-accident and how the car buying was going, but Doctor had a single focus. She was livid to learn Tayshaun was not arrested. “That boy dropped his pants and showed me his underwear when I told him to tuck in his shirt! He must be arrested!” Clearly Doctor had yet to see the worst of what my students have to offer!

On the day that was to be Doctor’s second day in her classroom, when I got to school, Lynne, my business manager, showed me a fax from Doctor - it was her resignation. It was a wordy resignation. She explained how she told her story of Tayshaun’s underwear to many of her fellow professors and they all agreed she was not safe at Prospect. Doctor Marsha Scott Dudley lasted a single day in a classroom full of troubled students (well four students actually). But you can find her in a college classroom, instructing future teachers thus doing her part in making true the cliché: “Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach. Those who can’t teach, teach teachers.”

Over a year after Doctor left, teachers who never met her, know the saga. When someone starts complaining about a poorly behaved child, a common reply is “Yes but did he show you his underwear?” When someone has had a really hard day they’ll ask, in parting, whether I left the fax machine on.

*****

Sometimes it is just the simple juxtaposition of events that creates the humor for us. In the morning meeting, Shasta, my transportation coordinator tells me about Timmy’s situation and by lunchtime I observe another related event.

On a sunny autumn day, Timmy urinated in the bus. He admits this but believes it was warranted because he really had to pee and the driver wouldn’t stop. Shasta tells Timmy he must wash out the bus. While he mops the bus Timmy chants to himself, “I’ll piss again if I have to, I’ll piss again if I have to…” While Timmy is moping and chanting, a car pulls in next to the bus carrying Marcus’s mother and another woman. When Marcus’s mom comes into the office to sign him out, the unidentified woman gets out of the car, pulls her pants down and urinates in the middle of our parking lot. Was she inspired by Timmy’s mantra?

Mostly it is our students who provide the humor that helps us get through the day.

One morning one of my students, Keith, knocked on the imaginary door to my office. Could he ask me a question? Sure. “Ms. Smee how many grandchildren you got?” Lynne, my office manager, begins to laugh out loud causing poor Keith to look confused. I try to explain the age insult; I tell Keith I have one son in college and no grandchildren. Keith says he was asking because he just got a job at Lakeboro’s new ice rink and he can get free tickets and wanted to give me some for my grandchildren. I thank Keith for his kindness and he goes to leave but first he wants to apologize. “Ms. Smee, I’m sorry for assaulting you.”

Darius, in spite of (or perhaps because of) living life in a succession of foster homes, has a great sense of humor and sometimes can even laugh at himself while putting a smile on my face.

One morning Darius is in my office explaining why he was removed from class. He tells me there is no good reason, he just cursed a bit. I tell him Daphne, his teacher, will soon be in my office and I will ask her the same question. How does he think she will respond? I convince Darius to role-play.

I ask “Daphne”: “What happened with Darius this morning?”

I can’t hear his whispered reply, so I ask him to repeat it. In a faint, trembling voice he says: “I don’t eat meat so I am too weak to speak loudly.”

I laugh and remind him that I don’t eat meat and he can hear me just fine.

Darius replies: “But you eat dairy. Miss Daphne is a vegan and that makes her weak.”

I am still laughing as I move on to the interrogation. “Daphne” answers my original question as to why Darius was removed from class.

“Darius was awful, he kept cussin’ and cussin’ and then he went in the other room and lay down and fell asleep.”

I say: “Daphne, why do you think Darius did this? He isn’t usually a bad student.”

“Daphne” replies: “I think he was really tired.”

I say: “Daphne, would you call Marva (Darius’s foster mother) and ask her to get Darius to bed earlier. His lack of sleep is impacting his school life.”

Darius leaps out of his role indignantly: “Ms. Smee, I already go to bed at 9:00 how early do you want me to go?!”

The humor of my students often lightens up a tense discussion.

Last week I was in the counseling office chastising Brock (the marijuana possessing football player) for calling Keith a Nigger. Brock is giving me a play by play “Keith spit on me and I spit on Keith then Keith kicked me and I said ‘stop it Nigger’ and all the black kids in the class got real mad at me but I didn’t mean it as a racial thing, obviously, since Keith is white.” I ask Brock if he could do it over again would he use a racial slur. Brock says no, he would call Keith a Jackass.

Karla, also in the counseling office for sleeping in class, decides to add some levity to this serious interrogation: “Jackass? But Brock, that would be a racial slur against me.”
Despite my anger at Brock, I have to laugh at Karla’s quip.

Joining Darius, Karla or any of my students in laughing at a shared joke is one of the joys of my job. During these unscripted moments of happiness, the problems and traumas of my students are momentarily forgotten. When, in the face of their difficult lives, they manage to smile, crack jokes and laugh, they appear so normal. Knowing their personal horrors, one might look at these laughing faces and pronounce them tough and resilient. But their happiness is a veneer that is not strong enough to protect them, only to distract them for a moment. But oh how we relish those moments.