Chapter Fifty-One: Another Brick in the Wall

Section V: Spring & Summer 2003 - the fourth academic quarter
Chapter 51: Another Brick in the Wall

It really is disheartening. Here we are in the fourth quarter of the academic calendar and some key policies and procedures I put into place nearly a year ago still don’t run smoothly, despite having discussed, revisited and reconfigured them with the team during the subsequent months. These include (but are not limited to): teachers writing notes in planners, bus departure and the ever-contentious Activity Period. In the case of Activity Period, I suppose I’ve scored a minor victory: my faculty now recognizes the benefits of Activity Period and, while saying they are enthusiastic might be overstating their feelings, they are supportive. Recent additions include a “Golf Club” run by new teacher Theo, which is inspiring over a dozen children to become Tiger Woods, and Jordan’s very popular Auto Mechanics club. Even Stone is on board, he sent home permission slips last week so he can take his fishing club on their first field trip to actually go fishing (usually they watch videos and engage in fish tales). But despite all this positive energy, Activity Period remains a source of angst.

As teachers recognize the value students place on Activity Period, they want to use it as a privilege that must be earned, or more accurately, can be lost. They feel students who have misbehaved during the day should not be allowed to participate in Activity Period at the end of the day. When we discuss this in our weekly meeting, I express my philosophy that Activity Period should be treated like any other class, but my staff is adamantly opposed, flinging around phrases like “entitlement mentality” and “rewarding misbehavior.” My staff views Activity Period as a rare “carrot” in a world of ineffective “sticks.” Prospect students are mostly unfazed by threats to remove them from class, call their parents or suspend them. But they sure don’t want to miss Activity Period. I surrender to the majority and don’t press my views, although in retrospect, things might have gone better if I had –in fact it would have been hard for things to have been worse, but hindsight makes the muddiest waters clear.

I wonder, is this a recurring theme of my tenure at Prospect? As a leader do I lack the backbone to make hard and unpopular decisions? Perhaps my search for win-win solutions and my desire for consensus building blind me to those situations when I know I am right and must insist on an unpopular course of action. Two problems: what level of certainty do I require before I am willing to demand we adopt my approach in the face of unanimous or nearly unanimous opposition? And, am I afraid of being labeled a witch (a label I may already have “earned”) essentially falling prey to the societal prejudice which views a male leader as “assertive” while the female counterpart is “pushy”?
But I digress….

My staff’s position almost makes sense despite leaving unanswered crucial questions such as: what we do with the students who haven’t “earned” Activity Period? And what defines, in both quantity and quality, the misbehavior that will cause a student to lose Activity Period? These are hard questions and with the unending time pressures, I allow them to be raised but I don’t insist we make time for hashing out options and reaching solutions. Thus they remain unanswered, a mistake that compounds the problems inherent in using Activity Period as a reward: is it appropriate to deny students participation in a segment of the school day which staff has determined has educational value and, moreover, is it possible that those who misbehave the most are also most in need of Activity Period?

It starts slowly, first just a handful, then a bunch and suddenly the floodgates open and every day at 3:00 pm Rusty and Rosie find themselves overrun, their counseling office full of dozens of children who are prohibited from participating in Activity Period. Their portable seems to swell and roll with the waves of angry children. Students claim ignorance at the misbehavior that caused them to lose Activity Period, they protest their innocence, complaining of unfair treatment and of scapegoating teachers. They demand to know since so and so did such and such which is much worse than what they are accused of, why isn’t he (or she!) also missing Activity Period? Suddenly there are so many children the counselors can’t contain them and it isn’t unusual for some escapees to sprint from the portable and rampage over campus disrupting the Activity Period. The atmosphere in the counseling portable becomes unbearably toxic. Rosie and Rusty complain to me about their headaches from the volume of the incessant cursing. We try hard to steer parents away from this boiling cauldron, but we don’t always succeed.

One afternoon Connor’s father comes to school to complain to Neeley, Connor’s teacher, that Connor, the gifted boy who gets along well with adults but not with peers, doesn’t get enough homework. Afterwards, Connor’s Dad comes to see me to reiterate his complaint. By the time he is done, we are in the throes of Activity Period. When I radio Theo to ask him to send Connor to my office, he informs me Connor isn’t in Golf Club today since Conner started several fights at lunch and thus is in the counseling portable. I suggest that Connor’s father wait in my office while I get Connor, but he doesn’t want to further inconvenience me and says he’ll go collect Connor himself. Chicken that I am, I don’t accompany him.

Rusty and Rosie fill me in later.

Apparently, Connor’s father entered the Counseling Portable and was understandably unnerved by the atmosphere. He took it upon himself to chastise some of the children. Although Connor can’t get along with his peers and can be vulgar and violent with his classmates, he is unfailingly polite to adults. Maybe Connor’s father thought all children are like that, but when he began to reprimand the misbehaving no-activity children, they responded in true Prospect fashion: shouting and cursing. Immediately Connor’s father spiraled downward into their world, shouting and cursing back at the students. As the children realized this man was Connor’s father, they ratcheted up a notch and began to personalize the attacks, accusing Connor of engaging in a variety of vulgar and impossible sexual behaviors. Rusty and Rosie then had a very angry and volatile father-son team facing off against over a dozen angry adolescents. A full-out riot didn’t seem unlikely. Somehow they managed to escort/push Connor and his father out of the portable. In full view of many students, teachers and a few parents, Connor’s father stormed to the parking lot screaming curses and giving the Prospect salute (aka “the bird”). It comes back to me that when I first met Connor’s family, Connor’s mother told me her son AND husband would benefit from lessons in anger control.

The incident with Connor’s father prompts Rusty to devise a new procedure: The Wall. Now students who lose the privilege of attending activity period will have to stand and stare at the cinderblock wall outside the school for the last hour of the day. Rusty, Rosie and the Deputy take turns policing this “wailing wall.” It isn’t a good solution but it’s better than trying to confine the angry mobs in the portable. It quickly becomes apparent that the students are not evenly distributed from all classes: Stone sentences the most students to “the wall” and in fact sometimes his entire homeroom has “the wall” for activity period. Having twenty or more students starring at a cinderblock wall is not a scene I’m proud to have parents and other guests witness.

Meanwhile, other aspects of Activity Period start to unravel. Even with Valerie (my Title One Math teacher and former Army Officer) policing the campus during Activity Period, we still have a handful of stray children who prefer chaos to any activity we offer. Some clubs (Running and Volleyball in particular) create the ideal conditions for these wandering (and often rampaging) children. We never have a problem with students “escaping” from Fishing Club, Chess Club, Auto Mechanics, Board Games, Computers or Model Club.

Oddly we also have wandering problems in Clay Creations class. Elementary teacher Midge runs this club and when her artistic brain is focused on one child’s clay vase, she is oblivious to the other children who are making and launching clay missiles, running in and out of class and forming their clay into hollow spheres. My bus drivers ask me to cancel the clay activity reporting that the kids secret these hollow clay spheres out of their activity, fill them with water and throw them at their peers on the bus ride home - sort of improvised water balloons. Prospect kids do the darndest things! Neeley supervises Running club. Supervises might be too strong a verb. His runners often run the prescribed route and then run all over campus bursting into classrooms and disrupting other activities. Then there is volleyball.

I probably should have cancelled volleyball when Daphne left. Thought keeping it wasn’t an oversight, I made a deliberate decision to keep this popular activity because we have an inter-school volleyball tournament scheduled to be played against a similar club at my mentor, Rex’s school in a few weeks. We have a similar chess tournament scheduled as well. The students are very excited – Prospect students have never been allowed to compete against public school students in any activity. Thus I am determined to keep volleyball until the tournament. After Daphne left, Stephanie offered to run volleyball and assured me she could handle her orientation class combined with the volleyball club. Why did I ever think this would work? Volleyball has become a disaster and it frequently degenerates into violence. During Activity Period, the deputy divides his time between The Wall and Volleyball court. One of the bus drivers offers to help Stephanie, but volleyball is still a risky venture. When Elliott joins volleyball, the simmering ingredients are really set to boil over.

My first impression of Elliott is that he is little, cute and quiet. That was before he bit Rosie. In fact Elliott starred in a scene that was unusual even by Prospect standards! A nine-year-old white kid gets off the school bus, dives to the ground and, on all fours, chases our Counselor while snarling and biting at her ankles. Orientation leader Stephanie chases him while Rosie runs, trying to protect her ankles. Meanwhile, dozens of students force their way off the busses for a ringside seat. The teachers are equally mesmerized and I have to remind them to watch their students and not Elliott. Stephanie finally manages to restrain Elliott; she is a familiar face since she met with him yesterday when he registered. He calms down but won’t speak, move or make eye contact with her. I remember Elliott’s intake packet indicated that both his parents are deaf. While Elliott isn’t hearing impaired I have this idea we could try to communicate using sign language. I know one of our bus drivers has been studying American Sign Language so I ask her to try signing to Elliott to find out why he is upset. At first he ignores her but finally he signs back that the children on the bus were making fun of him for being so small. Elliott isn’t small for a fourth grader, but he is small relative to the hulking middle school students. Quick decision: rather than put him in orientation with mostly big middle school children, Elliott can skip orientation and immediately join Midge’s elementary classroom.

A few days later Midge reports Elliot is responding well. He only bites food and he wants to sign up for volleyball.

When the call for help is broadcast over the walkie-talkies, I am able to respond rapidly. I long ago learned to stay outside during Activity Period. I arrive at the volleyball court a step ahead of the deputy. A teeth-gnashing Elliott is chasing a middle schooler. The older child looks genuinely frightened as he realizes the growling Elliott means business. The Deputy and I are able to pin Elliott, making sure his teeth are a safe distance from our suddenly very vulnerable flesh. Stephanie hustles the other volleyball players toward the busses for departure. The Deputy threatens Elliott – if you don’t stop squirming I’ll handcuff you. Kneeling in the sandy volleyball court in my yellow skirt I wish the Deputy would cuff this biting boy. I’m tired of holding down his limbs. But Elliott doesn’t respond at all to the Deputy; it is as if he can’t hear him. Transportation coordinator Shasta radios to ask me whether she should hold the busses for Elliott. I want to say yes since I don’t want to spend the afternoon with this Hannibal waiting for who knows how long for his parents, but Elliott is clearly still too agitated to ride a bus. The busses leave. Stephanie returns to the volleyball court with Stone, Rosie and Rusty in tow. The Deputy looks at his watch, mutters something and walks off. We all assume he is getting the squad car for Elliott and he does get in his car, but instead he drives off campus! I don’t really want Elliott arrested, but neither do I want to be stuck with him. Each adult thinks he or she can soothe this small child and get him calm enough to walk back to the school buildings. We all try and fail. It is 4:30 pm and five adults are kneeling on a volleyball court taking turns restraining a snapping fourth grader.

Stephanie decides to get her mini-van. She drives across the field and parks next to us on the volleyball court. We physically and forcefully have to move Elliott into the back seat. We each take an appendage and hold him by his hands and feet as he twists, squirms and spits trying to get free and bite. He struggles and strains violently and we find ourselves dancing a demented Hokey-Pokey as we take turns retreating in fear of his biting teeth. We manage to make it to the counseling office without any wounds. In the counseling office Elliott squirms free of us, crawls under a table and stays there whimpering for an hour until his parents come get him. Stone and Rusty stay the whole time. I am thankful for their company and support.

Epilogue:

Prospect’s Chess team plays Rex’s team and wins the tournament! Sam, who runs our Chess club is proud and the public school kids are impressed. Our volleyball team plays three games against Rex’s. We win one and lose two, but Rex makes sure we all feel like winners when he presents all my students with t-shirts saying “Prospect Volleyball Team.” On the bus back to Prospect you couldn’t find a prouder group of “losers.”

As for Elliott, we never have another problem with him -no biting not even a playful nip. In fact, he becomes a model student, the best in Midge’s class. Although I am happy with this outcome, I am also somewhat perplexed by Elliott – how did he go from being extremely bizarre to being normal? Was he testing us? Did he find the atmosphere in Midge’s class comforting? Curious, it is easier for me to explain and understand why my students misbehave, than why they behave appropriately. In the class photo, while the other children make faces and assume strange poses, Elliott stands with his hands behind his back and his chest out, a serious look on his face. I can’t help but smile when I see that picture.