Chapter 54: Based on the Book
When Dana, the Title One Reading teacher, was hired, I shared with her my vision of the entire school reading one book. She recommended Holes, so we used Title One funds to buy over 200 copies of the book so every student, teacher, counselor, bus driver – everybody - could read the same book and talk about it. Dana made a great choice. The book is a big hit with everyone and better yet, the movie is about to be released. In early May we announce that in two weeks all students who haven’t had a major recent misbehavior will go see a matinee of Holes. My desk is piled high with permission slips and envelopes stuffed with $5 for the movie and $5 for popcorn and soda. We pick up the tab for children without money but most manage to find the funds. For two weeks we have almost no behavior problems but on the big day we send an extra bus for any children who misbehave and need to be removed from the theatre. The campus is quiet with only the newest and naughtiest students left behind.
When the movie goers return Shasta reports only one incident: Odis a black fourteen-year-old boy who has been romantically linked to many of our female students and who not only lost the privilege of attending the movie but also was absent from school today, (his Mom called saying he had a fever) showed up at the theatre. His mother dropped him off! The staff had wisely separated girls and boys so there would be no issues in the darkened theatre, but Odis snuck in late and found his way to a seat between Nishonda and Estralitta. Shasta caught him lip to lip with Estralitta and while she wanted to toss him out of the theatre, she wasn’t sure she could legally do that, so she moved him to sit with the boys and there were no further incidents. She said when the busses left, Odis was standing outside the theatre waiting for his mother to pick him up. On a lark I phone his mother to both question her and report the incident. Yes she knew he lost the privilege of attending the movie but she has the right to take him to any movie any time and since he was feeling better, she did. She didn’t know about the kissing and she’ll talk to him….
As the movie goers got off the busses they were bubbling with enthusiasm. Many thank me and several talk about how the movie wasn’t the same as the book - or at least they pictured it differently. For many of my students this was the first time they had read a book and then been to the movie…. The whole adventure is so positive (despite Odis) that we brainstorm how to incorporate this into the curriculum more often next year.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Chapter Fifty-Three: Parents say the Darndest Things
Chapter 53: Parents Say the Darndest Things
TobyBeth’s father phoned Henry, my public school liaison directly, totally bypassing me. And frankly, that really is okay.
TobyBeth’s father ran into former counselor Ernie in Winn Dixie and Ernie told him to hurry and get TobyBeth out of Prospect before she “gets ruined for life.” Good old Ernie. TobyBeth is a very troubled girl. Between the internet sexual predator and the death of her best friend last year, her suicide ideation and depression this year, having her father bounce her in and out of Prospect and Public school for over three years and all the while growing up in a home with two illiterate and racist parents, TobyBeth could already be said to be “ruined.”
A meeting is scheduled with TobyBeth’s father, Henry and me.
Henry arrives early. We converse easily, enjoying each other’s company. We talk about running, his children and the weather in upstate New York. Neither of us is aware of any specific problems TobyBeth’s father is having with Prospect but we both know TobyBeth’s forays to public school have always ended badly. Our goal for this meeting then is to avoid another unsuccessful and unproductive transfer of TobyBeth to public school. My overriding concern is the emotional and academic damage these school transfers do to TobyBeth. Henry seems primarily worried about the impact on the students and staff in the public school to which TobyBeth is transferring, along with the requisite bureaucratic paperwork associated with such transfers. I don’t linger over these different motivations thinking that as long as Henry and I both share the same goal, I am ready to face TobyBeth’s father. But Henry’s priorities regarding Prospect children keep widening the gap between us.
TobyBeth’s father arrives late and starts the conversation by accusing “that black boy” (Kembrall) of sexually harassing TobyBeth. He is recycling an old accusation, one we investigated months ago, along with the Deputy. Although we found no proof, because there was doubt we moved Kembrall to another class and we’ve been doing our best to make sure TobyBeth and Kembrall are kept apart. I question TobyBeth’s father to determine if there are any new allegations, but he is on a roll and won’t let his monologue get sidetracked by facts.
TobyBeth’s father gets very worked up and loudly proclaims: “I don’t want nobody touching her titties and pussy.” He repeats this statement three times before concluding by striking his fist on my desk for emphasis: “Even I don’t touch her titties and pussy.”
I take detailed notes both for my records and in an effort to keep my face expressionless. I work hard not to make eye contact with Henry during the meeting. At some point Henry must have decided he wanted to end this meeting quickly and that it wasn’t worth arguing about why Prospect is the right place for TobyBeth. So when TobyBeth’s father finally pauses, Henry suggests since TobyBeth’s father is so unhappy with Prospect, he return TobyBeth to public school. TobyBeth’s father is surprised at this response and leaves saying he’ll ask TobyBeth what she wants.
I feel conflicted by this outcome. On one hand it is definitely a relief not to prolong this meeting with TobyBeth’s father. But if TobyBeth is transferred to public school, yet again, it will not help her. I am disappointed in Henry for surrendering so easily, for giving up on TobyBeth without a fight.
After TobyBeth’s father departs, Henry and I both have to confirm we heard correctly. We agree that TobyBeth’s father’s statement: “Even I don’t touch her titties and pussy” is a shoe-in to win Prospect Quotation of the Year. Henry asks about the Kembrall investigation and recommends, if we have any doubt about Kembrall’s guilt, we transfer him to ESAK where he’ll be with high schoolers and won’t have the opportunity to prey on younger girls. I agree and make a phone call to Rocky at ESAK to get the transfer procedure started.
Goodbye Kembrall.
TobyBeth’s father phoned Henry, my public school liaison directly, totally bypassing me. And frankly, that really is okay.
TobyBeth’s father ran into former counselor Ernie in Winn Dixie and Ernie told him to hurry and get TobyBeth out of Prospect before she “gets ruined for life.” Good old Ernie. TobyBeth is a very troubled girl. Between the internet sexual predator and the death of her best friend last year, her suicide ideation and depression this year, having her father bounce her in and out of Prospect and Public school for over three years and all the while growing up in a home with two illiterate and racist parents, TobyBeth could already be said to be “ruined.”
A meeting is scheduled with TobyBeth’s father, Henry and me.
Henry arrives early. We converse easily, enjoying each other’s company. We talk about running, his children and the weather in upstate New York. Neither of us is aware of any specific problems TobyBeth’s father is having with Prospect but we both know TobyBeth’s forays to public school have always ended badly. Our goal for this meeting then is to avoid another unsuccessful and unproductive transfer of TobyBeth to public school. My overriding concern is the emotional and academic damage these school transfers do to TobyBeth. Henry seems primarily worried about the impact on the students and staff in the public school to which TobyBeth is transferring, along with the requisite bureaucratic paperwork associated with such transfers. I don’t linger over these different motivations thinking that as long as Henry and I both share the same goal, I am ready to face TobyBeth’s father. But Henry’s priorities regarding Prospect children keep widening the gap between us.
TobyBeth’s father arrives late and starts the conversation by accusing “that black boy” (Kembrall) of sexually harassing TobyBeth. He is recycling an old accusation, one we investigated months ago, along with the Deputy. Although we found no proof, because there was doubt we moved Kembrall to another class and we’ve been doing our best to make sure TobyBeth and Kembrall are kept apart. I question TobyBeth’s father to determine if there are any new allegations, but he is on a roll and won’t let his monologue get sidetracked by facts.
TobyBeth’s father gets very worked up and loudly proclaims: “I don’t want nobody touching her titties and pussy.” He repeats this statement three times before concluding by striking his fist on my desk for emphasis: “Even I don’t touch her titties and pussy.”
I take detailed notes both for my records and in an effort to keep my face expressionless. I work hard not to make eye contact with Henry during the meeting. At some point Henry must have decided he wanted to end this meeting quickly and that it wasn’t worth arguing about why Prospect is the right place for TobyBeth. So when TobyBeth’s father finally pauses, Henry suggests since TobyBeth’s father is so unhappy with Prospect, he return TobyBeth to public school. TobyBeth’s father is surprised at this response and leaves saying he’ll ask TobyBeth what she wants.
I feel conflicted by this outcome. On one hand it is definitely a relief not to prolong this meeting with TobyBeth’s father. But if TobyBeth is transferred to public school, yet again, it will not help her. I am disappointed in Henry for surrendering so easily, for giving up on TobyBeth without a fight.
After TobyBeth’s father departs, Henry and I both have to confirm we heard correctly. We agree that TobyBeth’s father’s statement: “Even I don’t touch her titties and pussy” is a shoe-in to win Prospect Quotation of the Year. Henry asks about the Kembrall investigation and recommends, if we have any doubt about Kembrall’s guilt, we transfer him to ESAK where he’ll be with high schoolers and won’t have the opportunity to prey on younger girls. I agree and make a phone call to Rocky at ESAK to get the transfer procedure started.
Goodbye Kembrall.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Chapter Fifty-Two - The Price of Bonding
Chapter 52: TMI - The Price of Bonding
In an effort to start our April in-service day with a positive, team bonding activity, I schedule an all-staff breakfast at Costello’s restaurant. Everyone seems pretty happy with the biscuits, orange buns (Costello’s signature dish), grits, sausages and eggs. The Mime sits between me and Dana, my Title One Reading teacher. The Mime is very animated and starts to talk, unprovoked, about her past. It seems before she was a Mime she traveled across Asia hitchhiking, stowing away on trains and smoking hashish. After she was a Mime she worked for the Mafia laundering money and then worked as a stripper and lap dancer. It is unclear why The Mime has chosen now (or ever) to share this with us. It is sort of freaking Dana out and she keeps trying to change the subject. Knowing the Mime has three sons she tries to ask about the boys, but the Mime is determined to detail her sordid past.
I walk around to mingle, trying to stop at each table long enough to express my thanks for everyone’s hard work. As I circulate I notice all the bus drivers are sitting together at the same table. I had asked transportation coordinator Shasta to have the drivers try to sit with teachers to help develop a rapport, but either she didn’t tell them or they ignored her. The bus drivers also ignored the “mini menu” we arranged with Costellos to save on costs. The drivers scooped up regular menus and ordered from them. Oh well, since they segregated themselves at one table, the rest of the faculty is unaware.
At another table, Stone and PE teacher Billie are whispering conspiratorially. They keep glancing up to see who is observing them. When I approach they stop abruptly and physically separate, moving their chairs apart. I have a hunch this is not good but I am having enough trouble with problems I can see without worrying about possible unhatched plots.
When I stop by the table with the Wrestler he motions for me to sit next to him. While everyone else has ordered a substantial hot breakfast (the drivers more substantial than the rest), the Wrestler has only a glass of milk and a small box of Special K in front of him. Maybe he needs to lose weight for an upcoming match. I think about asking him, but he speaks before I can form the question. In a voice so quiet I strain to hear him, The Wrestler tells me he has accepted another job at an aircraft manufacturing plant and he has to start in a week. He keeps apologizing. I ask whether he can postpone his start date. No he can’t, in fact after breakfast he won’t be able to return with us to Prospect, he has to fill out paperwork for his new job. It will pay him twice what he makes now, he says, but his parents are still mad at him for quitting. They feel he ought to finish out the year. I agree with his parents but don’t say as much – what’s the point?
RitaMae asks me whether I noticed two staff members are missing: Neeley and Buffy. Before I can respond, she launches into the gossip.
After the students left yesterday, Neeley and Buffy went joy riding in The Forest in Neeley’s new 4-wheel drive pick up truck and it got dark and Neeley accidentally drove into a lake and the truck got stuck in the mud and they got out to survey the situation and out of the mist, several Rainbow people materialized and one, a woman, was topless and Neeley and Buffy got freaked out by the them (the Rainbow People) and returned to the cab of the truck where they spent the night, and this morning they walked three miles to a Kwik King gas station where the clerk told them how to get in touch with a guy with a tow truck and the guy towed them out and they are heading back to Prospect now and Neeley took photos because he knew I would never believe this story although he did try to phone me but there was no cell service in The Forest and it is all kind of ironic since Buffy has been stalking Neeley for weeks wanting to sleep with him ever since he slept with her after the Christmas party when he was so drunk, which he regrets but she won’t forget.
When I return to my table Dana throws me a glance that tells me The Mime is still going strong. As I sit down I hear about how The Mime spent last weekend – having sex on the floor of Stephanie’s kitchen with a guy she met at a bar. I am thrilled when I look at my watch and realize it is time to return to Prospect and get to work.
Before we leave Costellos I take a group photo to commemorate the occasion.
In an effort to start our April in-service day with a positive, team bonding activity, I schedule an all-staff breakfast at Costello’s restaurant. Everyone seems pretty happy with the biscuits, orange buns (Costello’s signature dish), grits, sausages and eggs. The Mime sits between me and Dana, my Title One Reading teacher. The Mime is very animated and starts to talk, unprovoked, about her past. It seems before she was a Mime she traveled across Asia hitchhiking, stowing away on trains and smoking hashish. After she was a Mime she worked for the Mafia laundering money and then worked as a stripper and lap dancer. It is unclear why The Mime has chosen now (or ever) to share this with us. It is sort of freaking Dana out and she keeps trying to change the subject. Knowing the Mime has three sons she tries to ask about the boys, but the Mime is determined to detail her sordid past.
I walk around to mingle, trying to stop at each table long enough to express my thanks for everyone’s hard work. As I circulate I notice all the bus drivers are sitting together at the same table. I had asked transportation coordinator Shasta to have the drivers try to sit with teachers to help develop a rapport, but either she didn’t tell them or they ignored her. The bus drivers also ignored the “mini menu” we arranged with Costellos to save on costs. The drivers scooped up regular menus and ordered from them. Oh well, since they segregated themselves at one table, the rest of the faculty is unaware.
At another table, Stone and PE teacher Billie are whispering conspiratorially. They keep glancing up to see who is observing them. When I approach they stop abruptly and physically separate, moving their chairs apart. I have a hunch this is not good but I am having enough trouble with problems I can see without worrying about possible unhatched plots.
When I stop by the table with the Wrestler he motions for me to sit next to him. While everyone else has ordered a substantial hot breakfast (the drivers more substantial than the rest), the Wrestler has only a glass of milk and a small box of Special K in front of him. Maybe he needs to lose weight for an upcoming match. I think about asking him, but he speaks before I can form the question. In a voice so quiet I strain to hear him, The Wrestler tells me he has accepted another job at an aircraft manufacturing plant and he has to start in a week. He keeps apologizing. I ask whether he can postpone his start date. No he can’t, in fact after breakfast he won’t be able to return with us to Prospect, he has to fill out paperwork for his new job. It will pay him twice what he makes now, he says, but his parents are still mad at him for quitting. They feel he ought to finish out the year. I agree with his parents but don’t say as much – what’s the point?
RitaMae asks me whether I noticed two staff members are missing: Neeley and Buffy. Before I can respond, she launches into the gossip.
After the students left yesterday, Neeley and Buffy went joy riding in The Forest in Neeley’s new 4-wheel drive pick up truck and it got dark and Neeley accidentally drove into a lake and the truck got stuck in the mud and they got out to survey the situation and out of the mist, several Rainbow people materialized and one, a woman, was topless and Neeley and Buffy got freaked out by the them (the Rainbow People) and returned to the cab of the truck where they spent the night, and this morning they walked three miles to a Kwik King gas station where the clerk told them how to get in touch with a guy with a tow truck and the guy towed them out and they are heading back to Prospect now and Neeley took photos because he knew I would never believe this story although he did try to phone me but there was no cell service in The Forest and it is all kind of ironic since Buffy has been stalking Neeley for weeks wanting to sleep with him ever since he slept with her after the Christmas party when he was so drunk, which he regrets but she won’t forget.
When I return to my table Dana throws me a glance that tells me The Mime is still going strong. As I sit down I hear about how The Mime spent last weekend – having sex on the floor of Stephanie’s kitchen with a guy she met at a bar. I am thrilled when I look at my watch and realize it is time to return to Prospect and get to work.
Before we leave Costellos I take a group photo to commemorate the occasion.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Chapter Fifty: Uncomfortably Numb
Chapter 50: Uncomfortably Numb
I am either numb, jaded or both. Although I continue to write in my journal, my sense of awe and shock is gone and at times my entries border on flippancy and sarcasm even when events warrant a more serious tone. Admittedly the Extortion Ring and off-campus AWOLs were new challenges, but as matter-of-factly as one might write, “It rained this morning,” I write: Perry and Mulchaey lit firecrackers on the bus. I suspend both boys from the bus for a week. It is only when I send my out-of-state friends emails cut and pasted from my journal, and their replies come back littered with exclamation points and disbelief, am I reminded how far removed we are from normal.
My new shell-shocked state allows me to weather the usual Prospect excitement without hand wringing, and it would now take a seriously cataclysmic event for me to feel like there was a crisis. But what have I lost? As I get more numb to the stress, am I also less concerned with the lives of my students? What am I becoming? I see Midge ill, passed out on her floor and I feel like I am looking at a scene from a movie. I shrug off rumors of pregnant girls and barely flinch at the sight of a fourteen-year-old girl who happens to be a mother and an amputee. One of my teachers is abusive but I treat him the same way I treat my tardy teachers: I write him up. What is happening to my energy, my passion, my enthusiasm, my hope?
January 29th
Darla’s father phoned RitaMae to say Darla was high when she got off the bus this afternoon and she was “unable to hold a slice of avocado.” (Is this a standard measure of drug consumption?) Darla admits she took pills from Curtis on the bus ride home, but she says she doesn’t know what the pills were. RitaMae phones me at home asking what she should do. I haven’t a clue. I’m just making it up as I go. But I don’t say that to RitaMae.
Speaking of drugs, during a random drug test today, Marcus tested positive for 4 drugs including marijuana.
January 30th
Coby and Tyrell fought at dismissal. Coby took off his sneakers and threw them at Tyrell. Coby was livid and literally foaming at the mouth. Stone restrained Coby and witnesses say he was pretty rough about it. I don’t let either boy ride home on the bus. When Tyrell’s grandparents came to pick him up they took him outside for a “whuppin.” Coby’s father said he must have forgotten to take his medication before school or maybe he took the wrong medicine. (I have this image of a countertop covered with amber prescription bottles and Coby selecting which pills to take each morning.)
February 3rd
Darla was back in school today after several days absence post pill popping. She told RitaMae she took the pills because she wants to kill herself because her mother keeps saying she wished she’d killed Darla when Darla was a baby and her stepmother hates her (RitaMae says this is pretty close to the truth) and her father wants to kick her out (at least he keeps telling RitaMae he plans to “put Darla on the streets.”). Darla said there is no point in talking to a counselor since her mother took her to counseling before and Darla saw a counselor three times but she stopped going because her mother said it wasn’t working. We Baker Act Darla. When RitaMae called Darla’s father to tell him about the Baker Acting he suggests she adopt Darla.
February 4th
The Mime was in my office crying again. Today she was crying because she cried in front of her class and between choking sobs tells me she worries they’ve lost all respect for her. Should I tell her this is impossible – they have no respect for you? Her bawling stops as suddenly as it started and she sniffles that she has a plan: she will teach her students to juggle. Oh fine, I am sure that’s a splendid idea….
February 5th
I have to fill out repair paper work because a switch plate in Neeley’s room is broken. Neeley says a child’s head hit it during a “wild time.” Rosie reported to me that all the computers in Neeley’s classroom are destroyed because it is always “wild time” in Neeley’s room.
February 6th
At lunch time, Corinna, the Title One liaison, showed up out of the blue and started to tell Lynne she is doing “everything wrong.” Corinna and Lynne got into a screaming match in my office. I missed the opening rounds, but I saw the end: Corinna storming out the front door of my portable, shouting, “Your Title One money is now in jeopardy” and Lynne exiting almost as quickly out the back door to sit on the stoop sobbing.
February 7th
Chloe is back in Cressler House. She’s been there for over a week, ever since she made allegations of child abuse against her mother. Her mother called today to say she is happy to be rid of Chloe and that some social worker at Cressler is threatening to have her arrested for child neglect because she refuses to bring Chloe’s clothes down there. Mom says Chloe was going to run away and maybe the people at Cressler can keep her from doing that. Rosie calls Cressler House to let them know Chloe has been depressed and might be suicidal.
February 11th
Tony’s mother told me Tony’s teacher, Neeley, drinks alcohol during class from a plastic cup mixing it with apple juice and orange juice. Tony told her Neeley jokes about it all the time. I sent Neeley for a “random” drug test. He came back clean. I think I remember reading that alcohol leaves your bloodstream pretty fast, unlike marijuana.
February 12th
Henry stopped by to tell me I’m supposed to be doing a “POP” on all my new teachers. “POP” apparently is part of the Florida alternative certification program. I had no idea I had a role to play in the certification of my “non-traditional” teachers. Henry left me with arm loads of files and packets and says I should have attended a two-day training on this but for now I must read the material and implement immediately.
February 13th
Rosie confided in me that three of our girls are pregnant and they are identifying the fathers as either Prospect students or older men.
The Mime squealed into the walkie-talkie today “SHANDON IS IN THE CLOSET SHOWING HIS GENITALS TO DURON!”
February 17th
Two Bus drivers arrived upset. Public school students threw eggs at their busses, some eggs went inside the bus and hit kids. Busses are sticky and eggy inside and out.
February 18th
The Mime cried in our morning meeting today. She cries so much I don’t even remember why she was crying this time. Stone, who was sitting next to her, reached in his pocket, removed some change and, turning to the Mime, said “Here’s a quarter, call someone who cares.” Stone’s sarcasm: it’s not just for students anymore.
February 19th
United Way called today, we were denied the United Way grant. Despite the hours of work I spent applying for this, I feel relief. The money was earmarked to transport students to Prospect all summer so we could run school 12 months a year. It would have been great for the students, but right now I would like to have a couple student free months.
February 21st
Estralitta and Selma, two of the three pregnant girls Rosie told me about, are not pregnant. Chloe is the third and the rumor mill says that is why her mother forced her into Cressler house. Valerie, my new Title One Math teacher told me Karla told her she was absent yesterday because she was having an abortion. Actually Karla told Valerie it was “Marla” who had the abortion. Marla is Karla’s imaginary evil twin. Karla’s mother still hasn’t refilled the lithium prescription….
March 3rd
Midge was absent from the 8:00 morning meeting. I just figured she was late but after the meeting, Buffy reported that Midge’s car was parked on campus. We found Midge unconscious, sprawled out on the floor of her classroom. Lynne called 911. Buffy and Rosie sat with Midge stroking her and calming her. Two firefighters appeared just as the busses were pulling in. Two ambulance workers also appeared shortly thereafter. Midge was given oxygen and examined. Vital signs normal. Midge told the paramedics she had been spraying the bathroom with disinfectant and that was the last thing she remembered. The paramedics said she was fine but she decided to go home to recover. She was crying. Rosie got her a cup of tea. Midge drove home after an hour with the tea. I threw away the disinfectant.
March 5th
Henry phoned to say the School Board ruled against Edgar returning to public school. Henry said we’ll try again and next time Jordan, Edgar’s teacher and I will “testify.” When I gave Edgar the news, his lip quivered, but he put on a brave face.
March 6th
Chloe says the father of her “baby” is a thirty-year-old man who is a friend of her mother’s. Rosie called DCF.
March 12th
There was a toxic aroma in four classrooms this morning. Various staff identified it as either: dead animal, hair chemicals in a bad beauty salon, old burnt rubber or the NJ Turnpike (that was my professional assessment). Teachers refused to go in their classrooms. By the end of day the mystery was solved: the toxic smell was a burnt plastic sheathing on a light fixture.
March 13th
Stephanie invited me to visit her classroom today to hear Zoë, her newest student, introduce herself. All I knew about Zoë was that she is a white fourteen-year-old girl who had a baby last year. As I watched, Zoë removed her prosthesis and told the class about the dump truck of sewage that ran over her leg three years ago, Zoë is surprisingly articulate.
March 14th
Henry stopped by to tell me we’ll have to find a new location for Prospect next year because the School Board wants to use this property for a project of their own: a school for dumb good kids (as opposed, I suppose, to my students: dumb bad kids). The purpose is to raise FCAT scores.
April 8th
Billie radioed for me to help her with “something suspicious” today. She always wants to be the “good cop.” When I got out to the ball field she told me to look in Dante’s jacket hanging on the fence. I found a computer mouse. Billie said Marcus (hair braided today) was part of the theft and she wanted me to have both boys sent to the deputy. I do, but his investigation turns up nothing. Later Billie radioed for me again this time she believed there was some sort of cigarette scam involving Karla and Mimi. We know both girls smoke, so Rosie searched them but turned up nothing. When she heard this, Billie claimed they transferred the cigarettes to another girl but she wasn’t sure who.
April 9th
Chloe finally had a pregnancy test, she is not pregnant. She is still living at Cressler House.
April 10th
A new student arrived today, Rafael. He tried to fight with Kareem in the parking lot early this morning, but new teacher Theo broke it up, cutting his finger in the process. Then at breakfast Rafael again attacked Kareem and was punching his face when the Deputy separated them and handcuffed Rafael. The Deputy turned his back and Rafael went around him and, despite the cuffs, started kicking and spitting at Kareem. The Deputy dragged him away shouting “What are you, an idiot?”
April 11th
Hannah didn’t have a good day. Her students rioted and she threw a framed picture at them and the glass broke. She went to Rosie’s office for confession and a shoulder to cry on. At least she didn’t cry in front of class like The Mime does.
April 15th
We got a new elementary kid this week, Jojo. His mother said she doesn’t know why he keeps doing wrong especially since every morning before school they have a prayer circle and light aroma therapy candles. Today Jojo’s mother was late to pick him up, again. He waits for her outside Jana’s classroom. When Jana was busy in the bus circle talking with a parent, Jojo snuck inside her classroom and stole Jana’s walkie-talkie from her desk. Although she couldn’t prove it, Jana was sure Jojo was the culprit and told his mother as much. His mother refused to believe it and in fact was angry and rude to Jana. But then at home when she found the walkie-talkie and the belt clip for it, which Jojo broke, she phoned to tell me. She became upset when I told her she would have to pay for a new clip. Here is what I didn’t tell her: I think you’re using the wrong aromas.
April 16th
Billie and The Mime were both late again today. They are late a lot. When we talk they act like I’m making much ado about nothing and then they spew excuses. I wrote them both up. Neeley, on the other hand wasn’t late! After a spate of tardies with excuses ranging from: “I fell asleep drunk with a bottle of wine in my hand on the couch and didn’t hear my alarm” to “A guy parked behind my truck and I couldn’t back out” we had a serious talk and I put him on a PIP (performance improvement plan). He’s been on time every day since and I make a point of quietly acknowledging his success daily.
April 17th
I got a call today from a school principal in Savannah Georgia doing a reference check on Yvonne. Big question: would she be eligible for rehire at my school. Hmmm let me see, lame lessons, no classroom management and resignation by fax – I’d have to say “NO!” I’m still laughing over Hannah’s comment in our morning meeting: she said it’s getting easier for her to be tough, harden her heart and maintain control in the classroom. “I’m so mean now, I’m even mean to my cat!”
April 18th
A long kitchen knife was found under Sam’s portable today. Jeremiah found it and gave it to Mookie who then turned it in to Title One Reading teacher, Dana. Rumors are rampant: Calymont, Kembrall…. Will our investigation yield any findings? How long has the knife been there?
April 22nd
The Mime found a note Kembrall wrote to a new girl saying, “I want to fuck you.” The Mime promised him she would keep this information to herself – unclear why, more poor judgment. Some of the other students told Rosie who grew alarmed since Kembrall has been accused of molesting some of the girls. Why did I hire The Mime?!
April 23rd
Stephanie lost a stack of orientation in-take packets and is trying to blame others. She has been very scattered lately. Lynne says Stephanie’s sort-of-ex-husband has been trying to reconcile with her while her new love-of-her-life is deployed in the Middle East.
April 24th
More excitement with Midge today. She radioed for help and reported pain in her arm and blindness in one eye. 911 all over again. Midge spent all day in the ER, no causes, no diagnosis. They admitted her and are running more tests. I phoned the hospital and spoke with Midge’s daughter. She said the doctors think it is either her heart, a pinched nerve in her arm, sleep apnea or the fact that Midge has been upset about the death of a friend.
April 28th
Rafael, who was arrested on his first day at Prospect, returned today. Billie was covering the orientation class as they ate breakfast. Rafael started throwing milk. Billie sounded pretty hysterical on the walkie-talkie and Stone, who was right outside the cafeteria with his class, came to her aid. Witnesses say Stone manhandled Rafael causing Rafael to bite Stone and then spit a huge gob in Stone’s face. Stone responded by choking Rafael until he nearly lost consciousness (Rafael not Stone). Two plainclothes detectives were on campus to question Curtis about a recent crime spree and they rushed to the scene and handcuffed Rafael. I’m pretty sure Rafael won’t be back, but what to do about Stone? Billie was in the best position to observe the encounter but she and Stone are thick as thieves and she denies he did anything but “rescue” her.
Are numbness, sarcasm and flippancy symptoms of “job burn-out”? And what role does this numbness play in my new sleep habits? As the fourth quarter starts, I find it is easier to sleep, but harder to get out of bed in the morning and I feel tired all the time? I try to channel my thoughts on specific plans and projects in an attempt to regain my energy and focus, but I find it hard to care and even harder to hope. Cynical thoughts cloud my brain and my inner voice starts to sound frighteningly like Stone’s. I’m hurtling toward the dark side. I try to think of something I’ve done that has been a success, something that has helped my students. I think about Activity Period and for a moment, I recapture my passion and enthusiasm. It is to be a short-lived moment.
I am either numb, jaded or both. Although I continue to write in my journal, my sense of awe and shock is gone and at times my entries border on flippancy and sarcasm even when events warrant a more serious tone. Admittedly the Extortion Ring and off-campus AWOLs were new challenges, but as matter-of-factly as one might write, “It rained this morning,” I write: Perry and Mulchaey lit firecrackers on the bus. I suspend both boys from the bus for a week. It is only when I send my out-of-state friends emails cut and pasted from my journal, and their replies come back littered with exclamation points and disbelief, am I reminded how far removed we are from normal.
My new shell-shocked state allows me to weather the usual Prospect excitement without hand wringing, and it would now take a seriously cataclysmic event for me to feel like there was a crisis. But what have I lost? As I get more numb to the stress, am I also less concerned with the lives of my students? What am I becoming? I see Midge ill, passed out on her floor and I feel like I am looking at a scene from a movie. I shrug off rumors of pregnant girls and barely flinch at the sight of a fourteen-year-old girl who happens to be a mother and an amputee. One of my teachers is abusive but I treat him the same way I treat my tardy teachers: I write him up. What is happening to my energy, my passion, my enthusiasm, my hope?
January 29th
Darla’s father phoned RitaMae to say Darla was high when she got off the bus this afternoon and she was “unable to hold a slice of avocado.” (Is this a standard measure of drug consumption?) Darla admits she took pills from Curtis on the bus ride home, but she says she doesn’t know what the pills were. RitaMae phones me at home asking what she should do. I haven’t a clue. I’m just making it up as I go. But I don’t say that to RitaMae.
Speaking of drugs, during a random drug test today, Marcus tested positive for 4 drugs including marijuana.
January 30th
Coby and Tyrell fought at dismissal. Coby took off his sneakers and threw them at Tyrell. Coby was livid and literally foaming at the mouth. Stone restrained Coby and witnesses say he was pretty rough about it. I don’t let either boy ride home on the bus. When Tyrell’s grandparents came to pick him up they took him outside for a “whuppin.” Coby’s father said he must have forgotten to take his medication before school or maybe he took the wrong medicine. (I have this image of a countertop covered with amber prescription bottles and Coby selecting which pills to take each morning.)
February 3rd
Darla was back in school today after several days absence post pill popping. She told RitaMae she took the pills because she wants to kill herself because her mother keeps saying she wished she’d killed Darla when Darla was a baby and her stepmother hates her (RitaMae says this is pretty close to the truth) and her father wants to kick her out (at least he keeps telling RitaMae he plans to “put Darla on the streets.”). Darla said there is no point in talking to a counselor since her mother took her to counseling before and Darla saw a counselor three times but she stopped going because her mother said it wasn’t working. We Baker Act Darla. When RitaMae called Darla’s father to tell him about the Baker Acting he suggests she adopt Darla.
February 4th
The Mime was in my office crying again. Today she was crying because she cried in front of her class and between choking sobs tells me she worries they’ve lost all respect for her. Should I tell her this is impossible – they have no respect for you? Her bawling stops as suddenly as it started and she sniffles that she has a plan: she will teach her students to juggle. Oh fine, I am sure that’s a splendid idea….
February 5th
I have to fill out repair paper work because a switch plate in Neeley’s room is broken. Neeley says a child’s head hit it during a “wild time.” Rosie reported to me that all the computers in Neeley’s classroom are destroyed because it is always “wild time” in Neeley’s room.
February 6th
At lunch time, Corinna, the Title One liaison, showed up out of the blue and started to tell Lynne she is doing “everything wrong.” Corinna and Lynne got into a screaming match in my office. I missed the opening rounds, but I saw the end: Corinna storming out the front door of my portable, shouting, “Your Title One money is now in jeopardy” and Lynne exiting almost as quickly out the back door to sit on the stoop sobbing.
February 7th
Chloe is back in Cressler House. She’s been there for over a week, ever since she made allegations of child abuse against her mother. Her mother called today to say she is happy to be rid of Chloe and that some social worker at Cressler is threatening to have her arrested for child neglect because she refuses to bring Chloe’s clothes down there. Mom says Chloe was going to run away and maybe the people at Cressler can keep her from doing that. Rosie calls Cressler House to let them know Chloe has been depressed and might be suicidal.
February 11th
Tony’s mother told me Tony’s teacher, Neeley, drinks alcohol during class from a plastic cup mixing it with apple juice and orange juice. Tony told her Neeley jokes about it all the time. I sent Neeley for a “random” drug test. He came back clean. I think I remember reading that alcohol leaves your bloodstream pretty fast, unlike marijuana.
February 12th
Henry stopped by to tell me I’m supposed to be doing a “POP” on all my new teachers. “POP” apparently is part of the Florida alternative certification program. I had no idea I had a role to play in the certification of my “non-traditional” teachers. Henry left me with arm loads of files and packets and says I should have attended a two-day training on this but for now I must read the material and implement immediately.
February 13th
Rosie confided in me that three of our girls are pregnant and they are identifying the fathers as either Prospect students or older men.
The Mime squealed into the walkie-talkie today “SHANDON IS IN THE CLOSET SHOWING HIS GENITALS TO DURON!”
February 17th
Two Bus drivers arrived upset. Public school students threw eggs at their busses, some eggs went inside the bus and hit kids. Busses are sticky and eggy inside and out.
February 18th
The Mime cried in our morning meeting today. She cries so much I don’t even remember why she was crying this time. Stone, who was sitting next to her, reached in his pocket, removed some change and, turning to the Mime, said “Here’s a quarter, call someone who cares.” Stone’s sarcasm: it’s not just for students anymore.
February 19th
United Way called today, we were denied the United Way grant. Despite the hours of work I spent applying for this, I feel relief. The money was earmarked to transport students to Prospect all summer so we could run school 12 months a year. It would have been great for the students, but right now I would like to have a couple student free months.
February 21st
Estralitta and Selma, two of the three pregnant girls Rosie told me about, are not pregnant. Chloe is the third and the rumor mill says that is why her mother forced her into Cressler house. Valerie, my new Title One Math teacher told me Karla told her she was absent yesterday because she was having an abortion. Actually Karla told Valerie it was “Marla” who had the abortion. Marla is Karla’s imaginary evil twin. Karla’s mother still hasn’t refilled the lithium prescription….
March 3rd
Midge was absent from the 8:00 morning meeting. I just figured she was late but after the meeting, Buffy reported that Midge’s car was parked on campus. We found Midge unconscious, sprawled out on the floor of her classroom. Lynne called 911. Buffy and Rosie sat with Midge stroking her and calming her. Two firefighters appeared just as the busses were pulling in. Two ambulance workers also appeared shortly thereafter. Midge was given oxygen and examined. Vital signs normal. Midge told the paramedics she had been spraying the bathroom with disinfectant and that was the last thing she remembered. The paramedics said she was fine but she decided to go home to recover. She was crying. Rosie got her a cup of tea. Midge drove home after an hour with the tea. I threw away the disinfectant.
March 5th
Henry phoned to say the School Board ruled against Edgar returning to public school. Henry said we’ll try again and next time Jordan, Edgar’s teacher and I will “testify.” When I gave Edgar the news, his lip quivered, but he put on a brave face.
March 6th
Chloe says the father of her “baby” is a thirty-year-old man who is a friend of her mother’s. Rosie called DCF.
March 12th
There was a toxic aroma in four classrooms this morning. Various staff identified it as either: dead animal, hair chemicals in a bad beauty salon, old burnt rubber or the NJ Turnpike (that was my professional assessment). Teachers refused to go in their classrooms. By the end of day the mystery was solved: the toxic smell was a burnt plastic sheathing on a light fixture.
March 13th
Stephanie invited me to visit her classroom today to hear Zoë, her newest student, introduce herself. All I knew about Zoë was that she is a white fourteen-year-old girl who had a baby last year. As I watched, Zoë removed her prosthesis and told the class about the dump truck of sewage that ran over her leg three years ago, Zoë is surprisingly articulate.
March 14th
Henry stopped by to tell me we’ll have to find a new location for Prospect next year because the School Board wants to use this property for a project of their own: a school for dumb good kids (as opposed, I suppose, to my students: dumb bad kids). The purpose is to raise FCAT scores.
April 8th
Billie radioed for me to help her with “something suspicious” today. She always wants to be the “good cop.” When I got out to the ball field she told me to look in Dante’s jacket hanging on the fence. I found a computer mouse. Billie said Marcus (hair braided today) was part of the theft and she wanted me to have both boys sent to the deputy. I do, but his investigation turns up nothing. Later Billie radioed for me again this time she believed there was some sort of cigarette scam involving Karla and Mimi. We know both girls smoke, so Rosie searched them but turned up nothing. When she heard this, Billie claimed they transferred the cigarettes to another girl but she wasn’t sure who.
April 9th
Chloe finally had a pregnancy test, she is not pregnant. She is still living at Cressler House.
April 10th
A new student arrived today, Rafael. He tried to fight with Kareem in the parking lot early this morning, but new teacher Theo broke it up, cutting his finger in the process. Then at breakfast Rafael again attacked Kareem and was punching his face when the Deputy separated them and handcuffed Rafael. The Deputy turned his back and Rafael went around him and, despite the cuffs, started kicking and spitting at Kareem. The Deputy dragged him away shouting “What are you, an idiot?”
April 11th
Hannah didn’t have a good day. Her students rioted and she threw a framed picture at them and the glass broke. She went to Rosie’s office for confession and a shoulder to cry on. At least she didn’t cry in front of class like The Mime does.
April 15th
We got a new elementary kid this week, Jojo. His mother said she doesn’t know why he keeps doing wrong especially since every morning before school they have a prayer circle and light aroma therapy candles. Today Jojo’s mother was late to pick him up, again. He waits for her outside Jana’s classroom. When Jana was busy in the bus circle talking with a parent, Jojo snuck inside her classroom and stole Jana’s walkie-talkie from her desk. Although she couldn’t prove it, Jana was sure Jojo was the culprit and told his mother as much. His mother refused to believe it and in fact was angry and rude to Jana. But then at home when she found the walkie-talkie and the belt clip for it, which Jojo broke, she phoned to tell me. She became upset when I told her she would have to pay for a new clip. Here is what I didn’t tell her: I think you’re using the wrong aromas.
April 16th
Billie and The Mime were both late again today. They are late a lot. When we talk they act like I’m making much ado about nothing and then they spew excuses. I wrote them both up. Neeley, on the other hand wasn’t late! After a spate of tardies with excuses ranging from: “I fell asleep drunk with a bottle of wine in my hand on the couch and didn’t hear my alarm” to “A guy parked behind my truck and I couldn’t back out” we had a serious talk and I put him on a PIP (performance improvement plan). He’s been on time every day since and I make a point of quietly acknowledging his success daily.
April 17th
I got a call today from a school principal in Savannah Georgia doing a reference check on Yvonne. Big question: would she be eligible for rehire at my school. Hmmm let me see, lame lessons, no classroom management and resignation by fax – I’d have to say “NO!” I’m still laughing over Hannah’s comment in our morning meeting: she said it’s getting easier for her to be tough, harden her heart and maintain control in the classroom. “I’m so mean now, I’m even mean to my cat!”
April 18th
A long kitchen knife was found under Sam’s portable today. Jeremiah found it and gave it to Mookie who then turned it in to Title One Reading teacher, Dana. Rumors are rampant: Calymont, Kembrall…. Will our investigation yield any findings? How long has the knife been there?
April 22nd
The Mime found a note Kembrall wrote to a new girl saying, “I want to fuck you.” The Mime promised him she would keep this information to herself – unclear why, more poor judgment. Some of the other students told Rosie who grew alarmed since Kembrall has been accused of molesting some of the girls. Why did I hire The Mime?!
April 23rd
Stephanie lost a stack of orientation in-take packets and is trying to blame others. She has been very scattered lately. Lynne says Stephanie’s sort-of-ex-husband has been trying to reconcile with her while her new love-of-her-life is deployed in the Middle East.
April 24th
More excitement with Midge today. She radioed for help and reported pain in her arm and blindness in one eye. 911 all over again. Midge spent all day in the ER, no causes, no diagnosis. They admitted her and are running more tests. I phoned the hospital and spoke with Midge’s daughter. She said the doctors think it is either her heart, a pinched nerve in her arm, sleep apnea or the fact that Midge has been upset about the death of a friend.
April 28th
Rafael, who was arrested on his first day at Prospect, returned today. Billie was covering the orientation class as they ate breakfast. Rafael started throwing milk. Billie sounded pretty hysterical on the walkie-talkie and Stone, who was right outside the cafeteria with his class, came to her aid. Witnesses say Stone manhandled Rafael causing Rafael to bite Stone and then spit a huge gob in Stone’s face. Stone responded by choking Rafael until he nearly lost consciousness (Rafael not Stone). Two plainclothes detectives were on campus to question Curtis about a recent crime spree and they rushed to the scene and handcuffed Rafael. I’m pretty sure Rafael won’t be back, but what to do about Stone? Billie was in the best position to observe the encounter but she and Stone are thick as thieves and she denies he did anything but “rescue” her.
Are numbness, sarcasm and flippancy symptoms of “job burn-out”? And what role does this numbness play in my new sleep habits? As the fourth quarter starts, I find it is easier to sleep, but harder to get out of bed in the morning and I feel tired all the time? I try to channel my thoughts on specific plans and projects in an attempt to regain my energy and focus, but I find it hard to care and even harder to hope. Cynical thoughts cloud my brain and my inner voice starts to sound frighteningly like Stone’s. I’m hurtling toward the dark side. I try to think of something I’ve done that has been a success, something that has helped my students. I think about Activity Period and for a moment, I recapture my passion and enthusiasm. It is to be a short-lived moment.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Chapter Forty-Nine: When Numbers Don't Count
Chapter 49: When Numbers don’t Count
We spent a lot of time preparing for the standardized tests known as FCAT (Florida Comprehensive Assessment Tests). Most public schools are able to dedicate one staff person, usually a counselor, to focus almost exclusively on FCAT for the months leading up to testing. We don’t have this luxury. This year Rosie volunteered to project manage FCAT but since she still had classes to run and children to counsel, it fell to me to attend many of the training sessions and then train the faculty. The additional workload kept expanding and as the testing dates approached we found it necessary to work on weekends. I joined several of my staff members in my office on a Saturday morning to bubble in the labels on score sheets for all the students who arrived after September and thus lack pre-printed forms (most of our students!).
As the FCAT week approached I grew increasingly concerned about my staff’s ability to correctly administer the tests as well as my students’ ability to perform. The FCAT test prep isn’t just about how to take the test, but how to behave during the testing. My faculty spent a long time going over the rules and citing the misbehaviors that would result in a zero on the FCAT. Amazingly, I need not have worried. With only a couple rare exceptions, the Prospect students followed the all FCAT rules. While testing was underway the school was silent. I actually heard a bird chirping when I walked across campus. The walkie-talkies didn’t squeal, students didn’t go AWOL or shout profanity. All was quiet on the Prospect front. The week of FCAT testing was the calmest week of the year and it makes me wonder how often could we administer standardized tests and still get this level of compliance!
Why were the students so compliant, so well behaved? Did the rigid structure of the testing situation comfort them? Did they find the simple rules -start, bubble in, no questions, no talking, no grey areas - to be a relief? Prospect students have demonstrated time and again their lack of respect for, or fear of, parents, teachers and police officers, yet they seriously follow all the rules for FCAT’s. Could it be they feel the tests are fair and objective in ways all those “authority figures” are not?
In Florida, scores on the FCAT are used to determine not only which children are failing but also which schools are failing. One of the provisions of the federal education law “No Child Left Behind” (NCLB) is that failing schools will be taken over by the state or turned into Charter Schools and in some instances, the children who attend these failing schools will be given the opportunity to transfer to another school.
Although the students at Prospect take the FCAT, their scores are have never been used to evaluate the quality of education offered at Prospect. This surprises me since Prospect is a Title One school and the law states if a Title One school fails for two consecutive years, parents must be given a choice of schools to which their child can transfer.
When Prospect students take the FCAT, their individual scores count and are entered into their “permanent school records” with failing scores often used to justify retaining them. But, unlike public schools, the score that represents the entire Prospect student body is not reported. This intentional omission reminds me of the cliché: if a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it, does it make a sound?
Shortly after I became the principal of Prospect, I started asking how to make the school score for Prospect count. My liaison, Henry, is mystified as to why I would want to do this. If Prospect was given a letter grade, Henry explains, we wouldn’t do better than an “F.” I know this but I also know that schools that receive an “F” are given additional funds and resources to help them improve and schools that do improve (move from an F to a D for example) are awarded money to reward their progress. I want this money for my school and I also want another tool to gauge my success in improving academics at Prospect.
Henry advises me to call Deirdre, the person in charge of guidance for Herald County Public Schools. Deirdre says not counting Prospect scores isn’t an omission, it’s the law. She explains that she can’t count Prospect scores because we didn’t meet the legal minimum required number of students taking the FCAT. I tell her I am looking at the numbers and that actually we did. She agrees, then says we can’t count Prospect scores because those students who took the FCAT weren’t also on the rolls the prior October . I don’t have that data at my fingertips to refute or support her claim, but I suspect we might meet that criteria as well and I tell her even if we didn’t meet it last year, with the increase in our student population, we’ll surely meet it this year. Whereupon Dierdre tells me we’ll have to meet it for two consecutive years. My conversation with Deirdre makes it clear to me that Herald County does not want to include Prospect data in the county’s NCLB profile. Herald County has gone two years without an “F” school and they don’t want one now.
As Dierdre and I conclude our discussion, I realize I have neither the facts to successfully argue my case, nor the time to investigate and gather the necessary data. The provisions and criteria of NCLB are complex enough that few people have a thorough understanding of how the scores are computed let alone all the loopholes and nuances of this law. Principals and other administrators believe they have a handle on the subject until they attempt to reassure perplexed parents at which point they realize they too are unclear on many of the provisions of these state and federal education measurements. Like the state certification laws, often a school district has one person who has attended all the training sessions and read all the memos and is the resident expert. In Herald County, Deirdre has that authority and is frequently called upon to answer questions, clarify and demystify. She is the FCAT gatekeeper and it appears her marching orders are to interpret and use every regulation to keep Alternative School test scores from “polluting” the public school numbers. Deirdre is good at her job; Prospect scores will not count against the district.
Free-market driven, measure-by-objective, professionals look at my students as dandelions whose presence prevents an otherwise beautiful lawn from producing the desired result for all to see. The weeds must be pulled. This is their moral imperative. To allow the weeds to remain blights what otherwise would be pristine, productive yards. To leave the weeds weakens the whole, lowering the overall effect of a fine lawn. In the rush to pull, my students are transferred from the classrooms in which they were reducing productivity, and transplanted to Prospect – a weed farm. Separated, segregated and ostracized from the beautiful lawns, they are shut away and forgotten. The weed pullers point to the improved results coming from their newly weed free lawns, and point out the resiliency of weeds as proof that all parties are doing well. In fact the folks who objectively judge beautiful lawns (with the gardening tool of choice: FCATs) can tell us how much better those lawns are now than they were before. The shame is they can’t seem to find the weed farm to judge how it’s doing. Curious how the well intentioned weed pullers don’t see the value in judging all the lawns, but only those which they’ve spent time and money working on, while they hide the weed farm behind the fence.
I look at the dandelions and see not weeds, but flowers. Fragile flowers, in serious danger of wilting. They need at least as much support as the beautiful grass lawns, and as anyone who can really see, knows, they need a lot more.
We spent a lot of time preparing for the standardized tests known as FCAT (Florida Comprehensive Assessment Tests). Most public schools are able to dedicate one staff person, usually a counselor, to focus almost exclusively on FCAT for the months leading up to testing. We don’t have this luxury. This year Rosie volunteered to project manage FCAT but since she still had classes to run and children to counsel, it fell to me to attend many of the training sessions and then train the faculty. The additional workload kept expanding and as the testing dates approached we found it necessary to work on weekends. I joined several of my staff members in my office on a Saturday morning to bubble in the labels on score sheets for all the students who arrived after September and thus lack pre-printed forms (most of our students!).
As the FCAT week approached I grew increasingly concerned about my staff’s ability to correctly administer the tests as well as my students’ ability to perform. The FCAT test prep isn’t just about how to take the test, but how to behave during the testing. My faculty spent a long time going over the rules and citing the misbehaviors that would result in a zero on the FCAT. Amazingly, I need not have worried. With only a couple rare exceptions, the Prospect students followed the all FCAT rules. While testing was underway the school was silent. I actually heard a bird chirping when I walked across campus. The walkie-talkies didn’t squeal, students didn’t go AWOL or shout profanity. All was quiet on the Prospect front. The week of FCAT testing was the calmest week of the year and it makes me wonder how often could we administer standardized tests and still get this level of compliance!
Why were the students so compliant, so well behaved? Did the rigid structure of the testing situation comfort them? Did they find the simple rules -start, bubble in, no questions, no talking, no grey areas - to be a relief? Prospect students have demonstrated time and again their lack of respect for, or fear of, parents, teachers and police officers, yet they seriously follow all the rules for FCAT’s. Could it be they feel the tests are fair and objective in ways all those “authority figures” are not?
In Florida, scores on the FCAT are used to determine not only which children are failing but also which schools are failing. One of the provisions of the federal education law “No Child Left Behind” (NCLB) is that failing schools will be taken over by the state or turned into Charter Schools and in some instances, the children who attend these failing schools will be given the opportunity to transfer to another school.
Although the students at Prospect take the FCAT, their scores are have never been used to evaluate the quality of education offered at Prospect. This surprises me since Prospect is a Title One school and the law states if a Title One school fails for two consecutive years, parents must be given a choice of schools to which their child can transfer.
When Prospect students take the FCAT, their individual scores count and are entered into their “permanent school records” with failing scores often used to justify retaining them. But, unlike public schools, the score that represents the entire Prospect student body is not reported. This intentional omission reminds me of the cliché: if a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it, does it make a sound?
Shortly after I became the principal of Prospect, I started asking how to make the school score for Prospect count. My liaison, Henry, is mystified as to why I would want to do this. If Prospect was given a letter grade, Henry explains, we wouldn’t do better than an “F.” I know this but I also know that schools that receive an “F” are given additional funds and resources to help them improve and schools that do improve (move from an F to a D for example) are awarded money to reward their progress. I want this money for my school and I also want another tool to gauge my success in improving academics at Prospect.
Henry advises me to call Deirdre, the person in charge of guidance for Herald County Public Schools. Deirdre says not counting Prospect scores isn’t an omission, it’s the law. She explains that she can’t count Prospect scores because we didn’t meet the legal minimum required number of students taking the FCAT. I tell her I am looking at the numbers and that actually we did. She agrees, then says we can’t count Prospect scores because those students who took the FCAT weren’t also on the rolls the prior October . I don’t have that data at my fingertips to refute or support her claim, but I suspect we might meet that criteria as well and I tell her even if we didn’t meet it last year, with the increase in our student population, we’ll surely meet it this year. Whereupon Dierdre tells me we’ll have to meet it for two consecutive years. My conversation with Deirdre makes it clear to me that Herald County does not want to include Prospect data in the county’s NCLB profile. Herald County has gone two years without an “F” school and they don’t want one now.
As Dierdre and I conclude our discussion, I realize I have neither the facts to successfully argue my case, nor the time to investigate and gather the necessary data. The provisions and criteria of NCLB are complex enough that few people have a thorough understanding of how the scores are computed let alone all the loopholes and nuances of this law. Principals and other administrators believe they have a handle on the subject until they attempt to reassure perplexed parents at which point they realize they too are unclear on many of the provisions of these state and federal education measurements. Like the state certification laws, often a school district has one person who has attended all the training sessions and read all the memos and is the resident expert. In Herald County, Deirdre has that authority and is frequently called upon to answer questions, clarify and demystify. She is the FCAT gatekeeper and it appears her marching orders are to interpret and use every regulation to keep Alternative School test scores from “polluting” the public school numbers. Deirdre is good at her job; Prospect scores will not count against the district.
Free-market driven, measure-by-objective, professionals look at my students as dandelions whose presence prevents an otherwise beautiful lawn from producing the desired result for all to see. The weeds must be pulled. This is their moral imperative. To allow the weeds to remain blights what otherwise would be pristine, productive yards. To leave the weeds weakens the whole, lowering the overall effect of a fine lawn. In the rush to pull, my students are transferred from the classrooms in which they were reducing productivity, and transplanted to Prospect – a weed farm. Separated, segregated and ostracized from the beautiful lawns, they are shut away and forgotten. The weed pullers point to the improved results coming from their newly weed free lawns, and point out the resiliency of weeds as proof that all parties are doing well. In fact the folks who objectively judge beautiful lawns (with the gardening tool of choice: FCATs) can tell us how much better those lawns are now than they were before. The shame is they can’t seem to find the weed farm to judge how it’s doing. Curious how the well intentioned weed pullers don’t see the value in judging all the lawns, but only those which they’ve spent time and money working on, while they hide the weed farm behind the fence.
I look at the dandelions and see not weeds, but flowers. Fragile flowers, in serious danger of wilting. They need at least as much support as the beautiful grass lawns, and as anyone who can really see, knows, they need a lot more.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Chapter Forty-Eight: Darius Drowning
Chapter 48: Darius Drowning
Not too far out in the water a child is floundering. On the beach people are watching: people who are good swimmers, people with boats and life preservers, people who know the child. But no one moves to save the child. The people watch as his cries for help weaken and his head slips under the surface. Over and over he manages, with splashing and struggling, to rise above the crashing waves only to be dragged under again. Finally he doesn’t resurface.
Later many of the people on the beach say they knew all along he was going to drown, it was just a matter of time.
Confession: I am one of the people on that beach. I watched the boy drown and did nothing. While the boy was drowning, I was preoccupied with building castles in the sand. Worse yet, I really liked the drowning boy, but like the rest of the people on the beach, I was unwilling do what was required to rescue him.
Darius remembers a time when he had a real family – a mother, a father and two younger brothers and they all lived together in Springfield, Massachusetts. He was four years old when the “social workers” took him from his parents, but his memories combined with his imagination paint an idyllic picture of those halcyon days. He grasps tightly to this story as life swirls about, choking and drowning him.
Nine years and fourteen foster homes later, Darius rarely sees one brother (therapeutic foster home - multiple physical handicaps), never sees the other brother (adopted) nor his parents (“My mother did something really, really bad to me”). At times Darius has been nourished by the rare and always temporary love of a teacher, counselor, social worker, therapist and long ago, a foster mother who died. These injections of love help keep Darius afloat with his chin quivering and dripping just above the water line.
The staff has been watching the sinking of Darius for weeks and we’ve made several phone calls to his foster mother. She tells us she thinks the psychotropic drugs Darius takes aren’t working properly or that the dosage is insufficient, but, she explains, his doctor is on vacation for a month and no one is covering his patients. This seems unbelievable to me and I call her more than once begging her to pressure someone: DCF, the clinic Darius attends, his therapist; to see Darius and alter his prescription. I tell her we are all worried about Darius. My words fail to persuade. Meanwhile Darius’s behavior becomes stranger and more volatile.
Neither Darius nor Ethan is a popular boy. They aren’t scapegoated, mostly they’re just avoided as one might steer clear of an unshaven homeless man talking loudly to himself. Misery in this case does not love company, at least not the company of another miserable outcast. In an effort to be accepted, Ethan seeks out opportunities to taunt Darius. His efforts are usually rewarded. Darius can pretty much be counted on to overreact to minor teasing and Prospect students thrive on such theatrics. Lately Darius hasn’t even required much of a catalyst, he is permanently armed for bear and he’ll lock and load with minimal provocation.
Of course it happened in the Mime’s class and it involved the Mime’s water bottle. It is surprising, or in retrospect maybe not so surprising, that the Mime still leaves her water bottle within reach of her class, especially in reach of Ethan, although for this prank Ethan doesn’t spit in it. Instead, after secreting the bottle off the Mime’s desk, Ethan walks up to Darius and quietly says his name causing Darius to look up from his worksheet at which point Ethan squirts Darius directly in the face with nearly the entire contents of the water bottle. Darius loses all control. He morphs into something approximating a cross between The Hulk and the Tasmanian Devil. Screeching, he throws chairs, desks, books and tears writing from the walls as he chases after Ethan. Saliva oozes down his chin as he lashes out – Darius is literally foaming at the mouth. Ethan’s initial laughter fades fast when faced with the reality of the Darius Demon. The other students flee the classroom, the Mime screams incomprehensibly into the walkie-talkie.
The Deputy and Counselor Rusty arrive in seconds with the Deputy determined to arrest Darius and Rusty just as determined he not be arrested. I take the Deputy aside to plead Darius’s case. He agrees, no arrest, but a long suspension. I call the foster mother and tell her Darius is suspended for fighting, that he was nearly arrested and that he can’t come back until he sees a doctor. She is not pleased. She tells me I should have let the Deputy arrest him, that would have taught him a lesson.
I have become really annoyed by that now all too familiar sentiment, it is like the refrain from some eerie chorus that keeps singing dirges to the future of my students.
My attempt to pressure the foster mother backfires – she knows her rights. The next morning Henry, my public school liaison, stops by my office to tell me I can’t suspend a child pending a doctor visit. I have to set a specific number of days in accordance with the severity of the misbehavior. Henry suggests five days. I try to explain my rationale, but to no avail. I may know Darius, but Henry knows the rules.
After five days, Darius returns and is so sleepy and disoriented in English class, the Mime decide he needs to “sober up” and she sends him to Shasta who is dispensing meds in the “clinic.” Shasta has Darius lie down and when she talks with him she learns he is now taking twice as many pills as prescribed. His doctor is still on vacation, so did Darius decide to increase his dosage on his own or did his foster mother? Shasta tells Rosie, Rosie tells me and I plan to phone his foster mother but I neglect to make it a priority and two days go by before I remember and by then it is too late.
Darius is wild. Absolutely wild. He starts his day by pounding the cafeteria table at breakfast chanting, “Give me my damn ice cream.” Later he dashes out of math class, removes his shoes and starts to run around the ball field in his socks. I walk out to the pitcher’s mound and call his name. At first he ignores me until I remind him I am a fast runner (Darius has seen my running trophy and believes the hype about my superhero speed) and that I can tackle him and restrain him (neither of us has forgotten his first days at Prospect – Darius eating dirt with me pinning his legs). He is still flailing but he follows me to my office. I see the Deputy watching us, shaking his head. In my office I tell Darius I’m going to call his foster mother.
“You know her number?” He asks, sitting shoeless on the edge of the chair, swinging his legs and fidgeting.
“Of course, if you recall I’ve called her a few times before.” Darius smiles at that but tells me: “Bet you don’t know her number today.” When I ask why, Darius explains:
“She’s on vacation. I’m staying at Cressler House.”
Cressler House – the shelter for homeless and abused children in Herald County.
I call Darius’s DCF caseworker. I’m told his case has been contracted out to a private faith-based agency. I call that agency and talk with Darius’s new caseworker. Yes, he is aware that Darius is living this week at Cressler. “Like leaving your dog in the kennel,” I sarcastically quip. He tells me this arrangement isn’t unusual – foster parents often don’t want the foster children around on vacation. The caseworker agrees to come pick up Darius. When the caseworker arrives, Rusty escorts Darius for a walk around campus to locate his missing shoes. In my office with Darius’s caseworker, I share my concerns about his behavior, his medication, his stay in the shelter. The caseworker listens, then says “Obviously you care for Darius, would you be interested in adopting him?” I stammer something by way of a reply as the caseworker continues, “Well I asked his foster mother, but she doesn’t want him. We got the youngest brother adopted but the middle brother has physical handicaps so no one wants him. Darius has an aunt, she’s 23 and in the military in Iraq. She says she might want Darius when she returns…. Oh and next time he behaves like this, my supervisor says you need to have him arrested. With my caseload, I don’t have time to pick up every kid who misbehaves.”
I meet with Rosie, Rusty and Darius’s teachers to talk about strategies to help Darius survive until his foster mother returns from vacation. Sam, his math teacher, says a friendship of sorts has started to form between Darius and Paxton.
Paxton, like Darius, is a very thin, twelve-year-old white boy. Unlike Darius, Paxton lives with his biological mother and his new step-father. Paxton is fairly unique in that his school did not recommend placement at Prospect; last year his mother and step-father decided Paxton lies too much and requested placement here. The public school agreed. Paxton wears glasses and elastic waist cotton twill pants and his shirt is always tucked in. He is very calm and polite. Unlike Darius, he is not teased by his peers, possibly because he doesn’t respond. However he is never picked for teams or groups and doesn’t have any friends at Prospect.
Both Darius and Paxton are very bright and play chess together in chess club. Sam has seen Paxton speak quietly to Darius in an effort to calm him when Darius starts to go haywire. Sometimes it even works. Armed with this valuable information, we agree to make an effort to keep Paxton near Darius. We plan to remain vigilant with Darius and try to remove him from class before a riot occurs, however we are not optimistic about our chances for success.
As she leaves the meeting, Rosie says she thinks about adopting Darius. “Don’t tell him.” I caution. “Oh he already knows. We’ve talked about it” She replies. Darius’s dreams deferred: “Hey kid, any minute now I’ll swim out and rescue you, hold on, I’ll be along directly.”
The following day I have an off-campus curriculum meeting to attend. I inadvertently depart for the meeting wearing both my sneakers (I usually change back into my shoes for meetings) and walkie-talkie (which I at least remember to leave in my car during the meeting). While driving back to Prospect the walkie-talkie starts to crackle even before I turn into Prospect’s long driveway. Theo’s voice sounds hysterical, Sam sounds calm but his tone is edged with urgency. I am too far from campus to hear clearly, but one word keeps coming through loud and clear: Darius. I race up the driveway and leap from my car sprinting across campus to Sam’s portable. I arrive in time to see Theo, Sam and Jordan trying to restrain a screaming, punching, kicking, writhing Darius. Students from three classes have spilled out onto the walkway between the portables and like spectators at the coliseum they cheer the action. Paxton is kneeling next to Darius trying desperately to calm him while simultaneously dodging his thrashing fists, but Darius is too far gone. The Deputy arrives seconds after I do and in an instant handcuffs Darius and stuffs him into the back seat of the squad car. The Deputy then takes a moment to talk with the three sweating, panting teachers. He’ll need an official report from each of them, and he wants them (and me) to know he will be arresting Darius for a felony assault on teachers. I ask Theo, Sam and Jordan if they are hurt and need medical attention. They all say no but admit Darius did hit them although, as Sam says “It was like he was punching at ghosts and we got in the way.” What set him off? Someone, maybe Ethan, made fun of his math poster…. After the milling students are herded back in their classrooms I start to walk back to my office when I hear a voice behind me: “Ms. Smee?” It is Paxton. “Ms. Smee I’m sorry. I tried to mentor Darius but I couldn’t. I couldn’t help him.” Then Paxton hands me something. “This fell out of Darius’s pocket when he was fighting. I think it is his prescription bottle. He told me this morning that he ran out and his foster mother is away. He was planning to ask Miss Shasta if she could get more since she gives out meds.” Thank you Paxton. It’s not your fault Paxton.
Well meaning adults peered into the crystal ball and saw this future – maybe not the particulars, but we knew Darius was spiraling downward and yet no one could or would help him. We busied ourselves with other things and waited for the inevitable. I avert my eyes as the patrol car pulls away. I let Darius drown and here is a secret: Darius was one of my favorites.
Not too far out in the water a child is floundering. On the beach people are watching: people who are good swimmers, people with boats and life preservers, people who know the child. But no one moves to save the child. The people watch as his cries for help weaken and his head slips under the surface. Over and over he manages, with splashing and struggling, to rise above the crashing waves only to be dragged under again. Finally he doesn’t resurface.
Later many of the people on the beach say they knew all along he was going to drown, it was just a matter of time.
Confession: I am one of the people on that beach. I watched the boy drown and did nothing. While the boy was drowning, I was preoccupied with building castles in the sand. Worse yet, I really liked the drowning boy, but like the rest of the people on the beach, I was unwilling do what was required to rescue him.
Darius remembers a time when he had a real family – a mother, a father and two younger brothers and they all lived together in Springfield, Massachusetts. He was four years old when the “social workers” took him from his parents, but his memories combined with his imagination paint an idyllic picture of those halcyon days. He grasps tightly to this story as life swirls about, choking and drowning him.
Nine years and fourteen foster homes later, Darius rarely sees one brother (therapeutic foster home - multiple physical handicaps), never sees the other brother (adopted) nor his parents (“My mother did something really, really bad to me”). At times Darius has been nourished by the rare and always temporary love of a teacher, counselor, social worker, therapist and long ago, a foster mother who died. These injections of love help keep Darius afloat with his chin quivering and dripping just above the water line.
The staff has been watching the sinking of Darius for weeks and we’ve made several phone calls to his foster mother. She tells us she thinks the psychotropic drugs Darius takes aren’t working properly or that the dosage is insufficient, but, she explains, his doctor is on vacation for a month and no one is covering his patients. This seems unbelievable to me and I call her more than once begging her to pressure someone: DCF, the clinic Darius attends, his therapist; to see Darius and alter his prescription. I tell her we are all worried about Darius. My words fail to persuade. Meanwhile Darius’s behavior becomes stranger and more volatile.
Neither Darius nor Ethan is a popular boy. They aren’t scapegoated, mostly they’re just avoided as one might steer clear of an unshaven homeless man talking loudly to himself. Misery in this case does not love company, at least not the company of another miserable outcast. In an effort to be accepted, Ethan seeks out opportunities to taunt Darius. His efforts are usually rewarded. Darius can pretty much be counted on to overreact to minor teasing and Prospect students thrive on such theatrics. Lately Darius hasn’t even required much of a catalyst, he is permanently armed for bear and he’ll lock and load with minimal provocation.
Of course it happened in the Mime’s class and it involved the Mime’s water bottle. It is surprising, or in retrospect maybe not so surprising, that the Mime still leaves her water bottle within reach of her class, especially in reach of Ethan, although for this prank Ethan doesn’t spit in it. Instead, after secreting the bottle off the Mime’s desk, Ethan walks up to Darius and quietly says his name causing Darius to look up from his worksheet at which point Ethan squirts Darius directly in the face with nearly the entire contents of the water bottle. Darius loses all control. He morphs into something approximating a cross between The Hulk and the Tasmanian Devil. Screeching, he throws chairs, desks, books and tears writing from the walls as he chases after Ethan. Saliva oozes down his chin as he lashes out – Darius is literally foaming at the mouth. Ethan’s initial laughter fades fast when faced with the reality of the Darius Demon. The other students flee the classroom, the Mime screams incomprehensibly into the walkie-talkie.
The Deputy and Counselor Rusty arrive in seconds with the Deputy determined to arrest Darius and Rusty just as determined he not be arrested. I take the Deputy aside to plead Darius’s case. He agrees, no arrest, but a long suspension. I call the foster mother and tell her Darius is suspended for fighting, that he was nearly arrested and that he can’t come back until he sees a doctor. She is not pleased. She tells me I should have let the Deputy arrest him, that would have taught him a lesson.
I have become really annoyed by that now all too familiar sentiment, it is like the refrain from some eerie chorus that keeps singing dirges to the future of my students.
My attempt to pressure the foster mother backfires – she knows her rights. The next morning Henry, my public school liaison, stops by my office to tell me I can’t suspend a child pending a doctor visit. I have to set a specific number of days in accordance with the severity of the misbehavior. Henry suggests five days. I try to explain my rationale, but to no avail. I may know Darius, but Henry knows the rules.
After five days, Darius returns and is so sleepy and disoriented in English class, the Mime decide he needs to “sober up” and she sends him to Shasta who is dispensing meds in the “clinic.” Shasta has Darius lie down and when she talks with him she learns he is now taking twice as many pills as prescribed. His doctor is still on vacation, so did Darius decide to increase his dosage on his own or did his foster mother? Shasta tells Rosie, Rosie tells me and I plan to phone his foster mother but I neglect to make it a priority and two days go by before I remember and by then it is too late.
Darius is wild. Absolutely wild. He starts his day by pounding the cafeteria table at breakfast chanting, “Give me my damn ice cream.” Later he dashes out of math class, removes his shoes and starts to run around the ball field in his socks. I walk out to the pitcher’s mound and call his name. At first he ignores me until I remind him I am a fast runner (Darius has seen my running trophy and believes the hype about my superhero speed) and that I can tackle him and restrain him (neither of us has forgotten his first days at Prospect – Darius eating dirt with me pinning his legs). He is still flailing but he follows me to my office. I see the Deputy watching us, shaking his head. In my office I tell Darius I’m going to call his foster mother.
“You know her number?” He asks, sitting shoeless on the edge of the chair, swinging his legs and fidgeting.
“Of course, if you recall I’ve called her a few times before.” Darius smiles at that but tells me: “Bet you don’t know her number today.” When I ask why, Darius explains:
“She’s on vacation. I’m staying at Cressler House.”
Cressler House – the shelter for homeless and abused children in Herald County.
I call Darius’s DCF caseworker. I’m told his case has been contracted out to a private faith-based agency. I call that agency and talk with Darius’s new caseworker. Yes, he is aware that Darius is living this week at Cressler. “Like leaving your dog in the kennel,” I sarcastically quip. He tells me this arrangement isn’t unusual – foster parents often don’t want the foster children around on vacation. The caseworker agrees to come pick up Darius. When the caseworker arrives, Rusty escorts Darius for a walk around campus to locate his missing shoes. In my office with Darius’s caseworker, I share my concerns about his behavior, his medication, his stay in the shelter. The caseworker listens, then says “Obviously you care for Darius, would you be interested in adopting him?” I stammer something by way of a reply as the caseworker continues, “Well I asked his foster mother, but she doesn’t want him. We got the youngest brother adopted but the middle brother has physical handicaps so no one wants him. Darius has an aunt, she’s 23 and in the military in Iraq. She says she might want Darius when she returns…. Oh and next time he behaves like this, my supervisor says you need to have him arrested. With my caseload, I don’t have time to pick up every kid who misbehaves.”
I meet with Rosie, Rusty and Darius’s teachers to talk about strategies to help Darius survive until his foster mother returns from vacation. Sam, his math teacher, says a friendship of sorts has started to form between Darius and Paxton.
Paxton, like Darius, is a very thin, twelve-year-old white boy. Unlike Darius, Paxton lives with his biological mother and his new step-father. Paxton is fairly unique in that his school did not recommend placement at Prospect; last year his mother and step-father decided Paxton lies too much and requested placement here. The public school agreed. Paxton wears glasses and elastic waist cotton twill pants and his shirt is always tucked in. He is very calm and polite. Unlike Darius, he is not teased by his peers, possibly because he doesn’t respond. However he is never picked for teams or groups and doesn’t have any friends at Prospect.
Both Darius and Paxton are very bright and play chess together in chess club. Sam has seen Paxton speak quietly to Darius in an effort to calm him when Darius starts to go haywire. Sometimes it even works. Armed with this valuable information, we agree to make an effort to keep Paxton near Darius. We plan to remain vigilant with Darius and try to remove him from class before a riot occurs, however we are not optimistic about our chances for success.
As she leaves the meeting, Rosie says she thinks about adopting Darius. “Don’t tell him.” I caution. “Oh he already knows. We’ve talked about it” She replies. Darius’s dreams deferred: “Hey kid, any minute now I’ll swim out and rescue you, hold on, I’ll be along directly.”
The following day I have an off-campus curriculum meeting to attend. I inadvertently depart for the meeting wearing both my sneakers (I usually change back into my shoes for meetings) and walkie-talkie (which I at least remember to leave in my car during the meeting). While driving back to Prospect the walkie-talkie starts to crackle even before I turn into Prospect’s long driveway. Theo’s voice sounds hysterical, Sam sounds calm but his tone is edged with urgency. I am too far from campus to hear clearly, but one word keeps coming through loud and clear: Darius. I race up the driveway and leap from my car sprinting across campus to Sam’s portable. I arrive in time to see Theo, Sam and Jordan trying to restrain a screaming, punching, kicking, writhing Darius. Students from three classes have spilled out onto the walkway between the portables and like spectators at the coliseum they cheer the action. Paxton is kneeling next to Darius trying desperately to calm him while simultaneously dodging his thrashing fists, but Darius is too far gone. The Deputy arrives seconds after I do and in an instant handcuffs Darius and stuffs him into the back seat of the squad car. The Deputy then takes a moment to talk with the three sweating, panting teachers. He’ll need an official report from each of them, and he wants them (and me) to know he will be arresting Darius for a felony assault on teachers. I ask Theo, Sam and Jordan if they are hurt and need medical attention. They all say no but admit Darius did hit them although, as Sam says “It was like he was punching at ghosts and we got in the way.” What set him off? Someone, maybe Ethan, made fun of his math poster…. After the milling students are herded back in their classrooms I start to walk back to my office when I hear a voice behind me: “Ms. Smee?” It is Paxton. “Ms. Smee I’m sorry. I tried to mentor Darius but I couldn’t. I couldn’t help him.” Then Paxton hands me something. “This fell out of Darius’s pocket when he was fighting. I think it is his prescription bottle. He told me this morning that he ran out and his foster mother is away. He was planning to ask Miss Shasta if she could get more since she gives out meds.” Thank you Paxton. It’s not your fault Paxton.
Well meaning adults peered into the crystal ball and saw this future – maybe not the particulars, but we knew Darius was spiraling downward and yet no one could or would help him. We busied ourselves with other things and waited for the inevitable. I avert my eyes as the patrol car pulls away. I let Darius drown and here is a secret: Darius was one of my favorites.
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