In a discussion yesterday with people I work with, there was an interesting insight into attitudes about students and behavior. It was obvious to everyone the behavior of the kid who grabbed me the other day, had it occurred 'on the outside', in public, he would have been liable for criminal prosecution.
If someone had dropped a grocery list on the floor of the WalMart, and saw me pick it up and put it in my pocket, and then walked over and fought with me over possession of the note, they would have been arrested for battery, or something similar. Because it happened in a school setting, there will be no charges of any kind, and while I know the kid will have some sort of administrative review, and face possible expulsion, or at least a lengthy suspension, nothing more than that will happen.
So why is that? That was part of our discussion yesterday: why, exactly, are the rules different inside than on the outside? Teachers are constantly threatened, verbally abused, and physically assaulted (I had another kid last week swagger into class late, and on his way up the aisle to reach his seat, rather than politely asking me to step aside, he simply pushed me out of his way with his hand. I chose to not make a case out of that one).
The general agreement was that it's ridiculous that students can get away with criminal behavior with no real fear of consequence. Because it's school, and the rules are different there. We have to show caring, and love, and restraint, and apparently Christ-like patience and virtues. Anyway, I'm not sure what I'm saying here, but I'm kind of annoyed with that kid and his stupid note, and particularly annoyed at having to put up with this kid's messed-up behavior.
In discussing the incident with a co-worker, they carefully broached the subject that the kid 'had problems', and that he was 'troubled'. This co-worker told me this in a sympathetic voice, explaining his behavior in the context of a greater range of problems that weren't really his fault, and indicated to me that I needed to 'show some understanding' of his behavior and, I guess, feel sorry for him rather than callously making sure he's prosecuted for his actions.
Unfortunately, I don't feel sorry for him. I tried to, but... nope. He can go to hell.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Change of Subject.
This is easily my favorite piece of work I've ever done. I love it.
Very few people have ever seen it. It's Larionov, Stepkova, Popova, Malevich, etc.
I've tried to turn this piece into a color painting and have fallen down each time.
Anyway, something nice after an unpleasant day.
Unfortunate Incident.
So I had a class today that consisted of a collection of Language Students who were really, really good. Except for the last class.
I caught a couple of 9th Grade boys passing a note, and when I reached out a hand and indicated a demand, one of them crumpled it and threw it in the trash can, apparently thinking I wouldn't fish it out. I did. I sense a challenge when I see one, and I thought nothing of it. However, this particular note was a back-and-forth exchange of explicitly sexual, degrading, and pornographic descriptions of what these two boys would do to their usual (female) teacher.
So I kept it and tucked it in my open shirt breast pocket. They immediately got very quiet.
My plan was to clip it to the substitute report at the end of the day and secure it. I thought, during the 1-1/2 hour block, that having the piece of paper was a lure to a fish, but dismissed this idea, as who would be so dumb as to try for my clothing and person in a public school classroom?
WELL.
The final bell rang, the last recipient of the note was walking out, and made a grab for the note in my shirt. I swear, I swear, I did not plan this. He was waiting for his chance. I did not tempt him or anything, I really didn't think he'd go for it. His hand flashed out to my shirt and grabbed the note and my hand came up just as fast to grab his sleeve. This dummy thought he could be quick, not knowing my background and reflexes.
We ended up in a tugging match in the classroom, in front of the entire class, who exited as fast as they could. This kid has me by the shirt, and is trying to yank me around. I instructed him, in my best 'STREET SURVIVAL' voice, "Let go". He tells me, "You let go!" I tell him, "Not happening". He pulled his left hand back (we were both right handed) as if to throw a punch, and I opened my palm to go for his face, in anticipation of lifting him off his feet and slamming the back of his skull into the floor and knocking him out.
He started getting scared, I could see it, because unlike all the civilians he usually deals with, I'm something different. He said, "Let go of my arm!" I looked down and discovered I was holding his shirt sleeve along with half the note. I opened the two bottom fingers and let his sleeve go, and he wrenched free and grabbed the note again. In that split second I considered grabbing his wrist, but did not do it. If I'd grabbed him, I don't think that would have ended without an injury. This time I let him do it: he had already cooked his own goose by committing battery on a teacher in front of witnesses.
He got his note and tried to stuff it in his pocket. I walked around him and blocked the door, and told him, "You're arrested. You're going down, son".
He took the note, stuffed it in his mouth, chewed it up and swallowed it. He said, "Now you got no way to prove I did it!"
I stepped back from the door and let him go.
This is a generally good class, and when asked, they will describe exactly what happened. I know that. Also, I talked to security, the rep, and a couple other people about this fool, and he will not be attending school in the future. And he has set himself on his own path.
I caught a couple of 9th Grade boys passing a note, and when I reached out a hand and indicated a demand, one of them crumpled it and threw it in the trash can, apparently thinking I wouldn't fish it out. I did. I sense a challenge when I see one, and I thought nothing of it. However, this particular note was a back-and-forth exchange of explicitly sexual, degrading, and pornographic descriptions of what these two boys would do to their usual (female) teacher.
So I kept it and tucked it in my open shirt breast pocket. They immediately got very quiet.
My plan was to clip it to the substitute report at the end of the day and secure it. I thought, during the 1-1/2 hour block, that having the piece of paper was a lure to a fish, but dismissed this idea, as who would be so dumb as to try for my clothing and person in a public school classroom?
WELL.
The final bell rang, the last recipient of the note was walking out, and made a grab for the note in my shirt. I swear, I swear, I did not plan this. He was waiting for his chance. I did not tempt him or anything, I really didn't think he'd go for it. His hand flashed out to my shirt and grabbed the note and my hand came up just as fast to grab his sleeve. This dummy thought he could be quick, not knowing my background and reflexes.
We ended up in a tugging match in the classroom, in front of the entire class, who exited as fast as they could. This kid has me by the shirt, and is trying to yank me around. I instructed him, in my best 'STREET SURVIVAL' voice, "Let go". He tells me, "You let go!" I tell him, "Not happening". He pulled his left hand back (we were both right handed) as if to throw a punch, and I opened my palm to go for his face, in anticipation of lifting him off his feet and slamming the back of his skull into the floor and knocking him out.
He started getting scared, I could see it, because unlike all the civilians he usually deals with, I'm something different. He said, "Let go of my arm!" I looked down and discovered I was holding his shirt sleeve along with half the note. I opened the two bottom fingers and let his sleeve go, and he wrenched free and grabbed the note again. In that split second I considered grabbing his wrist, but did not do it. If I'd grabbed him, I don't think that would have ended without an injury. This time I let him do it: he had already cooked his own goose by committing battery on a teacher in front of witnesses.
He got his note and tried to stuff it in his pocket. I walked around him and blocked the door, and told him, "You're arrested. You're going down, son".
He took the note, stuffed it in his mouth, chewed it up and swallowed it. He said, "Now you got no way to prove I did it!"
I stepped back from the door and let him go.
This is a generally good class, and when asked, they will describe exactly what happened. I know that. Also, I talked to security, the rep, and a couple other people about this fool, and he will not be attending school in the future. And he has set himself on his own path.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Window treatments for the Lower Classes
A notable thing around here, which I first noticed while working for the telecommunications company here, was the preponderance of improvised window coverings. Far and away the most common are old bedsheets, followed closely by cheap plastic miniblinds from WalMart. Actual curtains and shades are really quite rare.
Far more typical are, say, a combination of threadbare purple fitted sheets from Goodwill nailed to the frames, with perhaps a small mini-blind in a kitchen window. The effect at night is kind of colorful, going well with the Xmas lights that typically are never removed, but turned on for miscellaneous holidays and family birthdays.
At least in this part of town. In other parts the preferred window treatments are garbage bags and spray paint.
Quiet in the Halls
Doing 3rd Grade yesterday there is this big deal about the kids running wild in the halls and getting loud, etc. So in the journey from one end of the school to the other, I had the kids lined up, and then asked them:
Can you walk to the room while... holding your hands over your heads? (They did it)
Can you walk to the room while... hopping like a kangaroo? (They did that)
Can you walk to the room while... nodding your head up and down? (That as well)
And then came the accidental stroke of genius:
Can you walk to the room while... holding your arms over your heads and holding your breath at the same time? (They did it)
Let's Go!
We walked to the room, and the kids had a hold-your-breath contest. They didn't make a sound. As soon as they got into the room there was a big festival of gasping for air and staggering around. I swear one of the girls turned blue in the face. They really got into it.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Blue Dogs, and Waking Up
This picture was taken in, probably, 1996. I got it out of the small photo album titled, Blue Dog, born maybe (he was a shelter dog) May, 1994; went home, 01/20/2007. It wasn't last year he took his leave, it was two years ago. When TSO told me, I realized I'd missed an entire year.
What does that tell you.
He was not quite two years old in this picture, and I know it was taken in Chicago, during a terrible time. He spent a lot of time watching over me. For me, having a cattledog/blue heeler herding dog was perfect, I guess: he told me what to do. He listened to me when it was sensible, ignored me when I wasn't , and generally ran the house. I was cool with that.
I talked to L about Blue today, and described how he would wake me up every morning for... what, 11 years? He had no interest in petting or attention. If you had time to pat his head, you had time to THRASH. If you petted him, he'd go berserk. "Come on, you dummy, let's do stuff!!!"
So for nearly every morning (unless HE slept in; the sleeping in did not apply to me. 'Sick? Get up, you lame-O! I'm not sick!' 'Hung over? That's YOUR fault, not mine!' etc.) for almost 13 or so years he woke me as such:
(I'm trying to go back to sleep, and can only hear)
click click click click click click click click click
(Excrutiating pause)
(Dog... nasal exhalation?) Hphhhhhh.
click click click click click click click click
(Ah, good, I can go back to sleep, it's gone;)
click click click click click click
Hppphhhhhhh.
(Dammit! He's back! If I open an eye he'll freak out. Now it's like a hold-your-breath contest. Crap. He knows I'm awake. He can sense the tension. S#$% F&*%$##@ I have to look-)
(I crack open a crusty eyelid, and-)
HOW WOW WOW WOW BARK BARK BARK BARK
Some Thoughts on Basic Education
I'll openly tell anyone who cares to listen that factory towns are at a severe disadvantage in education. Why? Well, a bunch of reasons, but the biggest problem I see around here is a disregard for any education of any kind that doesn't immediately result in some tangible benefit.
The mentality for this is apparent if you've ever lived in factory towns: generations of people could simply say, "I don't like school!" walk out the front door at 16 years old, and get a job on The Line at The Plant. If not on The Line, at least sweeping floors, or working in a subsidiary support business, built on the spending habits of decently-paid factory workers. If a person wasn't inclined to 'bookishness', they could always find something to do for a halfway decent living.
Economics have now changed, but the basic attitude has not. I can't tell you how many adult people with good jobs I meet who are barely literate, with poor reading skills (low enough to have some difficulty reading a major newspaper), poor spelling skills (I see blatant, first-grade level misspellings on public signs here all the time), and grammar skills that involve mostly 'ain'ts' and 'got nones'.
Few of these people are mentally deficient, and if they are, it's usually due to drug and alcohol abuse, but they are not interested in school. Currently, with yet more factories going under in the state, the Technical Colleges are inundated with people redirecting their lives, and I know for a fact that a goodly proportion of these people flooding out of well-paid factory jobs can't work with even high school level material.
There is another, far more destructive level of attitude, and that has to do with ingrained animosity towards management and 'The Suits', who are inevitably something I've been called whenever I tell people I have a bachelor's degree, which is "College Boy', a description without exception phrased in a hostile manner. The 'College Boy' is the white-shirted grad who shows up as your overpaid supervisor, with a know-it-all demeanor and an ivory tower background, and blue-collar people hate these people like poison. A lot of blue-collar people view college graduation as a badge of treason, of sleeping with the enemy. Their view is anyone going to college is a spoiled brat with no common sense and no heart or soul, who will never know 'the working stiff'.
So there is generations-old hatred of 'higher education', which is viewed as irrelevant, turns out abusive ignoramii, and is for the foul minions of The Corporation, which as everyone knows spends every waking moment (and its dreams as well) coming up with diabolical ways to torment and oppress its workers. This stunningly self-destructive belief system is just now starting to change, with a few people, but by no means all, deciding that some literacy and higher education might not be an altogether evil thing.
Anyway. Some thoughts on why, oh why, so many people I meet in factory towns are so pathologically disinterested in knowledge, or learning about anything other than what's directly in front of their faces.
The mentality for this is apparent if you've ever lived in factory towns: generations of people could simply say, "I don't like school!" walk out the front door at 16 years old, and get a job on The Line at The Plant. If not on The Line, at least sweeping floors, or working in a subsidiary support business, built on the spending habits of decently-paid factory workers. If a person wasn't inclined to 'bookishness', they could always find something to do for a halfway decent living.
Economics have now changed, but the basic attitude has not. I can't tell you how many adult people with good jobs I meet who are barely literate, with poor reading skills (low enough to have some difficulty reading a major newspaper), poor spelling skills (I see blatant, first-grade level misspellings on public signs here all the time), and grammar skills that involve mostly 'ain'ts' and 'got nones'.
Few of these people are mentally deficient, and if they are, it's usually due to drug and alcohol abuse, but they are not interested in school. Currently, with yet more factories going under in the state, the Technical Colleges are inundated with people redirecting their lives, and I know for a fact that a goodly proportion of these people flooding out of well-paid factory jobs can't work with even high school level material.
There is another, far more destructive level of attitude, and that has to do with ingrained animosity towards management and 'The Suits', who are inevitably something I've been called whenever I tell people I have a bachelor's degree, which is "College Boy', a description without exception phrased in a hostile manner. The 'College Boy' is the white-shirted grad who shows up as your overpaid supervisor, with a know-it-all demeanor and an ivory tower background, and blue-collar people hate these people like poison. A lot of blue-collar people view college graduation as a badge of treason, of sleeping with the enemy. Their view is anyone going to college is a spoiled brat with no common sense and no heart or soul, who will never know 'the working stiff'.
So there is generations-old hatred of 'higher education', which is viewed as irrelevant, turns out abusive ignoramii, and is for the foul minions of The Corporation, which as everyone knows spends every waking moment (and its dreams as well) coming up with diabolical ways to torment and oppress its workers. This stunningly self-destructive belief system is just now starting to change, with a few people, but by no means all, deciding that some literacy and higher education might not be an altogether evil thing.
Anyway. Some thoughts on why, oh why, so many people I meet in factory towns are so pathologically disinterested in knowledge, or learning about anything other than what's directly in front of their faces.
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