Apocalypse Now

Today during PD I learned that Tilden Middle School is the school of Satan. Here’s why:

• Next year Tilden will have 6 teachers for each grade (6th, 7th, and 8th). in other words, 6,6,6.
• There will be 6 expressive arts teachers and 6 Special Ed Teachers
• Tilden is located on the corner of 66th and Elmwood
• “Tilden Middle School” has 6 letters in each word. again, 6,6,6.

Far too many sixes. But at least now I can assign some type of rhyme or reason for the degree of chaos. And oh, somebody was shooting on the corner of 66th and Elmwood at about 8:15 this morning with hundreds of kids outside too. I guess somebody didn’t get the “Tell them we are rising” memo. :-\

Two posts in one day? That bored, huh?

Considering I haven’t specifically written about what takes up the vast majority of my life, (i.e. teaching), I figured I’d drop something so as to ground the blog in its roots (does anyone else find that funny like me?)

Well, progress has been made in Room 401. A LOT of progress. Mr. Garr no longer screams and yells. He still wacks kids, but he does it with a 2.5 ft pole that he twirls around in class and the halls like a billy club (“kappa style” as one teacher said). So I guess u can say I embody the saying “Speak softly and carry a big stick.” I’ve learned a lot of the nuances of managing a classroom of kids. I am much more laid back with my kids. Seriously, I spend most the day sitting in my barstool at the front of the classroom and give responsibilties to students. “James, get that off my desk and pass it out.” “Mabintu, take attendance for me.” “Rugei, erase the board for me.” “Derrick pass out the Math books.” I’ve realized that as a teacher, I don’t have to do every single thing in the classroom. In fact, things go a lot smoother when u start delegating those responsibilities to students. Grading papers, writing on the board, reading a problem–I forgot that kids love to do that.

And the funny thing is, my class is much more like a family now than it was 4 months ago. A (very) dysfunctional one, yes, but a family nonetheless. I am (finally) the ultimate authority in the classroom, evidenced by my ability to wack one of them without anyone threatening to tell their parents or calling the police. They know that I only wack em when they deserve it and that’s only when they’ve refused to listen to repeated warnings. It’s the unspoken consequence on my consequence chart (lol). And most times, I don’t even have to hit them. I just grip it tightly like I’m about to wack them (which I am usually about to do if they don’t stop) and they straighten up. “Aight Mr. Garr! Dang!” as their eyes get huge and they run back to their seats.

It was a long, arduous road to get to this point, and honestly, I’ve yet to “arrive”. It’s just that my class has improved immensely from the constant chaos of September, October, and November. I’ve reached a comfort zone (maybe too comfortable since I sometimes don’t show up to school until 8:30. School starts at 8:15). And on top of all that, my kids are learning. Really, they are. Granted, I haven’t touched a science book since December, but my kids are airtight in Math and know a good bit about Ancient Egypt (they can’t pronounce “hieroglyphics” tho).

This past week has been especially chill. Next week we take the PSSA’s. These are the state-wide tests that test students in Math and Reading as mandated by No Child Left Behind. Tilden has some of the lowest scores in Philadelphia and has failed to meet annual goals for YEARS. They even failed to meet the lower goals that are set for schools that fail to meet the regular statewide goals. It’s that bad.

But since next week is PSSA time, I took this week as an opportunity to test the buhjesus out of my kids. I had a few mock PSSA tests in a crate so I made copies of them jokers and passed em out to the class. Aside from the fact that it prepares them for the format and work needed for the real PSSA’s, it also guarantees 2+ hours of complete silence from my kids (another piece of evidence that we’ve made progress in Room 401). So I can chill, visit other teachers, stare out the window and marinate. It’s been great. And after they finish, we go over the test. If they start talking, I stop, sit down, and wait for them to shut up. I look at the clock like I’m keeping time of how long they talk (even tho i don’t) cuz they know whatever time they take from me I take from them by making them stay after school. Eventually they shut up after yelling at each other to stop talking and I continue. This was seriously my week. Very chill.

And tomorrow, we have the PSSA Pep Rally. Yes, a pep rally for standardized tests. There are 3 different shows, one for each grade. (It’d be chaos to try and have the whole school at once). But since I’m performing in the pep rally, I have to go to all 3, which means my class gets to go to all 3. (Which means ya boy teaches nothing tomorrow and just chills in the auditorium with his kids all day). I hung this fact over my kids’ heads all week, letting them know that if they acted up all week, then I would do what I gotta do at the pep rally and march my class up 4 stories of steps to the classroom and work them like a group of recaptured runaway slaves. Since they know I’m crazy enough to do such a thing, they took it to heart and kept themselves in line (for the most part).

I still haven’t told them what I’m doing at the pep rally. I didn’t even let them know I was performing. I think most of them think that I’m just in charge of some part of it. It’ll be funny to see how they react tomorrow.

But what will be funnier is seeing whether or not I’ll be able to even talk tomorrow. Somewhere between Tuesday and Wednesday, my whole body started rebelling against itself. My glands are extra swollen, it hurts like heck to swallow (two terrible things for a singer), my body feels super weak, and i have a serious headache. (Pre-med’s? Med School students? Ideas?) I usually don’t get sick, and I’ve done pretty well to keep from getting sick from my kids. I take a multi-vitamin everyday, and load up on Vitamin C but something snuck through my immune system and got me good. Let’s hope that whatever it is waits to deliver the final blow AFTER tomorrow. Either that or just leave tonight.

Yeah, that’d be great.

Now that i’ve filled the void in school posts for the past 4 months, I can go back to music, gear, and random quotes and poems till May/June…. sike nah. (you hype!)

It’s been a long time…

Its been over 3 weeks since my last post. not like u ppl are fiending for me to update this or anything, but i felt like i should drop a lil sumthin. The past 3 weeks have been the most uneventfully eventful (or is that eventfully uneventful?) weeks since I’ve been in philly. Took a quick road trip to dc to holler at the ole heads giles and obinna. shoutout to Jim Jones for making that weekend fantastical. I’m hiding from UPenn since I am probably the worst grad student ever. And school is winding down as my kids are preparing for the big statewide tests next week. This is what we prep the kids for all year and what they usually fail with outstanding levels of success.

Speaking of which, I’ll be giving my first public performance since i’ve come to philly on friday. Where? No, it’s not a talent show or some hip, neo-soul, doobie wrapped hipster open mic night. It’s at Tilden’s PSSA pep rally. Yes, we have a pep rally for our federal/state-mandated standardized tests (i never had a pep rally for Iowa tests or SOLs…lol) and yes I’m singing. No I did not volunteer, nor was I asked. I was not even around when the decision was made. In fact, I was in the air on my way to St. Louis to see Black Anthology when the Staff and Administration of my dear place of employment whored me for the pep rally. I really don’t mind tho. Really, I don’t.

It’s funny tho for a few reasons. One reason: teaching has destroyed my voice. Something about speaking loudly aka yelling for 7 hours a day 5 days a week has an uncanny ability of damaging one’s vocal chords. Another reason: I’m singing “The Greatest Love of All”. Yes, the song that begins with “I believe the children are the future,” made famous by the free-basing (we know it was crack), “is that Brandy’s brother?” singer, Whitney Houston. (that went over some of yall’s heads). And another reason: I’m nervous. For some reason, performing for an auditorium of hoodrat pubescents is a bit more nerve-wracking than talent shows or open mics or [insert past performance here]. No real room for error here. I’d rather do the Apollo with no fingers and a banjo. (That, class, is what we call “hyperbole”)

Other than that, I’ve been stewing on a lot lately. Thinking. (I know, don’t hurt urself, Jonathan… too late.) The saying goes that Life (with a capital L) and payback are both female dogs (hmm… are they sisters? mother and daughter? jus girlfriends that hang out on the weekends… ok, i took that one too far). So it’s like i’m being dragged by two horribly vindictive canines (again. slight hyperbole. with a dash of melodrama.) But, as my nigga shakespeare said, philosophy is the sweet milk of adversity and i’m sittin on all this until the proper time. Good thing I’m not lactose intolerant.

i hope this is all as vague as i wanted it to be, so as to not compromise my own cancerian need for personal security while satiating my narcisistic desires to keep the blog afloat. (if u can’t tell, my sense of humor is, as always, still in tact) :-p

-Call me…? No, don’t call me. I’ll call u.

Blame the Jews

I thought that would be a very inflammatory title. It is not completely random and is meant to be taken tongue-in-cheek. Maybe if ur smart u’ll understand why by post’s end.

So, I realize that I haven’t talked about school in a long while on this thing. Prolly because I try to lock those thoughts away for as long as possible. That said, I felt the need to communicate to the 4 people who read the blog some details from my life, which is 95% school.

Thursday, I threw (“tossed” is prolly a better word) a bagel at a student and it hit him in the eye. Now i’m in a lotta trouble.

Welcome to Tilden. The End.

Blame Jeffrey

so i’m not as much of… how do i say… an “open book” as the young Taylor, but i must admit that reading his stuff, listening to Lupe, Clipse, and others, and the fact that i live by myself (translation: too much time spent thinking) have all amalgamated to end what had been a pretty extended writer’s bloc. it’s not like i had been tryna write that much, but i was more or less uninspired and unable to produce anything worth looking at for at least a year.

Well, the levees have broken and with them have come all the internal conflicts that breed the stuff I don’t call prose. will u understand it? maybe. maybe not. could i make it more understandable and less guarded? yeah, probably. but i’d rather confuse u and leave u conflicted. is that a good thing? prolly not. iunno.

*note*: above is an example of me thinking too much. i digress.

so anyways, i’ve been writing more over the past 3 or 4 months and blame it on JV Taylor that i decided to put some up here. what can i say, i need an outlet. but i will not give dashiki-and-incense-laden introductions like the aforementioned individual has been known to do. all things are open to criticism (good and bad) and questions and interpretations (but if ur off, i’ll let u know).

This one is a lot rougher than the first 2, but i’m bored. wrote it mid-november.

Tilden Dreams

I wonder—with the future before me,
at a desk here, walking there, never silent—
what happened to my dreams?

Wrapped in cellophane or spoiled
(because everything has a “sell by” date,
a shelf life)? There were always many
lofty, as they dreams must be, like an attic
in an old house, or this building where
I stand in front of dreamers who have no idea
they’re sleeping.

It makes sense
that the top floor is off limits. We’re one beneath it.
Besides, it’s filled with feathers
and perhaps the remains of a pigeon or two.
But I will remind myself and my dreams:
even birds have limits, wings can be burdensome,
and that star I wish upon may be filled
with souls that wish upon my own planet from a distance.

So I wonder—with the future before me,
at a desk here, walking there, never silent—
what happened to my dreams?

Like long lines in the cold, breath collecting
before my face to warm the tip of my nose
for a jackpot or an elusive ticket to a candy factory,
were some of them lost
before I had ever discovered them?

With so many black plastic bags tangled in tree branches, I can tell
they never take the time to notice packaging,
and the bags crackle in the wind like blown speakers, like static
from TV. Looking down from my window, I mistake them
for a flock of crows, as I’m sure
they would mistake a crow for a plastic bag in a tree.
It makes sense.

The desks are empty, I cannot hear them anywhere
but in my head. Still, I know that they are speaking
of the past, as the future always does, in spite of itself.

I wonder how long it will take
to sweep up feathers and excrement: the future
is as impatient as a dream.

Call it the "winter itch"

The first day

Some stood like axes on the wall,
Others more like guillotines
I have so much to learn
I stood, the only clean blade in a cutlery
until responsibility forced me to draw blood.
This is not new to you, is it? You expected more.
By day’s end, soaked in red,

I questioned myself.

I am not a soldier,
was never a fighter,
how did I end
up in the midst of a war?

This eighty year old brick building
is a fortress that only contains
the confusion of the street corners;
lives that carry the names of the fallen like their ink-
stained backpacks: those are forgotten too,
left at home.

Aware of their place, they are huddled, looking
like freshly washed swine in a mosque,
and I am a bayonet named Moira.

Words of wisdom

Today I had a meeting with Dina Portnoy, head of the UPenn/TFA grad program about my (lack of) progress this semester (some things never change huh? ;-p). *Sidenote: Dina is also the mother of DJ Drama. no lie.*

Well anyways, in our conversation she let me know:

“Teaching gets better, but it never gets easy.”

I wholeheartedly believe her. 2 weeks till christmas.

It’s been a long time coming

I came back to south 43rd st the sunday after thanksgiving thankful for having a mother who was kind enough to excuse my laziness while i was at home. She cooked, I ate. She cleaned, I dirtied. It was the most any momma’s boy could ask for. But when i got back to my apartment, my computer monitor wouldn’t turn on. So, this past week i’ve been tryna shop for a new monitor for Roberto Miguel de Dell. I’m kinda pissed about having to spend that money. Ya boy would rather spend it on gear or classroom stuff.

Onto more important things, life at Tilden has gotten a lot better. My classroom is definitely coming around and I’ve actually become an authority figure in my classroom and outside of it. I think things did take a turn for the better the day I decided to wu-tang. I stopped being stoic (which we all know i’m not) and started to loosen up around my kids.

This week was amazing in that it was a full 5-day work week and I was not at any point exhausted. By the end of today, I felt like I could’ve come in tomorrow and taught for another day if I had to. That’s not to say the week was by any means easy or free of conflict:

There was Wan’yae’s insistent antagonizing of whoever was near him. First I saw him slap Christian in the face, then later punch Rashaun. All three sit at the same table. He later decided he was on his own schedule and left for lunch when he felt like it. Lining up to come back from lunch, Wan’yae decided to punch somewhere between 3-5 random people in the lunchroom. When he got back to the classroom, he took my eraser off the board and threw it in the air and let it fall to the ground. Then he punched Cornelius when Cornelius came near him to look out the window (which Cornelius had no business doing anyway). This all happened within an hour or so.

He’s suspended.

Then there was Saleem, who, after talking to his mother yesterday about his refusal to do everything from walking quietly in line to staying in his seat in the classroom and his constant use of the word “No” when being told to do something (I don’t deal well with 11-12 year old’s telling me “no”. If the youngbol doesn’t get his act together, he might get put in his place… physically), after all this, Saleem walked in this morning as though I hadn’t even talked to his mother. This meant that I spent half the day today talking to Saleem and hearing “No,” “Why you always sayin my name?” and of course “Get out my face” which of course is said when you’re about 10 feet from the student in question.

And this is just two of my knuckleheads. And this was all today. I have 3 more, which makes things very difficult when you have a class of about 20 students and a quarter of your students have deep-seated behavioral issues. But life is cool. I had to hold Cornelius, Rugeiatu, and Mabintu from Music on Wednesday because they got into a HEATED argument in the beginning of class. Over what? A pencil eraser. But what was amazing was that I finally got through to Cornelius (one of the 5 knuckleheads) and Rugeiatu (who has SERIOUS hormonal issues). I’m learning how to mediate for my kids, which can be very different considering their logic is usually “both eyes for an eye.” Cornelius finally accepted the fact that he’s going to sit with the other African students and I’m not changing his seat. When a pencil goes missing, I don’t hear Rugei scream “Mr. Garr! Get Cornelius!” “For what Rugei?” “He took my pencil!” “You mean the one on the floor under your desk Rugei?”

But I know things are getting better. Sihieed, who is probably the smartest student in my class, has started to do his work. From his first day in school, he would sit at his desk and either talk to other ppl or do something else he was not supposed to do. it pissed me off b/c with a class of 20 students, he was one of probably 4 who was on grade level, and he was a male. The details at this point are superfluous but I got Sihieed doing work and asking questions. It’s beautiful.

But the icing on the cake was Thursday. The Vice Principal, Ms Logan, stopped by my room at the end of the day to talk to me about something. She had been in my classroom earlier that week for an observation that I don’t think went very well. But on Thursday, the last thing she said to me was “It looks like things are really coming together, Mr Garr!” It was my moment of shining glory to know that my administrator didn’t think I was incompetent (which is what I thought she thought).

And oh, I watched a young mother of 3 feed her babbling infant a lollipop on the trolley this evening on my way back from school. Just a reminder that the war is far from over. But thank God for the little victories.

The best gift a new teacher could ask for

Not-so-short and sweet:

After my reading class (which was bananas) left , I took my regular kids as a whole class on a bathroom break. We lined up at the door first. Boys on my right in height order, and girls on my left. After waiting a few seconds for them to be quiet, we started to walk to the other side of the building where the girls bathroom was. By the time we got over there, I realized that the girls bathroom is locked and so I would need to get a key from the security guard. So the question was: Do I leave my class alone in the middle of the hall while other classes are working to go get the key or do I take my class with me to search for the security guard who could be anywhere in the building?

I chose the former nervously and left them in a line to go get the key and warned them that I had no problem cancelling their ice cream party AND their bathroom break if they were rowdy and reminded them that other classes were learning still. I walked to the other side of the building and down the steps and found the security guard and ran back to where my kids were and saw the strangest thing I have yet to see since I started teaching.

My kids were in a perfectly straight, completely silent line.

My boys were in height order right behind the girls (who can line up in any order because they know how to act), facing forward (which meant they were not facing my direction), and were just waiting for me to come back.

I noticed that Mr Brown, one of the 6th grade teachers on that side of the hall, had now closed his door when it was at first opened, so I assumed that the only reason they were in a line was because they were being rowdy and Mr Brown had yelled at them till they did what they were sposed to.

Turned out that they did it by themselves because they wanted to impress me. I almost cussed I was so happy.

Now that’s something to be thankful for. Happy Thanksgiving ppl.

Back like cooked crack..

It was a great weekend. Got to be back in the Lou with normal successful black people my age and hang out with friends and loved ones. Definitely what I needed going into the home stretch before Christmas.

My mother says a lot of things, but one she often repeats is “The Lord looks out for babies and fools.” I definitely felt that this weekend, or at least the last part. After taking an unplanned nap Sunday afternoon, I woke up between 5 and 6 pm. I thought everything was gonna be okay tho cuz my flight didn’t leave til 6:50…or so i thought. Once I arrived at the ticket counter at St Louis International, I learned that the flight I thought left at 6:50 really left at 6:25 and it was too late for me to catch it. So, I missed my flight.

No biggie, I thought. Put me on the next flight.

No can do, Mr Garr. That’s the last flight to Philadelphia this evening. The first flight out the next day would put me back in the City of Brotherless Thugs after 10am.

School starts at 8:15.

So, needless to say, I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I was going to have to take my first sick day, and have my first substitute. Ya boy was SHOOK. I’ve heard plenty of stories and seen how classes behave when they have a substitute. And whatever u think is bad, these kids do 10 times worse. Fights, thrown books, broken desks, broken anything, taking teacher’s belongings, roaming the halls instead of going to class, things thrown out of windows. I was worried sick that my kids were gonna go bananas when they walked in and saw some random person sitting at my desk this morning.

But I did what I could, made some phone calls, made some arrangements, and tried to load enough work on them to keep them busy all day. Then I enjoyed my last night in StL with the class of 07.

I caught the first flight back to Philly, came back to the crib and decided, “Hey, I’m going to Tilden. Who cares if I took the day off, I’m going to see what my kids are up to.” It was more because I wanted to clean up the apocalyptic rubble I was sure to encounter and not wait till tomorrow. I also wanted to be able to make the necessary phone calls today for all the kids who were going crazy and get they mama’s on the horn ASAP.

So I dropped my stuff at the crib on 43rd and walked to my trolley stop. Caught the 36 and got off at the normal corner. Only this time, it was around 2pm instead of 7am. I walked into the school, made my way up the 4 flights of steps and walked onto the 4th floor. I could hear my class from down the hall and had thoughts to just turn around and go home. Save myself the trouble of having to confront whatever misbehavior I was sure I would see.

I got to my door and peaked through the glass window and saw a mess of papers all over the floor. Everyone was talking, kinda loudly at that. But to my surprise, they were all in their seats and most of them were working. Nothing was broken from what I could tell. No books had been thrown. No one was hanging out the window. I was pleasantly surprised. But the real surprise happened when I opened the door and walked in.

“MR. GARR!!!” the class erupted into cheers when they saw me walk through the door. Two of my kids even ran up and hugged me as though I had freed them slavery. It was weird and surreal. The same group of kids who have no problem cussing me out and telling me how much they hate me and my class were actually happy to see me. To be honest, I thought they would’ve been pissed to see me come in on the day they had a sub, but not so.

And really, I think it was more that they hated the sub than they like me. It was more of a choice between two evils for them. The sub was super strict and so they prolly didn’t like the fact that they couldn’t bulldoze him (like they sometimes do to me). Either way, I came in, got a report of what had happened that day (turned out that 4 of my boys were suspended for something they did in Art class), and got to work on Social Studies. Save 2 knuckleheads, everybody did their work quietly at their tables. They cleaned up the room, straightened the desks, and got to go home AT 3:19. (It’s been a long time since the whole class left on time. It actually may have been the first time ever).

I said earlier how one of my mom’s favorite sayings is that “The Lord looks out for babies and fools”. I really felt what she meant today. All that worrying was for naught. I was the fool who missed his flight yesterday and was scared silly that the worse was bound to happen. My boss was gonna think I was irresponsible, my kids were gonna kill each other, etc, etc, etc. Turns out none of the above happened. The Good Lord looked after me and my babies today. I even got them to work silently at their desks.

All the other teachers asked me “What are you doing here?” when they saw me at the end of the day.

In her characteristically intimidating manner, my principal said “I thought you took the day off, Mr Garr. Why are you here?” as I stood in the office.

“I came to see my kids,” I replied with a smirk. “My flight came in and school was still in session so I tried to see if I could teach em a lil sumthin today.”

She smiled back, as did the other veteran teachers in the office. Maybe I impressed them. I kinda impressed myself. But even more than that, I realized how invested I’ve become in these children. Even when they get on my last nerve, and I’m ready to manually remove their brains through their nostrils, I can’t see myself letting them down. They’ve got enough of that already.

So no more playing the fool.