Week One and Done

Actually, the week isn't technically over. I'm really banking on living through tomorrow to make the title truly accurate. Middle school is something else! Let me tell you what! Our first day of school was really just a half day of school. Since I have only 8th graders, I only had kids from 11:45-2:15. That was pretty sweet. I met my homeroom class that I had been warned about. The rumors circulating about these kids were incredible. I mean, I don't want to make them out to be "angels" but I think there is some potential there. Yes, I realize it is the first week of school. My hopeful meter is on overdrive, for sure. Tuesday and Wednesday consisted of a very strange schedule that no one could really understand, least of all, me. On Tuesday I messed up the schedule so bad, I ended up having my homeroom for two periods in a row. That is not a mistake I will ever make again. Class ended with me saying, "Okay, that was the longest two hours of all time. You don't have to see me, and I don't have to see you for the rest of the day, thank God!" I think they enjoy my sarcasm. I saw some grins and chuckles as they headed out the door. The kids were supposed to be rotating through all the different classrooms to do activities on different topics such as; organization, filling out planners, dress code, respecting authority, etc. After lunch I was out in the hall helping kids figure out which class they needed to get to, when I saw some students milling around outside my classroom. I walked down there and lo and behold, there was the majority of my homeroom. I almost started crying. I went in there and exclaimed, "What are you guys doing here!?" They laughed, but insisted they thought they were supposed to return to homeroom after lunch. I got them to where they needed to be and all was well again. I spoke with several fellow teachers after school about this debacle. In talking with one teacher, I realized that, the behaviors of my homeroom aren't outrageous. They're just...bizarre. It's like, "Hey, you two, quite playing footsie." "You two, stop flirting during my instruction." "Hey don't use that kind of language." "Whoa, where are you going?" It's just like a million little fires going at all times. The worst part is, when you redirect them, they don't feel what they should. I mean, I ask them to quit playing footsie with each other, and I feel embarrassed for them. I feel ashamed for them. I feel upset for them. They don't act like they feel anything. It's like, listen, I can't live your life AND mine. You guys are going to have to bear some of this burden....sheesh....It's exhausting. At the 900th hour of teaching respect to authority, a teeny tiny 6th grader showed up at the gym doors. I asked him where he was supposed to be and clearly he was lost and confused. He said that the choir teacher sent him to the big gym. He didn't quite know how to pronounce his homeroom teachers name, which made it virtually impossible to track down his class. At this point in our conversation, I wasn't quite convinced he even knew his own name, he was so frazzled. I convinced him to walk with me toward the seventh grade wing, and continued to try to ask him clarifying questions about what he had already done in the day, people in his class, etc. In this midst of this conversation, he says, "But, but...but....but...I ordered scrambled eggs for breakfast." This was way out of left field, and I'm not entirely sure how he thought this would be helpful. Luckily, we ran into another student who recognized him, and said, "Hey! He's supposed to be in our class!" Me: Great! Where's your class? Miscellaneous student: "Well it's over now." Me: I'm confused, how can it be over? Where are the rest of your classmates? Misc. student: "They're in class." Me: (thinking: ay yay yay sixth graders!) Okay, well where would that be? Misc. student: "In the classroom." Me: (thinking: seriously?) Which classroom? Misc. student: "It's over, it doesn't matter!" Me: Okay, I get it. But which actual classroom is the rest of your class in? Misc. student: "Oh! The one at the end of the hall." Wow. Clearly, I don't speak 6th grade. On Wednesday, we had the same sort of rotation schedule. You better believe I had my homeroom reporting to the correct place. Of course, today, they teased me, "Do we have to be with you for two periods again!? (insert chorus of whiny voices). I laughed. I'm glad it's mutual. After lunch, again, I was helping kids figure out where they should go, and walked down to grab something out of my classroom and what do you know!? Who is sitting in my class AGAIN!? My homeroom. It cracked me up today, so I said, "You guys are like stinkin' boomerangs! No matter where I sent you, you always come back to me! Ohhhhh so sweet!" Today, they insisted that they are actually told by some staff member to come back to my room after lunch. That is one unkind staff person, that's for sure! At some point, my students were meandering through my room today, and probably one of the most notorious characters in the school, informed me, "Ms. Tacchini you really shouldn't leave your keys in the door of your closet. Something can, and WILL, get stolen. It's just how students are in this school." I surely appreciated the advice, but it also made me pretty suspicious of this particular student. I didn't get around to inventorying my closet. There's not much else in there besides yoga stuff, popsicle sticks, pencils and granola bars. High cost items, for sure. In stark contrast to my surly, tired, 8th graders, I saw mostly 6th and 7th graders. During one of our early morning sessions, my co-teacher came up to me and said, "Um the girl in the pink and black shirt is crying her eyes out. Ready? Go." Okay, so here we go. Surely, I'm the one to send into an emotional crisis. Listen, just because I matriculate from day treatment does not mean I am prepared, in any way, to address tears. I asked her if she wanted to talk to someone; me, the counselor, etc? And, she told me she wanted to talk to me, in private, with her friend. I walked them down to my classroom thinking, obviously something traumatic has happened. In my head, I was trying to mentally prepare myself for what could possibly make someone cry that hard on the third day of school. We get into the classroom and she starts explaining, "Well (sob, sob), you see (gasping for air), some boys in this class told me (choke choke) that my boyfriend said that I am mean to him and stuff." Okay, step one, do not start laughing. I must take this seriously. Step two, ask obvious questions, "Are you mean to your boyfriend?" "Has he ever told you that you are mean to him?" "Is it possible that these boys are making up stories to get you upset?" "When can you talk to your boyfriend?" That last question segued right into, "I don't really like to talk him but I send my friends to go talk to him for me." Okay, well I didn't really have time to delve into all the issues with that logic. I had to cut to the chase. "First of all, sweetheart, if he's talking behind your back, he's not even worth your time." Insert the girl's friend that came with us, "That's what my mom always says." My inside thought says, "YES! I'm on the right track. If mom's say it, it must be true..." I continue, "Second of all, just talk to him, or have your friends do it. You don't know what the truth is. You're going to have to do a little investigation and figure this out. But, right now, is not the time to freak out because we just don't know yet." She sucked it up and said she would be okay and she'd like to go back to class after she washed her face. I sent the girls on their way. Less than two hours later, I see the same girl, as she comes bounding towards me, a huge smile on her face, exclaiming, "I feel better now!" Awesome. My job here is done. Back at it again tomorrow. I can't wait for the weekend, where I will be planning all hours and reading to get ready for next week. I can't wait to have my feet under me. Until then, as a good friend always tells me, I've got to, "keep fighting."