Like a Dark Comedy Minus the Comedy

Today is the last day of school, marking the beginning of a much-needed two-week winter break. We are all beyond exhausted, but today served as a beacon of hope. "Just make it to Friday," became our mantra this past week. We passed each other in the halls, flashing four fingers, then three, than two, to indicate how many days we had left. Truthfully, I think we were more excited about today than the kids. And finally, Friday is here.

The school day flew by, and before I knew it, I was at my school's parking lot, walking to my car. I envisioned myself going home to do laundry then pack for my flight tomorrow afternoon. I am going back to my hometown for break, and all I've been thinking about is seeing old friends and family.

Then I saw it: my car was keyed from front to back on both sides. One long gouge right through the middle of my car on the left and right side, the right side being deeper. My heart sank, and the tears--right below the surface lately--streamed down my face. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe a student, or anyone for that matter, would do something like this to me.

Because our school is so small, and because everyone knows everyone, our students all know what kind of car each teacher drives. The attack was personal and directed towards me, and I'm 90% sure I know which student did this. I've always had a great rapport with my kids, and while I don't have as strong of a relationship with them as I've had with past students, it's one of my strengths as a teacher. In fact, I pride myself on my rapport and classroom climate. This violation of my car, my property, me felt like a punch in the gut, like a "NO" in red pen, like a "Fuck you."

After taking pictures, I filed a report with my school, then my principal said I needed to make the call home to the student I suspected. I told her I had called earlier today about an issue he had in my class and left a message, but she said I needed to make a second call about my car. Perplexed and trying not to cry, I did as she said. Thankfully I got the mother's voice mail, because I don't think I could have maintained my composure and had an actual conversation. Driving home, though, I became angry not only because of my car, but because of my principal's response. Why did I have to call? Wasn't I the person victimized in this situation? And didn't she just totally throw me under the bus in the heat of the moment? If that student's mother had picked up, I would have been yelling or sobbing on the other line, and there's no telling how she would have reacted.

All this has left a bitter taste in my mouth. It makes me want to never come back to that place. Now I feel like I have to guard myself from the kids, as if they all hold keys in their hands ready to dig in at any moment while my principal looks on.

Shit Hitting the Fan

It's been awhile, so here is a quick update:

• Last Monday, a fight broke out in the middle of our morning assembly.
• The fight carried over into our passing period between 1st and 2nd period, becoming two additional fights.
• NONE of kids were suspended, and we have not addressed the issue as a school.
• I found out this past weekend (only through my own efforts to get a second and third opinion) that my school gave me bad information and my credential will expire this summer before I meet all the necessary requirements, so now I have to file for an appeal.
• I have to pay for the appeal.
• Even though the "semester" ended like a week before Thanksgiving, the kids are just now getting their report cards. One of my kids said today, "I bet it's because we can't afford stamps."
• We ran out of toilet paper on Wednesday and did not get more until today.
• The most depressing: my best kids are telling me they can't keep up with this schedule and several of them are looking for a new school. But hey, who can blame them? I'm doing the same thing.