Drama
It has roughly been a month since the assignment began with the 7th grade in Practicum. If you have not read the Facebook updates, needless to say, it's been dramatic. Not as dramatic as the city school is, but it is considered to be an urban experience. And I would have to agree. Kids in this age group are notorious for mood swings, temper tantrums, and excessive tears. But that's not news. In fact, it's not much unlike working in an office where one has to put up with the screaming, fighting, and temper tantrums. The only difference is that when one was actually in the 7th grade, you could somehow make yourself disappear or meld into the woodwork. In an office you are being ripped and torn apart and told what an idiot you are. Fortunately for me, I have had those experiences first and experienced the horror story of it, and learned to keep my mouth shut and learn the fine art of conversation. When one is chatting with a coworker, invite them to talk about themselves and never offer anything, that way they will leave the conversation satisfied and you remain a mystery. Remember, that you are not the kid's friend but their leader and can only demand so much. You are a combination therapist, leader and cop. In so many ways this is perfect for me, because those are really what I must've been in a previous life. Ha ha ha ... But I digress.
To say that this is a stressful experience is an understatement. Mostly it comes from getting all the endless paperwork in order, the constant grading, and also having to deal with the dramatics of 12 and 13 year olds around me. But still, it is a very rewarding experience to be able to do it. I'm not going to say anything cheesy like "I want to influence and be a good role model for young people" (even though that has merit in itself), because some days you spend all day doing silent screaming. It is also best that one goes into this age group, because I found out the hard way that political correctness has now become so anal retentive that the unspoken truth is that the more abuse you're willing to take, the more you are free to vent. Dare you say something like "You know that snotty kid Billy? I'd like to smack that kid!" Of course you're not really going to smack him, he just pissed you off. But THEY don't see you like that. So one has to be with the older kids in order to be able to be "more normal".
I also cannot think of the old hillbilly boyfriend while in the middle of this process. He was going to be a high school teacher at some point, but he hated every minute of it. He said it was all about entertaining others rather than teaching them something. This was also the same one who told me it wasn't going to be permanent set up if I did not loose weight and quit smoking. So after I had dropped about 30 of the 45 I would eventually loose, and had quit for about 6 weeks, he was furious with me. It took me too long to do it, he said. He met a sad end. Less than a year later, he met and married a white trash woman. He did not want to have children, and he married a woman with two children (one from each previous marriage). He was so eager to have someone in his life that he was willing to support her and her kids, and even pay for her daughter's education. The marriage lasted about three years. Her daughter was living somewhere in North Carolina going to college, she got a trailer down there and started going down more and more often to "spend time with her daughter". Then she was spending the whole summer down there, then she decided to move down and only come back for holidays and occasions. And then she ran off, divorced him, married husband #4 and has since divorced husband #4. And now he's really alone. Sad. Very sad. So much for not wanting to be an entertainer. But once again, I digress...
It's a hard job, to be sure. The hardest is having to find out about the horror stories that are the kids' home lives. Even under the calmest of exteriors lurks the heart of a beast. When in the city school, one just assumes that they come from terrible home lives, so you keep your distance and ignorance is bliss. But some of them have had their home dramas come to me. One boy's father murdered his mother and then killed himself. He was sent to live with grandma, grandma died of a heart attack two weeks later. Then he was sent to live with an older brother and the brother died of a drug overdose. And that was all over the summer. Another boy refused to cooperate, to do anything in class or homework wise. Eventually he was sent home, and when he was sent to the office to be told that he would miss the football game that evening, he threatened with "If you send me home I will go home and beat up my mom again." This was in a parent/teacher conference that this was heard. His mother tearfully informed that this was, in fact, going on. The last time he came at her she had to hold him off with everything she had. I kept my mouth shut the whole time, but I thought "Lady, your son is 12 years old and he's already as big as me. He's only going to get bigger, buffer and stronger. And one day he's going to do some damage you're not going to walk away from." So needless to say, he is being watched.
It never ends, the constant drama. But then again, that's life.
To say that this is a stressful experience is an understatement. Mostly it comes from getting all the endless paperwork in order, the constant grading, and also having to deal with the dramatics of 12 and 13 year olds around me. But still, it is a very rewarding experience to be able to do it. I'm not going to say anything cheesy like "I want to influence and be a good role model for young people" (even though that has merit in itself), because some days you spend all day doing silent screaming. It is also best that one goes into this age group, because I found out the hard way that political correctness has now become so anal retentive that the unspoken truth is that the more abuse you're willing to take, the more you are free to vent. Dare you say something like "You know that snotty kid Billy? I'd like to smack that kid!" Of course you're not really going to smack him, he just pissed you off. But THEY don't see you like that. So one has to be with the older kids in order to be able to be "more normal".
I also cannot think of the old hillbilly boyfriend while in the middle of this process. He was going to be a high school teacher at some point, but he hated every minute of it. He said it was all about entertaining others rather than teaching them something. This was also the same one who told me it wasn't going to be permanent set up if I did not loose weight and quit smoking. So after I had dropped about 30 of the 45 I would eventually loose, and had quit for about 6 weeks, he was furious with me. It took me too long to do it, he said. He met a sad end. Less than a year later, he met and married a white trash woman. He did not want to have children, and he married a woman with two children (one from each previous marriage). He was so eager to have someone in his life that he was willing to support her and her kids, and even pay for her daughter's education. The marriage lasted about three years. Her daughter was living somewhere in North Carolina going to college, she got a trailer down there and started going down more and more often to "spend time with her daughter". Then she was spending the whole summer down there, then she decided to move down and only come back for holidays and occasions. And then she ran off, divorced him, married husband #4 and has since divorced husband #4. And now he's really alone. Sad. Very sad. So much for not wanting to be an entertainer. But once again, I digress...
It's a hard job, to be sure. The hardest is having to find out about the horror stories that are the kids' home lives. Even under the calmest of exteriors lurks the heart of a beast. When in the city school, one just assumes that they come from terrible home lives, so you keep your distance and ignorance is bliss. But some of them have had their home dramas come to me. One boy's father murdered his mother and then killed himself. He was sent to live with grandma, grandma died of a heart attack two weeks later. Then he was sent to live with an older brother and the brother died of a drug overdose. And that was all over the summer. Another boy refused to cooperate, to do anything in class or homework wise. Eventually he was sent home, and when he was sent to the office to be told that he would miss the football game that evening, he threatened with "If you send me home I will go home and beat up my mom again." This was in a parent/teacher conference that this was heard. His mother tearfully informed that this was, in fact, going on. The last time he came at her she had to hold him off with everything she had. I kept my mouth shut the whole time, but I thought "Lady, your son is 12 years old and he's already as big as me. He's only going to get bigger, buffer and stronger. And one day he's going to do some damage you're not going to walk away from." So needless to say, he is being watched.
It never ends, the constant drama. But then again, that's life.
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