High School. . . Wow.

    I was told that the best middle school is still worse than the worst High School, and I still think that this is true. However . . . I've been going through the pains of adjusting to teaching in a High School environment. More specifically, the High School environment that my student-centered, teaching one child at a time, work-in-progress school allows to exist. And more specifically, the class that was created for one of the assistant principals, who has a special education background, and embodies the philosophy of the school. She is the type of person who kids go to for hugs. I'm not. I didn't know that her class had such a disproportionate (compared to other classes) number of kids with I.E.P.s (that means they have diagnosed learning disabilities). It was hinted to me that this was a "special" class, but no one gave me the stats. I still don't have them.
    So today there was the second total student meltdown of the month. And this one wasn't my fault at all. The first was partially my fault- I did let out a lot of frustration with the absolute absurdity of a kid who is failing the class, never arrives on time and comes to class about half of the time, has lasted an entire period only once, and then sits loudly (I mean like theatrically projecting) describing the pot he's been smoking, on this student. I shouldn't have let this get to me. I certainly shouldn't have asked him if he was planning on "passing my class or being a drug addict." I shouldn't have said that. He should have them said that he was going to "cut me" and he later admitted as much, but this was one of those lose-lose situations that teachers find themselves in too frequently.
    This morning was different. I had nothing to so with the young lady screaming her head off about how she wasn't learning anything in the class, and she didn't understand how what we were talking about the last time in the class (Atlantic Slave Trade) had to do with what we were talking about today (the Enlightenment), and even through she acknowledged that she was absent yesterday, she didn't see what that has to do with it, et al. I don't see myself very much at fault in that situation. And unfortunately her tirade didn't allow me to bring up what I was reading this morning- the favorite of feminist historians of France, Olympe de Gouge, who wrote "The Rights of Women" in reaction to the "Rights of Man" that everyone reads during the French Revolution unit, also wrote about "Les Noirs," and how enlightenment ideas of equality shouldn't be limited by color of skin. I couldn't get that in, and after ten minutes of her yelling, me waiting, and the other students rolling their eyes in frustration, she left. And the class moved on.
    By the end of the day we had had our talk, she apologized, she demonstrated that despite her complaints she actually had learned a lot in my class. What was it all about? Maybe it was the two kids who have been moved into the class to "bring up the tone" a little. They've been doing a great job these past two days of keeping their classmates on task. Maybe she feels a little threatened? Whatever it is, I'm glad we're moving on, but it doesn't do a thing for my headache.
    And the kid who was talking about rolling and smoking joints? He's back in class, too. And we're cool.
    Teaching High School, in general, is better than teaching middle school for the same reason that is harder. Everything is much more real is High School. Teaching middle school is a lot like how I remember middle school- confusing, chaotic, one day might bear little relation to the next, friendships are brittle, emotions are both vague and extreme. A kid might be screaming one minute and laughing the next. It's both easier to hurt someone feelings but more unlikely that they'll remain hurt, or even remember what it was they were hurt about. Emotions transfer from one thing to another, disappear and re-appear so quickly it's hard to tell sometimes what you're upset about, or if you meant to laugh or cry, and for what?
    In High School, the kids know they're angry, and they know why.

Comments

[HappyChyck]

The comparison is so true! I always felt like I could reason with high school students better, too. They are near adults and care about the "real world." I start talking about "real world" with my middle schoolers and they have no idea what I am talking about. After three years of working with them, I still am not sure what gets to them...