Another one for loving it.
I teach at a DAEP, Disciplinary Alternative Education Program, for an ISD that’s nestled up to Fort Worth like a tick behind the ear. We’re a small district, 3,800 students in six schools. 69% of our kids are economically disadvantaged. 60% are African-American, 23% Hispanic, 14% White and the remainder a mix of Asian and Native-American.
At DAEP we get the kids the other teachers can’t handle. We get the felons and drug-users. We get the kids who get into fights or who have non-disability linked behavioral problems. We get bad kids and good kids who just made a mistake. I teach science and my students are in grades 7-12. The courses I teach are Life Science (7th), Earth Science (8th), IPC or Integrated Physics and Chemistry, Biology, Chemistry, Environmental Systems and Physics. I also pick up the Health classes and the junior high PE. Yes, it’s a lot of preps. The veteran teachers are no doubt wincing at this point but don’t worry; I don’t have to do the in-depth lesson planning that’s required at the regular schools.
So why do I love it, since all of the above is less than wonderful?
I love it because out here every kid is a DAEP kid. There’s no stigma attached to them that they so often experience at their home campus for being a Bad Kid. It’s a great equalizer.
I love it because we have well-defined standards of conduct and there are immediate and firm penalties for misbehavior. It sounds harsh but a lot of the kids begin to thrive on having some structure in their lives. They learn what they have to do to be good and that they are praised and rewarded for it.
I love it because I have a principal who backs me to the hilt unless I’m a complete idiot or flat out wrong. And when I am either of those things, he tells me right away and we deal with it as professionals. We don’t hold grudges or play passive-aggressive games with one another.
When a kid is mad at me all day, or all week, for me applying consequences to his misbehavior, I love it when they finally accept responsibility for their own actions and, in a small way, grow up a little.
I love it because I’m no longer teaching at a rich suburban district where one student’s greatest worry was she couldn’t have both a new car and a plasma TV for her birthday; she had to choose one or the other. My kids are happy when I spot them forty cents for a reduced price lunch or when I come up with some baby clothes and bedding for one of my many pregnant female students.
I love it when a kid shapes up and tells me “Mr. Hippopotamus, you’re the only teacher who ever noticed I was doing something right as well as wrong, and you turned me around.” Man do I love that.
I love it when all of the teachers are together at lunch and we decompress by sharing the antics of our kids. It’s not just complaining though. Inevitably we mention students who have really fixed their behavior and attitudes and are really picking up their academics.
I love it when I can get rid of a kid determined to be a troublemaker and send a clear message to my students that I won’t put up with it. I love it when I can correct racial slurs, profanity, sexist comments and bullying and make it a teachable moment.
I love it when a kid challenges me and it ends up being funny. The other day we had the drug dog come through. My students were required to stand up, empty their pockets onto their desk and line up in the hallway. I went with them and when a kid popped off “Mr. Hippopotamus, you didn’t empty your pockets!” I just looked at him, smiled and said “You’re right.” I put my stuff on my desk, pulled my pockets out like rabbit ears and joined the kids while the drug dog sniffed the room. The student then told me “You didn’t empty out your shirt pocket.” I told him “If you think I have anything in there other than my Science Nerd pens you’re sadly mistaken” and the other kids hooted at him for being roasted.
I love it when these kids, many of them tough as nails gangsters and hardcases, scream like little girls and jump on the desks when a rat waltzes across the room. I of course just stayed at my desk and continued working quietly, determined not to show them a reaction even though I was as creeped out as the rest of them.
I love it when my annoying, passive, whiny fellow teacher across the hall tries to foist her work off on me, or make me her disciplinarian and I just smile and say “Sorry, that’s your job. Make like Nike and just do it.”
I love it when we see a bird in the tree outside my window and the kids all clamor for me to tell them what kind of bird it is and tell me things about it. I love how they beg to see my ostrich egg, rock collections and other fun science toys.
I really, really love it when I’ve worked hard and the kid has worked hard and all of a sudden they get it.
I don’t love it when one of my kids gets arrested, violates their probation and gets put in kiddie jail, fails a drug test or comes to school with signs of abuse.
So help me I do love it when they come to school high. It’s not good, but it’s often funny. Once I tossed a kid a bag of Cheetos from my lunch as I sent him out of my class because he reeked of weed and was flying. “Here. For when the munchies hit.”
I love it when the kids get to go back to their home campus.
I love it when I find drawings, notes or other things. They’re often funny, sometimes sad but always a window into the students’ lives I wouldn’t have had otherwise.
And, like Manda JO, I love buying new school supplies every year. Now if we just used that old purple ditto fluid I’d be in heaven; man do I miss that smell.