The Independent’s schoolteacher/ waitress diarist throws up, rests up, climbs some rocks, then wrestles with end-of-the-year 9th grade restlessness as she looks ahead to … Thailand?
May 26, 2006
My mom always used to say that she didn’t like teaching 9th graders. I know what she means. I have something like seven class periods left with my students before exam time and I’m not even lying when I say it will be torture.
Today, Trevor, who will most certainly repeat the 9th grade, comes in and tells me that he’s finished his vocabulary list for Beowulf. He then asks if I will read Beowulf aloud. I read literally one page, and he asks to go get a tissue from the lav.
When he returns, he tells me he wants to do the vocabulary list over. I explain he’s already done it so there’s no need to do that work.
“But Miss. I want to do it again. I don’t want to read anymore.”
“Trevor. You’ve already done it. Now it’s time to read. I was just reading to you. Sit down and continue reading.”
“I changed my mind. I’m going to do vocabulary.”
I give him the words again, since he lost his original sheet.
A minute later, he’s sitting down reading.
“Trevor, what is going on? First you’re reading, then you’re doing vocab. Now you’re reading again? Get a plan. Come on.”
My blood pressure rises whenever this kid is in school. He mostly aggravates every person he comes in contact with: students, teachers, visitors to school. He has a few friends; they’re the crew of 9th grade repeaters and repeat offenders. There are three kids in class today, and there are supposed to be five others — “but they’re either suspended or expelled. Trevor drives me crazy. He brings other people down with him; he changes the atmosphere of any classroom instantly. He is defiant and plays the victim card. He is a whiner and whispers threats under his breath. He’s still very much a child. He’s in 9th grade this year and he will be next year, too. This is why I don’t like teaching 9th grade: I don’t like this child-like behavior, this period of “in between” middle school and high school.
When I was this age, my mother gave me a piece of paper with a gigantic quote on it that said something to the effect of: “I know everything.” That really wasn’t what it said, but it’s the message. I hung it up on my wall, proudly, because that’s honestly how I felt. My mother gave it to me with a truckload of sarcasm, but I took it literally. That’s how I was in 9th grade, I suppose. And now here I am teaching a bunch of kids whose beliefs are similar to mine when I was that age. I can’t stand myself.
May 30, 2006 What a weekend. I was sick, sick, sick all Sunday. I started feeling gross on Friday night, thought I’d make it through Saturday; then spent all of Sunday running back and forth between the bed and the bathroom floor. What a bug. I was supposed to work at Roomba on Sunday but couldn’t get out of bed, let alone bring food to people, until 6:30 that night. I felt terrible calling out but I was in no shape to be around people. I haven’t been sick like that for years — “really maybe since I was in first grade and threw up after eating spaghetti, even though my stomach hurt. I don’t know what happened, or why my body decided to say it was okay for this bug to infect me this weekend, but wow. It sucked. I felt better by Monday, though, and spent most of the day with Dennis and Jason and Geneva, my two neighbors. We went bouldering at Three Judges on West Rock. I’ve been bouldering only a few times, and I don’t have any climbing shoes, so I borrowed Geneva’s. It was so much fun to be so close to the rock and to be calm and climb up without any help at all. Dennis spotted me and helped verbally guide my foot, but I climbed up two different rocks to the top. It was awesome. And a beautiful day, too, so I got a little color. I still don’t feel so good today. I’m going to go back to the doctor’s to find out what the deal is. I hope it’s nothing serious. And as far as job prospects go: a school in Colombia is interested in me as a Middle School English teacher, and I’m setting up a phone interview with an EFL program in Thailand either this Friday or next. The more I talk with people, the more I want to go to Thailand.
Ms. Coggio, I think I have a slight idea what student you are talking about, but then again, that doesn't matter.I understand how you feel becuase I am a student in your literature class and there is this one student that gets on everyone's nurves in our class. Lately I noticed that he's been getting on your nurves too. I don't know how it is that you do it.