By Rdfrdmom2
This book will consist of a compilation of my thoughts about my full-time career that began in August 1972 at age 20 and ended July 2005 at age 53. It will also cover a career with the same school system I began as a part-time employee in September 2005 and where I am still working as of now, January 2021.
My goal is to work at least one more year in order to reach 50 years full-time and part-time combined. I will be renewing my teacher's license this spring which will be good until June 30, 2031. I suspect that will be the last time I will renew it as I will be 79 at that point; however, one never knows!
The ruminations will not come in chronological order or according to a particular stage of my career. Most likely, they will come in whatever order my ADHD brain tosses them out.
| Author Notes |
My career has been nothing short of miraculous considering my beginnings. Perhaps someone will find some inspiration from some of these ruminations. There will be laughs, tears, disbelief, indignation, compassion, and who knows what as you read through this. Obviously, names will be changed to protect both the innocent and the guilty.
A special thanks to VMarguarite for the use of "Apple for the Teacher" to enhance my writing. |
By Rdfrdmom2
My teaching career almost did not happen. I signed a contract to teach mathematics ()at the high school from which I graduated) during Spring Break of my senior year at Longwood, contingent, of course, of my successful graduation in August 1972.
I was scheduled to student teach in Roanoke, Virginia that summer in order to complete my requirements for graduating with a Bachelor of Science in Mathematics. Unfortunately, a nasty case of mononucleosis interfered with my ability to complete my course work by the end of the spring semester. This required my attendance on campus and the elimination of my stint of student teaching and, very likely, my graduation in August.
I felt duty-bound to inform the school system about this turn of events. I drove home prior to the beginning of the summer session to meet with the Coordinator of Human Resources. To my amazement, he said he believed I was worth waiting for so I should return to campus and determine if there was any way for me to graduate without student teaching. When I inquired how that would be possible (I was a first-generation college student so I was naive as to how things worked), he told me if I had enough college hours in all the right categories, I could graduate. I was so excited I cut my break short and headed back to school to meet with my advisor.
When I returned to college, my advisor told me it would be a horrible mistake for me to graduate and take a teaching job without student teaching because statistics indicated that few people were ever successful when doing so. I just smiled at him and told him I was going to be another one of those few that made it. As it turned out, I had twelve more credit hours than I needed when I completed summer school even though I had to take a correspondence course to complete the hours I needed in one area.
I will forever be indebted to Carrington Cockrell, the Coordinator of Human Resources, who believed in me enough to hold my position considering I took my final exams that summer on August 16, 1972, began new teacher orientation on Monday, August 21, 1972, and have never looked back.
| Author Notes | A special thanks to VMarguarite for the use of "writer by window" to enhance this writing. I often sat by a window while working on my correspondence course, |
By Rdfrdmom2
As a first-year teacher, I had two lesson preparations: geometry and eighth-grade mathematics. For the most part, the students in my geometry classes were considered to be college prep and were highly motivated. Alas, the students in my eighth-grade mathematics classes ranged from those just waiting to turn 18 so they could drop out of school to students just trying to eke out one of the three mathematics credits they would need to graduate.
I will never forget my fourth block eighth-grade class. There were twenty-two students -- twenty boys and two girls -- and the class was held in a typing class. Yes, the typewriters were on the students' desks and the eighth graders were supposed to be mature enough not to touch them while doing the math work I wanted them to do.
Besides the aforementioned issues, this fifty-two-minute class was split by lunch, meaning we had twenty-six minutes prior to the lunch bell ringing; then twenty-six minutes after, more or less. More or less because the boys normally returned arguing over who had won the basketball game; who made the best slam dunk; and/or who blocked the most shots while they played during lunch. It only took me a month to get them to help me to turn this information into real-life word problems. I let the two girls act as cheerleaders to get them into the swing of things.
It did not take me a month, however, to realize the bulk of my class were the victims of social promotion. Most of them could not perform the four basic operations with whole numbers, much less with fractions and decimals. As a result, the failure rate amongst this group was well over seventy-five percent. No one in that room found that acceptable, especially this young first-year teacher. After the first set of progress reports went out (about halfway through the six-week grading period) I promised I would develop a plan for them to both learn some mathematics they did not know if they would come into class -- both halves -- and work with me.
They agreed to give me a chance.
| Author Notes | For the first two months of school, this was truly the class from hell. Looking back almost 50 years ago, they are one of the ones I have the fondest memories of. A special thanks to VMarguarite for the use of "Studying". |
By Rdfrdmom2
I had promised my students on the Friday past that things were going to change in this class. Therefore, I took a deep breath as my 4th period eighth-graders filed in and settled faster than they had since the first day of the year.
Rayvon, class s spokesman by acclamation, said, "Okay, Miss Brown, whatcha got for us today that's different from all the other days?"
I looked Rayvon square in the eye and steadily asked, "Rayvon, might I be perfectly honest with this class?"
There was an immediate stir amongst the class -- whispers of "She ain't got nothing new," "she just don't know what to do with us like all dem other teachers and she's just looking for a way to get rid of us," and "she's scared of us," were but a few of the comments I could clearly hear.
Rayvon quickly got up from his seat and sidled up next to me, then turned and glared at his classmates. "She asked us if she could be perfectly honest. Let's hear what the lady has to say!"
You could have heard a pin drop. There was nothing about Rayvon's stature that should have given one any sense of intimidation, yet when he spoke, people listened.
I smiled at Rayvon and responded, "Thank you, Rayvon. You can take a seat now."
Folding his arms over his chest like Yul Brenner in Exodus, he simply declared, "If it's all the same to you, I believe I'll stay right here and watch what happens."
Taking that to mean he had my back, I moved on with the information I had discovered about them and my plan to help them obtain better math skills. "Okay, ladies and gentlemen, I spent the entire weekend reading through your permanent* records. I know now why you are so terribly frustrated in math class.
"So whatcha gonna do about it, huh" floated a statement from some gruff voice in the rear of the room.
Before I could answer, Rayvon tersely responded, "Perhaps if you just shut yer fat trap, she'd tell us!"
Silence, again.
Instead of addressing that little spat, I moved on with what I was trying to say prior to being interrupted. "It appears most of you have not passed a math class since leaving the third grade; three of you haven't passed a math class since leaving fifth grade; and only one of you passed sixth-grade math. In other words, not a single one of you has met the minimum requirements to be in this class."
Now my students were really angry with me. "So you're basically saying we're stupid," most shouted in near unison.
"No, not at all," I replied loudly.
"... that we're not smart enough to learn."
"I don't believe I said anything like it."
"You're just like all the others. You don't give a rat's ass about any of us."
Rayvon was shouting for order while I was trying to regroup as all hell was about to break loose. Mercifully, the lunch bell rang.
I stood at my door and told students they could go to lunch when they calmed down. I also stated we would finish our conversation upon their return from lunch. Trust me, nothing calms a group of hyper eighth-graders like lunch does.
| Author Notes | Random ruminations from an almost 50-year career. |
By Rdfrdmom2
I had promised my students on the Friday past that things were going to change in this class. Therefore, I took a deep breath as my 4th period eighth-graders filed in and settled faster than they had since the first day of the year.
Rayvon, class spokesman by acclamation, said, "Okay, Miss Brown, whatcha got for us today that's different from all the other days?"
I looked Rayvon square in the eye. "Rayvon, might I be perfectly honest with this class?"
There was an immediate stir amongst the class -- whispers of "She ain't got nothing new," "she just don't know what to do with us like all dem other teachers; "she's just looking for a way to get rid of us," and "she's scared of us," were but a few of the comments I could clearly hear.
Rayvon quickly got up from his seat and sidled up next to me, then turned and glared at his classmates. "She asked us if she could be perfectly honest. Let's hear what the lady has to say!"
You could have heard a pin drop. There was nothing about Rayvon's stature that should have given one any sense of intimidation, yet when he spoke, people listened.
I smiled at Rayvon. "Thank you, Rayvon. You can take a seat now."
Folding his arms over his chest like Yul Brenner in Exodus, he simply declared, "If it's all the same to you, I believe I'll stay right here and watch what happens."
Taking that to mean he had my back, I moved on with the information I had discovered about them and my plan to help them obtain better math skills. "Okay, ladies and gentlemen, I spent the entire weekend reading through your permanent* records. I know now why you are so terribly frustrated in math class."
"So whatcha gonna do about it, huh," floated a statement from some gruff voice in the rear of the room.
Before I could answer, Rayvon tersely responded, "Perhaps if you just shut yer fat trap, she'd tell us!"
Silence, again.
Instead of addressing that little spat, I moved on with what I was trying to say prior to being interrupted. "It appears most of you have not passed a math class since leaving the third grade; three of you haven't passed a math class since leaving fifth grade; and only one of you passed sixth-grade math. In other words, not a single one of you has met the minimum requirements to be in this class."
Now my students were really angry with me. "So you're basically saying we're stupid," most shouted in near unison.
"No, not at all," I replied loudly.
"... that we're not smart enough to learn."
"I don't believe I said anything like it."
"You're just like all the others. You don't give a rat's ass about any of us."
Rayvon was shouting for order while I was trying to regroup as all hell was about to break loose. Mercifully, the lunch bell rang.
I stood at my door and told students they could go to lunch when they calmed down. I also stated we would finish our conversation upon their return from lunch. Trust me, nothing calms a group of hyper eighth-graders like lunch does.
| Author Notes |
Random ruminations from an almost 50-year career. A special thanks to V. Marguarite for the use of "A Class of Vitamin C" to enhance this writing.
*permanent records - a student's school record from the beginning of the first entry into school until the current year. |
By Rdfrdmom2
That had to be the shortest lunch block in the history of public schools! Maybe it was due to my not being able to coerce any food past the knot in my throat. Maybe it was because I dared not try to eat in the teacher's lounge because I knew I would likely burst into tears if anyone was nice to me. Instead, I kept telling myself what my first high school basketball coach used to tell us: "the best defense is a good offense."
I stood by my door and greeted each student by name as they returned from lunch. I had learned early on that it was a great disciplinary tool as the students knew I expected them to respond to me when I spoke to them.
"Okay, folks, let's get something right out in the open from the beginning. I believe what has been done to you is nothing short of criminal." (This really got their attention. Everyone sat straight up and had their eyes glued on me.) "There are standards of performance which students are required to meet at each grade level in order to be promoted. For whatever reason, none of you were consistently held to these standards, possibly because your teachers did not believe in you the way I do."
Now Rayvon spoke up, "So what's the plan, teach?"
"The plan is to get all of you at least through the fifth grade standards; however, we are going to have to go back to the basics in order to get it done," I replied.
"And just how basic is basic," Rayvon asked.
"Adding, subtracting, multiplying, and dividing whole numbers."
"Oh, no," someone retorted, the other kids will laugh at us."
"Who's going to tell them?" I asked.
"They can look through the panel in the door and through the windows. It will be easy for them to watch what we're doing."
"What if I cover the door panel and keep the window shades pulled down?"
Rayvon, ever the spokesman answered, "Okay, lady, you've got a deal. What're we doing first?"
"Something simple, since it's football season."
"What's football got to do with math?" someone called out.
"Just wait and see. Everybody needs to get out a sheet of paper and a pencil. If you don't have one or the other, you know where the extras are."
I picked up the Sunday sports page that I had brought in for just this moment. I sat down and began browsing through it, occasionally stopping and jotting something down. The kids began getting antsy.
"Miss Brown. Miss Brown. Why are you reading the paper? Why aren't you teaching us about math in football?"
I stood up and apologized, saying, "Oh, I'm so sorry. I was looking for some football scores from this past weekend's games. "
Brian, one of the water boys for the varsity football team said, "You don't need no paper. We beat Southeastern High School 29 -- 6 Friday night. I saw you there. Did you forget?"
"I guess it just slipped my mind, Brian. But that score will work great for what I want us to do. On your paper, make two short columns. On the left side, we are going to write the ways in which a football team can score. On the right side, we will note how many points the team gets for each type of score. Does anyone know how a team can score just one point?"
Sally, one of my two girls, almost jumped out of her desk with excitement. "I can! I can! It's when some dude kicks the football over the goal post after his team scores a touchdown."
I laughed out loud before I asked her why she called the kicker a dude.
| Author Notes | You will hear numerous stories about this particular class. A special thanks to MKFlood for the use of CominG SooN to enhance this work. |
By Rdfrdmom2
“Why do you call the kicker a dude, Sally?”
“Because everybody knows the dude can’t do anything else but kick so the rest of the team is always saying they have to protect him because he might make the difference between the team winning or losing.”
“Got it. Let’s move on. I want everyone to write P-A-T in their notebook and put a 1 beside it. P-A-T means point after touchdown, by the way, as Sally was saying. Now, how else can a team score?”
Shouts of field goals and touchdowns rang out across the room.
“Okay, okay. How many points does a team receive for field…”
“3,” they roared, “and 6 for touchdowns.”
“I’m going to draw a table on the board that I want you to copy into your notebook. We are going to determine all the different ways our team and Southeastern could have earned the number of points they made this past Friday night.”
| # TD |
# PAT |
# FG |
TOTAL |
CALCULATION |
| 4 | 2 | 1 | 29 | 4x6 + 2x1 + 1x3 = 24 + 2 + 3 = 29 |
| 3 | 2 | 3 | 29 | 3x6 + 2x1 + 3x3 = 18 + 2 + 9 = 29 |
| 2 | 2 | 5 | 29 | 2x6 + 2x1 + 5x3 = 12 + 2 + 15 = 29 |
| 1 | 1 | 7 | 28 | 1x6 + 1x1 + 7x3 = 6 + 1 + 21 + 28 |
| 0 | 0 | 9 | 27 | 0x6 + 0x1 + 9x3 = 0 + 0 + 27 = 27 |
| Author Notes | Teachers sometimes have to pull straws to get students excited about learning. A special thanks to V Marguarite for the use of "Football Time" to enhance this work. |
By Rdfrdmom2
By far, Lonnie was the student with the best comprehension of basic math skills as well as the ability to transfer those skills to new information. As such, I should not have been surprised when he entered the class the following day saying, “Miss Brown, I bet I have a problem that nobody else in this class is going to have.”
“Okay, Lonnie, let everyone get settled so I can collect last night’s assignment and we’ll discuss it.”
Everyone had done the assignment, although I had some doubts about the student who turned in a game with a 0 – 0 final score – not that it couldn’t happen. At least he wrote 0 x 6 = 0 + 0 x 1 = 0 + 0 x 3 = 0 so 0 + 0 + 0 = 0. A for effort, right?
As I looked through the problems submitted to me, I asked if anyone wanted to place their example(s) on the board. I asked the students who did not go to the board to copy the examples into their notebooks for future reference after they determined whether the examples were correct. All three were. I noted Lonnie was pouting because I had not selected him to share his work, but I had a plan to spotlight him.
“Now, class, I want everyone to pay close attention to Lonnie’s example. There is information in his problem that I neglected to tell you about yesterday so I am going to give Lonnie some extra credit for outdoing the teacher today! Lonnie, are you ready?”
Lonnie’s pout turned into a look of both disbelief and pride as he walked to the board. “How do you want me to explain this, Miss Brown?”
“You’re the teacher, Lonnie. Unless you get too far out there, just go with what you have.”
Lonnie’s lesson: Tacoma High – 10; Blakely High – 0
There are three different ways Tacoma could have scored 10 points.
Option 1: 1 touchdown: 6; 1 P-A-T: 1; 1 field goal: 3; 1 x 6 + 1 x1 + 1 x 3 = 10
You don’t have to do anything for Blakely because 0 x 0 is always gonna be 0.
Then the insults began from all over the room. Things like “Hey, man, that’s the only way that score can be done.” “Why does Miss Brown think your example is so great? Get your dunce hat and …”
At that point, I raised my voice over them and insisted, “If you guys want to play the deuces*, do it at home, on the playground, or anywhere else but in my classroom – got it?”
Rayvon, ever the class spokesman, choked out, “Hey, guys, Teach knows about playing the deuces, we gotta be careful. No telling what else she knows.”
“Yep, and don’t y’all forget it. Now, how about letting Lonnie finish his lesson?”
Option 2: Miss Brown forgot to tell us about two important ways football teams can score points. One is that a team can go for two points after scoring a touchdown and don’t have to let the kicker “dude” try a P-A-T. If they run the ball past the goal line or complete a pass that goes past the goal line that counts for two points. So a touchdown and a two-point conversion would be 1 x 6 + 1 x 2 = 8.
“Hey, Doofus,” smirked George, one of my more limited students. “Even I know that’s not ten points.”
You gotta let me finish. The other thing Miss Brown didn’t tell us about is this thing called a safety. A safety is when the team with the ball, the offense, has someone go back into their own end zone and get tackled or if the football ends up rolling out of their end zone. Then the defense gets two points for that. So, to finish option 2, 1 touchdown, one two-point conversion, and a safety would equal 1 x 6 + 1 x 2 + 1 x 2 = 10.
Pequita asked Lonnie what the third option was.
I thought you’d never ask. Lonnie and Pequita were sweet on each other. Tacoma could have scored one touchdown and forced two safeties which would have resulted in 1 x 6 and 2 x 2 = 10.
Without my prodding, the class clapped for Lonnie as he moved back to his seat. (I suspect Pequita may have instigated it.) Either way, he deserved the accolades.
“Do they still sell those delicious chocolate chip cookies in the cafeteria?”
“Oh, yeah,” roared the class.
“How much are they?”
“Fifteen cents each or you can get two for a quarter.”
“So, if I wanted to reward the class for everybody doing their homework, how much money will I need to take to pay for them?”
“Uhhhhh….”
“Okay, guys, what is it we need to know? Tell me and I will make a list.”
The list became the number of students in the class, how many cookies each student would get (one), and would it be better to buy them individually or in twos?
“Put this information in your notebook. I think we have time to do the math before we go to lunch. Write the following information down and then we will answer it.”
Cost of 1 Cookie @ 1 for $0.15 $.15
Cost of 18 Cookies @ 18 for $0.15
18 x $0.15 _____
How many sets of 2 Cookies do we need?
18/2 = _____
Cost of 1 Cookie @ 2 for $0.25 _____
Cost of ___ Sets of Cookies @ ___ for $0.25 _____
Minimum amount Miss Brown needs to take
to the cafeteria -------
“Here’s the deal, guys. If you figure it out before the lunch bell, we do the cookies today. Otherwise, we do them tomorrow.”
They got their cookies!
| Author Notes | Often, your neediest students become your favorite students because they give you all they have if you can get them to trust you. I will never forget the kids in this class. A special thanks to pcyriax for the use of Whitehall Football to enhance this work. |
By Rdfrdmom2
As a first-year teacher in an overcrowded high school, I was without a base, moving from classroom to classroom pushing a grocery cart, trying my best not to look like a 21-year-old homeless chick. At least the teacher who was housed in the room where I taught my last class felt sorry for me and let me hang my coat in her closet in the morning so it would be there at the end of the day when I was ready to go home.
Other than having to rush all over the building to get to my classes before the tardy bell, I had the perfect schedule. I had three sections of college-bound geometry students and two sections of general math 8 students. While I have always loved teaching math to my students, I particularly loved teaching geometry. I began and ended my day with a geometry class while the other one was sandwiched between my two very diametrically opposed eighth-grade classes.
On this particular day, I was calling roll in my first-period geometry class. I always walked around the room when I did this so I could get close to the student and make a quick assessment of that student’s mood on a given day. It helped me cut off a lot of problems at the pass over the years.
As I was finishing up roll call, I couldn’t help but notice that two of my best male students were acting like we were about to have a major test for which they were not prepared. As I placed my gradebook in my cart, I could hear the boys trying to argue quietly.
“What do you mean you’re not coming? We’ve been planning this for weeks,” hissed Troy.
“Man, it sounded like such a great idea at the time but I hadn’t thought about what my ole man would do to me if he found out. I just can’t risk that,” retorted Jeff.
I walked back to the guys and invited them to wait on the porch of our trailer (mobile unit) while I got the class started, giving them my best teacher’s eye, which students had told me was pretty wicked. The two boys stepped out the door and I moved to the board to give the students their assignment – a review of work we had been doing over the past week which would prepare them for an upcoming test.
“Okay, folks. I’ll be right out here on the porch so I will be able to hear you if you think this is play time. My advice is to get this work done.”
“Yes, ma’am,” responded a chorus of voices.
When I stepped onto the porch there was only one young man awaiting me – Jeff. Before I could say a word, Jeff started spilling his guts.
“Miss Brown, I tried to tell Troy he was already in trouble with you and he was going to be in more hot water if he left. He said he had a note for an early dismissal at 8:10 and he was leaving whether you liked it or not. He even showed it to me.”
“Okay, Jeff. If Troy has an early dismissal why didn’t you just get one for whatever the two of you had planned for the day?”
“Neither my mom nor my dad would write a note for me to skip school for the day, Miss Brown, so I just didn’t ask them, and I knew better than to forge either one of their names.”
“Well, good for you. Let’s go do some geometry.”
Jeff and I entered the room and he began working on the assignment. About 8:30, Troy walked back into class and handed me a tardy note as if it was the first time he had been in school that day. He didn’t look near as chipper as he had when he left my room earlier.
“Troy, are you okay?’
“I think I’m going to be.”
I decided I would let it rest for that day, but I had an uneasy feeling that there was a much bigger picture that I was missing. I decided I would check with some of my teacher buddies to determine if they were aware of anything going on.
***********to be continued************
| Author Notes | These are stories and ruminations from my career that took turns I never expected. It will not be chronological. A special thanks to cleo85 for the use of Right Angles in Triangles. It was the closest picture to a geometry class I could find. |
By Rdfrdmom2
Troy and Jeff hustled out of the room as soon as the bell rang (I hadn’t learned the art of me dismissing the class, not the bell). As the other students were filing out, Mr. Miles, our principal, walked in with the little notepad he always carried with him already out.
Before I had time to worry about why he might be wanting to talk to me, he said, “Miss Brown, were all your students in class today?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So Jeff Danbridge and Troy Sanders were both in your class today, and on time.”
“Yes, sir, although Troy was not in my class the entire time. He said he had an early dismissal and left.”
“Did he tell you where he was going?”
“No, sir, but the strangest thing happened. He returned to my class with a note from the office about 20 – 25 minutes later. In fact, I have his note paper-clipped to my gradebook so I could turn it in at the end of the day.”
“Uh, hmm. I’ll just take this with me and I’ll give it to the secretary when I get back to the office. Meanwhile, I need to talk to this young man to find out where he thought he was going this morning.”
My second period eighth-grade students were all on or above level and were progressing well in class. Other than not having matured into high school students yet, they rarely posed any problems for me. They were slated to take a test that morning and were quick to tell me that I was late to class. I promised them that if they needed extra time to complete the test, I would give them a few extra minutes the next day. The timing was perfect because I was very pre-occupied with what might be going on with Troy that could or would possibly cause him trouble.
When class ended, some of my students cautioned me not to be tardy to my next class because that would be setting a bad example for them. I assured them I would make it on time – but I didn’t. I was stopped more times than I can remember by different students, all asking the same question, “Is it true? Is it true?”
“Is what true?” I asked, but got no answers. These students just kept walking as if they were in a daze.
I herded my somewhat anxious students into the room and said, “Okay, guys, talk to me. Some rumor has a bunch of you all upset,”
“Logan came in late because he had some kind of appointment. He said he had seen rescue squads and a fire truck go down the road straight across from our school. All he could find out was that a train hit a car and it may have had school kids in it. Of course, he was telling everybody he saw about it until Mr. Miles walked up on him and took him to the office,” said Lucy.
I am sure the blood drained out of my face as I tried to blink back the tears threatening to cascade down my cheeks. It took all I had to close my door and to tell the kids to put their geometry books and notebooks down for a bit.
“I am sure all of you are feeling as dazed as I am right about now. We have to keep in mind that we don’t have that much information to go on just yet. Apparently, there has been an accident involving a train and a car – that’s never a good thing. I have known Mr. Miles most of my life. I don’t believe he will let rumors run wild around the school all day. In fact, I have reason to believe he was checking on something at the end of the first period. If, and when, he thinks there is something we all need to know, he will make the proper announcement. Until then, we just have to wait.”
“Why don’t we just go over your homework now with no penalties if you did not get it done last night as long as you get it into your notebook while we’re going over it? We will not go over any new material today. Once we’re done with the homework, maybe we will know more about this situation.”
| Author Notes | I will need at least 1 more chapter to complete this particular story. It is a very tough write. A special thanks to avmurray for the use of "Old Wheels Still Running" to enhance this work. |
By Rdfrdmom2
As hard as we all seemed to try, there was nothing about the homework that could keep our interest. I found myself having to repeat answers over and over to a group that was normally right on point.
“Okay, I get it. This is just not going to work today. You may talk quietly among yourselves until the end of the period.” On any other day, these sophomores and juniors would have had a lot to say. This day, they just huddled in small groups, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
We were all startled when Mr. Miles began his announcement by first clearing his throat, something he rarely did. “Now students and teachers, I have a very important announcement to make so I need you to pay close attention. There have been rumors flying around the school that there was a train/car accident at one of the nearby railroad crossings. I now have confirmation that is true. I also have been informed that four of our students were in the car involved.”
Suddenly it was all I could do to breathe, knowing that it was likely that Troy and Jeff were also planning to be in that car this morning. It seemed Mr. Miles was having difficulty completing his announcement.
He took what seemed like a lifetime before he continued, “Three of the boys have been taken to the trauma center at Norfolk General Hospital, all in serious condition. Unfortunately, the fourth boy, Dick Thompson, was pronounced dead at the scene of the accident.”
The screams of sorrow from both males and females overtook the entire school. Students came to me for hugs that felt like lifelines to each of us. Students came running out of classrooms looking for the guys they thought might have been with Dick.
One student, Paquita, just stood outside my classroom sobbing her heart out. I motioned for her to come into my embrace and just held her until she could sob no more.
“Miss Brown, I feel like this is my fault,” said Paquita.
“How could this possibly be your fault, Paquita?”
“I don’t know, but every time something like this happens, I always believe there was something I could have done to keep it from happening,” she said.
“Paquita, when you get the power to control all that happens in the world, I’m going to be very afraid of you,” I said. “Only God has that kind of power. You’re going to give yourself a nervous breakdown if you keep doing this to yourself.”
“I’ll try to stop, Miss Brown.”
Soon the names of the other three boys were announced, possibly as a means to settle some of the students down. This was April 5, 1973 – no cell phones, no mass media, no quick way for kids to get their parents to pick them up from school. However, this was a very close-knit school, made up of farming communities and suburban neighborhoods. Once it became known that Dick Thompson, the premier athlete at the school (quarterback, point guard, pitcher - all-State in each category), had been killed in that crash, parents came in droves to get their students.
Needless to say, there was very little teaching of any content area for the remainder of the day. Instead, there was a great deal of listening, counseling, and simply being there for our students. Students actually seemed to be comforted most by those teachers who were willing to cry with them as it showed students their emotions were valid.
As I was leaving at the end of that very long day, I met Troy coming out of the guidance counselor’s office.
I put my arm around him and said, “Hey, buddy, how’re you holding up?”
Troy turned into my shoulder and began sobbing. “I shoulda died with Dick, Miss Brown, but I got chicken and got out of the car at the stoplight and walked back to the school, got a pass, and went back to your class.”
I extended Troy to arm’s length and looked him straight in the eyes and said, “Troy, there were three other boys in that car that didn’t die today. There’s no guarantee you would have died if you had been in the car. Do you understand me?”
Troy could only shake his head in the affirmative.
“Why did you get out of the car, anyway?”
“I just had this funny feeling I wasn’t supposed to be there, so I told them I was going back to school.”
“Troy, there’s a lesson there. You need to always trust your gut!”
| Author Notes |
Things were very different in 1973. Our principal made his announcement on the advice of a parent who told him the names of the students were being released and they would reach our school shortly. Sure enough, that was beginning to happen no sooner than he got off the intercom.
The other three boys survived but had long rehabilitations. One served on our local police force for 30 years; one ran his father's auto repair shop, and the third one never quite found himself. Troy worked for a paper factory and died from brain cancer in his early 40s. Jeff moved away after he graduated from high school and I lost touch with him. A special thanks to KellBellKing for the use of "Looking Back" to enhance this piece. |
By Rdfrdmom2
As I left school on Friday, March 13, 2020, I was debating whether or not to travel to Richmond to cheer on our boys' basketball team slated to play for the state championship in our division. It soon became a moot point as the Virginia High School League, the governing body for activities and athletics in Virginia's public schools, announced the game had been cancelled due to COVID-19 concerns. Even though our team was named co-state-champion, it was somewhat like kissing your cousin -- they wanted to prove themselves on the court.
The next day, Governor Ralph Northam announced the closing of all schools effective Monday, March 16, 2020. By the end of the month, it became abundantly clear neither students nor staff, except essential staff, would be returning to school for the remainder of the 2019-2020 school term. The foremost question in my mind was not how were we going to teach our students, rather it was how were our students going to be fed as a large percentage of our students receive free or reduced lunch. For all too many of our students, school meals were the only meals they received each day. Many students went home on the weekends with a sustenance package to assist the family until Monday rolled back around. Were they now going to lose that?
Fortunately, the food issue was settled before the academic one was completed. Our food service department, in conjunction with our city, brought in the food to be prepared by the cafeteria staffs we already had in place. These meals were then boxed and loaded on our buses to be delivered to designated sites where families could pick up meals for their families. A decision was also made to feed our students during Spring Break, a time when students normally did not receive meals from the school, and during the summer. Additionally, many individuals and civic organizations stepped up to the plate to help meet the nutritional needs of our school families. It was very gratifying and humbling to watch people who had little of their own find a way to solicit food they could provide for others.
We still needed a plan to teach our children who are spread over the largest city in Virginia per land mass. The superintendent that was hired in October 2019 had deemed it necessary for all secondary students to have Chromebooks loaded with all their textbooks, academic apps, and Google drives as soon as possible. By February 1, 2020 approximately 89% of the students at my school had a Chromebook they could take back and forth from school to home.
When Governor Northam closed Virginia's schools, our superintendent charged our technology department to purchase more Chromebooks and one thousand "hot spots" (similar to a Wi-Fi provider) for those students who did not have internet service available out "in the boonies." A learning management system, Edgenuity, was also purchased, which allowed students in grades 6 -- 12 to work at their own pace; however there was a suggested pace in place for them so they would not dawdle. Even so, I often had to send encouraging messages to remind students they could cross this finish line if they held on just a bit longer.
There were cases where I had serious doubts about who was doing a particular student's work. It is rare for someone to leap from a flaming F to an overachieving A in just three weeks' time. On the other hand, those boring videos may have stimulated some of our students more than my co-teacher and I did. At any rate, most of our students completed their coursework and the academic year ended with hopes of our returning to school in person in September 2020.
One last comment. State testing was eliminated for the year -- and we all survived!
| Author Notes | This is a segway to our students' return next month - at least that is the current plan. A special thanks to meg119 for the use of "School Days" to enhance this work. |
By Rdfrdmom2
It has been almost a year since most of our students have had face-to-face instruction in a school setting. Students in specialized programs attended school twice a week until the second week of December 2020 and have only attended once a week since.
In a memo dated February 12, 2021, Superintendent Gordon informed staff that the Suffolk City Public School Board voted on Thursday, February 11, 2021, for all students to return to school through what has been named the Educate and Innovate learning plan. As such, students. PreK-5th grade (Elementary) students will return on March 15, 2021, and students in 6th-12th grade will return on March 22, 2021. Our students in specialized programs will also return to face-to-face instruction four days a week beginning March 15, 2021.
Our student population will be divided into three cohorts for instruction: Cohort A-students in the face-to-face setting on Mondays and Wednesdays, Cohort B-students in the face-to-face setting on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and Cohort V-for those students who will remain in virtual instruction.
Instruction has been outlined as follows:
Hybrid Instruction Model
As a reminder we have three Hybrid Instructional Models (Hybrid 3) for Secondary Instruction:
Hybrid 45: Teachers will instruct hybrid students during the first 45 minutes of the period and instruct virtual students live during the second half of the period.
Hybrid Flipped: Teachers will provide recorded direct instruction and activities prior to the class meeting. Live instruction will include applied, collaborative practice with hybrid and virtual students in small groups. Student groups (hybrid and virtual) may be brought together to close the class.
Hybrid Sync: Teachers will instruct virtual and hybrid students simultaneously utilizing the technologies currently available. Teachers will monitor and respond to hybrid and virtual students during the designated learning period.
It is the expectation that all secondary instructional staff clearly communicates with both students and parents which model of instruction will be used each period. Later today, the Teaching and Learning Team will re-share the videos explaining these options in further detail, and next week you will receive the Hybrid Learning Handbook for your reference.
Division Work Schedule
Beginning March 8, 2021, all instructional staff will be expected to return to their buildings for five (5) days per week. Fridays will continue to be enrichment, remediation, and support days for students, and we will continue with our professional learning series for staff.
Sad to say, the five-day workweek is going to rock some (small percentage) teachers' boats as they have not been providing what they should on Fridays and have regarded it as the start of their three-day weekend. Most teachers have only been required to work in their buildings 1 -- 2 days a week all year, although some of us prefer to work in the building because that's where all our supplies are.
Don't tell me you can't teach an old dog new tricks. I have spent more hours learning how to perform new tasks that will both help me teach my students at their level while holding their attention online than I have on any other objective in my 49-year career.
Most teachers are working harder than they ever have -- and that's about to get harder still -- at every level. Why do we do it? Because we love our kids and they deserve the very best we have to offer in the midst of this crazy mess we are in.
New first day of school? March 22, 2021!!!
| Author Notes | The positivity rate for COVID-19 tests in Virginia is finally on a two-week downhill slide. Our governor is pushing for our students to be back in school. Unfortunately, we still can't have them all back at once and meet the COVID-19 regulations, but this is a start. Keeping my fingers crossed. I have so much missed my kids!!! A special thanks to VMarguarite for the use of 'Back to School Time" for the perfect picture to enhance this work. |
By Rdfrdmom2
As I have noted previously, the high school students attending Suffolk City Public Schools will be returning for in-person learning effective March 22, 2021. This will be done in a hybrid fashion (see The Students Are Coming) meaning some of our students will be in the classroom with us while others will continue to receive their lessons at home through the virtual learning system that has been used the entire school year.
Teachers will return to working in their classrooms five days a week effective Monday, March 8, 2021. We will teach virtually Mondays through Thursdays while having a whole host of professional development activities during the afternoons and on Fridays. As has been the case all year, the professional development activities will also be held virtually, which brings me to today's professional development sessions.
The first Friday professional development sessions began this morning, Friday, March 5, 2021, at 8:30 a.m. They were divided by elementary, middle, and high school staff so that best practices in hybrid teaching could be shared with us. Since I have never taught in a hybrid setting, I was anxious to learn some trick(s) to engage students both in class and at home at the same time without my losing my mind -- or their attention. Instead, I became railroaded by some things that took place during the presentation that kept me from remaining focused on the task at hand. To note just a few of the distractions:
1. When the presentation began, it was instantly clear the three speakers had not coordinated
who was going to speak when. The pregnant pauses and/or the interruptions of each other became a bit annoying.
2. When the first presenter finally decided this was really her show to host, some other participants, including one of the other speakers, neglected to mute their mics. Disney music (which I love), dogs barking, kids playing, adults talking, all became louder than the speaker.
3. Even though all the participants were "working" from home or some site other than their school (our schools have a mandatory closure on Fridays until next week, this was still a professional development session. I dare say that two of the three presenters, while not dressed sloppily, would not have gone to a conference and represented our school system dressed in that fashion.
Our second professional development session was held from 10:15 a.m. -- 11:30 a.m. This time we were divided by our content areas so 100 middle and high school math teachers met to discuss apps that we have found to be very beneficial to our students during the pandemic. This session could not have been more different than the first in that:
1. The host reminded everyone to mute their mics unless asked to speak.
2. All of the presenters were dressed as if they were going to a conference to present their material.
3. The flow from one speaker to the next was seamless.
4. Opportunities for interaction with some of the apps discussed made it such that participants could see how easy it would be to incorporate it into their lessons.
We were given the opportunity to provide feedback along with our sign-in sheet. Without being brutal, I shared my concerns regarding the first and my pleasure with the second. I hope others were honest, too, as that is how we improve this work that we do.
| Author Notes | A bit of a rant. A special thanks to willie for the use of 'the meeting room' to enhance this work. The picture is to represent that we cannot meet in the same room for our professional development sessions. |
By Rdfrdmom2
When I returned to work on March 8, 2021, (on-site at Lakeland High School), I learned I had been kicked out of my classroom so someone from our staff could administer a writing SOL (Standards of Learning) test. My first thought was, I'll be darned. The powers that be at the federal and state levels must think our students need more stress than they've already endured during the ongoing pandemic. My second thought was, Where am I supposed to go to teach my virtual classes. Yes, home felt like the best option, but I chose the high road and remained on campus.
As I was walking towards the office to find out their plan for my students to receive instruction, I happened to bump into the Sargeant who is in charge of our ROTC program. After welcoming me back, he said he had heard I had been displaced and offered me a spot in the cadet's classroom since he would be doing his virtual teaching from his office, just across the hall. I was very appreciative of his offer since I had to be online in less than fifteen minutes.
As the Sargeant and I were chatting a group of about fifty students walked past us on the way to their testing sites. In all honesty, the sight of a group of students that large just took my breath away because it felt like school might be getting a bit back to normal after a year of empty hallways and classrooms. We said a lot of Hi, how are yous and received many What's up? in return.
God truly has a sense of humor. Sargeant Cooper and I almost said the same words once all the students had cleared the hall. "Weren't we standing near this spot on Friday, March 13, 2020, discussing whether or not we would be going to Richmond the next day for the state basketball championship game?"
"I believe we were. What are the odds we would be standing together talking when our first wave of students returned?"
"About the same as my hitting the Mega-Lottery tonight!"
"Hey, what numbers are you playing?"
"I'm a math teacher, you know? I cannot slight a gazillion numbers just to pick six for a lottery. They just would not understand and would never forgive me!"
"Oh, Mrs. Holland, I certainly missed your wry sense of humor."
"I think it's time for us to start class," I said as I walked into his classroom with a huge smile because we had students in the building.
| Author Notes | This is one of those God winks moments, I believe. A special thanks to VMarguerite for the use of "Learning" to enhance this writing. |
By Rdfrdmom2
Besides teaching one’s subject matter to students, high school teachers are often called on to serve as sponsors for clubs, coach sports, and chaperone dances. Trust me, teaching classes was much easier than the other responsibilities!
I often found myself chaperoning dances with an industrial arts teacher, Mr. M (best teacher, advocate for students, and good example for kids I have ever known), and a few other teachers. By the third dance of the year, it dawned on me that, for the most part, the same teachers were called upon to chaperone time and again. I tried to figure out what we all had in common but never could. I decided I would work up my nerve to ask my principal, Mr. Miles, about it. Somehow, I always lost my nerve.
Mr. M and I normally served as the cashiers as students entered the lobby of the school. We had three jobs as we sat by the door: 1) ensure that no intruders entered the building during the dance; 2) collect the cost of admission, and, 3) remind students to take their shoes off before entering the gym.
Once the influx of students slowed, Mr. M and I took turns taking breaks of about 5 – 10 minutes at a time. Neither of us strayed too far away so we could be there to help the other if something went awry. I normally bought a Coke from the refreshment stand and sat on one of the cement benches across from the main entrance.
One night, during my break, Principal Miles took a seat beside me on the bench and asked how I thought things were going that night. I told him the crowd was large and well-behaved. He then asked me if I had noticed anything unusual during the evening. My opportunity to ask the chaperone question had finally arrived.
“No, Mr. Miles, nothing unusual going on tonight, but I do want to ask you a question.”
“Okay, what is it?”
“Why does it seem like the same teachers are repeatedly asked to chaperone dances and others are not?”
Mr. Miles smiled at me and said, “Janice, I’ve learned over my career that there are dems that do and dems that don’t. I just don’t bother dems that don’t!”
I was not expecting his answer but knew better than to continue the conversation. I just grinned at him as he got up and walked away from my area.
I wish I could say that I came to find he was wrong about his theory, but I cannot. There are always going to be those teachers who are willing to work so kids can have a good time outside the instructional day – and there will always be those who work to the proverbial clock. I can honestly say that I have never regretted being one of dems that do.
| Author Notes | My principal, Mr. Miles, liked to use little phrases to explain things and often used imperfect English as he did so. He was a very bright man with a peculiar sense of humor. A special thanks to VMarguerite for the use of "Dancing Couple" to enhance this writing. |
By Rdfrdmom2
Back in the years when I taught (1972 - 1981), Homecoming Week was second only to the Junior-Senior Prom in the overall scheme of things. Graduation was important, of course, but only for those graduating. The prom was number one because, for most of our students, it was the first formal dance they ever attended – if they were lucky, they might even go to the prom as both Juniors and Seniors. In the 70s, Suffolk Public Schools only allowed students in the 11th and 12th grades to attend the prom, unlike today when anyone in high school can attend with the proper clearance.
During Homecoming Week, every class would build a float which would be judged during halftime of the football game. Hours upon hours were spent in the shop or at someone’s family barn between Monday and Friday – all after the regular school day was over, otherwise, a class’s float would be disqualified. While the Homecoming Game and all its festivities were big deals, the biggest highlight of the week was the Saturday night Homecoming Dance.
As had been the custom for several years, my good friend, Mr. M and I served as the cashiers/doorkeepers for the big dance. We still had to remind our students to take off their shoes as soon as they paid and put them in the hallway between the gym and the office. We also reminded students there would be no re-entry once they left the building.
Things were going smoothly especially considering the size of our crowd. About 10 pm one of my students, Lisa B., and daughter of one of my former youth leaders with whom I still attended church, arrived at the door. Lisa wanted to argue the no re-entry rule with Mr. M. When she determined he was not going to break the rule on her behalf, she tried to pull the “family friend” card on me.
As we were discussing the issue, I got a whiff of alcohol from Lisa’s breath. I invited her to come into the office so we could discuss why it was so important for her to be able to come and go as she wished over the next 1.5 hours of the dance. When we got into better lighting, I could tell her eyes were already bloodshot.
“Mrs. Holland, I met a guy at the game last night from North Carolina. Since he cannot get into the dance because he is not a student here, we made plans for him to pick me up here.”
“And your parents know about this?”
When she looked at her feet and began stuttering to form a lie, I said, “Never mind. I can already tell they don’t. Did your mom even meet him at the game last night?” Her mom never missed a home game the entire nine years I taught at Forest Glen High School.
Lisa’s manner instantly became surly. “Why do you care? You are not my mama.”
“And we can both thank God for that,” I said before I thought. My response did not improve her mood, nor was it one of my better moments.!
“I don’t have a ride home if you don’t let me leave with him because I told my parents to go on to bed because Becky would be bringing me home.”
“Then you’re in a heap of trouble because Becky is not here and you are not going to be leaving with someone you barely know – especially since you’re already half-drunk.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t had a drink tonight!”
“I am sure you are right. It’s the plural of drinks I’m worried about. I think it’s time I call your parents to come to get you – now!”
“Please, Mrs. Holland. You know my dad – he will kill me when he realizes I’ve been drinking.”
“Yeah, so would my father when I was your age, which is why I did not drink when I was in high school. So, here’s the deal. You can wait in the office and sober up while I return to the door to do my job. When I am released to go home, I will take you home myself. That way I will know you got there safely.”
“I guess I don’t have a choice!”
“No, you really don’t,” I said as I was leaving the office.
At 11:40 pm, I went back to the office to collect Lisa. She was in decidedly better shape than when we had last talked.
“Come on, let’s go. You are lucky my husband is still stationed in Okinawa, otherwise I would need to explain my very late arrival home tonight. Why couldn’t you live closer to my home instead of way out in the boonies?”
“Hey, Mrs. Holland. I have to live where my parents live, right? Can I ask for a favor?”
“You are really not in a position to be asking for favors, Lisa.”
“I know. Still, when we get to my house, can you just let me go into the house on my own?”
“As long as I can physically see you enter your house, yes. Otherwise, I’m going in with you and what happens, happens.”
Fortunately for Lisa, I could watch her go into the house. I waited until she cut the porch light off before I turned around and headed home.
Lisa’s mom and I are still friends almost 45 years after this event. Lisa has also become one of my adult friends over the years. To my knowledge, Lisa’s mom has never learned the details of this night, including that I took her home that night. Of course, Lisa and I never discuss it for fear it will get back to her mom all these years later.
I am just thankful I was the doorkeeper with my friend, Mr. M that night. It would have destroyed me if Lisa had somehow connected with this guy and something tragic had occurred. I suppose arriving home at 12:30 am instead of 11:50 pm was worth it because Lisa was safely home.
| Author Notes | Teaching in the same community where you go to church and was raised brings its own set of issues sometimes. A special thanks to VMarguerite for the use of "Dancing Couple" to enhance this piece. |
By Rdfrdmom2
In January 1974, which was about halfway through my second year of teaching, the City of Nansemond (approximately 427 square acres) merged with the City of Suffolk (a little more than 2 square miles completely surrounded by the City of Nansemond). This was significant to my career because the City of Nansemond had three high schools and the City of Suffolk only had one small high school. Each of the schools was very disparate in their racial make-up, also. Something had to be done.
The late August 1974 opening of Forest Glen High School brought many changes as most of the students had not been in truly integrated educational settings before. Racial problems, however, were not much of a problem as our school drew from a largely agricultural population. African – Americans and Caucasian farmers in the City of Nansemond (which was Nansemond County until January 1973 when it became a city to keep from being annexed by any of the surrounding cities – it was complicated, but I digress!).
I found the biggest challenge I had was with the influx of students who had already formed allegiances to the high school at the school they attended during the 1973-1974 school term. Many of them would proudly wear the t-shirts and/or letter jackets they had been awarded due to their athletic feats at their former school. Whenever that happened, I would embrace their pride and ask them what they liked best about their other school, in what sport or sports they had earned their letters, did they plan to try out for any sports or participate in any clubs at Forest Glen. This seemed to win most of them over.
And then there was Ashton. Ashton was a 6’7” center who not only was the star of his former school’s varsity basketball team, he was considered the foremost center in the Peanut District. On this particular day, Ashton’s geometry class was due to take a unit test. As I was passing them out, Ashton informed me that at his previous school, star basketball players were not required to take major tests on game days – or any other days, for that matter.
Nonplussed I said, “Okay, Ashton, but I need you to do me a favor.”
Thinking he had won the battle, Ashton grinned and said, “Sure, Mrs. Holland. What can I do for you?
“You can write your name on the test I hand you so I can show your test and the score you earn on it to your coach.”
Ashton just took his test and scowled at me as I completed the task of passing out all the tests. I returned to my desk, sat down, and began marking the roll. Suddenly I felt a presence over my desk. I looked up to find Ashton leaning over my desk, displaying what I took to be his best intimidating look.
“May I help you?” I said as I looked him dead in the eyes.
“Mrs. Holland, you cannot make me take this test.”
“Ashton, you are exactly right. I cannot make you or anyone else but myself do anything. What I can do, however, is make the consequences for your not doing what I want you to do such that you will wish that you had followed my directions.”
“Besides,” I continued, “how are we going to show the college personnel that are coming to watch you play basketball how smart you are if you don’t do your work?”
Ashton went back to his seat and took his test. I had an inkling he would want to know his score as soon as possible so I graded it before I went to lunch. I was so pleased to tell him he had earned an A on the test. This time when he leaned over me, it was to give me a hug, the first of many I was to receive from him over the years.
And, yes, he became our star center, too.
| Author Notes | Many of these students already knew each other prior to the forced changes. A special thanks to VMarguarite for the use of "Test Time" to enhance this chapter. |
By Rdfrdmom2
When I report for a testing in-service tomorrow morning, it will officially mark the beginning of my 50th year in education: 33 years full-time and 17 part-time. As I ponder that, I wonder how it can be true. Sure, I remember casually commenting early in my first year of teaching that I wanted to teach for 50 years but I was delusional at the time.
I just renewed my teaching certificate for 10 years, the minimum a teacher can renew for in the Commonwealth of Virginia effective this year. I suspect it will be my last renewal as I will be almost 80 when this certificate expires on June 30, 2031. Even so, I will work to collect the minimum of 270 renewal points just in case I am around to renew it.
I am doing the work I began doing in the fall of 1972 – I am teaching students mathematics. There is a sense of coming full circle that is extremely satisfying as I help students taking Algebra 1 learn the skills they need to pass the Standards of Learning Test. The best thing I do in this process is convincing them I believe in them so they should believe in themselves.
I will meet my students on Monday, July 19th at 7:30 a.m. I am as excited as I was that August day in 1972 when I met my very first students. Why? It is simple, really. Teaching is a work of heart!
| Author Notes | Reflections from a long career with many twists and turns. A special thanks to VMarguarite for the use of Test Time to enhance this work. |
By Rdfrdmom2
Early in my teaching career, I was plagued with serious sinus infections. I would often wake up feeling sinus pressure that would either ease up as the day went on or I forgot about as I got involved with my students. There were other days, however, when I was not so fortunate.
I knew as soon as I woke up that Friday morning I should call in sick but did not see that as a viable option because I had not updated my emergency plans since the beginning of first semester. If used now, they would not be much more than “busy” work, something I prided myself on never assigning. My husband was out at sea so there was no one home to tell me not to go to work – so go to work I did.
I managed to make it through my first two classes. Fortunately, I had my planning during third period. I used that time wisely and made plans for my last three classes of the day. As soon as I completed them, I walked to the office to ask to go home for the remainder of the day.
As soon as our assistant principal, Mrs. Taylor, saw me, she said, “Child, you need to go home and get into the bed.”
“Yes, I believe I will. Here are my plans for the remainder of the day.”
“Now, go. I will get teachers to cover your classes for you. Call your doctor and get some medicine, too.”
“Will do.”
************************************************************************************
When I returned to work on Monday, one of my co-workers asked me if I had heard what my fourth-period class had done to Mr. Maury. A quizzical look indicated to her I had not.
“It seems they all turned their chairs so they had their backs to him after he said something they did not like.”
“Thank you for telling me. I will check with him to find out what happened so I will know before they try to shoot me a line.”
I stopped by Mr. Maury’s room to apologize for my students’ behavior and to ask if every student participated in the back-turning and if he knew what caused it.
“Janice, I told them you had gone home sick. I wrote their assignment on the board and asked them to get to work. Some of them wanted to be silly so I asked them to act their age. The next thing I knew, they were turning their seats around and refused to sit facing the board.”
“I am really sorry, Mr. Maury.”
“It’s okay, Janice. I know you don’t tolerate that type of behavior.”
“No, I do not. I will handle this when I see them today.”
| Author Notes | Sometimes it does not pay to go home when you are sick. Sometimes students are not wrong to be upset but they don't handle it the right way. A special thanks to VMarguarite for the use of "Empty Classroom" to enhance this writing. I selected this drawing because the chairs look like they are facing backwards. |
By Rdfrdmom2
“Janice, I told them you had gone home ill. I wrote their assignment on the board and asked them to get to work. Some of them wanted to be silly so I asked them to act their age. The next thing I knew, they were turning their seats around and refused to sit facing the board.”
“I am really sorry, Mr. Maury.”
“It is okay, Janice. I know you don’t tolerate that type of behavior.”
“No, I do not. I will handle this when I see them today.”
Pt 2
My fourth period geometry class normally went to lunch prior to coming to my class. Imagine their surprise when they heard the following as part of the morning announcements: Mrs. Holland’s fourth period geometry class is to report to class prior to lunch today – no exceptions. Do you wonder what they were thinking when that same announcement was made at the end of each class until fourth period?
I was standing at the door, smiling and speaking to each by name, as per my usual, as students entered my classroom. Everyone looked like they had lost their best friend as they came in and went straight to their seats. As soon as the tardy bell rang, I closed the door, moved to the front of the board, and leaned back against it. I made sure to look each student in the eyes for a few seconds as I called the roll, something I had quit doing several months before. I wanted to see which one of them was going to offer an explanation for Friday’s rudeness.
Finally, a student asked if they were in trouble. One of the cheerleaders, Debbie, said, “Heck, yeah, we’re in trouble. I knew that the first time they announced we had to come here before going to lunch.”
“And why do you think the class is in trouble, Debbie?”
“Because we didn’t like Mr. Maury treating us like babies, so we turned our backs to him.”
“And whose idea was that?”
“For him to treat us like babies or for us to turn our backs?”
“I’m not in the mood for your shenanigans, girl. Just tell me what happened.”
“Some of us asked for some help on the assignment because we didn’t remember how to do it. He said he wasn’t going to help us. Somebody asked again. He told us to stop whining like babies and to get our work done. John said we weren’t babies. Then Mr. Maury told us to act our age and not our IQ. I turned my seat around because I didn’t like that. Is it my fault everybody else did the same thing?” Deb asked.
“We didn’t think you’d punish Debbie because she’s one of your cheerleaders, so if we did what she did we would be okay,” said John.
“What do you think of that choice now?”
“I guess I was wrong.”
“Your assignment for tonight is to write a letter of apology to Mr. Maury for your rude behavior. Please understand. I am not saying what was said to you was appropriate; however, there was a better way to handle it. I will address his comments with him. Your letters are due on my desk tomorrow before lunch. That’s right. We will be going to late lunch every day this week. If I don’t approve your letter, I will send it home for you to rewrite it with your parents. Got it.”
“Yes, Mrs. Holland.”
“Now, what is it you didn’t understand about Friday’s assignment?”
| Author Notes | Sometimes kids do what they do in response to what adults should not have done. A special thanks to VMarguarite for the use of "Empty Chairs" to enhance this writing. |
By Rdfrdmom2
On Monday, July 19, 2021, Suffolk Public School's Summer Academy, formerly known as the SOL Academy, began promptly at 7:30 a.m. Even though three girls and two boys were assigned to my class, the boys were no shows. All classes were required to be in-person, therefore the boys could not join virtually.
Each student was to arrive in class with a charged Chromebook. (All secondary students enrolled in our system are allowed to keep their Chromebooks from the time they are distributed until the week they are to graduate.) One of my former students arrived without hers, which was highly unusual. Rather than have her miss any class, I allowed her to use the one assigned to me for the Summer Academy. As it turned out, hers was malfunctioning and she had not been able to have it replaced prior to the beginning of class.
Just before our break at 10, one of the testing coordinators came by to check on attendance. Since neither of the boys had appeared, Mrs. L said they would be dropped from the roll. She added that the passing scores for the SOL would be the same as they were at the end of the school year: 350. I passed that information on to my girls but told them we were going to shoot for the standard minimum passing score of 400.
On Wednesday, a young man entered the room without a pass. Since he was not on my original roll and had already missed two days, I told him he had to leave. Without argument, he gathered his things and headed out the door. About that time, my conscience said, You didn't even give him a chance to explain himself. I called out to him and asked him to wait for me to meet with him. Long story short, his school had not done their due diligence so a decision was made to allow him to attend. It was not a problem.
After five days of 4.25 hours of instruction/day for the girls and three of those for the young man, these students took the VA State Algebra 1 SOL on Tuesday, July 27, 2021. There was no doubt in my mind that all of them would pass. I brought them breakfast from Chick-fil-A to ensure they had breakfast before testing. These students had quickly become my children.
Scores began coming in around 11:15 a.m. I was ecstatic: 391, 399, 399, 407. Then I learned that not all scores are equal. Two of the girls had transferred to Suffolk from out-of-state during the 2020-2021 school term. Each had been in 4 X 4 schools, meaning students take 4 courses the first semester, then another 4 second semester. Unfortunately, each had completed their Algebra 1 classes in the state from which they transferred. As a result, neither could be granted the "COVID Test" designation allowing them to pass with a 350. Instead, they were required to return to school on Wednesday, July 28th for a day of remediation so they could retest on July 29th, which they did. The new scores? 397 and 428.
I cannot make sense of this for the lone student who was not successful according to the rule we did not know about until after the fact. How different can Algebra 1 be in either North Carolina or Indiana that students who pass it there must score higher on this year's SOL test than those who passed it in Virginia? Didn't COVID affect those states, also? Would it have made a difference if those students had known from day 1 that they had to make a score of 400 or better?
Sometimes the numbers just don't add up!
| Author Notes | Most recent event in a long, long educational career. |
By Rdfrdmom2
When I agreed to become the varsity cheerleading sponsor at the end of my first year of teaching, I quickly became aware of two things: a) my time was never again going to be my own; and, b) this group was seriously in need of written rules which needed to be signed by the cheerleader, her parent, and myself. Who knew cheerleaders practiced two-three times a week plus cheered at one-three ball games a week from the end of August until the middle of March? Worse than that, what made the co-captains (seniors in high school) think they were in charge of making the rules?
The rules were fairly simple, at least from my perspective. Each girl had to agree to the following (in no particular order):
| Author Notes | I loved my cheerleaders. We had some really interesting times but we got off to a bit of a rocky start. I was their sponsor for 8 years so it worked out. A special thanks to VMarguarite for the use of "Goodbye to this School Year" to enhance this work. The bus is to simulate us waving good-bye to the first cheerleader to miss the team bus for a football game. Thanks for reading. Jan |
By Rdfrdmom2
Forest Glen High School (FGHS) was one of the ten-member Virginia High School League’s Peanut District (so named as most of our schools were surrounded by peanut fields. One of the schools, Northampton, was the antithesis to this as it is located on the Eastern Shore of Virginia in the Town of Easton. This required the other nine teams in the district to cross the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel (CBBT) in order to play them.
In the 1970s, kickoff did not occur until 8 p.m. which meant the football team and cheerleaders had to leave school by 3:30 p.m. to allow for the minimum two-hour bus ride, assuming there were no delays at the CBBT. The Northampton PTA always fed the traveling teams and cheerleaders due to the travel involved – and all the schools reciprocated when they came to play on our side of the Chesapeake Bay.
During our Thursday practice prior to the Northampton game, I reminded the cheerleaders how cold it had gotten during our home game the week before. Some of them had never been to Northampton and had no clue how much colder it would be there as compared to Suffolk.
“Wear warm clothes for the bus ride over and back. Although we will be close to the front of the bus since we will be riding the equipment bus, bus heaters are notorious for not working all that great. Also, bring blankets to warm-up during half-time as we will not be able to get inside the building. I will ask our bus driver to have the bus warmed up for us if that is allowed. Any questions?”
“I have cousins who live on the Eastern Shore. My mom wants to know if I can go home with them after the game. My aunt is going to bring me home Sunday.”
“If you and your mom are positive your aunt is going to be there to pick you up, it’s fine with me. Just remember to bring me a note from your mom with a number where I can call to verify she wrote it. It’s a long, long walk from the Eastern Shore to Suffolk.”
“I know, I know!”
Sure enough, Eileen came in first thing Friday morning with a note from her mother giving permission for her aunt to take her home with her cousins after the game. I called Eileen’s mom at her job to verify the information during my planning period.
We arrived at the football stadium around 5:45 p.m. Parents came out to lead us to the school cafeteria for a supper of spaghetti, garlic bread, salad, tea, and iced sheet cake. Eileen’s aunt came out from the kitchen to introduce herself and to tell Eileen where she would meet her after the game. I felt better knowing the aunt was already on site.
Other than being bitter cold due to a harsh wind off the Chesapeake Bay, the game went our way. As the girls dashed to the heated bus waiting for them, Eileen and her cousin gathered their things, said good-night, and headed for the exit gate where she was to meet her aunt. I watched her until she arrived there safely, then boarded the bus with the remainder of the girls as we waited for the team to clean up and board their bus. (Trust me, riding the equipment bus with the heat running is not fun after a ball game! I was happy it had been hours since we had eaten!)
We were pulling around the one-way circle in front of the school when I happened to glance out the back windshield. While I could not hear anything, I did recognize Eileen running behind the bus as if her life depended upon it.
“Stop,” I yelled to the bus driver. “I believe that’s one of my cheerleaders chasing our bus.”
As I got off the bus, Eileen came rushing into my arms, crying hysterically.
“Eileen, what’s wrong? Did you leave something on the bus?”
“Nooooooo, my aunt didn’t pick us up.”
“What?”
“I don’t know what happened, but when she wasn’t here by the time the bus pulled off, I knew I better catch the bus or I would be stranded over here by myself.”
“Where’d your cousin go?”
“He said he was going to the school to call his mom, but he never came back. I got scared and came to the bus.”
“I’m so glad I happened to look back when I did.”
“Me, too!”
Eileen’s mom met us when we arrived at FGHS.
“Mrs. Holland, I am furious.”
“Excuse me.”
“My oldest nephew took his mom’s car without permission when she went home to get blankets for Northampton’s cheerleaders and she could not get back to the school. She tried to call the school to let you know but no one was in the office. I just prayed you were going to have my girl with you.”
“Well, Mrs. White, it was a close call.”
“Don’t worry. She will be traveling to and from all games with you from now on.”
“Not a problem.” (Rule 9: Cheerleaders.1)
| Author Notes | Some of my favorite memories were made with my cheerleaders. Because of the small age differential, they were often more like younger sisters than students - and many still are. A special thanks to VMarguarite for the use of "Football Time" to enhance this piece. |
By Rdfrdmom2
Our students attend classes on what is known as an alternating even-odd schedule. Because we offer seven classes per year, students attend their first block every day for fifty-five minutes. Blocks 2-3, 4-5, and 6-7 run opposite each other on even-odd days to ensure those classes have the same amount of instructional time as our five required lunch shifts weave through them. It can become quite complicated. We have so many lunch shifts due to COVID-19 regulations requiring all students to remain six feet apart while digesting their lunch. Anyway, I will deal with lunch issues at a different time.
No one will be surprised to discover the student most able to push my buttons to be a member of my first block class - yes, the one that meets every, single day. From day one, Rayshawn sashayed into class, music blaring from his earbuds (can you spell d-e-a-f?), loudly asking permission to leave before he ever got settled, and smiling from ear to ear. Mostly, he did not have his school-issued Chrome book through which all instruction, interactive notes, homework, and assessments are conducted. There are no other means by which a student can be successful in a class.
After observing Rayshawn's wanton disruption of our class over several more days, I invited Rayshawn into the hallway for the proverbial "Come to Jesus" meeting where the rubber meets the road.
"Mrs. Holland, Mrs. Holland. I know what you're going to say!"
"Okay. Tell me."
"You're going to ask me why I can't get to class on time with my Chrome book charged and get right to work."
"Rayshawn, that's a pretty good assessment. Why don't we start there?"
"Well, you, see, I have ADHD and I can't help myself."
"Rayshawn, that's such a ..."
"No, for real, Mrs. Holland. I swear I do," he said as he interrupted me.
"Rayshawn, stop and listen to me for a second. Sweetheart, I knew five minutes after I met you we were kindred spirits."
"OMG! Are you saying you have ADHD, too?"
"Yes, I am. Now suppose I came to class and acted like I couldn't control what I do? Instead, I take 40 mg of Vyvanse every morning before I come to work. Trust me, my family says you do not want me to come to work if I miss 3-4 days in a row."
Incredulous, he asked, "You take Vyvanse, too? I take 60 mg a day."
I refrained from questioning the last time he had taken any. I was positive it was not during the current school year. Asking about a student's medication is highly disdained, as well as illegal in the Commonwealth of Virginia.
We chatted a bit more about our need for him to get to class on time with his Chrome book charged, his earbuds out, his music off, his phone up, and ready to work. I reminded him the purpose of my being in the Algebra classes was to assist students, including him.
Several days later, Rayshawn was at his Energizer Bunny best. After correcting him for the third time in a little more than five minutes, I reminded him there were other students in the class who were trying to learn. As I began to walk away from him, Rayshawn began to wave his hand frantically. I tried to ignore him but he was not to be denied.
"Yes, Rayshawn," came out sounding way more exasperated than I meant, but less than I felt, I must admit.
With the soulful eyes of a fifteen-year-old young man looking straight at me, he exposed his heart in front of his peers by quietly asking, "Mrs. Holland, do you even like me?"
As tears stung my eyes, I slowly closed the distance between us so I could look him straight in the eyes when I responded. "Rayshawn, not only do I like you, I love you. I will have your back when you are right and I will correct you when you are wrong - just like family. That's how much I not only love you but all of my students."
You can have heard a cotton ball drop. Then a student from the other side of the room spurted out, "What just happened?", and the moment was gone.
| Author Notes |
I am back in the classroom serving as the Algebra Readiness Coach for approximately 167 students, my all-time high. Since 9/9/2021, I have arrived at work around 8:00 am and am thoroughly engaged to 3:00 pm, at the very least. If after-school tutoring becomes a part of the day, my day does not end until 4:45 pm. When I began my career, this schedule would have been a piece of cake. At age 70, it is flat kicking my butt.
When I get home, I ask my husband about his day as I continue to walk towards my bedroom. Often I lie across the bed and do not awaken until he gets me up for work the next day. Even still, I love what I do. A special thanks to simonka for the use of Twister. I believe Rayshawn is in a whirl on the outside, yet solid on the inside. |
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