Who's A Good Boy?

I'm in staff development today at school. The morning was about celebrating good things about school then placing kids in tiers of need (academic and behavioral). As such things go, it wasn't useless. This afternoon we attend training for active shootings.

It's sad that in the supposedly greatest nation we must prepare for school shootings because we can't get our heads out of our fat asses about guns. Maybe the red baseball hats act like barbs. Whatever. This is schooling in the United States.

Rather than fight this — I've foolishly fought the battle too many times — today I'm trying to breathe and keep to myself. This goes against my nature.

Leo Babauta wrote this week about training the mind as if it were a puppy. I'm not yet housebroken so it seems a reasonable approach. Begin small, focus on doing well, reward good behavior, don't punish, and keep at it. Today I've earned a coffee.

The real reward is getting a new job, but that's a big project. It's like training a guide dog compared with teaching a puppy to sit. Today I'm just learning to sit. It may lead to me guiding myself to some new adventure. I just need to keep asking this question: Who's a good boy? God, I hope it's me.

Mental Health Day

Teachers use "mental health day" mostly as euphemism, spoken furtively, apologetically, as if admitting an embarrassing weakness. I encourage colleagues to treat their mental health equally with their physical health. I tell them I see my therapist every other week and have for fourteen years.

That gives them pause. Mental health isn't all that much discussed round here.

My current mental health is shaky and I have trouble admitting it. I saw my therapist yesterday and she was concerned. I am too. It's almost more than I can stand to think of going to school. I don't know that I can take the abuses.

Yesterday no fewer than four kids told me to fuck off. One said I was a racist and that wasn't the most offensive thing he said. I am told to write these things up, but I flee the building as soon as contractually possible and had only a twenty minute break. There was no time for write-ups. There won't be time tomorrow either. Besides, experience shows that little good comes of the write-ups and they can make things worse.

I would take a mental health day but last year received a counseling memo saying I had taken too many days off. I'm allowed far more days by contract and all were approved, but the memo, which warned of possible further disciplinary action including dismissal, has had a chilling effect.

In the last year and a quarter my school and job have changed dramatically. Increasingly, I need mental health time, but worry about further disciplinary action and dismissal.

I don't want to crack up and go out on disability. I would rather be proactive and treat things before they get out of hand. I've seen one teacher break down. I don't want that to be me.

Mental health days aren't euphemisms. They are serious business. We teachers need to take our mental health seriously. Our students need healthy teachers. Our children need healthy parents. Our spouses need healthy spouses. And we deserve healthy lives earned by taking care of ourselves as outlined in our contracts.

Though I know I should stay home and rest, I'll be at school today, tomorrow, and next week. I'm not sure that's good for any of us.

A Sick Day

I'm not at school today. I'm on the couch. The cat is eyeing me up as a warm bed. I have coffee on hand and Zenyatta Mondatta on the turntable. It's cold and wet outside and, because the heat turns down on school days, it is cold but dry in here. I'll keep a blanket on, my hoodie zipped, and wear a wool hat. I'm in for the day.

I hurt my back last Friday playing basketball at school. I teach English and help lead basketball for gym. I took not one but two shots to the head and neck and by Saturday, each time I stood up I couldn't get my back to unwind. The electric shock stopped my breath each time I tried. Yesterday, thinking I had healed, I played basketball with kids only to have one land on my shoulders and back as he came down with a rebound. This morning, I'm right back to where I was Saturday. I sent in plans and alerted my colleagues.

Being out inconveniences the people with whom I work. I try to be a good colleague shouldering my burden and not putting others out. Today will be a pain for them because we have no substitutes and people will have to take time out of their routines to cover my classes.

Last September the superintendent emailed all staff defining good work ethic in ways not in the negotiated contract. The email said that our absences hurt students and colleagues. This was reinforced to me in June with a counseling memo for my personnel file stating that I had taken too many days (though fewer than contractually allotted). Should I continue to take sick time, management may dismiss me.

Such administrative actions have a chilling effect colder than an October morning. I resisted taking today because I don't want further memos in my personnel file or to risk being fired. My back injury makes moving challenging and I have a physically demanding job even without gym, but I worry about being sent to the principal's (superintendent's) office for being a bad boy. Then I realized a few things:

• I fulfilled my responsibility by sending substitute plans.
• It is management's job to provide substitute teachers.
• Any inconvenience to my colleagues is not my fault or responsibility.

I'll rest and hope to be healthy enough to do the job well tomorrow. Whether or not I face discipline for these things is entirely up to management. I'm still worried I'll face discipline. That sucks. It's one reason I don't love my job.

I just got up when The Police record ended and put Supertramp on the turntable. "Sister Moonshine" starts side one of Crisis? What Crisis?:

When I was a small boy,
Well, I could see the magic in a day,
But, now I'm just a poor boy,
Well, maybe it's the price you have to pay,
If you lock your dreams away
If no-one wants to listen.

My back twinged hard when I got up. I took deep breaths while the needle bounced in the end groove and another needle shot down my spine. I eventually straightened up and switched records. I'm back on the couch, under the blanket. The cat is still eyeing me. Her only concern is warmth, not a personnel file or dismissal. I've really got to learn to live a cat's life or at least remember what is and isn't my responsibility. I'll rest until I can stand up without seeing stars. Today that's my only job.

I'm Not Feeling This Today

I get the students ready to write. We have our packets and a prompt. We have pens and pencils. We have two minutes on the timer because today we'll write four short bursts that become something like an essay or a poem. I ask, "we ready to write?" and a kid says, "I'm not feeling this today. I ain't doing it." He's waiting for me to say he has to, waiting for me to push back. Instead, I become a ghost and say, "I know what you mean."

We write. Four two-minute bursts. That kid isn't feeling the writing. He ain't doing it. We keep going. I end up writing about him. It comes out great. I should thank him, but I don't. He would think I'm mocking him.

After writing, I ask each person the same question: "Is there something you wrote today that you can read to us?" I give two answers from which we choose: either, "yes, and here it is" or "not today." The second answer is to leave the door open for next time. These students are reluctant to share. They aren't feeling it. They ain't doing it. I invite and give them a way to decline without deciding they'll never ever share.

When I get to that kid I say, "I know you weren't feeling up to writing, so I won't mess with you by asking if you want to read." I turn to the next kid: "Is there something you wrote today that you can read to us?" He says, "not today."

After sharing, we move to reading books. Everyone but the kid grabs their book, fills out the box on their writing packet listing the author's name, book title, and their starting page number. They begin reading. I encourage the kid to grab his book knowing what he'll say. "I'm not feeling reading. I ain't doing it." I almost smile. He stares into his phone and keeps showing it to someone next to him.

Quietly I say, "I'm going to find you a place to chill so we can keep reading and you can do your thing." He starts to get upset about being sent out of class, but my tone is light, friendly, earnest. "Come on," I say. "There's a place right out here..."

He's gone now. I could have gotten in his face, told him he had to read, but I wasn't feeling like getting a fight started. I ain't doing that. I'm feeling something else, something almost good. I don't want to get in the way of that.

Out there, he's probably still on his phone. When I left him I said, "thank you for coming with me and being cool." He looked to see if I was messing with him and saw that I wasn't. He shrugged. I don't know exactly why, but I thanked him again. Maybe it was just because I was feeling it.