8. What Do I Know?

#64Challenge

Today I was trying to decide if I should write this morning or wait until the weekend.  Then I read Gary Snyder's poem "Daily Life," in which he is being judgmental about another poet's work, then has an a-ha moment at the end:

Then I think,
what do I know?
About what to say,
or not to say, what to tell, or not, to whom,
or when

still.


And I knew I had to write today. And it concerns good old 2nd period...again.

On Wednesday they came in super wired up. We had the distinct pleasure of adding two more students to the class, bringing it up to 30, and I could tell by the new students' faces they were wondering what fresh hell they just entered. The class was wound up because they knew that the day had come they would have to start presenting. There would be no putting it off anymore.

We managed to get through one team presentation. The class was to be giving positive feedback afterward, but were saying extremely negative things like, "This team did NOTHING good." I had to do the usual--pulling the class together, reminding them to focus on the good things and be supportive. And then Jazmin spoke up: But I don't support everyone in this class.

I did not quite know what to do with that.  I commended her for her honesty, even as it didn't help. I know she was not just speaking for herself.

We fumbled through the class with the usual ups and downs and clown acts, and later I had a chance to reflect. I thought about the different factions in the room: the privileged white boys (and one Asian), the kids of color, the 7th graders who admire the too-old-to-be-in-middle-school Dylan, and a couple smaller groups who are working hard but probably terrified of all the other groups. 

This class is a mini-America, and I can't fix that. There is a clear color line, and they want to fight their war in my classroom in the format they are given.  I can't beat you at your game, but I can slide in a comment to let you know. Of course all they are doing is setting themselves up to be criticized in turn. This is where the immature reactions will be poisonous.

And I will be blunt. I have absolutely no idea what to do with any of that. I talked to them about the classroom experience being what they make it, but I'm aware I cannot force them to be kind to each other, or at least keep their mouth shut on the negatives. 

They are coming back in first thing today. It is continually the longest hour of the day for me, and the one that stretches every bit of my patience and understanding. Yet, writing in my journal the other day I realized it has become about loving them more. There are issues -- I can see that. I can only do what I can do.

Love them. Keep moving forward. Listen. Be their teacher.