Yesterday was not a good day in my life. I even had to coin a new phrase just to describe it when someone asked me what was wrong, "Sorry, I'm just dealing with a mashed potatoes brain today. No worries. Just ignore my insanity." Students found it hilarious, coworkers and friends found it mildly amusing, and I found it to be a coping mechanism so I didn't blurt out, "I don't know what to do about my life and I need someone to sit and cry and eat ice cream with right now!!!"
At the end of the school day there was an incident in my classroom. A relatively malicious note was left on the desk of a very sweet girl, and things escalated quickly, and not in a good way. The entire class was ready to crucify one of the boys, although I for the life of me could not figure out when he could have escaped to the room (we were in the computer lab typing English papers) to plant said note in the first place. Half the class ran out of the room to track him down before I could get them stopped to say, "NO! You have to let me handle this. You can't go attack him in a group!" and the other half I told to shut their mouths until I could talk to people. By the time the kid makes it back to my room (he was being a crossing guard after school) he had already been verbally jumped by half the boys in the class, and he knew what was coming. He ran in the door, threw his hands up in the air and said, "It wasn't me! I didn't do it!"
Well great. Now what?
I pulled him aside (I had about 8-10 kids in the room either staying after to work or waiting for their bus) and tried to get a full story. All he would say is that he never left the lab and so-and-so saw came in with him at the end of the day when we were leaving the lab. He left, and I moved on.
To be honest, I wasn't focused on the kids at this point. Mashed potato brain - I was focused on me. I was trying to process what I needed to do next, not what I needed to do for this poor girl that absolutely didn't deserve this cruel treatment. So I worked with the kids in the room, graded papers, wrote and answered emails, went to basketball practice, played in a volleyball game, and went home.
I realized late last night that I had completely forgotten about this ordeal. Frick. Now what?
Process Ang, process. Gotta tell the principal. Gotta tell her what you did, what you're going to do, and figure out what to do from here. Gotta fix it. Easier said than done.
Then I realized what today was. TWLOHA. It was like a breath of fresh air. I knew what to do. It kept me up half the night thinking about it, but I knew what to do.
I sat down in front of my 19 8th graders this morning and told them not to get their math books out, because I had a story for them. It went something like this...
While I was student teaching in St. Louis. The teacher I worked with down there had the students write prayer requests on the board before class, and after prayer we'd start the day. One day a girl walked to the board and wrote 'Today is TWLOHA Day.' I wasn't paying attention and didn't see who it was. I glanced over to my cooperating teacher, who saw the message as well and had the same confused look.
"I gave up trying to interpret and asked, 'Who wrote this one? I'm confused.'
"A girl raised her hand and explained what TWLOHA was - 'To Write Love On Her Arms' - a group that supports each other and other people who deal with depression, addiction, and other tough things. She said today was the day that people stood up and made their presence known about it."
I then stood up and pulled up my sleeves. I have written the word "Love" on both of them.
The kids were silent. They were confused. They wanted more.
I explained to them that sometimes the people we love and care about the most are the people we hurt the most. I felt like I knew a little something about that lately. I also told them that we are so blessed at our school. We don't deal with a lot of the very real problems that have faced other students I've worked with - evictions, loved ones getting shot in front of them, not knowing their real families, addictions... I asked them why it was then that they were doing things like what happened yesterday. Why were they tormenting others for no reason, and putting others down, and creating drama when there are people dealing with more problems in an hour than they could create in a month.
I told them I couldn't fix what happened yesterday. I don't know who did it and despite talking to several different students individually there was no way anyone was going to fess up. That person knew who they were, and they have to live with the choice they made. I asked them not to make such choices. Hurting people, whether intentionally or not, is one of the worst feelings in the world. I know. I've been there.
I turned on a song that had come to me sometime around 2 AM last night when I was completely wired thinking about life and how I was going to go out and fix everything today.
I gave them the lyrics while the song played, and told them they had the rest of class... whatever was left... to just write. They could write to someone, they could talk about things they have done/seen that might have hurt someone, they could write anything. I told them I wasn't going to read it unless they wanted me to. One girl marched up to me and handed me three pages she had poured out in 25 minutes that almost made me cry. All day long they were nice to each other. Even the twerpy teasing things that middle school kids do to each other just didn't happen, from the lunch line to the classroom.
At the end of the day a group of girls approached me, arms behind their backs. When I looked up from the test I was grading, they all held them out. I saw "Love" on many arms.
I guess something I said got through...
At the end of the school day there was an incident in my classroom. A relatively malicious note was left on the desk of a very sweet girl, and things escalated quickly, and not in a good way. The entire class was ready to crucify one of the boys, although I for the life of me could not figure out when he could have escaped to the room (we were in the computer lab typing English papers) to plant said note in the first place. Half the class ran out of the room to track him down before I could get them stopped to say, "NO! You have to let me handle this. You can't go attack him in a group!" and the other half I told to shut their mouths until I could talk to people. By the time the kid makes it back to my room (he was being a crossing guard after school) he had already been verbally jumped by half the boys in the class, and he knew what was coming. He ran in the door, threw his hands up in the air and said, "It wasn't me! I didn't do it!"
Well great. Now what?
I pulled him aside (I had about 8-10 kids in the room either staying after to work or waiting for their bus) and tried to get a full story. All he would say is that he never left the lab and so-and-so saw came in with him at the end of the day when we were leaving the lab. He left, and I moved on.
To be honest, I wasn't focused on the kids at this point. Mashed potato brain - I was focused on me. I was trying to process what I needed to do next, not what I needed to do for this poor girl that absolutely didn't deserve this cruel treatment. So I worked with the kids in the room, graded papers, wrote and answered emails, went to basketball practice, played in a volleyball game, and went home.
I realized late last night that I had completely forgotten about this ordeal. Frick. Now what?
Process Ang, process. Gotta tell the principal. Gotta tell her what you did, what you're going to do, and figure out what to do from here. Gotta fix it. Easier said than done.
Then I realized what today was. TWLOHA. It was like a breath of fresh air. I knew what to do. It kept me up half the night thinking about it, but I knew what to do.
I sat down in front of my 19 8th graders this morning and told them not to get their math books out, because I had a story for them. It went something like this...
While I was student teaching in St. Louis. The teacher I worked with down there had the students write prayer requests on the board before class, and after prayer we'd start the day. One day a girl walked to the board and wrote 'Today is TWLOHA Day.' I wasn't paying attention and didn't see who it was. I glanced over to my cooperating teacher, who saw the message as well and had the same confused look.
"I gave up trying to interpret and asked, 'Who wrote this one? I'm confused.'
"A girl raised her hand and explained what TWLOHA was - 'To Write Love On Her Arms' - a group that supports each other and other people who deal with depression, addiction, and other tough things. She said today was the day that people stood up and made their presence known about it."
I then stood up and pulled up my sleeves. I have written the word "Love" on both of them.
The kids were silent. They were confused. They wanted more.
I explained to them that sometimes the people we love and care about the most are the people we hurt the most. I felt like I knew a little something about that lately. I also told them that we are so blessed at our school. We don't deal with a lot of the very real problems that have faced other students I've worked with - evictions, loved ones getting shot in front of them, not knowing their real families, addictions... I asked them why it was then that they were doing things like what happened yesterday. Why were they tormenting others for no reason, and putting others down, and creating drama when there are people dealing with more problems in an hour than they could create in a month.
I told them I couldn't fix what happened yesterday. I don't know who did it and despite talking to several different students individually there was no way anyone was going to fess up. That person knew who they were, and they have to live with the choice they made. I asked them not to make such choices. Hurting people, whether intentionally or not, is one of the worst feelings in the world. I know. I've been there.
I turned on a song that had come to me sometime around 2 AM last night when I was completely wired thinking about life and how I was going to go out and fix everything today.
I gave them the lyrics while the song played, and told them they had the rest of class... whatever was left... to just write. They could write to someone, they could talk about things they have done/seen that might have hurt someone, they could write anything. I told them I wasn't going to read it unless they wanted me to. One girl marched up to me and handed me three pages she had poured out in 25 minutes that almost made me cry. All day long they were nice to each other. Even the twerpy teasing things that middle school kids do to each other just didn't happen, from the lunch line to the classroom.
At the end of the day a group of girls approached me, arms behind their backs. When I looked up from the test I was grading, they all held them out. I saw "Love" on many arms.
I guess something I said got through...
