Scheherazade Washington Parrish

I love my students. God knows I do.

But they get on my gotdawg nerves. Somedays, I go home completely outdone and as Darrel J. Hunt says, “You can’t outdo black people”. He was wrong. I am a black people, and these pubescent beings, at the end of the day, leave me outdone.

Whether it’s the after-recess smell, their refusal to stop talking in class, or like not even 5 minutes into writing this, grabbing and bouncing their chesticles, they leave me outdone.

I fully realize that this may be putting the nail in my coffin, but here goes:

Five Ways to Irk Your Middle School Teacher

5. Say “hi” to everytime you see them. I mean, everytime. When you come in in the morning. When you go to the bathroom and return to the classroom. When you pass them in the hallway. If you look away, and look back up at them, say hi. Hey, is jut as irksome. Why you ask?

BECAUSE WE SEE YOU. ALL DAY. IN CLASS. WE TAKE ATTENDANCE AND WE KNOW YOU’RE HERE. WE DON’T NEED THE HELLO GREETING ALL DAY. AND HONESTLY, WE DON’T WANT TO HAVE MEANINGLESS EXCHANGES, WHICH “HI” AT 2:30, IS.

4. Talk about things that have absolutely nothing to do with the assignment, during class. If you’re in English, talk about that one time when your auntie bought a dress for her birthday,

and she thought it was lit, but really, she looked like a sausage. Math class? Don’t talk about exponents. Uh unh. Rather, talk about how you’re going to go shopping for the latest LeBrons after school, because your uncle forgot to get you something for your birthday which was over two months ago. Yeah, that’ll do it.

Why?

BECAUSE IT TAKES AWAY FROM INSTRUCTION TIME. AND QUITE HONESTLY, IF YOU’RE NOT BANGING OUT STRAIGHT A’s AND ALL THE EXTRA CREDIT, THEN YOU REALLY DON’T HAVE TIME TO BE TALKING ABOUT CLOTHES AND SHOES. AUNTIES OR UNCLES. IT’S MATH. ENGLISH. NOT FASHION FILES OF THE FORGOTTEN RELATIVES. AND, THAT’S NOT GOING TO BE ON YOUR QUIZ THIS FRIDAY.

3. Complain that the assignment is too much work, no matter what the assignment is.

Why?

LISTEN. MOST IF NOT ALL OF YOUR TEACHERS HAVE AT LEAST, 16 YEARS OF EDUCATION UNDER THEIR BELTS. THIS MEANS 16 YEARS OF LISTENING, READING, WRITING, SORTING, MATH AND CRITICAL THINKING. SOME OF US, ACTUALLY HAD TO GO TO THE LIBRARY, FIND BOOKS, AND LOOK UP WHAT WE WANTED TO KNOW. ENCYCLOPEDIAS AND DICTIONARIES WERE OUR GOOGLE. CURSIVE HANDWRITING WAS A CLASS ALL IT’S OWN, AND EVERYTHING WE TURNED IN HAD TO BE WRITTEN IN CURSIVE. IN OTHER WORDS, WE HAVE NO SYMPATHY FOR YOU BECAUSE YOU THINK THAT THREE PARAGRAPHS, IS TOO MUCH WORK. AND IF YOU HAVE PLANS PAST 8TH GRADE, (AND YOU BETTER) YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE MUCH HIGHER EXPECTATIONS ON YOU THAN MIDDLE SCHOOL. RESEARCH PAPERS (500 WORDS MINIMUM) IN THREE DIFFERENT CLASSES, DUE ALL ON THE SAME DAY. WHEN YOU DO THAT, HOLLA AT ME. UNTIL THEN, DO YOUR WORK. AND THAT’S JUST HIGH SCHOOL. I’M NOT EVEN GOING TO GO INTO POST-SECONDARY EXPECTATIONS.

2. Come near our desks, and fart or consistently fart in class and laugh.

Why?

WELP. HOW CAN I SAY THIS…

NOBODY WANTS TO SMELL THE INSIDE OF YOUR ASSES, CHILDREN. AND NOBODY REALLY THINKS IT’S FUNNY. THAT LAUGHTER? DEFENSE MECHANISM. IT KEEPS YOUR CLASSMATES AND PEERS FROM STRAIGHT CUSSING YOU OUT. SERIOUSLY THOUGH. MUCH LIKE #4, IT TAKES AWAY FROM INSTRUCTION TIME. IT IS ALSO MAD DISRESPECTFUL. I MEAN, I GET IT. WE ALL FART. IT IS A DIGESTIVE FUNCTION OF BIOTIC ORGANISMS. BUT DAMN. MOST OF YOU KNOW WHEN YOU’VE GOTTA CUT LOOSE. MOST OF YOU HAVE TIME, BEFORE YOU CUT LOOSE TO EXCUSE YOURSELVES FROM THE ROOM. NOW, IF YOU ASK AND ARE DENIED, HEY. AT LEAST YOU TRIED. BUT DAWG. TO EAT HOT CHEETOS FOR BREAKFAST AND THEN MAKE ALL THE REST OF US SUFFER, AND MISS THE LESSON? DOWNRIGHT RUDE. AND DRINK MORE WATER. EAT A VEGETABLE OR TWO FOR GOODNESS SAKE.

and,

Lie. About who started what, who said what to whom, which pet ate your homework (the teddy bear, right? Because you don’t have any pets! Doing your work and someone stealing it, or the all time worst: “You didn’t give me one.” As if, we’re going to punish you by not giving you the assignment that was given to every other student in class, just to be able to give you the zero the next day.

Why?

WHEN YOU LIE, YOU BREAK TRUST WITH YOUR COMMUNITY, PERIOD. TRUST IS ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT ASPECTS OF ANY RELATIONSHIP, WHETHER IT’S FRIENDLY, ROMANTIC, FAMILIAL, AND/OR STUDENT-TEACHER. YOU TRUST YOUR TEACHERS TO TEACH YOU. YOU TRUST YOUR TEACHERS TO KNOW MORE THAN YOU. YOU TRUST YOUR TEACHERS TO HELP YOU UNDERSTAND. YOU TRUST THAT YOUR TEACHERS WILL NOT HARM YOU OR PUT YOU IN HARM’S WAY. YOU TRUST, THAT YOUR TEACHERS WILL PROTECT YOU. YOUR TEACHERS TRUST THAT YOU WILL BE READY TO LEARN. THAT YOU WILL PUT FORTH THE EFFORT TO MOVE ALONG TO THE NEXT LEVEL OF THINGS, WHATEVER THAT LEVEL IS FOR YOU. WE TRUST THAT YOU’RE GOING TO RESPECT YOURSELVES AND OTHERS. WE TRUST THAT YOU WON’T STEAL FROM US. BUT WHEN YOU LIE? WE LOSE THE CAPACITY TO TRUST YOU FOR ANYTHING. REMEMBER THE STORY OF THE LITTLE BOY WHO CRIED WOLF? WHEN YOU LIE TO YOUR TEACHERS, YOU BECOME THAT LITTLE BOY, AND WE EVENTUALLY, WILL TUNE OUT YOUR WOLF CRIES BECAUSE YOU’VE COMPROMISED YOUR VOICE. SQUARELY LYING PUTS YOU IN DANGER.

That’s my rant. Thanks for reading.

If you are or know middle schoolers, or teachers, please share this. If you have more things to add, please, add them to the comments section! I’d love to show my students that I’m not alone here.

BLOGGING STUDENTS: Leave a comment on this blog, for credit.

*Sweet Baby Blackface Jesus and The Virgin Minstrel Mother Mary* Artist: Tony Rave

Y’all…

Three or so weeks ago, I made a commitment to being unbothered.

Frank Ocean’s “Blonde” helps a ton, particularly Solo (Reprise). Looking at these students today, and thinking about the student I was at their age, the lyrics ring germane. I’ve never heard the first album, but I completely love the latest project. I hear that’s the typical response.

For the past few days though, unbothered has been a challenge.

Last week, there was a pest issue in my school. This means emergency classroom evacuation, and subsequently sharing a classroom with other classes in the school community space. A full-on inconvenience for all parties involved.

In addition to this, and more importantly, it feels like my students have regressed from last year.

Maybe it’s the pre-teen of it all. The hormones and changes in body, and mood; deeper voices, stink and harrier upper lips. Developing curves. And their distractions with all these things, all. day. is a recipe, for bother.

They talk. All, damn day.

They talk when the teachers are talking. They talk during quiet time. They talk, during independent reading time. They talk when the chime rings. They talk. Without fail, there is at least one, who will talk just because they can’t take the quiet.

And in that two minute nirvana when they manage *not* to talk, they make noise. They drum on their desks with their fists, pencils and rulers. They roll their metal water bottles along their desks, if they aren’t tossing them up and catching them.

And when they’re not doing that, they’re farting. And belching. And laughing.

Or, they’re dancing. In their seats. In line for lunch. In the lunchroom. On the playground. On the stairwell, from recess, on the way to English class. During class instruction. During testing.

If this damn Juju was on the curriculum for this year, the students would pass each and every test. Their notebooks would be immaculate. They’d LOVE to get homework, if they got this:

But they don’t. They’re getting coordinate planes:

They’re getting the types of triangles, and angles:

Any in-class educator can tell you that students give zero fucks about the model of teaching being used. They don’t care about the Common Core. They don’t care about the approach to discipline. They don’t care about the hours spent after school, and at home, in school on days when they’re at home training and meeting and planning and, trying to figure out how to teach them what they need to know, in a way that’s interesting, challenging and dare I say, fun. They don’t care that this shit is hard.

This shit, is hard.

It’s hard to walk into a building; and talk, and teach, and love a classroom of children that you feel don’t even like you, much less respect you. It’s hard to teach a group of people that daily, you try to figure out how to reach. It’s hard, to give people information, and be mocked, ignored, and disrespected.

I’ve had students say to me “fuck you”; I’ve had students yell “you get on my got-damn nerves”-

Do you know hard it is not to say “you get on my got-damn nerves, too?”

Do you know how hard it is to come back, everyday, hoping that maybe today, will be different?

Add this to the list of things that students don’t care about. What they care about, is whether or not you have their back. They care about how you make them feel about themselves. They care about being fully accepted.

If they come to you with a problem, will you listen? They care about that.

Will you tell them the truth? They’ll trust you if you do.

Will you get in their asses when you know they know better? They respect that.

Are you listening to them beyond what you think is nonsense? Are you even willing to see their side of things? That matters.

Do they feel like they matter to you? They’ll listen to you, if they do.

And some days, it is different. Today in the hallway, I asked a 5th grader, “what are you learning?” He said, “I’m learning alot about math.”

So I asked: What is a coordinate plane?

He said, “The coordinate plane is like a grid where you can tell the x axis and y axis”

Me:

via GIPHY

So. I’ll bother. Because it’s worth it, I’ll bother. Because they hear me, and trust me, and sometimes, they love me, I’ll bother. Ready to love on and teach each and everyone of ’em. Hopeful that the day will be different.

That’s it y’all. Me and my nerve, are about to take a long, hot bath. Put on some lotions. Re-twist my hair and drink water.

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Five Ways to Irk Your Middle School Teacher

Sweet Baby Blackface Jesus, Spare My Nerve.