He'll Never Walk Again

So much for my "sturdy" desks. This one lost a bracing arm last year (welds let go), and then developed a slowly-worsening scoliosis, until it finally collapsed in on itself, book, student, and all.

It was pretty funny, because no one was hurt. The students, of course, wanted to re-assemble the desk to set a man-trap for an unsuspecting student in a later class, but I put the kabosh on that.

There's no way to salvage the book basket, or I'd have a screwdriver in my hand this very moment.

On the upside, my worst-behaving kid ("Blurter" from a previous post) checked out of my class today: his discipline file got thick enough to move him to a more appropriate (smaller, more restrictive) environment, in hopes that there still may be some chance of educating him. I wish him luck, and count my blessings: when he was suspended, the class ran fairly well. Huggy Bear says word on the street is that all of the kids in that family are wild. He was the way he is well before I ever said "Good morning" to him.

I used to really feel for these kids, wanting to reach each and every one, and let myself become sad at their departure. I still want the best for them, but I realize that they are going into someone else's hands now, and that my influence on them has ended. I have to turn to the students I have, and make good use of my time with those who still look to me at the front of the room. It's egotistical of me to think that another adult won't be able to have a deeper impact on him than I did.

The truth is, I don't know what my final effect will be on any of my students: what they take, when it will help or influence them, and whether the influence will have been from the content of the class or because of who I am.

There's a lot of trust involved in this career.

Book Migration

The desks in my room are fairly sturdy, and provide a large, flat work space. But their Achille's Heel is the book basket.

They are made of round metal strands, about the diameter of a pencil. Each basket is attached to the underside of the seat by spot-welds, which cannot endure the weight of students' feet, and often snap off by such treatment. Many of the baskets have suffered such a fate, and have been discarded, leaving nothing at all to hold books.

Not that it's a great design to begin with. They have the depth of serving trays, and are open on each side; more like flat shelves under the desks. So the books tend to slide to one side or the other, and will fall to the floor with the slightest provocation. "Kids, turn your desks to face your working partner" results in twenty books flopping to the floor. It's just another struggle against entropy.

Kids grab whatever book is handy: desk, floor, basket. So some baskets have three of the same book; others are empty.

It all drives me absolutely batty. Between the strewn books and the leftover food packaging from their snuck-in food (a battle all its own), the room can look pretty trashed in just a couple of days. Add to that my own disorganization up front, and it really changes the psychological climate of the room.

I day-dream sometimes of improving the baskets. It would take some welding, and some hardware attachments and strips of wood, but that would still leave the basket-less desks. Sigh.

I'll make the last class of the day straighten up, which is their Friday ritual. And then the slide will begin again on Monday morning.

And don't get me started about the crooked rows of desks.