"That's New York City for ya" continues...

I applied in May for summer school. I'm a poor teacher in a crumbling middle class. I needed to work summer school. Here, on June 28, the last day of school, I still haven't heard whether I am or not working summer school. I was told by other teachers that I would have definitely heard by now, so its pretty much out for me and summer school. I can hear dad bashing the city and how poorly its run now...

But NYC giveth and NYC taketh away... but sometimes the opposite happens. My Assistant Principal, feeling sorry for my poor self, gave me the number of a principal of a new program... he said, they are "DESPERATE FOR PEOPLE." He used the word "desperate." I gave the guy a call and will know TONIGHT whether I have to attend a workshop for this program TOMORROW. Nothing like knowing THE DAY BEFORE something starts whether you have a job or not.

I would normally be livid at this, but the potential program that I will be working for is thus: Monday thru Thursday instead of the normal Monday thru Friday. 8:30 to Noon rather than 8 to 1. Oh, and the students? According to my hopefully soon to be boss, the BEST middle school kids who want extra help instead of the kids who failed and are cranky that they are in summer school.

So I guess the quote, "That's New York City for ya..." can sometimes work in my favor. Not often though, just sometimes.

I just taught this entire school year and all I got was this stinkin' t-shirt?

So it was the last day of actual school last week. Then tests of course – I’ll give more on that another time. I just wanted to share the only gift a kid gave me.

Now, I really don't EXPECT any gifts... I mean sure, I know people who work in Massachusetts who regularly get lavish gifts from their kids' parents. And man, would that be nice. But of course, I work in New York City... so I am not expecting, well, ANYTHING.

So class is just about to end, last period of the day, and J. a cute, chubby Mexican girl, is struggling to say goodbye. She's going to another school next year and the separation anxiety is setting in. She hands me my gift. My ONLY gift from a student. A set of green, plastic Rosary Beads.

"I know green is your favorite color."

I thank her, and she asks for a hug. I hug her and tell her we will miss her.

When she leaves, at first, I look at the beads. I don't really know what to make of them. On the one hand, it was such a sweet gesture on J.'s part. But of course, I then think of the lavish gifts they're getting in Massachusetts... Then my thoughts drift to some of the nightmare year some of my other fellow Fellows have, and begin to love my green Rosary Beads more and more.

I tell my family about J. and her plastic Rosary Beads, green because it's my favorite color. They think it's cute and dismiss it… moving on to the next topic. I guess it's really more symbolic to me, and would be too much to explain to them.

You say the Fellow's only 22?

Well, I'm sitting here, an English teacher, proctoring the Chemistry Regents exam. (My father would have something to say about it... "That's New York City for ya...") These kids are being quiet and well behaved. That is so refreshing and is a very good sign. BUT – we only had about 20 out of the 30 that were supposed to be in my room. It's NOT a good sign.

There's a weird thing about the Teaching Fellows. They're all 22. If you read the website, or see the ads on the subway, or wherever they advertise, they try to get you in the door under the idea that "it's time for a change." One of their slogans asks, "How many lives did your last spreadsheet save?" They try to appeal to professionals in other fields to fulfill their life-long dream of teaching. Well, let me tell you... it doesn't happen that way.

Oh, there are a few... a few older - MORE EXPERIENCED people who really do want to try something new. Former ad-execs or even, gasp, LAWYERS who are tired of their rat race.

But for the most part, that is not the case. For the most part, I work with a bunch of 22 year olds.

Now don't get me wrong... there is nothing - NOTHING wrong with someone 22 years old. Hell, I was once 22 a million years ago. But these are kids who have JUST GRADUATED COLLEGE. They haven't done ANYTHING before this. I mean, some of these students are 19 - 20 years old... 22 is like DATING range for these kids. And please don't misread me... some of these young teachers are absolutely outstanding. In fact, walls of the room I'm sitting in is plastered with projects, poetry terms, collages, etc. This teacher, 24 years old. They have great ideas, great energy... but there is a problem. These tough, Bronx youngsters don't always take them seriously. I have to admit, as a 33-year-old, MALE to boot, I don't seem to have as many classroom management problems as my younger counterparts. So where does that leave a city desperate for teachers?

I am a smidge envious though. I admire these kids having their shit together enough to have the start of a career at such a young age. I have to admit, the money I am making now, is THE MOST MONEY I have ever made in my life. Granted, that's not saying a lot, but to be making this much money at 22? I commend them on that at least. I certainly was nowhere near that at 22.

Another thing, my school has about 25 English teachers. This September alone, about 11 were new hires, 10 of which were first year teachers. Sure, times might have been rought, but NOT one "freaked out" and quit, never to return. Of course we are losing some between now and September, but everyone in my department at least managed to stick it out all year.

The Dreaded Memo

To any new teacher, I offer this advice... learn to prioritize.

Anyone who has ever worked anywhere ever, has received a flurry of inane memos. The dreaded memo. A new teacher might mistakenly believe that each of these pieces of future garbage is actually important! NO NO! Learn well that you can sift through them and remain a less-stressed, relatively happier teacher.

The way I view memos is thus: imagine yourself as a T.V. viewer, the advertisements are fighting for your attention and your hard earned American greenbacks. As with any company, you realize there are many different departments within an organization - EACH FEELING THEIR DEPARTMENT IS THE MOST IMPORTANT ONE and whose sole job is to put out memos to make you believe it. Does human resources care about school security? No. Does the math department give a crap about social studies? No. Does the fundraising for the baseball team know or even care that you already gave money to the multi-cultural club? HELL no! Yet they are ALL fighting for your attention. It's up to YOU to decide which is the most important and which can be placed in the circular file. (Garbage)

Back in my old school, we had a woman who was similar to Bill Lumbergh from Office Space. I foolishly tried to befriend her before I got to know her for the manipulating bitch she was. One of the tactics she would use was withholding information ESPECIALLY when it came to the memos. I would ask, "So S. do you know where the meeting is this afternoon?" The reply: "Oh, didn't you get that memo? It said it right in the memo. I can't believe you didn't get it... they gave them to everybody. Let me see if I can find it." (She would scurry through her belongings.) "Ah, here it is.... now let's see..." Basically taking her time and knowing that she was rubbing in that SHE had information I needed and "exposing" that I really didn't give a shit about where the damn meeting was, or for that matter, anything these damn memos said... ever.

Of course unless they're good and hilarious.

At the beginning of the school year, we got a really good one.


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Date: September 13, 2004
Subject: Alcoholic Beverages

Please be advised that alcoholic beverages are strictly prohibited on school property.

Thank you for you cooperation.


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This memo is the "I'm-talking-to-the-group-but-really-addressing-one-person-and-we-all-know-who-it-is-but-the-administration-is-not-trying-to-fingerpoint-even-though-we-really-are" memo. You know someone stupid brought booze to school and probably played dumb about it, hence, the memo had to be written.

This one is a similar one, but really addresses a number of people in my building. I just like the wording, and keep in mind... both of these memos are written VERBATIM, errors and all. If there is a spelling error, it was in the memo - INCLUDING the bold, specifically the three !!!'d BOLD FACE PLEASE at the end. It ended just like that. "Please!!!"

What I also love about it, is the date... June 2, 2005. Why not wait til the last day of school?


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Date: June 2, 2005
Subject: APPROPRIATE PROFESSIONAL ATTIRE

We assume the following:
1. We are all adults.
2. We are all professionals.
3. We understnad the tremendous influence we have in our positions as role models.
4. We know that our students have little or no control over their hormones and impules. [sic]

That being the case:
1. We must dress like adults.
2. We must dress like professionals.
3. We must dress knowing we are role models.
4. And we must dress in a manner which does not in any way stir up those adolescent hormones/impulses into a frenzy.

We must wear:
1. Clean clothes.
2. Nothing which reveals skin between the neckline and the knee.
3. Nothing we would wear to the dump on Saturday.
4. Nothing so tight that there is nothing left to imagine.
5. Nothing we would be ashamed to wear to our favorite Aunt's house for the holidays.

Please!!!


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So to all you new teachers out there... learn to prioritize. If the paper has your name HAND WRITTEN on it, keep it. If it is a generic paper tha tyou see each teacher has in his or her mail box... chances are its a tosser. Of course, don't blame me if you get fired for not reading the memo about the principal's Christmas party. Just learn that each memo is not the end of the world.

Stay a kid, just a little while longer

A lot of people have these pre-conceived ideas about what these kids are like. Young, Bronx kids of the "darker" persuasion. I'll tell you what these kids are. They are little children. Forget the tough talk, forget the swagger... they are children. Period.

It's a sad fact, teachers in New York City get burned out FAST. And there's a legitimate reason for that. We are not just teaching these kids. We're raising them. We have to be everything their parents are not.

Not to say some kids don't come from "normal" homes... loving parents, one parent, two parents, grandparent, aunt, uncle, whatever. (I said "normal," not "traditional") A good number of them do get what they need at home. But sadly, most do not... so we become "foster parents" to nearly 150 kids.

When I first moved to Maine, I worked as a paraprofessional in a satellite program of a treatment facility. These kids basically had emotional issues or behavior issues. While education was a priority, the number ONE priority was their treatment. If education had to take a back seat for them to therapeutically work through their problems, then that's what happened - and it happened in both "bad" and "good" times.

An example of a "bad" time would be when a student acted out, he would have to be removed from the classroom (sometimes physically) and his behaviors dealt with. I say "he" because in my three years of working there, we only had ONE girl, and that was the last few months of the last year I worked there.

An example of a "good" time would be the time the teacher, M., was teaching class and had a spastic fit with a football that belonged to one of the boys. In a matter of moments, M. picked up the ball, started hooting, whipped the boys into a frenzy and then ran them all out to play an impromptu game of football. The room was suddenly quiet and there I was... sitting at my desk, wondering what the hell just happened.

But I soon figured out what happened. M. felt that the guys needed a break (and maybe he did too.) But the treatment is where it's at. On a higher level, what I realized is that M. and myself, two big kids at heart, were exactly what these 12-13 year-old-boys needed. M. was the athletic kid, I was the comic/geeky kid. Our child-like (or childish depending on which co-worker you asked) behavior was exactly what they needed... it allowed them to remain boys - to remain children - for just a little while longer.
I apply this thinking to my kids now, although it is harder to remain a child on the tough streets of the Bronx... They crave attention. They want to be told they are good. They want stickers and treats. They want to be trusted. They want to please. I tell them, "I don't care what you are outside of my room, but when you come through the door, leave that person out there." Nearly all of them do.

"That's New York City for ya..."

"Max, the city is terribly run." - Annie Hall

When I was considering joining the Teaching Fellows... I got endless advice from my family. Some was good... some was bad... some was screwy... all of it I took with that proverbial grain of salt.



The advice I have the hardest time digesting is that from my father. We have a strained relationship at times... but overall, obviously, I do indeed love him and want to please him like the good son I feel I am.

When I told him about my applying to the Fellowship, I was met with "The Factor." "The Factor" is this anomaly in my family where when you say something is great, you are inevitably met with a blasé attitude from other family members. Example... "Oh, this restaurant is FANTASTIC, you really should try it!" After they try it, "I wasn't too impressed with it." So if you want them to like something, you yourself have to be blasé over it.

My father of course follows this rule... so when I talked to him about considering the Teaching Fellows, he gave me 9,000 reasons why it was not a good idea. Being a retired New York City Fireman, my father had his share of run-ins with the administration, he figured that working in a NYC school would bring frustrations equal to what he received at the hands of the FDNY. In my uncertainty I would say that if I am able to get a job in Maine, I'll ditch the Fellows and stay where I am. Of course he would be contrary with this also... "You can't beat the pay and benefits of working in the city..." and give me 9,000 reasons why working in the city is a GREAT idea.

Well, Dad... which one is it?

Well obviously I am here, so therefore my father's contrary advice did nothing but get me a little crazed… nothing new there.

The one CONSISTENT thing about his advice when it comes to New York City as an employer is this: NOTHING SURPRISES HIM.

Example... we just got computers in our classrooms. In fact, we got them on JUNE 2. The school year is all but over, and they decide NOW to put these computers in our rooms. "That's New York City for ya," is the response. WITH OUT FAIL.

We went the entire school year without phones in our classrooms. If there was a fight in front of our classroom, we are expected to use our cell-phones to call security. "That's New York City for ya... they make you buy your own paper for copies, you think they want you making phone calls?"

I put in a request in September to have the air conditioners in my room fixed. They haven't fixed them yet. It's JUNE. "That's New York City for ya... to have a school with air conditioners that don't work."

I have at least three mice in my classroom... I've seen them. "That's New York City for ya... if you have one mouse... you have a million of em."

I heard they're going to hire monkeys next year to teach classes as a way to save money. "That's New York City for ya... they've been trying to hire monkeys since when I was in school."

The scary thing, he's right. This city is so big, so terribly run, I sincerely wonder how ANYTHING ever gets done. And what’s worse… it makes me think about who is suffering the most as a result… the kids. I may whine, but ultimately I can go to Westchester or a suburb and earn 10-15% more, but these kids are stuck.

An Introduction?

So here I am with a soapbox and who knows who's listening. I guess that's the point of these things... you have a platform, but nothing to say, right? I'm there with you, friend.

To preface - for the past year, I have been a New York City public school teacher. THE BRONX, USA. So you ask, why the hell am I starting this now, in JUNE? Well, look at the last post. I figure better late than never. If you've read the book Educating Esmé by Esmé Raji Codell, then you know exactly what a first year teacher's first year is like. Just go with that. Picture the exact same behavior but by kids who are 10 years older.

To be honest, I'm not technically a "first year teacher." I've been working in classrooms for the past 10 years in some form or another, so I had somewhat of an idea of what to expect... kids are kids, right?

Add to the fact that I GREW UP in the Bronx. I moved to Portland, Maine in 1995 from New York - and decided last May it was time to come home.

This is NOT the Bronx I grew up in.

The Bronx that I grew up in (meaning my neighborhood) was mostly Italian... although I was there to witness the start of the changeover. When I saw my first Jerk Chicken place - go ahead and laugh, I did when I first saw it - Jerk Chicken/pork/beef is VERY real - I knew that things were about to be very different.

In my school the predominant color is black, but the predominant race is Jamaican. The second color is "tan," Spanish of some sort... P.R., D.R., Mexican, Honduran, Ecuadorian... the list goes on. Just to give an idea... there are 4,000 or so students in my school. There are THREE white students. THREE. The staff however, is - I would say - 99% white. This "statistic" bears its own post, but I'll save that for another day. When we were cleaning out the book room one day, there were OLD books we were discarding... so old that the last name written in them was something like Melvyn Goldfarb. THAT old.

But whatever... as I said, kids are kids, right?

When I first moved down here, I went through a period of intense internal questioning... am I too soft? Have I been in Maine too long? Am I too suburban?

The short story is, no... because I'm still here. One school year later and I'm still here. The long version would include more "maybe's" but once again... I'll save that for another day.

So what am I hoping to throw out here? What is going to be my focus? Well, I guess my thoughts/observations on the things that seem to occupy my world right now. Race. Culture. Art and Literature. Education. School administrators. The Future. Mice. (I have at least THREE mice in my classroom.)

Oh, and not only MY thoughts on the subject... you would be surprised to hear some of the things that come out of my students' mouths... both good AND bad. Some people would believe that it is more bad than good, but that is not so, I will dispel that rumor right now. Overall I love my students, and as a brilliant mind once said... no matter where you go, Maine, Tibet, The Bronx... indeed... kids are kids.

For Starters...

I just want to state, for the record, I hate the word BLOG. I have heard it too much recently, and I am beginning to despise it. Just wanted to get that out of the way.