Dear Ms. Horrible,
When I saw you approach the Education and Parenting section of our local Barnes and Noble juggling your Starbucks cup and oversized Coach bag while simultaneously chirping into your cell phone, I had a gut feeling that I wouldn’t like you. While I studied educational materials for the upcoming year, you continued to yap away as you fingered various self-help books and annoyed the patrons around you. You were probably oblivious to the nasty looks being thrown at you, so I doubt you ended your phone conversation for the sake of the other customers in the store, but I think I can speak for all of us when I say thank you for finally shutting up.
Do you remember me? I was the young woman browsing through a new teacher’s survival guide. I felt you watching me, so I looked up and smiled politely at you. You asked me if I was a teacher, and I told you that I was starting my first year in the fall. You seemed geniunely excited for me as you squealed, “Congratulations! Where are you teaching?” (thereby receiving more dirty looks from those nearby).
I will never forget the look of absolute horror and disgust that overtook your face as I told you I would be teaching at Diverse Middle School, because, you see, I have seen that look before. “Oh,” you stammered, “Oh, I don’t know how you teachers do it! Those kids are horrible! All those black and Mexican families have really brought our community down. Diverse district used to be such a nice area, too! This entire county is going downhill fast, if you ask me. And I know it’s not your fault — I’m sure you do the best with what you have. It seems the only way to provide our kids with any semblance of an education is to homeschool them or enroll them in private school. At least then you know they are safe. I have homeschooled my son for the past two years. Are you going to try to transfer to Wealthy district next year?”
You might recall the forced smile that crept over my face as I turned and walked out of the store. You see, I was fighting the urge (which grew stronger and stronger by the second) to pour your Tall Frappuccino down the front of your crisp white blouse. But that would have been rude. I was also fighting the urge to royally tell you off even though I have never been one to initiate conflict or invite drama. Instead, I walked away, allowing your comments to slowly eat away at me until I can no longer take it. You, Ms. Horrible, need a little dose of reality.
I have been involved in education in some form or fashion for the past three years. I have worked with students from all backgrounds: minorities, white, poor, middle class, and extremely wealthy. I have overheard Louis Vuitton toting sixth graders complain about their olders sister not driving them to the mall, and I have comforted panicked students who feared they would be evicted from their homes because their mothers’ boyfriends walked out on them. I have been threatened a lawsuit for assigning a chatty little girl silent lunch, and I have been cussed out for guiding kids through the hall. I cried when I learned that one of my students was going into another foster home — his 3rd that year. I cried when a student’s apartment caught on fire, and he was forced to wear the same clothes for a week. I was invovled in a lockdown when a 19 year old man came into the school and beat up the 7th grader who had been picking on his younger sister. As a student teacher, I was called “scum” by a parent. I broke up a fight. I attempted to calm and corral my students while other students fought in the cafeteria (many times). I taught 2 below-level writing classes how to write an A-worthy short story. I helped all but 1 student pass the Language Arts CRCT. I cried with all my “horrible black and Mexican” students on my last day with them. I still have the giant card signed by all 106 thanking me for being their teacher and making a difference in their lives. I have a card from another “horrible Mexican” student thanking me for helping her become a better student. I have turned down a job offer from Wealthy district so I could teach at Diverse Middle School. And I haven’t even started being a real teacher yet.
I love the demographic I teach. They are real, and they require anyone teaching them to be real, too. They are good kids who need strong adults in their lives. They are smart and many are wise beyond their years. They are kids, and they deserve to be taught by good teachers who won’t give up on them. In the past three years, those horrible students you speak of have not murdered me, shot at me, propositioned me for drugs, gang raped me, or given me any kind of horrible disease. They have, however, supplied me with laughs and smiles, challenged me to be a better person and teacher, and taught me to see beyond color and economic circumstance. I guess you haven’t learned that lesson yet, but if you came into my classroom, I’m sure my students would be happy to teach you, too.
So to answer your question: No, I will not try to transfer to Wealthy district next year. I am happy where I am.
Good luck with homeschooling your son. I hope you teach him to be a decent and contributing member of our society.
StrangeNewTeacher
