In the course of the past year and a half, I've taught in the inner-city of the Bronx. Many stories will come from this experience (some as memories, some in real time). This is a "real time" story, as it just happened yesterday.
8:00am--Walked in. Broke up two fights in 5 minutes.
9:15am--walked by the principals office and there sits a boy whom I marked absent. . .I didn't say anything, I just changed his status on the attendance sheet.
9:16am--I turned the corner and a group of teachers are laughing and said the following: "Yo, yo!!!! Mista Noel......your student (the one I just saw in the office) SLAPPED THE SHIT out of an eight grada!" I walked away strangely proud of my 6th grade tough guy.
9:45--Waquira walks in...(she normally arrives about this time--in full splendor showing off clothes that are two sizes to small, and weaves that about two-million hairdos too old. She sits down and tells me to Fuck off.
10:00--The students are all engaged in the lesson. Waquira, "I gotta fart".....nobody pays attention. She farts. The students run away. I spend the next 10 minutes herding children back to their seats.
11:59--Students come back from lunch and tell me another fight broke out.
12:45--it's time for Gym, but I dont' let them go, because they've been shit-heads all week. Instead they sit quietly for 15 minutes. If one person says one word, the time starts over.
12:48--15 minutes starts again.
12:50--Oh, Andrea just told Ezekial the wants to start the 15 minutes again. (15 minutes starts again.
12:55--Waquira shouts out, "I gotta fart!" again...and farts again....
1:05--Waquira throws a book out the window and hits a car. The police come and escort her out. Waquira's mom calls me and asks me why Waquira's throwing books out the window...then she calls the principal and calls me a liar.
3:00--the day is over. Instead of sitting down to be called for line-up, students run around the room and play grab-ass.
Note: Waquira is supposedly transferring schools...again.