Draft of second long essay

Troubled Souls

There a certain people who come into your life who leave a lasting and loving presences.  I am so happy and proud that you became a teacher.  You were always a bright and intelligent person.  Now you can share it with others!

“Why do you want to teach in an urban district?” asked Mrs. C. 

She was a minority.  I could be honest with her.  More often than not, minorities aren’t afforded the same education as others.  Maybe it’s a lack of money.  Resources.  Thirty six students in a classroom with thirty chairs/desk is certainly not an educational environment that is conducive to learning.  Parental involvement.  Speaking to an audience of ten to fifteen parents when teaching sixty or more students is considered a good turn out for back to school night.  Disinterest.  Whatever or whomever is the culprit, I am the product of an urban education.  When entering college, I knew I had been cheated.......mainly academically.  However, before a student can learn, the notion that the teacher cares must be evident.

I was a novice teacher, my second year to be exact. Kameran walked into the classroom.  I don't recall exactly when but I do know that it wasn't the first month of school.  I later discovered the truth behind her abrupt transfer from her previous high school.  She didn't quite resemble a junior in high school.  Her physical frame indicated that she was a high school student, but the Bratz book bag and elementary school pencils with the furry pencil tops were a sure give away that mentally she was not a junior in high school.  Her walk was unparalleled.  Is it physically possible to walk on a slant while widely stomping?  Kameran proved that this task is physically achievable.  Under her facade of annoyance and eventual defiance, she would reveal small  snippets of who she really was.  Countless times, Kameran would ask me “why do you care about me?”

“I care about you because you’re special and deserve to be cared for” I would respond.  

“Why do you care when I don’t care?”

“I’ve told you why I care now would you please just accept it and stop questioning it” I answered.  She was right.  Why did I care so much that it was causing me to have nightmares?  Why?  Every child deserves to be saved but this was different....  

Most modifications in and educational setting are cognitive or behavior based.  

As Kameran walked in the classroom with her asymmetrical walk, there was an eerie feeling in the air.  I don’t recall the complete outfit, but I do recall sandals.  Kameran was generally bubbly but would become irate instantaneously.  This day, she was euphoric but appeared to want to participate in a cat and mouse game.  In the past, she blatantly admitted her desire to witness me become irate.  Lately, it appeared that her daily dose of pleasure depended on pushing my buttons.  At this point, I discovered that there was something in my nature that ignited her defiance.  Preparing the bell work assignment at the chalk board, I discovered that she’s walking around her desk with no shoes on.  “Kameran, please but your shoes on.”  

Hehehehehehee

While sucking her teeth and giggling, she shrieked, “Why?”

“Because it’s a safety hazard.”

With an exasperated sigh, Kameran says, “Alright, I don’t see what the big deal is but I guess I’ll put my shoes on.” 

I’ve witnessed Kameran do bizarre things such as have side conversations with an imaginary partner under her desk, but when she straddled the desk, I knew this day would be infamous.  

In a calm but stern voice I said, “If you don’t stop, I’ll have to call security.”

Hehehehehehehe

After a minute, I called security.  The laughter ceased.  Then, she became furious.  Security attempted to remove her from the class.  The remainder of the class was transfixed.  She became hostile with security.  This was a different side of her that I had never witnessed but instinctively I always knew that it existed.  When anyone, male or female, would enter Kameran’s personal space, she would become jelled and tense.  Security threatened to physically remove her if needed.  She gathered her belongings while missing her classmate’s head by a smidge.  A drug test was requested.  It was negative, of course.  

Around the fourth or fifth grade, I had a major attitude, no pun intended.  At times, my classmates but mainly the staff of the school suffered the most from my passive aggressive disposition.  At that age, I border line loathed authority figures because most of the time, they didn’t behave like adults.  Their actions contradicted their words.  One teacher in particular, Ms. Labe, was what I perceived as a child to be in her mid to late seventies.  However, her vocal cords were functioning at the level of a teenager; ironically, most of the time she was yelling for the students to be quiet.  Ms. Labe shoved me.  A conference was held between Ms. Labe, my mother, and I believe Mr. Tactum.  To my relief, I was not scolded because either the school wanted Ms. Labe to retire or Mr. Tactum had a soft spot in his heart for me.  

The shrilly words “never speak to me again” resonated through my head for the remainder of the school year.  Kameran had an agenda as well as I.  She wanted to see how far she could psychologically push me before I would show any negative emotion.  I simply wanted to help.....with whatever was wrong.  The events of that day remain hazy.  I vividly recall Kameran being in a mood similar to the one of the day when she was removed from class by security.  Instead of Kameran straddling her desk, it was now my desk.  I wasn’t angry, yet.  I simply yet firmly asked her to remove her body from my desk.  Once again, my class was transfixed on the both of us.  Suddenly, she had a desire to be seen, which puzzled me.  Surprisingly, she complied.  However, as she walked to her seat, she made the terrible mistake of shoving my head.  Disrespect and harmful touching for me equates to touching for Kameran in regards to anyone, which is an absolute NO NO!  I have issues with boundaries and she crossed a boundary.  I was an adult.  Professional.  However, in no uncertain words Kameran soon came to realize that she had made a mistake.  There was not a drug test this time.  There was a ten day suspension.  Upon her return from her ten day hiatus, Kameron shrieked “never speak to me again.”  Once one of the first students in the classroom, Kameron began to come to class tardy or not come at all.      

My neighbors and school mates, Daron and Charisma, would talk to me from my parents’ bedroom window.  I would only talk to them when my parents were at work.  They lived with only their dad.  Daron, Charisma, and I were the only children in our complex that weren’t allowed to play outside with the other neighborhood children.  As a matter of fact, we didn’t frequent the outside hardly ever.  So, our window escapades were very special to us.  We bonded through those screened windows.  To this day, I don’t recall how much I actually revealed to Daron and Charisma during our daily chats.  Whatever I said triggered me being called down to see Mr. H, the school social worker.  Daron and Charisma recommended me to Mr. H without my knowledge or consent.  So, naturally, miss bad a** walked into his office with an attitude.  My signature elementary school trademark was sucking my teeth.  However, I was sure to get this nasty habit out of my system before arriving home to my parents.  Hence, I seized the opportunity at school.  I held onto this attitude for quite a few visits.  The visits were group sessions.  Daron and Charisma were there.  Always talkative, I spitefully held my tongue and wouldn’t dare reveal anything for two reasons:  I was raised in a household, which ENFORCED the rule to never let outsiders know what’s going on inside the household.  Also, it meant that my friends would know (as if they hadn’t already) that there was something wrong with my home life.  Mr. H...... good ole’ Mr. H fought through my layers of hostility and animosity much faster than I would have liked him to at the time.   

Hi, Mr. H.  Do you remember me? How are you doing?

Not only do I remember you... I can tell you what your father did for a living, where you lived and how wonderful a person you are! How u like dat! I am thrilled to hear from you! I have been retired from * High School for about 12 years and still live in Union. I hope you are having a good life... 

I was speaking with one of my close friends about teachers and guidance counselors that touched my life in a remarkable way and you were the first person I mentioned.  You made such an impact in my life that I will forever be truly grateful.  My mission as a teacher is to do for the students that I encounter what you did for me.  I would like to exhibit the same compassion and dedication that you gave me and so many others.  

Mrs. K was the nicest teacher any student would ever want to have.  She was meek and even tempered.  She was an outright sweetheart.  For some strange reason, I resented her.  It seemed the more I resented her, the more she tried to win over my trust.  I had trust issues with adults, not necessarily her but she was an adult and was guilty by associations.  My elementary trademark hadn’t vanished yet.  However, I added other trademarks to my repertoire as well.  I was flat out defiant on top of the fact that I hated math.  Mrs. K certainly had a difficult task at hand.  She had to teach a tenth grade math class in the middle of the year.  My geometry teacher became ill.  Mrs. K was previously a guidance counselor.  As the year progressed, my passive aggressive behavior became downright aggressive.  Despite my attempts to sabotage a relationship between us, Mrs. K never stop portraying acts of kindness.  She cared and immensely at that but WHY?

Remember you are a strong woman and you have the power within you to succeed.  I’ll miss you and I’ll keep you in my thoughts and prayers. 

Laron was a chubby kid.  Actually overweight.  High school is a crucial time in the life of an adolescent.  Physical appearance means everything.  Girls want a slim waist and boys want muscular arms and broad shoulders.  Both genders want the latest in fashion and technology.  So does acceptance.  Teenagers will do anything to belong.  If I’m not mistaken, a student informed me that the gang the Bloods is an acronym for Brotherly Love Overrides Oppression and Destruction.  Believe it or not love matters too.  Poor Laron.... he tried so hard to be cool.  His day began and set on being cool.  He had to prove his masculinity.  Ironically, he resembled a female.  Maybe it was his hairstyle.  His long box braids.  His face was cherubic.  Slight traces if any of facial hair.  He had freckles as I do.  In his freshman year of high school, he didn’t have any parents; that was my situation my junior year of high school.  

Laron came to school every day.  Prior to uniforms (when the uniform requirement was initiated, he was already expelled), Laron would wear the same clothes at least twice to three times a week.  It was obvious that his living conditions weren’t the best.  “I have four brothers.”

“Why don’t you live with them?”

“My older brothers are in jail.”

“Who do you live with?”

“My aunt, her boyfriend, and my cousins.  I punched my grandmother’s boyfriend in the face when I got older because he used to beat me a lot when I was younger.  So, she put me out.”

 He would come to my classroom to see me during periods that he didn’t have me.  “Ms. M, if anyone gives you any trouble, just let me know.  I’ll handle them for you.”  For the students new to the school, they would take this threat seriously.  The other students didn’t really take Laron seriously.  As a matter of fact, most people didn’t.  When Laron had class with me, he would rarely do work. The first time I witnessed him holding a pencil was a sight that nearly snapped my heart in two.  The manner in which he held a pencil was as bizarre as Kameran’s walk.  A sight to behold. Just heart wrenching.... A fifteen year old holding a pencil in the same manner as a one year old.  I asked him “where did you go to school prior to coming here?”

“I was in a program in Newark that was for at risk students.”  Laron would often complain about his living situation.  It was too crowded.  He didn’t feel welcome.  He felt a need to take care of himself and remove the burden off his aunt’s shoulders of having another mouth to feed.  His freshman year, he was mainly silly.  Coming to school to socialize and not taking school seriously.  I asked him one day after school “Why are your eyes red and why did you cut my class?”

“Chill Miss.  I didn’t cut.”  This is when I noticed the change in him.  

 However, his sophomore year, there was a drastic change in him.   I was no longer his English teacher, but he would frequently come by my class.  He joked that I was his teacher.  I would say to him “I’m not your teacher, but if I were, you still wouldn’t do my work.”  

He would reply “That doesn’t mean anything because I don’t do your classwork.”  He lost a significant amount of weight.  He had a “job”.  I would say to him “I see that you have new clothes and shoes.”

After a moment of chuckling, he would respond “I’m working.”

“Where?”

“Downtown Newark.”

I would ask him which store but he would never give me a direct answer.  As his sophomore year   progressed,  he became more aggressive.  More violent.  One day after school, there was a brawl and Laron was involved.  Administration had had enough.  Laron was expelled.  

Yesterday, he came to my job to pick up his transcripts.  

“You know I was away right?” he said.  Actually I didn’t.  I often wondered about his whereabouts.   “No,” I said.  

“I was in Jamesburg.”

“You seem very mature.  You lost a lot of weight.  You have facial hair now too.”

“Being locked in a room for twenty three hours straight will make anyone mature.”  This time I didn’t have to ask him where he was working he told me.  “I’m working at Shoprite.”

“That’s great.  I’m so proud of you.  Next time I see you, I want you to tell me that you have a college degree, okay?”

“Yes maam.”

By my senior year of high school, I no longer hated Mrs. K.  She was kind enough to write me a recommendation letter for college.  As a  graduation present, she gave me a book.  I still have the book.  I see her often as well.....when I look in the mirror.