Empty

So often, something happens in my classroom that I have no skills to deal with. I feel sick and uncertain and ill-equipped. I think it over, I talk with others -- but I'm still at a loss.

A couple of weeks ago, my students wrote a timed-essay. They understood the stakes, they knew how to perform the task, and they could interpret the prompt. Some of my kids just didn't want to write, and I understood that. Heavens, who wants to write an essay at eight o'clock in the morning when the sun is shining and spring is on the way? What I didn't understand, though, was the mechanism a couple of my kids used to avoid the work. I would have taken a nap, written a note, chewed gum. But not two of my kids in first period.

"Dayna" used her eraser to make a mound of white shavings. Then she took her student ID, which is shaped exactly like a credit card or driver's license, and used it to separate the shavings into neat little piles. "David," her elbow partner, thought this was far more interesting than writing his own essay, so he jumped in on the action. They were extremely quiet -- never laughed or talked, but the mischief on their faces was unmistakable.

What made my stomach turn is the drug reference. I've only seen Hollywood versions of cocaine cutting, but I'm pretty sure that's the task my students were mimicking. I pointed lots of stern looks in their direction and whispered admonitions to get back on task. Nothing. I reminded the kids of the importance of the test. The cocaine cutting continued. Finally, out came the threat to go explain to an administrator why they could not write an essay, which worked. The ID found its way into the backpack, and the pile of erasure shavings was swept onto the floor.

I wish I could say I handled the whole episode well, but I most definitely did not. I talked about it with my colleagues, and we stepped up our drug use talks in our iConnect classes. I thought about relaying the incident to administrators, but honestly, our mental health counselors are already over-tasked.  Plus, I felt sure I was over-reacting. Perhaps this was a little like seeing toddlers take their clothes off at the playground?

I've never used illegal substances, and I'm afraid of most of the legal ones. What I saw in class that day scared me in ways I don't fully understand.

The world is not as full of hope as I'd like.