College Is Possible Day

Every year, my school hosts "College Is Possible" day, in which college students and recent graduates visit each classroom to talk about their schools and hopefully generate some enthusiasm among the students for a post-high school education. Last year, the four speakers in my classroom attended UVA, UNC, Princeton, and Georgetown. I was considerably more impressed by this than my students were; I distinctly remember Tye'Quan* yelling "NO!" when a speaker asked the class if anyone knew what the Ivy League was. This year, my school district did a better job of soliciting speakers from schools that are, um, more relatable for my students. 

Our first visitor announced her presence by step-dancing through the doorway and shouting some chant about her sorority. When she had finished stomping and clapping, she informed the kids that she attended Clark Atlanta University, and would soon be driving a BMW and earning $60,000 a year as a fashion merchandising major. I immediately gave her the old stinkeye, but my students were smitten. They listened with rapt attention as she described the pleasures afforded by a career in fashion, and gasped when she revealed that she once danced with rapper Ludacris in an Atlanta nightclub. When it came time for her to leave, Robert raised his hand (for the first time all year, I should point out) and asked if he could call her. She gave him a coy wink and said "I'm on Myspace, sweetie." At this point I was ready to slam my head, karate-style, through a nearby desk. It would get worse.

Next up was a clearly hungover communications major from Hampton University, who began his lecture by rolling up his shirt sleeve to display a brand on his arm bearing the letters of his fraternity. During his subsequent presentation, he professed an interest in horoscopes, and asked if any students knew their astrological signs. Tye'Naisha immediately sprang out of her seat and proudly declared "I'm a Cancer!" From behind my desk, I silently nodded in affirmation.

Our third and final guest attended Norfolk State, and did a fine job of relating how important it is to earn good grades throughout a scholastic career before opening up the floor to questions. Iyana raised her hand and asked, in all earnestness, what the consequences would be if one were to get pregnant while in college. Several boys snickered at this, but all the girls in the class leaned forward in their seats to hear her response. Flustered, the poor speaker looked to me for help, but I threw up my hands in resignation. She stammered out a helpful and nonjudgmental response and meekly left the room. With some time to kill because of her abbreviated presentation, I stood before the class and asked if anyone had any questions about my time in college.** When no one raised a hand, I turned around and started writing Math problems on the whiteboard, to a chorus of groans.

*Tye'Naisha's older brother. Other than a tendency to steal things from my desk, he was pretty manageable.

**I've already written about the occasional necessity of lying to my students, and fully expected to tell a few whoppers at this point. My kids are typically more interested in my personal life, and often ask me things like "What did you do this weekend?" and "Does you drink?" I always respond with something like "Do I LOOK like I drink?! I stayed in and planned fun lessons for you, and went to the library for a little while on Saturday! Now get back to work!"

An Ambitious Idea

In season three of The Wire, a police major decides to clean up Baltimore's Western district by designating a few blocks of derelict and abandoned rowhouses as a "free zone" in which drug dealing is condoned by the officers who patrol the area. With the dealers off the street corners, the district's crime rate plummets and it soon becomes safe to walk outside in neighborhoods long dominated by street gangs. The free zone, or "Hamsterdam" as it becomes known, devolves into a surreal haven for junkies and drunks, triggering the age-old ethical dilemma: Do the ends justify the means?*

With Hamsterdam in mind, I recently set about reorganizing the desks in my classroom in a way that I hoped would give my class their best chance to pass our rapidly approaching, all-important standardized tests. In recent weeks, Tye'Naisha** had been passing notes during class with her friends Iyana and Le'Chandra*** at a conspicuously high rate, and the trio's collective behavior had deteriorated over that timeframe from "somewhat tolerable" to "unrepentantly obnoxious." Despite their conduct, they are unquestionably three of the smartest girls in the fourth grade, and at absolutely no risk of failing their upcoming exams. 

When the girls entered my classroom on Wednesday morning, I escorted them to their new seats and explained my idea. Previously, I had the girls sitting as far apart from one another as the boundaries of my classroom would allow; an ostensibly wise plan that really just resulted in them shouting at one another from across the room during my lessons and walking further across the classroom to deliver notes than they would otherwise. According to the new arrangement, however, the girls would all be sitting together, in a corner of the classroom and facing away from the other students. I had bought them a box of crayons, drawing paper, and prepared a variety of crossword puzzles and word games and explained that they had my permission to work on them during my lessons on the one condition that they remain seated and quiet. 

So far, the idea has been a resounding success. The girls remain quietly occupied with their drawings and games, while other students in dire need of review benefit from a considerably calmer classroom environment. I confess to feeling some ethical compunctions, but suspect that this is an unavoidable byproduct of an educational system placing too much importance on standardized testing. I also suspect that this newfound serenity might not last; the girls have taken to calling themselves "The Corner Girls," a nickname I discovered on Friday afternoon, where it had been written with a permanent marker on the wall above Tye'Naisha's desk.

*Of course, the major's plan was not approved by the police commissioner, who shuts down Hamsterdam as soon as he learns of it. The major is summarily fired, sort of like I would be if my school's administration ever caught wind of this blog.

**The unanimous selection for the 2009 Cagawall Fridays MVP award. I feel like I should make her some sort of trophy for this. Suggestions are, of course, welcome.

***In two years of teaching at my school, I have taught only one female student whose name did not have three syllables and end in "A". This is not to suggest that these kids' parents are uncreative when it comes to naming babies; in fact, some have proven delightfully innovative in this department. I know of a second grader whose parents apparently thought it a good idea to name their adorable daughter "Lil'Meal." There is a Sevyn in third grade; I can only presume her parents are big Mickey Mantle fans. In a nearby school, there are twins named Lemonjello and Orangejello. There are four children at my school whose names are pronounced "Unique," which is of course ironic in itself, but even more intriguing is the fact that one spells his name "Eunich."