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."