The bad news is obvious. And I'm afraid prolonged. The (non) trickle in of students will continue this week, so it already feels like today through Friday will be a wash. But hey, we keep on moving. Grades have to be put in the gradebook, credits have to be earned, and students need to graduate.
The most fascinating/disturbing/just plain sad comment of the day came from G, a new student:
"Why is everyone so mopey? All these people moping around. This shit happens in my hood every day. A woman got stabbed in front of my building last night. I saw my best friend get shot. What's the point in moping?"
His anger/frustration at the "mopiness" finally ended when he revealed that he used to feel bad about stuff (eg tragic death), but then it just kept happening and he felt helpless. And then, after avoiding the poem I had been pushing him to write all day, he poured his feelings out on paper.
And that, along with the small conversations we had over poetry (I am from pigs feet, power rangers, peanut chews...) and the Jay-Z pandora station, is why I am thankful that I'm an English teacher. Words, talk, and music. Our small step towards healing.
Oh and here's News 1 outside of the school. Someone also snapped my picture when I came in this morning. I wasn't sure whether or feel insulted, violated, or proud.
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