Unsatisfactory?

Dear Secret Blogiary,

It turns out, I do secretly care. I care about my stupid job that makes me miserable. I care what I accomplish in my classroom. I care about making sure that the students get the most from me that I can give during the year. I care about the connection I make with my kids. I care about doing a good job despite the fact that I hate it.

So it came as a major blow to see my final yearly evaluation on Friday. It had two categories that were dinged.

One I knew about: professional behavior. Apparently it is unprofessional to miss work when your children are puking their guts out. Every single teacher there that has kids was dinged as “Needs Improvement” in this category. In clear, yet tiny perfect italics it read: needs to improve attendance. Like I was a student. Shit! That comment is one that I can check on my student’s report cards.

Fine. I knew I was going to get dinged. It was the only thing that had been discussed with me at my post-observation. Honestly, and I am all about conspiracy theories, I think it had more to do with getting people out of the “High Performing” category. If we get “High Performing” we can also earn merit pay (although with the new law that was just passed, this will be the last year for this type of merit pay).

It was the second category that was marked “Unsatisfactory” that had my eyeballs about to burst from my head! I was marked down for not having classroom management. I was shocked, hurt, and quite honestly pissed off.

Now overall, this year’s group of students were a nightmare in 6th grade and wretched in 7th – this by the admission of the 6th and 7th grade teachers and the administrators. Every single teacher on the hall has the same problems with the same students I do. I refuse to yell and scream a student or hover over them until they do what I ask. I also refuse to continue to call the parents if after the first call made no difference. This group of kids does not care about consequences. Phone calls to parents do nothing. Time outs do nothing. Referrals do nothing. Nothing fazes them.

As 8th graders they are fully responsible for their actions. I shouldn’t have to call parents.

As a parent of an 8th grader, I refuse to make excuses for my child. She knows how to behave and what is expected from her, so why should I accept anything less from my students? All I hear from the higher ups is that standards and expectations need to be higher for our students. So why should I lower my expectations?

I have a single class that sheer unadulterated Hell. One. Not a single teacher on my team can “control” this class and as they travel together (the same students share all the same classes) they wreak havoc all day long. I only wish I was exaggerating. Ethically, I will not discuss them individually, but I will leave it at this: many of the students in there are certifiably crazy – it is in their IEP – and most are labeled as EH (Emotionally Handicapped – which essentially means they have severe anger management problems and will likely fly into a rage at the drop of a hat).

And I have a theory about that. They know that first of all, the 8th grade administrator, no matter what the offense, will take the student’s word over the teacher’s in just about every case. Secondly, they know that even if they get in trouble, the punishment will not be a punishment; instead it will be a “conference” with the student where the admin will read them the riot act, slap them on the wrist verbally, and send them back to class.

The teachers get no support to back up our management plan. So how am I supposed to have effective classroom management? Beats me. In my two minute read-this-and-sign-here evaluation conference, I got no feedback and it didn’t occur to me to demand any because I was so blindsided.

And unfortunately, I care about it. I care because this is the only time I have been dinged for anything in an evaluation. Not even in my first year as a teacher did I have problems. And as I have been mulling the evaluation over for the past few days it occurred to me why.

I had the support of administrators who backed me up no matter what. Since Mr. MoHOLU took the reins, the school has gone downhill and I wish that was me just being angry and disgruntled. But after talking to other teachers and watching the number of teachers transferring out each year increase, it can’t just be me.

I'm Sure It Isn't In My Head

Dear Secret Blogiary,

You know how easy it is to tell someone doesn’t like you? Well, I’ve been saying for years now that my boss, Mr. Master of His Own Little Universe, does not like me. I know this to be true although he has never said anything. I wish I could say I was being paranoid but I am really not.

Case in point: Went into work yesterday to start setting up my room and Mr. MoHOLU, glared at me when I walked by his office. Actual exchange:

Me: Good morning, sir, how are you?

MoHOLU: Fine. (rolls eyes)

Me: I’m going to work in my room for a bit.

MoHOLU: Fine. (turns his back to me in dismissal)

Me: (cheerfully) Ok. See you.

I worked in my room for a few hours rearranging furniture and berating myself for forgetting necessary supplies to do more. During set up I found that I had a number of broken chairs and made arrangements with the custodians to remove said chairs.

Conversation with custodian:

Me: Can I borrow the dolly to get rid of these broken chairs?

Custodian: Don’t know where it is. I’ll find it and take the chairs for you.

Me: Thanks! That would be great. I appreciate it.

Custodian: No problem. You know, a lot of the teachers have broken chairs. Really broken ones that could hurt the kids. You know with the metal sticking out and the plastic cracked and jagged.

Me: Yeah, I know.

Custodian: Mr. MoHOLU hasn’t ordered chairs. In fact, there haven’t been chairs ordered since I’ve been here and I’ve been here for seven years. Someone should talk to him about that. (meaningful look in my direction)

Me: Yeah…

Around lunch time I gathered up my belongings and made my way back to the office. Mr. MoHOLU was in his office obviously not doing anything (really, not even being sarcastic there) so I stopped by.

MoHOLU: Yes? (rolling eyes)

Me: How was your summer, sir?

MoHOLU: Fine. Busy. (exasperated sigh)

Me: Oh. That’s…um, I was talking to the custodian about the chairs-

MoHOLU: And. (pointed stare)

Me: Many of the teachers have broken, unusable chairs. I was wondering if-

MoHOLU: I suppose I can look to see if we have some money somewhere to order some new ones. (turns his back to me and begins shuffling through papers)

Me: I –

MoHOLU: Good day.

Me: Oh. Ok. Um, see you tomorrow!

MoHOLU: (grunt or maybe it was a snark)

I am sure that this behavior indicates a dislike. The man has always been rude and condescending to others. Truly he does not have a large fan base. But, I have never treated him with anything but courtesy and respect. He is my boss after all and he is older than me and my mom raised me to be respectful.

I won’t deny that I will question decisions and actions if they don’t make sense to me. I do it as non-confrontational as I can and always phrase my concerns as me not understanding rather than he is an idiot (of which I am now thoroughly convinced). It makes sense that if I don’t understand a “new” policy or procedure, the best way to get me on board with it is to help me to understand why I’m doing it and what result it should have. If I am expected to explain to 13 year olds why they have to learn to write, than it goes that I should get an explanation as to why a procedure that has worked for three long years is suddenly changed and then eliminated altogether.

So for my questioning I am branded as a trouble maker, as insubordinate, as one who deserves less respect and more condescension. What this leaves me thinking…

Oh, this is going to be a long, long year.