Bumps

Another smooth day. But even the smooth days have bumps and ridges. For example, I completely forgot to have the follow-up discussion about Pres. Obama's address to students. I simply did not look at my schedule until after lunch and too late. We watched it together on Wednesday afternoon, a day late but as good as live (we delayed to avoid the internet congestion). I was riveted. Having met Barack a few times during the New Hampshire primary, I was an early supporter and have only recently stopped having romantic dreams about him. So no need to impress me. But despite my bias, I thought his message was solid and strong: Take responsibility for your own education. When I surveyed the crowd to see how my students were taking it in, more than a few were tuned out. His words meant nothing to them. Despite the fact that they come from tough home situations, do not have present fathers, and sabotage their own educations every day, they did not engage. I wanted to give them a shake and say, "Listen! Do you hear that? That's the PRESIDENT speaking and he's telling you to give a shit. Did you hear? Get over yourself. Take responsibility!" But I didn't. I didn't even lead a follow-up discussion.

My favorite reaction was "David's." Our superintendant, who was petrified of parent protest if we actually stooped so low as to make our students watch the President of the United States speak directly to them (What kind of civic education would that be?), directed us to tell the students that they did not have to watch the speech if they did not wish to do so. I said this quickly and quietly, hoping that most were not listening, and was pleased when no one took me up on it. Half way through the speech David slithered over to me and whispered in my ear, "I don't want to watch this." I didn't take my eyes off the screen and ignored him, hoping he would give up. He persisted, "I don't want to watch. This makes me uncomfortable." Bullshit. "Okay, you can sit at your desk." David's desk is right next to the computer speakers. "That would be worse." Of all the kids in my class, David needed to hear this message most. His mother never finished high school, his dad is out of the picture, he is incredibly bright, and he is his own worst enemy. My conclusion is that David was perhaps the only child who WAS really listening, and it WAS making him feel uncomfortable. Thank goodness. "You can't leave the room. You're mom won't mind. You're staying. Have a seat." As is often his way, David completely ignored my directions. He slunk to the floor and literally wiggled all the way to the back of the room under the reading table. But he didn't leave the room. And I just turned up the volume.

Got to remember to have that talk tomorrow. Maybe after we label our portfolio binders.