This Bitch

If there are kids present, put em to bed. Or at least keep them away from the screen because I'm holding nothing back on this long overdue installment. Allow me to tell you all why I hate standardized tests. First of all, they can't tell me nothin about MY kids that I don't already know. Second, for whatever reason, we still suck as a state at education. I think the only people worse at educating the youth are Oklahoma (obviously) and home schools of families that live on the street. Third, these units of "measurement", known as standardized tests, perpetuate the trippin that bitches be doin. Bitches be trippin so much that my title abandoned the use of the Beloved moniker that is always used, in some form, for the first time in blog history. But this bitch gotta learn.

So my faithful followers have been asking when the blog would be back. I've been giving it some thought; my decision was that I really had not a lot to write about. Things have, more or less, been quiet at the halfway school. Well I'm pleased to report...that is no longer the case. I could probably blog every day that I am at school from this point forward. Hmm...that's a thought. Perhaps I will become an engine of chaos for that exact purpose. These bitches gotta learn. Naturally, by "these bitches gotta learn", you can infer that I mean 'this bitch gotta learn'.

I'll start here: Anybody that knows anything about the school "system" knows that we've this test to prepare the kids for, which is a completely different issue for me. This test--is a mutha sucka. The level of difficulty of this test, compared to the previous test, is ridiculous! So ridiculous, in fact, that the standards for passing these tests in most subjects is in the 50s or low 60s. Imagine if all we needed to pass a class was a 55. That woulda been crazy. Anyways, in light of the emphasis on testing, you get niggas everywhere acting crazier than they ever have. Here's the kicker though. They continue to ramp up the rigor of these tests, which puts the educators at a disadvantage, yet the kids are literally getting dumber. How?

None of these kids ever get held back. Let's face it; being held back is a sign of weakness that no parent wants to subject their child to, whether they need it or not. My maternal grandfather was retained...back in 1st grade, I believe. The teacher told his mama he wasn't ready, and she said keep him where he is until he is ready. My grandfather took that extra year and made up for the deficiencies that he had, went on to finish school without any other major hitches, and became an accomplished music teacher and eventual counselor. That requires both an undergraduate and postgraduate degree. But he was retained. Who gives a chit?

Let me tell you how to retain a kid. Bribe somebody with power. And by bribe, I mean sell your soul to the devil, no refund, sign your name with the blood of a 40-year-old virgin whore with a pen made from the horn of a unicorn, then put ink on the scrotum of an uncircumcised Leprechaun to notarize the document. Or...you could bring forth work samples for the entire year, along with a significant number of failing report card grades (we're only allowed to fail 10% of a class which adds up to 1 person for me), suggest retention before the committee, which then needs to be approved for the student to go to summer school. Now, if anybody knows anything about summer school, it practically ensures that you move on to the next grade. In the event that everything in place happens, the parent still has the right to refuse the student retention and win. Who wants to go through all of that chit? Not I. What does that mean? The standardized tests are getting harder, but as a student, it's easier to pass. That irks me, as it sets me up for the remainder of this blog and why this bitch gotta learn.

I don't know what yall seem to enjoy more. The misadventures of my ever-ridiculous class or a good story chronicling the struggle between good and evil, of which I'm still uncertain of my role. Lucky for you, this is a double feature. It was a school day, like any other. Except that it was a Thursday, and sometimes school is on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, hell...even Saturday, much to my chagrin. The story begins during my planning period, which we might as well rename "random unscheduled meeting in which the aura of bitchiness is emitted upon my presence" period. That name is probably too long, and you wouldn't wanna use a name that long around the kids. It was during this period that I learned my fate for next school year. The bitch known as Tractor called us into the office individually, where she told me that I would be teaching 5th grade Reading. Now if you're one of my faithful followers, you know that I currently teach 4th grade Reading and Writing. It's been a couple of years since I taught Math, but the number after 4 is 5, I think. That means, yes, I will be moving up with my current crop of kids. My first reaction? "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" After I left the office of course. My secondary, more rational reaction? I thought about it, and I considered what I have been telling adults that I've come in contact with. My kids are not that bad. I could stand to lose a couple of them, but all in all, they are pretty good. That's actually the reason I rarely have anything to tell you all. I find myself enjoying my students. I never figured that would be the case lol.

Last year, my kids were, by comparison, little spawns of satan. In fact, the class was probably comprised of 70% children of Tractor, seeing as how she is a direct descendent of Beelzebub himself. Beelzebub is like French or something for devil...or maybe it's Jewish. Just kidding, it's definitely Ebonics. As I was saying, the kids were terrible. But looking back at them, it's quite possible that I miss 85-90% of them. My former colleagues would probably slap me for saying so, but true it is.

So upon receiving the news that I now knew of my new assignment, I went back to class, where I gave the kids their writing prompt for the day. "Write about the subject you have enjoyed the most this school year and why." It was a simple assignment, and its intent was to find out if they learned ANYTHING from ANYBODY this school year. I like to read the papers as they write, something called monitoring. Naturally, I learned that from somebody else because I couldn't possibly have any knowledge of how to work with kids. One student writes about why they enjoyed Math, and how they learned to divide big numbers, and how proud that makes them. Another writes about gym, and how they appreciate the value of exercise (plus they don't have to read or write or compute to do it). Then I approach the desk of one we will call Butter. Butter is this sweet little girl that came to us from another school in perhaps early March. It's funny because Gobment really can't stand her, but she's quickly become one of my favorites, if teachers had favorites of course. Paraphrasing, but Butter writes that she loves Reading because you get to get lost in books, and they're interesting, and she has the best Reading teacher, Mr. Beloved. She also said she hasn't been here long, but it feels like he's taught her everything. Obviously, that may be a bit hyperbolic, more so than even she knows. But the combination of that touching sentiment and the fact that everyone's writing was so thoughtful and improved gave me a chill. My mood at this point was so great that NOTHING could damper it. (The use of all caps on 'nothing' is what us English nerds would refer to as foreshadowing. Foreshadowing basically just gives us a glimpse of actions still to come. What do you all think is going to take place later?)

If you guessed anything that starts, ends, or contains at all the words THIS BITCH in succession, pat yourself on the back. Or if you wanna substitute that pat on the back, you can go find Tractor and tea bag her for me. So about 3 o'clock, I got word that scores for this enormously critical test could be viewed online. As little as I really care about these things, my heart still dropped a bit just because of the potential ramifications of a lack of success. I got online, I viewed, I was a bit disappointed, but I wasn't 'irrational tirade' disappointed. Why? I looked at the scores from the same students from last year, and they all showed growth from the previous year, most showing some significant leaps and jumps (remind me to tell you about Danica later). I can live with that.

Still, we get the call to come down to the office after school to talk about our scores. I'll set the scene. Gobment and I head down to the office. It takes a long time because her prune juice sends her frequently to the restroom. After a brief intermission we resume our mission to Tractor's office, where Tractor is waiting with our academic coordinator.

Tractor: Hi, you all. Have you had a chance to look at your scores?
Unison: We were kinda still looking.
Tractor: *excuses Gobment to go resume looking at her scores and tells me to sit down.*
Have you looked at your scores?
Beloved: *in my head* Bitch what did I just say? *out loud* I was still looking at them.
Tractor: Well can I just be honest with you?
Beloved: (Pauses) I'm listening.

I feel compelled to explain the scores first so that you are not confused or asking questions during my presentation...I hate that chit. So the two tests that I was responsible for were Reading and Writing. The scores ended up very similar. Of my roster, I ended up with 75% passing for each. Now, 3 of my students that passed will not count for me because they were at other schools. What that means is that my scores will eventually be recalculated, totaling about 71% for each. Not great, but.....well let's just get back to the story.

When we last left off, I was telling this bitch that I was listening. This is a line I use commonly when I have a genuine disdain for an individual.

Tractor: Beloved (yeah, she really did call me by my first name), you haven't added any value to these kids at all. Mrs. Tyler is devastated because she has never had a percentage this low for writing, and that's all your fault because you forced us to bring her in. If she hadn't helped out, it would have been lower than that.

By the way, this dialogue is actually a monologue because I didn't say a damn word throughout the entire conversation. She just wanted to hear herself talk, and I let her because I didn't know what was going to come out of my mouth. At any rate, in my mind, I was thinking that she shouldn't be devastated because they aren't her scores, they're mine. And don't gimme that "you forced her" because she does the same thing every year. I've only been there for one, so I don't know how I necessarily forced her.

Tractor (cont.): You know, you walk around here like everything is all hunky dory and like you don't have a care in the world, but you should be devastated. You don't take anything seriously and this is what happens because of that. You have failed these students, and you have failed this school.

PAUSE!! Let me just tell you how bad I wanted to reach across the table and slap that bitch. The only thing that stopped me was that I didn't wanna get makeup all over my hands. This bitch come to school everyday lookin like a powdered donut. I don't even know her real skin tone because she gets her makeup supply from the clown store...that or the damn art supply store. You can say a lot of things about my apathetic demeanor, as I'm sure I do appear not to care about things, but you better make sure you never take a low blow like that. You don't know how much I care about these kids; you have no fuckin idea. You don't even know half of my kids, so get yo ass on somewhere. So I proceeded to look at her sideways for the remainder of the conversation. Literally, I rested my right ear on my right shoulder. My head was completely sideways.

Tractor: We got 75% in Math, so you should have at least been able to get in the 80s. (In my defense, Gobment has at least 50 years of teaching experience on me, so that's not fair.) I moved you up to 5th grade because I couldn't move you any lower (my certifications are 4-12). If you can't get it together with these kids, I will do everything I can to get you out of here. So if I were you, I would start looking for another job.

Beloved (head turned sideways thinks to himself): Bitch, do you want the address to my blog? I want out as bad as you want me out. Don't do me no favors. I bet you think this conversation is hurting my feelings...it's not. I actually feel sorry for you. You need a 'just in case' scapegoat so bad, that you lash out at somebody who outperformed the district, albeit you aren't satisfied.

Dang, how I wish I could have said that out loud.

Bitch: Do you understand that?
Beloved: *excruciatingly long pause* Uh...huh.

Look at that, this was a dialogue after all!

Bitch: Ok.
Beloved: *Deep, obnoxiously loud sigh, walks out*

How dare this bitch? I wonder what the 'bitch' count is for this installment...does the title count? Does it count when I quote it as something that's already been said? Things that make you go hmmm. Ok, so she finally got to me this time, with the whole "you have failed the students" thing. Because let's face it, I don't even fully give a damn about failing the school. But those kids, they are mine, and I cherish and fully respect having the opportunity to be a part of their lives and foster and facilitate, as well as stimulate growth of all kinds for these kids. I know, you all are accustomed to slight dramatizations when reading what I write, but I DID NOT MAKE UP A SINGLE WORD FROM THAT CONVERSATION. You don't do stuff like that. If I had low self esteem, I'd have run off in the corner and cried somewhere. Instead, I went and shared a conversation with my occupational confidants. It's nice to have people around that you feel comfortable with. Although, they are potentially part of the reason I think everything is "hunky dory". Bitch, please. Dang, that shoulda been the title of this blog! Hmm...perhaps I will blog again. Foreshadowing.

Oh, thanks for reminding me. There was another encounter, the day after, that validated my position. Remember Danica? Well if you can recall from earlier blogs, it's kinda her thing to be annoying. She also talks extremely loud, which prompted me just before Christmas to tell her it sounds like she has a microphone in her throat. She was then dubbed "Microphone Jones". Since that time, she has done numerous things to warrant eye rolls. She has spelled her name wrong, she has talked in line and class more times than I care to count, she has come to class unprepared, she has failed several tests. She has, she just has. She didn't pass either of the tests that she took last year. At the beginning of the year, Gobment and I were so sure she had a disability that we referred her for special education services. She didn't qualify though. Well, on Friday, I, along with Gobment, got to tell her personally that she passed not one, not two, but all three of the tests that she took. Reading, Math, and Writing. Now, I know that doesn't count for anything since I have failed the school, but it was still the single most gratifying moment I have had this entire school year. I am generally emotionless, yet I found myself so choked up that I literally had to hold back tears. Not because I was proud of myself and Gobment...I don't even like her...but because I was so proud of Danica and what she was able to accomplish just because she didn't give up. No greater feeling, I swear.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I do what I do. Hell, it's why most of us do what we do. I can honestly say that it's not for self-gratification either. It's the same reason I hold the door open for people. 50% of all situations end without the recipient of the held door saying thank you. Should I stop doing that, too? I'm a damn good door holder...I think I'll continue. I literally got my ass chewed off, but it really matters not. I am not there to try and touch her life in any way. Instead, I am there to see improvement and growth in students. A test may not always measure that. Nay, a test RARELY measures that. In this case, it can serve as validation for a student on the right track, but hell, I knew that Danica was maturing before she took those tests. They didn't tell us anything that we didn't already know. The only thing those tests did was told Beloved that he sucks at teaching and, quite possibly, life in general. But you know what? I'll never stop sucking. I'll never stop walking around like everything is hunky dory. I'll never be devastated unless I can't see any hope for the future. I will never be defeated. If you wanna put me in a box based on some scores, that were not all that bad, then you can kiss my ass with your tongue out because I will never go away...ever. Well--I may get away from This Bitch's school lol.

Until next time
Beloved