“If nobody sees you cry….you can say it was raining outside…..alll they want is a few days down…..it’s to be expected with all the weight you carry around….it’s a short  to a foreign nation…

I’m looking out….`10 stories….and I can thank you…a eity waking up to foreign night…

 

And all they want is a few days down…all that you need to is a few days t drown….all that you want is a few days down…”

 

Mandy Moore, Few Days Down

To conclude the story of my last day at Lean on Me High, I went in and finished grades, because the kids deserved not to be involved in the war.  (Ironically, I’ve said this all along.)  The kids who passed legimately, needed to to get theur grades they earned.  And all those other ones….the ones who interrupted class .  The ones I thought about saving, and then realized they need to be shot, or out of my life.  The Josue Reyes, and Katie Sanchez’s that if I had a dog, I’d name it, Josue Reyes or Katie Sanchez, and kick the little bitch in the face everyday.  The ones that I called home, and their parents genuinely disciplined but came to school and made it worse.  The defiant ones who refused my kindness, or the one who I forgave because he wasn’t getting the services he need.  Him, especially, because I understand that he is supposed to be in a 6-1-1 (Six students to One teacher to one special educator or aid) which clearly in an ICT setting of over 32 kids, he wasn’t getting.  But then again,  his IEP called for a smaller controlled environment, but that doesn’t forgive him for calling me, “Mr. Buttfucker” every chance.  Your IEP is something that the state, city, and your parents agreed to.  But they do not consent to you being an asshole.  Fuck you, F.

 

But anyway, Ms. Cleo was obstinent to the end.  I made small chit chat regarding the weather re:it’s mildness, and she closed the window.  As I was on the way to dinner with Mr. Proficient, Ms. Cleo called him to make sure I hadn’t taken confidential materials about students away from the building.  Not that I couldn’t still access it on Jupitergrades or Aris.

 

And yet, I would go back even if I had to get shot every single day.  Those are mine.  They are my kids.  I only took one day off from October 7th to January 20 something.  Even when I was robbed.  Or my apartment was broken into.  Or I felt sick.  Those are mine.  I couldn’t take off because they had already missed so much in the month that they had noone to teach them, and they were warehoused in different rooms.   They may not know this but every single one of them who remotely acted like a student – who came to class on time, or raised their hand for questions.  Or the J. Hernadezes or K. Mills who acted tough but then opened their hearts to me.  Or the J. Miniers who write so beautiful and brutally honest, despite the content; and did it consistently because they knew that I would fight for them.  Those are the type of kids every teacher deserves.  Those are the types of kids that I know will change the world.  The J. Mena’s or J. Luna’s who deserve the A in Awesome, and the P. Acosta’s I wish I had more time with.  Those are the kids I look forward to  meeting.

Those are the kids who remind me why I can’t get off the subway anywhere near school because it would just break my heart.  Those are the ones who I hope that they get a teacher who “I was thinking about [her/him] thinking about us…what we going to be, and realize it’s just a dream.” (Nelly)

 

All in and all, those are my kids that I would be insubordinate about.  Those are the kids that I hope (and I think they saw) that I did my best for.  Even the assholes.  I hope they know I did the best in my situtation despite the bullying I took from the administration.  I hope they know that I would take it even more if I could.  But that wasn’t an option.  Ms. Cleo didn’t even look at the quality of work.  She didn’t look into their portfolios, folders, or eyes.  She didn’t see what we accomplished.  She only saw blind rage because I don’t know.  Had I know what her ideas were, I would have worked them, but all of this is conjecture.

I know I did my damnedest and learned a new disciple  (Forensic Science) without much collaboration from other educational professionals.  I know I did my best and gave it all I had.  And I know I’m going to still.  I am not a bad teacher.  I am not insubordinate, ineffective or whatever other jargon someone who has not observed me or measured my results have seen.

At the end of the day- those were my students, and I was their teacher- and you know what, maybe I taught them that you can’t always win, but still I hope they learned do what is right.  Even if it’s not the best thing for yourself.  In the end, we all get what we deserve.  I can’t say what Ms. Cleo deserves, but I hope she understands that she has a few kids who knowingly see her.  And see me, and know what a teacher is.

 

-Chester Kent.

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