Middle school is more hilarious the second time around

Life in Ms. Gray's world is quite different from life in Ms. Schmidt's world. I don't miss Ms. Schmidt and the "Ms. Sh--t" that I could just hear about to roll of my twelfth graders' tongues this summer as they paused unnecessarily long on the S-H- sound of my name about to forgo the "M". 

Mr. Gioia and I live in a sixth-grade land called The Annex. This is a building that is separate from the main buildings of the middle school. Mr. Gioia teaches in a renovated (but only slightly) football locker room, and my room is a renovated steam room/sauna. I've sterilized my room with hand sanitizer and Clorox wipes. We've both de-sterilized our rooms with leafy flora, and Mr. G lets me borrow his watering can in the afternoons. We usually eat lunch together during our planning period at 9:15 a.m. Yes, lunch at 9:15 a.m. "Lunch" is really more like "Eat now or forever hold your peace." Our rooms are adjoining, which means that a couple times throughout the day we can poke our heads into each other's rooms and ask things like, "What's up with the lockers? They told us to assign them to students, but I don't even know at which number the lockers begin and at which they end." It also means that some students think that we're married: Mr. and Mrs. G. 

I love sixth grade. I think that's the first time those words have come out of my mouth considering that they certainly did not when I was a sixth grader. My kids, overall, are extremely enthusiastic and determined to participate. They're resilient and generally forgiving. They bounce back a minute after I give them a consequence and raise their hands to answer a question. This is so different from my blasé, grudge-bearing twelfth graders of the summer. My kids give me the opportunity to welcome them back into the learning community by volunteering to answer a question after they've been noticed for their misbehavior. It makes all the difference. 

Not to say that management is a breeze. It's difficult every single day. There is an intense breed of an in-the-moment presence that is required for managing a classroom. I would consider myself someone who is "in the moment" and generally focused on the present, but this is a whole different pot of rice. I'm used to being peacefully in the moment, but at school I feel a little bit like an attack dog, poised to lurch at rule breakers in every moment when it would be so much easier to be a house dog and lounge on the floor chewing on my rawhide. Not only do I need to respond swiftly but also meaningfully as I try to guide the class in understanding why I'm being a bitch. My feet aren't the only parts of me that are tired at the end of the day. 

My kids fight over cleaning my room at the end of the day. These words have come out of my mouth: It is a privilege to clean my classroom, not a right. The first time I see you talk to someone or touch someone while you are cleaning, you will sit down, and someone will replace you. Understood? 

Point of pride so far: 

There is a boy in my sixth period class who has a very short fuse. He blurts out answers and comments with the same frequency that he dishes and defends himself from insults, like being called "pinto bean head" on one occasion on his way into class. On the second day of school (the honeymoon period for most) he almost started a fight with a girl at afternoon dismissal. Every day in the first week I felt like I was trying to figure out how to diffuse him while letting him know that by no means could he behave that way in my class. I didn't want to make the same mistake I made at Holly High of giving consequences in a way that made one kid ask me at the end of the summer, "Why did you look at me all summer like you didn't like me?" 

I knew I needed to reach him in a different way. I started having firm expectations-oriented heart-to-hearts with him at the beginning of every class. I talked to his grandfather on the phone. I gave him a positive note in the middle of class one day when he was working really hard. I don't know what's to come for the rest of the year, but I feel like I've made some real headway. It's hard not to beam when I recall this: Yesterday he walked into class talking. He got about 1.5 feet into the door when he looked over at me and saw me merely looking at him. An "aha" look popped onto his face, and he calmly turned around, walked back out, and walked back in silently. I didn't have to say one word. He knew what I expected of him, and he knew to expect more of himself. 

Best student name: Jihaad

Favorite neighbor story from Mr. Gioia: "I just convinced several kids that I am 63 years old. I told them, 'Yeah, if you take good care of yourself, eat well, exercise, sleep right, you can look young for a long time.' The best part is that one of them said to me, 'No way you're 63, Mr. Gioia. You look like you're in your forties.'" 

Next time a student asks, "You married to that guy over there?" I'm going to say, "Do I look like I'd be married to a 63-year-old?" 

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