As I looked back over some previous posts, it occurred to me that I’ve not really written a satisfactory conclusion to the August 11th post. And so here, briefly, is how all of that turned out:
Jme was grounded for two weeks. During that time we talked about the situation a number of times as a family. We talked about what she did and why, and what else she could do when she has those same feelings again. We believe that she was earnestly contrite about her bad choices. She realized that we cared a lot about her and by extension, cared about what does and how she spends her time. She apologized to both of us individually, and she did all of those things we asked her to do to make amends.
Many people have left Jme. It’s been a major theme in her life. I’ve mentioned before that there are not a lot of options for friends in our tiny town. And in fact there has been pretty much only one other teenager that we have approved of Jme spending time with: a great kid and another of my students named Juniper. She and Jme have been good friends and have spent a good deal of time together. Juniper has had a really tough home life for a number of years, and she recently found a way out and jumped at it. She went to live with an older sister who lives hundreds of miles away and started to go to school in that town. We hear she’s doing really well.
But Jme wasn’t at all happy to see her go. In fact, the week that Juniper announced she was leaving, Jme immediately dismissed her, didn’t want to spend any time with her, and refused even to say goodbye. Instead, Jme sought out the person we’d least approve of her spending time with. She made the most self-destructive choice for a friend that she could. And so Ave became a constant companion.
On a side note, Ave has been in enough trouble here that she has been – pretty literally – run out of town. She no longer attends our school or lives in our community.
Jme has been with us for almost six months now. In that time there have been only two incidents of “misbehavior” that we have had to work through with her. In all, she has been remarkable. She is responsible with the boys and with her chores at home. She’s fun and good natured most of the time. There are moody episodes, but we seen them blow in and blow out so fast that we no longer pay much attention to them. In all, she’s really warm, friendly, funny and responsible. Sometimes I wish we could recalibrate her values meter, but we’re glad she’s part of our (ever expanding) family.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Saturday, October 20, 2007
In Other News...
Wifey woke up earlier than me this morning. Unusuall for a Saturday. She and Jme are driving to town today for some town time. Wifey also took a pregnancy test this morning that peed positive. A few clicks of the mouse determined the due date to be on or about Friday, June 27th. Let's hear it for summer birthdays!
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Dear Mr. Bossman
All of the issues that I discussed with you at our last meeting still exist. Ms Hamilton has not indicated that she is resigning, however the classroom management issues in her classroom, her overall enjoyment of teaching her students, and the students' experience in class are all at a very low level. There are wailing and tears coming from either the teacher, the teacher's aide, or the students every day. I don't think I'm being overly dramatic to call it a crisis level. Quite simply, I do not think that we will make it to the end of the school year with 1. our staff intact and 2. the students having experienced a year's academic/social growth.
Ms Hamilton and I have always and continue to get along well professionally and personally. I am not venting or lobbying for her removal, but I am concerned about her mental/emotional/physical health, I am concerned about the teacher's aide in her class, and I am very concerned for our elementary students. She is confused about how to proceed and feels very bad about causing trouble for me or whomever.
I would like some help from you or your staff with some intervention strategies to help Ms Hamilton be successful. Perhaps some professional development in the area of classroom management would help. Perhaps some mentoring from someone such as the New Teacher Mentoring Project (I know they only take first and second-year teachers, but maybe if some special case was pled...), or some other expertly qualified elementary teacher would help. Any other ideas you might have for how to support Ms Hamilton are needed.
On a related note, Ms Hamilton has asked me to change kindergarten from the current full day to a half day to alleviate some of her load. I think it should be a full day, and I am going to make some direct suggestions about how to organize the classroom(s) and utilize the classroom aide to help make the experience better for everyone. Hopefully this will work.
Please advise.
Ms Hamilton and I have always and continue to get along well professionally and personally. I am not venting or lobbying for her removal, but I am concerned about her mental/emotional/physical health, I am concerned about the teacher's aide in her class, and I am very concerned for our elementary students. She is confused about how to proceed and feels very bad about causing trouble for me or whomever.
I would like some help from you or your staff with some intervention strategies to help Ms Hamilton be successful. Perhaps some professional development in the area of classroom management would help. Perhaps some mentoring from someone such as the New Teacher Mentoring Project (I know they only take first and second-year teachers, but maybe if some special case was pled...), or some other expertly qualified elementary teacher would help. Any other ideas you might have for how to support Ms Hamilton are needed.
On a related note, Ms Hamilton has asked me to change kindergarten from the current full day to a half day to alleviate some of her load. I think it should be a full day, and I am going to make some direct suggestions about how to organize the classroom(s) and utilize the classroom aide to help make the experience better for everyone. Hopefully this will work.
Please advise.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Dear Ms Hamilton
I know you have had a rough start to the year, and the kids have been particularly difficult to manage and relate to. Friday was a particularly bad day, and though I was reluctant, I felt I had to go into your classroom to intervene between you and the kids. I hesitated so strongly to do this because I didn't want to overstep my bounds in your classroom, but I was concerned for both you and the kids. You told me that day - clearly and emphatically - that you were resigning as of that day. You have since softened from this statement, but I am left wondering if we will all make it successfully to the end of the year.
Some of the conditions that contributed to the situation on Friday have existed for a while, and I know you experienced some of these problems at times last year. Since it is so early in the year, I am growing more worried about what the rest of the year has in store. I am concerned for you personally and your mental, emotional, and physical health.
You and I get along well personally. I know how important it is that you and I communicate well and daily, and that we be on the same page regarding what we're doing here in the school. I have always responded to comments of concern that have been brought to me about you with unconditional support. I have never wanted to undermine your standing with students or parents. I don't want you to think that I am starting some backdoor campaign for your ouster, but I feel I have a responsibility to make others aware of this situation rather than pretend there's no problem.
I think we should discuss this with Mr. Bossman this week, but I wanted to discuss it with you first so that you are aware and know that I am not reaching out to him behind your back. I would like your permission to talk to him about this. What do you think?
Some of the conditions that contributed to the situation on Friday have existed for a while, and I know you experienced some of these problems at times last year. Since it is so early in the year, I am growing more worried about what the rest of the year has in store. I am concerned for you personally and your mental, emotional, and physical health.
You and I get along well personally. I know how important it is that you and I communicate well and daily, and that we be on the same page regarding what we're doing here in the school. I have always responded to comments of concern that have been brought to me about you with unconditional support. I have never wanted to undermine your standing with students or parents. I don't want you to think that I am starting some backdoor campaign for your ouster, but I feel I have a responsibility to make others aware of this situation rather than pretend there's no problem.
I think we should discuss this with Mr. Bossman this week, but I wanted to discuss it with you first so that you are aware and know that I am not reaching out to him behind your back. I would like your permission to talk to him about this. What do you think?
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Swiftest End
There are two teachers in our small school: myself and another woman named Ms Hamilton. She is a single, four-time divorcee in her late fifties who teaches in the primary grades. She is a self-described hermit, but she is also lonely. She doesn’t like to be around people but is saddened by being alone. She has dealt with a number of significant health related issues in the last year. I’ve come to wonder if her illnesses are not a Munchausen-ish affectation. She has also suffered episodes of severe depression and mania, both of which were very real.
In the middle of last winter, Ms Hamilton acquired two cats from the animal shelter in the city to assuage her loneliness and depression. It was an odd choice, I thought at the time, because she had never had cats before and so wasn’t really a cat person. But whatever. If they gave her something to come home to and talk to, well then that’d be better for all of us.
Things were fine for a while until she decided that two cats was too much. One of the cats was particularly animated, and so she decided it had to go. Though it was her choice, she was apparently all broken up about it. She said she couldn’t bring herself to actually take it back to the pound and drop it off, so she asked me if I would do it. Sure, I said. Whatever. It’s a cat, and not my cat, so why should I care, right? So on my next trip to town, I dropped it at the pound like so much trash at the dump.
Then one night recently, as I left work, Ms Hamilton told me, “[Cat’s name] is going away. Maybe he’s already gone.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “You don’t know if it’s gone or not? Are you having someone put it down?” She began to cry and said she didn’t want to talk about it. I took that as a yes and immediately went home and called the person she had asked to do the deed. I didn’t really care about this cat, but all things considered, I figured I could fix up a little something under the stairs and keep it as an outside cat. Too late, though. He told me he’d shot it and watched it run off into the woods to die. I dunno. That really pissed me off. This was the second cat she had had someone else bump off for her.
The next morning morning, Ms Hamilton walked in my office. She was distraught and – choking through tears – said that she needed my help. She said that all she had asked of the guy who was supposed to put the cat down was that it be quick. But as she opened her door that morning to come to work, she found her cat just outside her door, meowling to be let in. The bullet had gone clean through, and the cat was bleeding out both sides. She let him in and rushed out of the house. The kind of help she needed was clear.
A few minutes later, my old truck puttered and jostled as I drove slowly over the narrow trail along the river while listening to Morning Edition playing on the radio. Our little town is eerily quiet that early in the morning, and imagining the great bang I was about to make made me tight inside. After less than a mile, I stopped and unzipped the cat’s carrier just enough for its head to poke through. I tied the end of a small rope into a slip knot, slid it over the cat’s neck and pulled it tight. Dragging the cat out of the carrier and over to the nearest tree, I tied the other end of the rope into a loop around the tree’s trunk and, as I cinched it, pulled the cat closer and closer until his check was resting firmly against the tree.
A moment later I stood in the cool of the morning, waiting for that last minute of life to drain away. It’s a hard minute to witness, for even though I placed the bullet at the base of the back of the head to ensure the surest and swiftest end, the animal still struggled on its side and kicked with both back legs, digging a bare spot into the dark earth under the tree.
Another few moments later, and I was back at the school, greeting the children as they came in from the bus. I didn’t see her then and didn’t seek her out. I couldn’t bring myself to offer comfort to the one who had led me to such violence so early in the morning.
In the middle of last winter, Ms Hamilton acquired two cats from the animal shelter in the city to assuage her loneliness and depression. It was an odd choice, I thought at the time, because she had never had cats before and so wasn’t really a cat person. But whatever. If they gave her something to come home to and talk to, well then that’d be better for all of us.
Things were fine for a while until she decided that two cats was too much. One of the cats was particularly animated, and so she decided it had to go. Though it was her choice, she was apparently all broken up about it. She said she couldn’t bring herself to actually take it back to the pound and drop it off, so she asked me if I would do it. Sure, I said. Whatever. It’s a cat, and not my cat, so why should I care, right? So on my next trip to town, I dropped it at the pound like so much trash at the dump.
Then one night recently, as I left work, Ms Hamilton told me, “[Cat’s name] is going away. Maybe he’s already gone.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “You don’t know if it’s gone or not? Are you having someone put it down?” She began to cry and said she didn’t want to talk about it. I took that as a yes and immediately went home and called the person she had asked to do the deed. I didn’t really care about this cat, but all things considered, I figured I could fix up a little something under the stairs and keep it as an outside cat. Too late, though. He told me he’d shot it and watched it run off into the woods to die. I dunno. That really pissed me off. This was the second cat she had had someone else bump off for her.
The next morning morning, Ms Hamilton walked in my office. She was distraught and – choking through tears – said that she needed my help. She said that all she had asked of the guy who was supposed to put the cat down was that it be quick. But as she opened her door that morning to come to work, she found her cat just outside her door, meowling to be let in. The bullet had gone clean through, and the cat was bleeding out both sides. She let him in and rushed out of the house. The kind of help she needed was clear.
A few minutes later, my old truck puttered and jostled as I drove slowly over the narrow trail along the river while listening to Morning Edition playing on the radio. Our little town is eerily quiet that early in the morning, and imagining the great bang I was about to make made me tight inside. After less than a mile, I stopped and unzipped the cat’s carrier just enough for its head to poke through. I tied the end of a small rope into a slip knot, slid it over the cat’s neck and pulled it tight. Dragging the cat out of the carrier and over to the nearest tree, I tied the other end of the rope into a loop around the tree’s trunk and, as I cinched it, pulled the cat closer and closer until his check was resting firmly against the tree.
A moment later I stood in the cool of the morning, waiting for that last minute of life to drain away. It’s a hard minute to witness, for even though I placed the bullet at the base of the back of the head to ensure the surest and swiftest end, the animal still struggled on its side and kicked with both back legs, digging a bare spot into the dark earth under the tree.
Another few moments later, and I was back at the school, greeting the children as they came in from the bus. I didn’t see her then and didn’t seek her out. I couldn’t bring myself to offer comfort to the one who had led me to such violence so early in the morning.
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