Being at such a small school, I know probably too many details of my students' lives. I don't often talk about the all negatives in my conversations about work because of something my CS said at Institute. She told the story of someone else's presumptions about her students and how she hated to reinforce those. She said she talked about the hard stuff with other corps members because they had students of their own; they knew. But when she talked to others she tried to highlight her students' achievements, moments of warmth and brilliance, their potential.
Doing this has proven to be exceedingly difficult, because it is the very bad stuff I try to avoid that makes their successes all the more joyful, frustrating, and heart-breaking.
To my original point, I know about the feuds, the friendships, who goes with whom, who should never sit next to so and so, and who made the mistake of beating up another young man so severely that he is in a coma on a CTA bus last week that was being monitored by a camera. I was in the office this morning when another mother came in with her son claiming that he had been assaulted by students from my school. And I was in the middle of reviewing vocabulary when the principal came silently into my room with the young man so he could have a look around to see if he could identify his assailants.
"Who was that, Ms. Geraghty?"
"Uh, you know, probably a prospective student."
"...what's prospective?"
"(sigh...) a potential student. (silence) Like, an eighth grader who might come here next year.
"oh. ok."
I'm part of the conversations in which kids discuss whether they'll have to transfer schools next year because they're afraid to get shot outside our new building.
I hear the stories of abuse, neglect, loneliness, abandonment, sorrow that make their very presence in school every day a success. And it's hard not to want to gloat about the A they got, the conflict they settled, the new record they set, without also explaining how much farther they have to come to get to those goals. I suppose that's what makes keeping expectations high so challenging. They may be just as high as those in other places. But the journey is so much longer. D. A-B isn't really doing much better this semester than she did last semester, at least academically in my class. But I know that in my class she knows she is welcomed and cared about and looked after, that I notice when she's gone, give her opportunities to be successful wherever I can, ask her about her life, and expect her to do more. The TFA goal is 80% 80% 80% mastery mastery mastery. but the reality is much different. That's something I've had to reconcile with my idealism; of course we have to keep lofty goals to always keep moving forward (my spanish I kids are hovering in the low 70's right now). But perfection isn't humanly possible. There will be failures. And I think failure has become less scary a word than it was at the beginning. Because if there's one thing I've learned this year, it's the importance of perspective. I may not have been a stellar teacher. I made more than my share of mistakes. I failed my kids many times by many accounts. But, unlike 1/4 of our staff, I haven't quit. I've done the best that I can do and kept my sights on the goals, remembering that acting with compassion and faith is oftentimes more important than expecting to be able to act with expertise I haven't earned.

There was another incident after school today. I hesitate to call it a fight, since there wasn't any direct physical contact. Incident doesn't really convey the violence it contained though. Sticks were hurled, bottles were smashed, threats were shouted. I was sitting in my room after school with the windows open, enjoying the smell of spring. All my tutoring kids were gone and I was geting ready to leave,- before 5! I heard shouting and screams from outside and hurried to the front. Probably 10 or 12 boys were out in the parking lot with the assistant principal. Some were my students, still at school for baseball practice, some weren't. Some had removed shirts, coats, strewn belongings around the lot. Gordon was pulling J towards the school, telling him to get inside. The boys were all posturing and shouting. I went outside, staying on the steps until a student came close enough to push inside the building. One of the non-students pulled a stick from who knows where and was waving it, approaching my students. he never got close enough to hit one directly, but eventually he threw it at E. I grabbed him and pushed him inside. Then the glass bottles appeared and started flying towards the stairs as more students headed inside. I got them inside, but there was glass shattered everywhere. Another teacher got cut, but thankfully no students were hurt. I stayed inside after the glass, and the non-students somehow got a huge pole and started waving that around. Gordon got the rest of the students inside and the other boys left the parking lot, obviously waiting around the corner. "J, you can't go back out there because if you go I have to go with you and you don't want me to get hurt." Thing is, as I was getting to the front, the other teacher was calling the police. Fully ten minutes later, several minutes after everyone was gone from the area, a single squad car crept into the parking lot.

Various kids from the neighborhood- gangs, groups from other schools, assorted others- have ben involed in stuff like this too many times this year after school. Kids get jumped on the bus, come streaming into the school form sports practices outside, are threatened on the sidewalks. My students certainly aren't always innocent. There have been fights between students within the school building (though almost always between girls) and they aren't just sitting back and not fighting back or responding when it happens outside. There was a food fight during one of teh lunches today. But it wouldn't happen outside if the temptation wasn't there. I can't help but think we're just holding our breath trying to get them through three more years until they can get out, go to college, and see an alternative.

J gave me a hug before he left the building with an escort for the bus. This is the second time I've hugged him post-incident. To say I hope it's the last could predict something I dont want to think about.