The Jungle That Is Jr. High

Do you remember junior high? It isn’t looked upon kindly by most adults because they hold memories for us that include hair growing from new places, squeaky voices, and a face full of zits. It’s Nature’s Cruel Joke to have our bodies change at the same time young brains are switching over to maturity and we begin to naval gaze and dream about the What If? possibilities. My favorite thing about being an adult and watching such things, however, is that you get to see these creatures (honestly, that is the best word for them) muddle their way through these changes all the while looking cool and ensuring that they’re not entirely alone in the world.

Now that I’m back working at a middle school (I vary between the two phrases “middle school” and “junior high”) I can honestly say that I love both the middle and high school levels. But to work in a middle school you have to be a special kind of person. Not don’t-eat-the-paste special, although that might actually come in handy. But special in the sense that you will take this age group for what if offers. Some of these kids are just KILLING ME WITH THE CUTENESS. For example, our school mascot is the leopard. Many adults proudly wear shirts with our school logo on them and others wear leopard print clothes. (That reminds me: I need to go shopping. A gal can always use a new leopard print pair of shoes! Or a leopard print shirt! A leopard purse! The possibilities are making my head swim!) When we had our 6th grade orientation the principal pointed that out to the students and one of them raised his hand and asked, “When do we get to earn our spots?” and I swear to God I almost ran up to that kid and put a jaunty hat on him and stuffed him in my pocket because THAT RIGHT THERE IS THE ACME OF CUTE. I dare you to find anything cuter.

Since I’m back to doing playground duty I have found myself delving into the jungle with my anthropologist hat on as I watch them carefully. They don’t know who I am yet although some of them have older siblings who’ve had me before. They timidly come up to me and ask if I know their older brother/sister/cousin/family member and then BLAM! We have a connection. Those are the ones whose names I know first and I’m working on learning them all this week. Every student wants to be called by name. That’s not anthropology, either. That’s just common sense. So, as I crouched down on the bench on the playground and did my best Margaret Mead impersonation sans walking stick and cape, I began taking notes in my head.

Those must be the girls who desperately want to be cool. They all matched their clothes with one another.

These are athletes. They’re all discussing who is going out for cross country and what the best running shoes are.

This kid is a loner right now. I’ll watch carefully to see who will come and talk to him and make sure no one bullies him.

One of the reasons I took this job was to do just this. In fact, when we recently went to our administrative meeting as a district the subject of online social media came up and then that dreaded word “blog”. I’m usually the one in the room who takes a deep breath and hunches my shoulders because I just know that there are people in the room looking at me because they know about my writing. “Uh huh” a friend sitting near me said, indicating that I am the elephant in the room that no one is talking about overtly but yeah, we all know you have a blog, Kelly! Here’s the interesting thing about what I discovered about myself at that meeting: when asked if anyone had a blog and whether or not they would publish it knowing that it could be linked to a resume or personnel file I found myself sitting up straighter in my chair.

Of course I would link my writing to my job. I write carefully about my career, my students, and what I learn on a daily basis from the kids in my charge. I write passionately about them, too, and that’s probably why I’ve been offered jobs from schools where the teachers and administrators have read my blog. I am not even lying. There have been emails that begin with “you don’t know me, but a group of us teachers read your blog and we want you to come work here” and every single time I am amazed and honored at the offer.

Another reason I took this current position is that I feel very strongly about cultural representation in my position. Do I think that all schools MUST have a black principal or dean or athletic director because that is what will enable them to make AYP in our quest not to leave children behind? Absolutely not. That puts entirely too much pressure on Black educators to fix the problem of educational mediocrity in this country. But this school I’m in right now actively tries to ensure equality in the students that get to come here (via a lottery) and yet there are no black teachers here. While that dismays me I am quick to say that these students are getting a quality education and while looking over the data of this building early on in the summer I must say how impressed I am that these teachers give it their all to ensure that they are moving students into higher test score categories with their consistently high expectations. What I want to do, however, is to provide equity in who these kids get to see every day. I want all of these students to see a woman of color who is in charge. I want the white kids and the black kids to see that, if nothing else, it is possible to hold such a position and work hard to ensure a public education is of a high caliber.

You know when we have those discussions on race and I argue that I want people to see my color and not tell me they are color blind? It’s because of stuff like that. I need people to see my color. Not judge me by it and ascribe stereotypes, but see it as recognition that blacks are capable and confident to hold administrative positions in education.

The conversations leading up to me coming here were with a friend of mine who is a fellow educator. He’s also black. It went like this:

Him: “Did you know that School X is losing two teachers and both are black and now there aren’t any black educators in that building?”

Me: “W-w-what? Well. Someone should fix that!”

Him: “Yeah. How about you?”

Me: “Dang. I think you just swindled me. Quit hitting me in my weak spot, you jerk.”

It doesn’t matter how I got here, though. It matters that I’m here. Hopefully, I can keep using my voice in my writing on my blog to give a picture of what it’s like in a public school and a middle school at that. In fact, this morning I was joking about having pie for breakfast (pie filled with FRUIT) even though I keep a plethora of fresh fruit in my office as well as granola bars and dried cherries. Basically, I’m an advocate for eating healthy and I see too many students coming to school with NO breakfast whatsoever. It’s like trying to start a car with no gasoline. Have you ever tried to get a middle schooler to learn pre-algebra when they’re on empty?

Two girls were standing next to a teacher this morning and they were talking about how they were hungry and hadn’t eaten since last night. I offered to take the girls to my office and get them apples. The teacher was thrilled that I did that and sent them along with me even though I warned the girls not to let the eating get in the way of learning because I didn’t want to create a distraction in the classroom. Five minutes later the teacher called me on the phone in my office.

“Where did you get that fruit? I have three boys who haven’t eaten yet either and they’re hungry.”

“That’s my own stash but I’m happy to share. I’ll be right down with some groceries.”

It got me thinking, in my Margaret Mead way again, about how I can help students. Sure, we all buy supplies for them. Pencils and folders have flown off my shelves for the past three days because I try to identify who needs them. All teachers do this. But something as simple as eating a healthy breakfast doesn’t always take precedence. The First Lady Michelle Obama thinks this is important. So does Jamie Oliver with his Food Revolution. If you think it is, too, why not take a bag of apples into a school to donate? How about a giant box of granola bars? A bunch of bananas for an entire classroom? Wouldn’t that be an awesome way to give back to your community RIGHT NOW?

Trust me. I live in the jungle. We eat a lot of bananas here.