I teach at a school where 98% of the students are ESL or former ESL. Some of them were born here in America and are still, in 8th grade, in ESL classes. About 85% of the students are hispanic and a number are from various countries/continents around the world. A smallish percentage (though it grows each year) are refugees from different countries in Africa and Bosnia and can tell you incredible, horrific stories. And most of the refugees know Spanish as well as English, if not better, probably as a survival method in their neighborhood. 98% of the students qualify for a free and reduced lunch. More kids than we know about, I'm sure (though we know about a lot), are abused at home--both in the past and ongoing. Every year I have students who have been raped. And students who are pregnant and have their babies during the year. A good chunk of the students are in a gang--and every year I find out after they've left that some of my sweetest, best students were in one of the gangs. I'm not even going to guess what percentage, but it's high because, if you live in their neighborhood it's almost a matter of protection in a lot of cases. A lot of them were taught bilingually (which really means in Spanish), until 5th grade. And which means that English is still hard--hard to write in, talk in, think in. And that makes learning hard when they get to middle school, because there are no more bilingual classes.
This year, academically, I've got the spectrum of kids. I've got the Vanguard/GT class, though this class in and off itself has a wide variety of students--some are GT kids, some are ESL and GT, some are just ESL and some are Special Ed. Overall, they work hard and are sweet kids. And then, I've got a transitional ESL class. All but 5 of them failed TAKS last year, and pretty much every year they've taken it, but have been passed on the the next grade. The average independent reading level is somewhere around 4th grade. They would rather talk and be silly than learn anything, probably because there's no risk of failure in that. They push back whenever someone tries to push them academically. They are sweet kids and obsessed with my baby--if it's moving yet, if it's growing right, what we're going to name it. They always want to touch my belly and talk to the baby. But, any time they are called out on anything they're doing wrong, their first (and seemingly only) response, is defensiveness and disrespect and rudeness.
Within the last few days, I've had one little girl have her baby boy and make it home safely to begin her home bound studies for the next few months, found out one of my students was violently raped last year and the man who did it was just put in prison for many years, watched out my window as 2 sixth graders were caught and suspended for smoking cigarettes, found out that one of my colleagues sweet 7th graders has been being abused by her father since Christmas and had 4 of my students (8 eighth graders total), suspended and arrested for selling/using weed and handelbars at school.
Maybe it's because it's my last year teaching and I'm starting to feel sentimental, or maybe it's something else, but just recently it's been hitting me just how broken these kids are. As one of my colleagues said yesterday, so many of our students that walk in to our school are just so damaged. The little girl who we just found out has been abused by her dad cringes whenever she acts out in class and he even sternly tells her to stop, so he's having to figure out how to work with her, as a male, as her teacher, as someone who knows what she's dealing with. And it's the same story with my little boy who's being physically abused by his father and emotionally abused by his mom and tried to commit suicide for real earlier this year when I called him mom in for a parent conference. Normal rules don't apply.
And more and more, I'm having days where I sometimes could care less about their reading levels and if they can write poetry and define what a simile is. I find myself caring more about how they react to me and each other, the rules they think don't apply to them, how they can be as rude and disrespectful as they want, to me or the principal or the cop or whoever, and not think there is anything wrong with it. I'm disturbed by the things they talk about and the language they use and the terrible things they find normal, the brokenness they find normal.
I think over the last few years, both in teaching and in working at The Mission, I'd almost become immune to it. Not totally, but somewhat. Somewhere along the line, the disrespect and the drugs and the broken families and the gangs and the cursing every other word and everything else, just became normal. But yesterday, between hearing about another kid being abused (and CPS being called and called and nothing being done) and something really disrespectful that went on in one of my classes that made me just stop teaching and stop to think, I think God is opening my eyes and softening my heart again to the brokenness.
I don't know what the next years of my life will look like, but I feel like God is confirming that the inner city is still where my heart is and still where I'm called to do something, but maybe in a different way. Maybe in a way that can help fix some of the brokenness, to help speak God and truth into their lives, to be someone who cares about them and loves them and doesn't have to care more about whether they're reading or writing. Because those things are important, and in America almost essential to being able to live the life of your dreams (whatever that may be) but they're not the end all, be all. Jesus Christ is, and for so many of my kids and families, that's what's missing. And they're trying to fill it with everything the world has to offer and, just like when I try to do that in my life, it just doesn't work.
No comments:
Post a Comment