Those Who Can't Teach, Give

Monday I peeked into my trailer for the first time. I’m sorry, did I say trailer? I meant “mobile classroom,” just one of CMS’ many euphemisms. It contains one corkboard, one whiteboard, 38 desks, two boxes of old student papers left by the previous teacher before she walked out in disgust, and the shells of myriad dead insects.

The "Moral Monday" rallies in NC that have been happening
all summer in hopes of raising the education budget. 

Tuesday I headed straight to the dollar store, and then, ashamedly, Walmart. But as I pulled stacks of 78 cent notebooks and 50 cent folders from the shelves, to be paid for by a salary that I have not yet received and that the North Carolina government has fought to keep tiny for the past five years, I breathed a sigh of relief—god bless Walmart! In the checkout aisle, that prayer turned around; nearly everyone said, “god bless you” as they watched me leverage what were clearly teacher-sized stacks of supplies out of my cart.

I don’t yet have a key to my mobile classroom, so I approached one of the janitors and asked him to let me in. As we walked down to the mobile neighborhood, he told me, “I don’t know what they’re teaching you in those meetings, but jump on them from day 1.” When he told me kids on “this side of town can be rough, and get on your nerves,” I sighed—not the staff, too! I assured him that I am tougher than I look (he was seeing my sweet, damsel-in-distress side because I wanted him to open my trailer), fist-bumped him (he initiated), and walked in pondering a black janitor who warns about behavior management for black students. Then I got to work. I spent several hours sweeping and cloroxing the heck off of every surface in the classroom. I strategically left several of the spider webs up, since I think we share a common goal, but swept the rest of the insects, dead or alive, into the bin. I probably killed more bugs in an hour than I usually do in a year.

After school I headed to Staples for some key things I couldn’t get at Walmart and counted up my receipts with a sigh. The rest of the evening was spent emailing back and forth with my PLC about our first unit. We’re squishing Rome, Greece, and World Religions into two weeks, so we’re all fretting about good ideas and bouncing them off each other. My OCD has everyone super-impressed as I condense our plans into tables and worksheets and plop it all onto google docs.

Today I laminated and hung posters. There are the trinity: MLK, Rosie the Riveter, and Gandhi, without which my classroom would be incomplete, and then a word wall, class rules (respect yourself, respect your peers, respect your instructor), paper headings, and suggestions on how to state your opinion during class. The room is colorful, but still rather blank in spaces. I left the back wall for student work, so I figure as soon as the kids start producing work I’ll slap it on the walls. Then I schlepped 30 textbooks from the A-building into my trailer. Three computers had magically shown up; when I told the janitors that they’re like elves dispensing goodies, they were tickled. We sat in professional development for awhile this afternoon, but I have yet to figure out my copy code, get my rosters, access the grading site, or have crisis training. Still, school starts Monday, whether I know who’s in my classes or not!

The Most Important Poster

A note: Like some other TFAers, I’ve started a GoFundMe page called, “Those Who Can’t Teach, Give” where you can donate to my quest for school supplies.