When I hear people say teachers are just babysitters I must resist my urge to punch them in the face. Teachers, counselors, and any staff that work in school are so much more than what their job description implies. That became even more apparent to me today at work...
One of the high school seniors I work with was shot over the weekend. It wasn't fatal and he will live but it was a wake up call and a loud one. The advocacy and counseling I do with my students is serious. The problems these teenagers face are real. There is no babysitting involved when there is a life on the line.
I never knew anyone that was shot before today. I never knew anyone personally that was shot. I never had a one-to-one conversation with someone that was shot. But now I have. I can't help but think how every word I say to these kids means something; I hope they stay longer in the after-school program instead of hanging out on the block, or think twice about getting in that car with their friend, or not going to that party at 1am in The Projects.
The student that was shot over the weekend was not the best student by a long shot. He was disruptive, disrespectful, and vulgar, but he was also smart, and funny, and creative. He would be act tough in front of his friends and become a clown when he had and audience but speaking with him one on one I realized he was much more. He was clever, and had ambition. The most challenging thing about my job is working with bright students on the honor roll, getting outstanding grades and seeing them act like thugs in the street and in the classroom, when I know deep down they really aren't. They have so much potential, yet they are still befallen to the subversive social atmosphere of their community.
I knew working with students in Harlem would be tough but I honestly thought for different reasons. The students are not that bad, I never got attacked, or even cursed out directly. Most of the students are just closed off and defensive from years of people constantly abandoning them and not caring for them. When I started my new job over the summer all I would get in response when trying to engage the students were comments like "who are you mister? get away from me" or a non verbal cold shoulder. I stuck with it though and didn't give up. Even when my exact case-load is of AP Juniors I still divide my time helping out the struggling Seniors, and I think they finally noticed.
For the past couple of weeks HCZ has pushed an intensive writing workshop in order for the seniors to finish their Personal Statements for their college applications. I was working 11 hour shifts, going through regular class hours and staying for after-school programming with the students, and I even came in last Saturday for a few hours as well.
It was like pulling teeth for some of the students. They didn't seem to have one introspective bone in their body! We would tell the students to find something about them that is unique, a story of personal triumph or resilience, a time when they were so interested in a topic they researched in outside of school hours, but they would give us blank stares. I knew that just growing up in Harlem they all had a story to tell of resilience. New York City is tough, but Harlemites are a special breed of hard-core. They are the Marines of disenfranchised .
One of the Seniors I was working with I had never actually seen before, which is odd because there are only 62 of them in total. The seniors got out of school at 3pm and he would never show up for after-school (where I primarily work), so when I sat down to work with this student I was pretty much a stranger approaching another stranger. We sat for a long time, I would ask questions- he would give on word answers. He was soft-spoken and quiet, reminded me of myself actually. All he had written was an outline of traumatic experiences his family went through while he was growing up. The page was full. Yet he said he had no story to tell. I kept with him and we got a few sentences down, the beginnings of an opening paragraph, then we had to break for lunch. He seemed engaged in what we were doing, but also eager to get away from it all.
I was sitting in another classroom with some coworkers and other students eating the food, the school ordered for us all when I heard a voice calling my name from the doorway-
"Nick! Come on, what are you doing? Let's go" The student said.
I couldn't believe my ears. He was looking for me! He finished his lunch in 5 minutes and was ready to continue on his essay. My heart was silent, it had skipped so many beats that instant I could hardly breath. I had a breakthrough! One of the students finally accepted me and better yet wanted my help, me! It was an incredible feeling that reinforced my reason for working at the school.
We educators are more than babysitters, teachers, counselors and mentors. I can't help but think how fragile this students sense of trust is for an adult, and it warms me to think that he trusts me enough to share his life story and allow me to help him write it.
I fucking love my job.
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