A ROOM IS ENOUGH
I should have known the minute my students tried to reroute me from my classroom.
It was my first year of teaching. At the time, someone might hand you a box of chalk and a contract to read, but the rest of the rules you learn by breaking them. I learned, for example, that bulletin boards need to be updated every month, have a rubric and an exemplar on them, and display a small but notable range of tasks to showcase student mastery and teacher feedback. I barely updated it because I was too busy learning how to teach. I had stacks of ungraded papers and half-baked lesson plans all over my desk, and every lunch I ate had a chalky after-taste.
I also had a mild but stubborn case of oppositional defiance disorder stemming from years of activism and the George W. Bush era. A bulletin board seemed quaint in comparison to my other pressing duties.
But on January 24th of that school year, my 7H3 students decided to reroute me on multiple occasions from getting to my room. My assistant principal and the math coach were also in on it because they made our small talk longer talk. By the time I caught onto the jig, I let it happen. The window on my classroom door was dark. The student desks were pushed to the walls. The student who kept rerouting me guided me into a loud room where students yelled “SURPRIIIISE!”
I wasn’t expecting much of anything for my birthday, but the rice and beans and Dominican cake CONTINUE READING: A Room Is Enough | The Jose Vilson
