Wow, I Need My Working Wand!

 On day four of my first week of work, I was told that a kid sitting near my desk had tested positive for COVID. Five students were sent home to quarantine, but I got to stay because I am vaccinated.

I was prepared for this. My guess is the whole school will shut down before Christmas. But in the meantime, I have need for my working wand.

Those of you who have been following my meandering life will know that I have two magic wands: a ceremonial wand and a working wand. The working wand, though it is charged with magic, just looks like a stick. It's quite portable. Comes in handy.

There are so many reasons for taking a wand to work that I can hardly list them all in a single post. I've never faced anything like this autumn. Not even last autumn, when I sat in an empty classroom, fearing my colleagues and their lax habits.

All the students (who aren't in quarantine) have returned to class. They are required to wear masks. Which, being teenagers, they try to finesse. They must put their phones away while in class. Which, being teenagers, they try to finesse. They have to wear uniforms and ID cards. Which, being teenagers ... never mind. You get it.

I teach 9th grade. But this year I am teaching kids who missed 8th grade. I don't know if you can remember back to those awful middle school years, but you will no doubt recall that there's some maturity that happens in 8th grade. It didn't happen. The kids are immature and squirrely. Some of them, when told gently to put their phones away, shut down and put their heads on their desks.

But I saved the worst for last.

I always get at least one inclusion class. For those of you not up on your teacher lingo, an inclusion class contains students who need special, individual support for a variety of reasons. Inclusion classes are co-taught with a Special Ed teacher. I have worked with many such teachers, always in a spirit of collegiality.

This year I need my wand.

I am saddled with a loutish young man probably still in his twenties. Do I need to say more if I tell you he got full-blown COVID last winter from hanging out in a bar with his buddies? Well, sadly, there's more. The chump is chock-a-block with toxic masculinity. Let's put aside that he complains about other teachers he has worked with. He is poison to my students.

After he snarled at the class most of last week (earning their hatred right out of the gate, trust me), I told him I would handle the discipline. Not ten minutes later, he got in the face of a stripling girl of 14 and dressed her down for something I had just handled. The girl wound up shaking and crying.

Not on my damn watch. Wand up, shields up, time to detox this masculine pest.

I'm not a confrontational person. But little girls aren't going to cry in my classroom. I also bleed Union blue, and this guy is in my bargaining unit, but I'm prepared to go to his supervisor if he doesn't shape the hell up.

You know what I hate? I hate people who project doom. I can't feature someone who could say, "IF YOU HAVE YOUR PHONE OUT, YOU'LL HAVE NOTHING BUT TROUBLE HERE AT THIS SCHOOL, AND YOU DON'T WANT THAT KIND OF TROUBLE."

For the love of fruit flies! It's not like these kids are out drinking with their buddies in a pandemic!

So, as my beloved Yellowdog Grannny says, "Chin up, tits out." And wands out. And spines straight. I'm not only teaching the students, I'm teaching a teacher.

By the way, my room is full of the books you all donated to me. I got a whopping $200 from the school district last spring, but I'm well set, thanks to you. I haven't forgotten.