Parent-teacher conferences just ended. What a scene. Few
parents/guardians of 17-21 year-old students at the alternative/transfer NYC
high school whereI teach actually attend, but when they do, previously
mysterious or incomprehensible student behavior is instantaneously cast in
full relief. You realize: Well no wonder the kid’s a total basket-case.
Some parents barely lift their eyes to mine. The formula is
simple. The school = institutional authority = avoid at all costs = me. I don’t
know why they come at all. Others stare at me: curious maybe, uncomprehending,
simply bewildered, or perhaps incredulous… I don’t know, maybe they’re
wondering how a person of my age and skin tone (I try not to take it
personally) can possibly control, no less teach, a class full of rowdy
teenagers? Or the ones who break my heart – toothless and jittery, they rant
self-righteously about their lazy kid. Make me promise to call. And then it all
comes together. Crack ain’t dead in the ghetto, folks.
Heartbreaking picture that you paint. It makes you just weep to think about the human waste. Kids suffer so much. I can’t imagine making something beautiful happen out of such pain and suffering. Just to try is a very brave, beautiful action to take. Thank you.
The strength exhibited by many students, past and present, dwarfs any show of bravery I could possibly muster.