My Boobs Is Leakin'!

*Names have been changed to protect the unpleasant!

Teaching in an inner-city school offers many challenges, and teachers often claim they have seen everything. A fourteen-year-old taught me there is always more to see!

In 2008 my school piloted a teaming program for our freshmen students. During the summer, our data specialist spent a great deal of time sorting the incoming freshmen into groups according to their level of need. The red students were in danger of dropping out or being expelled due to attendance and behavior, while the green students were self-motivated to earn top marks and graduate with honors.

The teachers on my team were all seasoned educators with experience working on freshmen teams; therefore, the principal thought it would be a great idea to load up our team with students from the orange and red groups. He planned to compare the growth of our students to the growth of students on yellow and green teams to show the importance of experienced teachers to student success.

I felt doomed from the start. My co-teacher's former job was in film. She wore flowing outfits in bland colors and swayed her way through the days at the back of the classroom. She was new to teaching and had little sense of self-preservation. Connie would be a problem.

My eighth period English 1 class was large and fractious. I struggled to keep them moving forward with the curriculum as I spent most of my time disciplining unruly students. The behaviors were off the charts compared to my former years at the school. Students threw things, hit each other, swore profusely, left the room without permission, threatened me, slept, wandered aimlessly, knocked each other's work off desks, and generally behaved like they were characters in Lord of the Flies. 

I have never had difficulty with discipline in my classes, and I certainly did not seek the help of counselors and deans to figure out behavior plans. I did both that year. As a team we came up with a system to help the students learn to govern themselves. I set the plan in motion and had high hopes it would work. Connie the useless co-teacher found a ginormous wrench and threw it into this plan shattering it beyond all recognition.

Every disciplinary action I took was undone by Connie. She gave students permission to leave their desks during instruction. She wrote restroom passes for students who had not earned the privilege according to the discipline plan. She argued with me in front of students when I would correct their behavior. Generally, Connie was a bigger pain in my booty than the students.

I took my complaints to the heads of the English and Special Education departments. They tried to work with us to find a middle ground, but Connie was having none of it. She insisted I was too harsh, and it was my fault the students were acting out. I was at a loss and finally demanded she either stay out of the classroom or sit mutely in the corner. Connie chose the corner.

Eventually the students settled down and eighth period was moving forward. There was only one student who remained on Santa's naughty list, Ada.

Ada had given birth over the summer. Her father and stepmother thought it wise to take away her baby and only let her see him for breast feeding. They were hoping this would curb her wild behavior; it did the opposite.

Ada ran wild in the hallways. She started fights and was disliked by many of her peers. Her outbursts during class led to her removal several times a day, so her dean met with my team to discuss an individual behavior plan for Ada. The largest component of the plan included keeping Ada in class and ignoring her disruptive behavior. Great plan. I loved it.

Despite my skepticism, I did my best to ignore the swearing, yelling, pushing, shoving, and wandering behavior of Ada. The plan began to work, and Ada would sometimes sit and complete work during class. My joy knew no bounds.

About a month into the plan, Ada jumped up during class and hustled out the door. I followed her into the hall and called, "Ada, you've been doing so well. Why are you leaving class without permission."

Ada turned, whipped up her shirt and shrieked, "Miss, my boobs is leakin'!" I had no words as she scuttled down the hall and disappeared around the corner.

April 1, 2009 was the day I learned I had definitely NOT seen everything; however, I could now place leaky boobs on my "Seen" list.