I leaned against the door frame that separated the two rooms. I looked to the left and then to the right. On my left was a commercial kitchen complete with a deep fryer and convection oven. To my right was a classroom. This was to be my domain for the school year. I was in another new, unforeseen situation. I had attended classes during the summer and added another certification to my teaching certificate.
My students were freshmen girls identified as potential dropouts. They were a diverse group before the word diversity became a buzzword. I had to file forms reporting ethnicity. I reported an equal number of (1) black; (2) white, Hispanic origin; (3) white, non-Hispanic, non-Asian. We looked good on paper.
They were getting along well. They had willingly participated in my cutesy ice breakers and get acquainted exercises. They were becoming friends. Before this school day ended, I would observe how cohesive they had become.
It was the end of the day on Friday of the first week of school. A mandatory pep rally would end the day. I was pleased with the first week.
The girls drifted in somewhat louder and more relaxed than usual. They only had to get through a brief class and a pep rally before their weekend began. I finished my planned lesson and asked for questions. The only question was, “Do we have to go to the pep rally?” “
Yes.”
Another question followed. “Couldn’t we just stay here with you?”
“No. I will be going to the pep rally too. Why don’t you want to go?”
The answer puzzled me. “Aww, ma’am, you know. We don’t mean nothing to them. Nobody will know but you if we don’t go.”
Almost involuntarily I heard myself utter, “Them?”
They shot back, “You know, the smart, popular kids.”
I was literally saved by the bell which rang before I could formulate a response.
I was pondering this exchange as I climbed the stairs to the hallway in front of the gymnasium. The vocational classrooms in this new program were directly under the gym. I thought how apt the name given this area was. The students had dubbed it the dungeon.
I stood at the gym entrance observing as the activities began. Students were allowed to sit wherever they chose rather than in designated seats. Most of them wanted as near the middle of the bleachers as possible. I noticed my students on the two topmost rows near the end of the rows.
I eased into the second row on the same end. There was no one near me. I was watching the cheerleaders intently when I sensed someone behind me. Then I took a sidewise glance and saw some girls beside me. After a few minutes, there were girls on the other side of me. By the closing yells, they were clustered around me. There we sat like a mother hen and her chicks. Was I their security blanket?
Their presence brought a heaviness to me. It was as if each girl had placed a brick on my shoulder as she came close. I realized the biggest task before me was not to teach them the skills needed for work in a commercial kitchen. I was confident I could do that. I needed to give them the confidence they needed to move forward feeling a sense of pride in their personal worth. I wanted them to feel comfortable enough to sit in the middle of “them.” I wanted them to “mean something” to themselves. Only then would the weight be lifted from my shoulders.