“Another trailer? You better be kidding!”

As I reflect on the stories I have shared thus far, I realize, none yet include students from my first year of teaching.  The reality being, of the eleven students I started the year with in the first week of school, only four remained in my classroom for most of the year. 

Over the last eighteen and a half years since welcoming these souls into my life, the biases I held were strong yet unconscious. It is hard to admit, but unfortunately it is my truth.  Most saddening though is in too many circumstances, not being aware of these biases, I was complicit in unequal treatment and outcomes for most of my students and for some, I allowed them to be treated more like criminals. 

In December 2001 I knew I would be moving from Colorado to somewhere in North Carolina (NC) to teach middle school students with special needs. After arriving in NC, I interviewed for a middle school Exceptional Children’s (EC- the term used in place of special education) teacher in Nash County NC for students with Behavioral and Emotional Disabilities (BED). I was hired and told I would be teaching a combined class of sixth grade and seventh grade students. In August, before teachers were expected back, I called the school to see if I could come visit and see my classroom.  My assistant principal said he would be there to show me around.  After introductions he guided me to the back of the building where he shared, “This will be your classroom.  I know it is small.  In fact…” he laughed “…it used to be the school’s smoking lounge. For the last few years, it has been used as storage.”  

At that moment I should have questioned what this meant for my students however, inequity didn’t cross my mind and instead I thought, “I can work with this.”   

I spent two days transforming the small storage space into a classroom. The Thursday before the first day of school, we hosted the annual back to school family night.  I met three of my students that night, one who was not yet on my roster. This would mean I was up to eight students.  Thankfully, eight desks could fit into the classroom.

My first “classroom” (the former teachers’ smoking lounge).

On the first day of my teaching career, I welcomed my sixth graders:  Derrick, Eric, William, Jamar, Jamal, and my seventh graders, Nic, Perry, and Laquan.  To my surprise I also welcomed an additional sixth grader, Charles and an additional seventh grader, Mike.  I also received word that by Wednesday of that week, I would be welcoming one more sixth grader.  This would put my class at a total of 11 students.  

At that time, by law, every teacher who taught students with behavioral and emotional disabilities was guaranteed one assistant for every six students. The classroom’s assistant was Ms. Lynch. Further, Jamar had recently been released from an in-patient behavioral treatment facility and therefore the state required that he have a shadow with him at all times.  Knowing that this old smoking lounge now had ten students (soon to be eleven) with three adults and only room for eight student desks, within the day, the school’s administration knew they needed to give us another room.  So we moved… to the In-School Suspension (ISS) room.  

My students handled the transition seamlessly and we went on our way.  However, the relatively “calm” nature of that first day of school did not last and I would be awakened to not only the challenges of being a first year teacher, but also the oppressive system in which “troubled boys” would not last. And by the end of the week, I would be down two students and our class would finally be moved to a trailer outside to be less of “a nuisance and distraction to the rest of the students who [were there] to learn.”  

On the second day of school, Jamar arrived before his shadow.  When he came into the classroom, he said with his lisp, “Miss, I need to eat breakfast.” As a two day old teacher, I had no idea the protocol.  Luckily, the principal happened to be walking past our new classroom. 

 “Ah Ms. A!” I exclaimed, “Can I ask you a quick question?”

 “Quickly!” she replied. 

“I have a student who came to class first but who still needs to eat breakfast. What should I do?” 

Instead of responding to me, she looked at the student and said, “You’re in middle school now so you need to know this for yourself!  Just like we have been communicating all summer and in all of our orientations, when you get here, you need to go straight to the cafeteria and get your breakfast.  The bell is about to ring so you will need to remember this tomorrow.” 

While she responded, Jamar put his head down on his desk. When the principal left the room, Jamar began pounding his fists.  Heart pounding, I walked to my desk, grabbed the granola bar I had personally brought for breakfast and offered it to Jamar. He yelled, “Fuck you!” as he smacked away my hand.  

At that point Ms. Lynch had arrived and the majority of my boys were in the classroom.  With terror, I turned to her and whispered, “What do we do now?”  She said, “We get the rest of the boys out of the room. You take them and I will work with Jamar.”

Mustering as much confidence as I could, I said, “Alright boys, we are stepping out now. So come on!” They reluctantly followed.  While in the hallway, Jamar’s shadow arrived and the boys were all too eager to let her know what was happening.  As she entered the classroom, shouting began and it was clear furniture was being thrown.  While I tried to manage my other nine students, the School Resource Officer (SRO) entered the room. There was more yelling, more rustling of furniture and approximately ten minutes later the commotion subsided. The door finally opened. Jamar was handcuffed and escorted out of the room. That was the last time the class and I ever saw Jamar. 

The third day of school we received our newest student Chris, which put us back to 10 students.   For most of the day, the students did well  however, toward the end of the day, something happened between Charles and Jamal.  I can’t recall what prompted the exchange, but one announced, “You want to go?” and the other lunged.  Ms. Lynch jumped in the middle and managed to hold Charles back. Once again not knowing what to do Ms. Lynch told me to contact the SRO. 

When he arrived, arguing ensued and while the SRO remained calm, the students’ tempers rose.  I was able to get Jamal out of the room and have him come on a brief walk with me while Ms. Lynch kept an eye on the rest of the class and while Charles spoke to the SRO.  Unfortunately, upon Jamal’s and my return, Charles bound once more at Jamal.  The SRO stepped in this time trying to restrain Charles.  Charles yelled, “Get your hands off of me!” And ran out the door with the SRO following him. 

At the end of the day when the class and I walked to dismissal, we noticed Charles running around the busses with the SRO calmly following him. The electives teachers, all of whom had duty that period, told me I should go help because students can’t be running around the lot with the busses about to leave.  Leaving the class with Ms. Lynch, I walked outside and pleaded, “Charles, please come with me! The busses are about to leave and I just want you to be safe!” To my surprise, he came! We walked into the building and were told to wait in the office while the admin called his mom.  

While we waited I asked Charles, “What happened?” No words came out, he simply broke down and cried.  He continued to cry and when his mom arrived, she said, “I am done!  I don’t know what to do with this child, but nothing is working.” The principal informed Charles’s mom that he would be suspended due to insubordination and could return to school the following Monday. That was the last time the class and I saw Charles.  

Day four was calmer yet still eventful. While I was working with a small group of my seventh graders, some students were working independently while another small group was working with Ms. Lynch.  All seemed fine until Chris raised his hand and asked, “Can I move?  Mike said he was going to kill me.” 

“Ummm…. yes?” I replied and asked Mike, “Did you say that?”

“Yeah,” Mike said.  “He was humming and getting on my nerves.”  

In Mike’s hand were a pair of scissors. Despite my requests, demands, and pleas, Mike would not hand over the scissors.  This time, Ms. Lynch called the SRO, who came to the class and escorted Mike out.  Fortunately, Mike did return to class.

Before I left school that fourth day, all three administrators sat Ms. Lynch and me down and said, “Your students are too much of a nuisance and distraction to the rest of the students who are here to learn.”  They decided to move us once again, this time however outside the building to a trailer.  They also informed us that we needed to rely less on the SRO as there are other needs in the school besides my students.  

As I moved everything to the third classroom that week, with my achievement strength I was determined to prove myself to my students and the admin.  I stayed late into the night helping the custodians move desks, an old chalkboard, two computers and the rest of the materials and resources I had already put up twice before.

That Friday morning, while I waited inside the trailer for my students to arrive, I heard a raucous outside.  One student exclaimed, “Ahhhhh hell no! Another trailer! You better be kidding! That’s what they think of us!”

I opened the door, trying to greet the boys and Ms. Lynch (who was now required to escort the students to class) but was interrupted by Nic who exclaimed, “Nope! I ain’t going in! Every year they put us in a trailer.”  

While the rest of the boys slowly shuffled in and found their respective desks, Ms. Lynch eventually got Nic to come inside.  Thinking, if we just got to the lesson we could move on from the turbulent morning but not realizing that my haste to “push through” meant that I was ultimately ignoring their need to process and talk about their frustrations.  The “lesson” itself did not go well as the boys’ anxiety and frustration over the move was not addressed and instead, they all ended up sitting in isolated study desks that I thought would help them decompress. No real learning happened that day, nor did real restorative processes.  

My first week as a teacher had ended with a gain of four students and a loss of two.  By the end of the semester, my class of eleven whittled down to five.  Perry, Laquan, Nic, Chris, and Eric. I lost Jamar, Charles, Mike, and William for circumstances that ultimately prevented them from being in a “regular” school setting. Knowing what I know now, I could have advocated differently.  Sadly, both Derrick and Jamal moved. One silver lining however was, at the end of first semester, we were able to exit Perry out of the BED classification.  I lost Ms. Lynch and gained Mr. Lewis, who became my partner in crime and the best assistant any teacher could ask for. Semester two I also gained another Chris and another William as well as Terrell and my one and only female student that year, Angela (whom I referred to as my saving grace and my “angel”). 

I lost a lot that year: students, battles, belief, hope, pride.  But more importantly and especially now in retrospect, I gained a lot that year as well: humility, hope, belief, advocacy, and so much more. 

To all the students I never saw again in my first year of teaching,

I am sorry.  While I didn’t have time to necessarily learn from each of you, over the past two decades I have learned a lot about myself and what I would have done differently in those first few days and weeks of school and what I commit to doing differently now.

Not knowing how important relationships and culture were, I thought I needed to jump into teaching curriculum immediately, mind you, not knowing your learning needs and/ or the approximate grade levels you were performing, meant, the first few days of school I was giving you content that 1) meant little to you and 2) I had no idea if you could even comprehend.  

Instead of trying to get to know you and work on ways to deescalate situations, I called the SRO and allowed you to be treated like criminals.  I supported the administration’s decisions for your suspensions and transfers instead of advocating for you to remain a student within my classroom.  I opted for “easier for me” versus better outcomes for your lives.  When you came to school without your medicine, instead of providing you space to exert your energy, I confined and  isolated you to study desks.  And often, I didn’t give you an appropriate outlet, in turn causing a behavior that ultimately resulted in a suspension and mandated meetings that discussed “better” environments.

Here’s what I wish had had done: 

Jamar- I wish I would have never stopped the principal and instead had simply said, “When Ms. Lynch or your shadow get here, we will go to the cafeteria so you know where to go tomorrow.” 

Charles- I wish I would have let your tears be a sign of remorse and said, “Let him be at school tomorrow. Ms. Lynch and I can find a way to keep him and Jamal apart and when the time is right we can work to have a restorative conversation.”

Mike- Your mom advocated for and loved you so much.  Instead of agreeing with the school’s administration that it might be in your best interest to be transferred to another program at another school, I should have said, “Let’s make some changes and see if these changes lead to more success.  Trust that I’ve got yours and your mom’s backs.” 

William- I wish I would have ensured you were seeing a school counselor regularly and giving you the time and space you needed to process the trauma you had endured throughout your life. The resources were all around me and never did I utilize them to their capabilities.  You deserved so much more from me. 

Jamal- I don’t ultimately know where you went, but I know it had to do with living without your family and required you move to a different town.  I remember the strides you were making and most importantly your love for checkers and chess. These games were your deescalation.  I remember how hard it was for you to read but how seamless it was for you to see five moves ahead when playing a game of chess.  I wish we had more time to see what could have come out of that year.  

Derrick- I remember first meeting you and watching you pick up a baby out of a stroller and making her giggle and laugh. I thought this baby was your sister. I asked you her name and you shrugging and saying “I don’t know.”  I looked at the woman pushing the stroller thinking maybe she knew you and asked, “How long have the two of you known each other?” Laughing, she responded, “I am meeting him for the first time right now.”  You had this beautiful way of breaking the ice, making people smile and so much potential.  While I don’t know where you ended up, I wish I could have supported you through your own exit of the program because in my heart, I know it was not the right environment for you.   

It should not have taken me so long to realize I should and could have advocated differently.  For years, I never dreamt of wanting to go back and endure that first year again, but now more than ever, I wish I could because you would have a different teacher and a different educational experience.  An education where instead of working with a smoking lounge as a teacher I would have asked, “What does this say about how this school views students with these types of needs?”  I would have advocated like hell to keep you in the classroom and found more ways for each of you to be successful.  

I can’t go back, but moving forward, for all the students I work with now and for all teachers I support, they will know, the teacher you deserved is the educator I am committed to being, each and every day! 

With regret and love, 

Ms. Adams 

Put learning about and knowing your students first! 

Had I spent that first week really understanding each of my students, knowing who they were, what made them tick, what academic levels they were entering, I would not have found out the hard way. And, by the hard way I mean students acting out due to the fact that they couldn’t do something or did not have the coping mechanisms to support their emotions.  As teachers, in your first few weeks of school, it is imperative to build in time to talk one on one with students, infuse culture building and “getting to know each other” activities.  Check out the “Lessons Learned” portion of “Are you sure you want to teach?” post to see some of my favorite activities.  Also, be sure that you prioritize diagnostics in those first few weeks of school.  As you are making your first 30 day plans, be sure to know from your school what you use to assess your students’ learning levels, when you will assess the data and how to interpret the data so that when you are building content, you can ensure you have ways to make the content accessible to all of your students.  

Let culture take precedence

I was so set on teaching content in that first semester. I thought when a student exhibited behavior indicating they didn’t “want” to learn on a given day, then that day was lost.  I would then isolate the student and essentially leave the student “alone” while they slept, colored, drew… basically anything that kept them quiet.  Initially, I didn’t think I could help them and actually engage them in learning.  Committed to changing my experience and theirs, in our second semester I actually put culture first and instead of diving right into content each day, we began with check-ins to see where students’ emotional needs were.  I also amped up the incentives in the classroom where students would work for computer game time, cafeteria lunches, chess, classroom celebrations, recess (despite being middle school), helping in the classroom of exceptional students with severe mental disabilities and so many other things that mattered to my students.  By shifting the focus less on “covering” content and more on building culture, my students actually began to learn more content.  Had I known how important culture building (inclusive of internalizing clear expectations, procedures, and mindsets) was to the learning outcomes of my students, we would not have lost so much learning time during the first semester.   

Utilize and advocate like hell for the resources around you

As a first year teacher, I really had no clue what resources were available and if I did know they existed, I did not know how to use them.  As I reflect on that first year, my school had three counselors and all of whom I could have utilized for the support of the emotional needs of my students.  Not once did I send my students to the counselors and/ or set up regular check-ins.  If your school has counselors and your students need counseling, talk to your students’ families and secure time and space for them to have this much needed emotional and mental support. For all of the school counselors I have met, none entered into the profession to be glorified college and career counselors nor did they enter into the profession to be test coordinators.  Had I utilized the counselors, my students could have received much needed services. We also had a school social worker who was at the school at least once a week.  I met her once when Ms. Lynch had noticed the boys needing new shoes and found a way to get each student a new pair. That was the only time we utilized the social worker’s services.  I now know, when I couldn’t get a hold of Jamal’s family that first month of school, the social worker could have taken me on a home visit.  If you have a social worker or community advocate/ team at your school and have students with needs that could be met by the services they can provide, I encourage you to set up a monthly check-in with them as they will likely provide you immense insight in how they can support your students and your students’ families.   

For free resources including:

  • Planning Your First 30 Days Template
  • Example Behavior Plan
  • School and Community Asset Map Template

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