Maybe It Is God's Work

Fighting for the souls of the next generation

The Devil is real.

I’ve seen him.

I’ve seen him steal young souls and drag them into the hell of violence, crime, and substance use.

I’ve seen him standing on the side of the classroom, waiting for a moment when he can grab a seventh or eighth grader and suck all the potential out of them like a vampire drinking blood. I’ve seen him laugh when kids start to deal drugs, or steal things from the corner store.

I’ve also seen him walk away angry from a schoolyard, shocked that he got beat in a fight.

The Devil is real. Come do what I do, see what I see, and you too will find that abstractions like “the downstream effects of poverty” will fade fast. The Devil wants our boys in jail or dead. The Devil wants our girls raped and evicted. The Devil wants the sweet senior ladies at the YMCA at 7 am yoga class to be afraid to leave their homes, and to sit by their phone waiting for the news that another son, another nephew, another grandson has been taken by a gun shot.

So when I go to work in the morning, sure, I’ll be making a paycheck. But what I’m really doing is standing up to the Devil. In a million small ways, and not always well, I’m trying to do God’s work.

I used to get really annoyed, even angry, when people would say that the work I do is God’s work. “It’s not God’s work,” I’d say. “It’s enabling a broken system to keep going.” Those of you who know how much I hate the word “enabling” know that by the time I use it, things are pretty bad. It felt like that for awhile though. Knowing how broken parts of the educational system are, but going in and repressing every screaming instinct in me to get through the day and make a paycheck felt like perpetuating a bad system.

Until I met the schools where I now work. There is a God and he works through the brave men and women I get to see almost every day, whether they are Christian, Muslim, Jewish, or none of the above - and some are more than one of the above! The kids don’t know it, but these folks are putting their very lives on the line to help the students grow up to be productive, happy, critically thinking men and women. This is a rough town, and educators are subject to threats all the time. Just walking in the neighborhoods of the buildings is dangerous.

When they take the cell phone away because it’s against the rules to have it out - when they break up a fight in the hall before it escalates - when they give difficult assignments and expect the kids to really try - that’s God. They haven’t given up, or given in to cultural trends. Children are not clothes to be changed with the latest fashion. They are the real human beings of the future. I like to imagine the boys I teach growing into caring, dependable fathers who can provide security and guidance to their own sons and daughters - maybe the fathers they never had. To make that happen, we have to fight a culture of violence, crime, and dysfunction.

It’s frustrating. Most of us have had the experience of watching someone repeatedly do something that is not in their own self-interest, and watching it on a grand scale with hundreds of kids per week gets exhausting. I am a human, and while you can’t take things personally in the work I do, it’s impossible not to feel something when you are routinely ignored, disobeyed, talked over and cursed near if not at.

But for the most part, I have pretty good days. Sixth graders tell me they are too old for stickers, so I inform them that in fact they are not old enough. Since the boys at the high school love stickers, clearly their love of stickers will increase with their maturity. I love seeing my favorite administrators when it’s been awhile, or when it’s just the next day. I pass out superhero stickers, but they are the real superheros. Any of them could have gone an easier path, but there they are in the hood, watching some kids who got in trouble eat lunch silently and sullenly in their office. These men have the added responsibility of being father figures to children who don’t have fathers in the home, and who may have lost their fathers to violence or incarceration. They model proper male behavior at all times. I have never seen one lose his temper or his cool, and as a sub I see everything.

The male administrators also teach respect for women. You can tell in the way they talk to the boys about having a sub. “You will show the same respect for Ms. Smith as you would for your regular teacher.” No matter how good I am at my job, and I’m good, I still need the backup of strong administrators making it clear that just because there is a sub does not mean it’s anarchy time.

Kids often seem surprised when I enforce the rules. No phones, sit down, give a try at the work, and don’t beat each other up during my class period please. I think a lot of subs just show up and watch. In the regular schools there’s often not much more you can do - without an administrator there who will enforce real consequences, there is literally nothing you can do about bad behavior or breaking the rules, so you pick your battles. My most important function is making sure the children of all ages are safe, so if things escalate to a safety issue, wherever I am, I call the appropriate person for help. But in the charters the parents expect more, the administrators who hired us expect more, and the teachers who are out expect more. We may not be able to teach much of a lesson (no one will pay attention, it’s not really our job, though we can help if it’s our subject), but we can maintain the code of conduce and preserve some order. Continuity is so important to kids of all backgrounds, and especially those whose homes and communities may be chaotic.

So I show up and I work. I’m happier that way. I try to teach things.

Here are some of the things I, who wanted to be a social studies teacher, teach:

1. How to have a conversation with an adult human who happens to be white. Maybe we’ll discuss the merits of a mango pop tart. Maybe I’ll ask about your favorite superhero. We can talk about the holidays, family, cats (a hot topic!) or even sports. Most of what I know about sports I learned from high school boys. I don’t talk politics or religion - last year my students tried to get me to tell them who I voted for or what religion I practice and I repeated, over and over again, “It would not be appropriate for me to discuss that at school.” Once a kid even asked if I’m Muslim - not sure where they got that from other than that I was teaching “convert” as a vocabulary word and used the example, “He converted to Islam.” Maybe I should use “He converted the file from a PDF to Word,” next time!

2. How to control your impulses. I know it’s hard. I too would rather get up and run around the room, but here we are, in school, and we must find a way to sit down and not throw a punch at our classmate. I understand that he’s your cousin or best friend. Please sit down and do not hit him right now. You have the rest of your life to play fight - outside the school and not in my class. For now, we will practice impulse control. Gentlemen, please take your seats.

3. How to have respect for property and materials. No, I don’t have a pencil. Do you not have one? Borrow one from one of your friends. They are annoyed because you always borrow pencils? Well, that is a problem. Perhaps bring pencils? I’ll do a whole entry on the lack of pencils phenomenon, but here is a preview: the problem is NOT that they can’t afford pencils. They can afford plenty of pencils. The problem is that many kids don’t prioritize their school materials or take care of them. When I was full time I bought literally thousands of pencils and fed them to the void of getting thrown, broken, taken away, or just left on the floor. The pencil is a metaphor… for another day. And I don’t provide them. As my colleague last year said, “Write in blood like the Buddha.” I don’t actually say that because I have impulse control. But I’m thinking it.

4. How to earn rewards by respecting authority. This is not natural to these kids. They respect the authority of the neighborhood, and unfortunately that often is the person with guns or high up in a gang. Even those who are farther removed from gun and gang culture are still steeped in it via music and social media. I try to teach them that respecting the authority of teachers in simple ways, such as asking politely for a bathroom pass, sitting in your seat when asked, giving a try at the work and turning it in - all of these can lead to rewards. The stickers are one reward, but so is, “You asked really nicely. I appreciate you.”

5. How adults respect other adults and call for help when they need it. I never consider it a failure on my part when I call a Dean or the Assistant Principal. I don’t do it lightly, and I try to handle problems myself. I even say in a very bored voice (and in fact, I am bored with bad behavior), “I’ve gotten through this day without troubling the Dean. I’m sure he has other things to do so I’d rather not call him, but if you don’t stop ripping each other’s hair out, I’ll have to call him/her.”

   The Deans have real authority in schools where I teach, including the extreme power of calling your parents, so this matters. I love to watch the Deans and APs and the principals give swift, logical and fair consequences. That lunch detention may be the difference between prison and a good job. You may think I exaggerate but I assure you, I do not. Every time kids get away with bad, especially violent or dangerous behavior, it becomes more likely they will end up in jail or dead. Every time there are consequences and it builds the part of the brain that may say no, I don’t think I’ll do that next time, we increase the chances of them getting and holding good jobs and starting families. And the Devil walks away mad.

I rarely know where I’m going before six am. The way my agency works is that we choose to put ourselves on call, and then they call or text us with assignments as they come in. The call outs rarely come before morning, so most mornings I start in a state of unknowing. Will it be my favorite high school where the boys I taught last year in eighth grade are thriving? Will it be my other favorite where I taught the seventh graders to say, “This is neither the time nor the place” like Victor Laszlow in Casablanca? Maybe the middle school. Middle school is tough, but one of my favorite APs of all time works there. I don’t need to see the risen Christ or King David to believe. I have seen Mr. J. take a phone from a very angry and very distracted kid. I believe.

There are some other places where I go, but I try to get the ones that are in walking distance that fortunately for me are the most lively, the most vibrant, where there is the most hope. There’s a spark about a good school that you can just feel. It’s still going to be a hard day, I’m still going to be exhausted afterward, I’m still going to be pinching pennies because this doesn’t pay much and looking for a more permanent job, but when I go into one of my favorites there’s just a bit of electricity in the air as people fight the good fight.

Yesterday I went to one of my favorites for the first time in about six weeks. I was on the third floor with sixth graders. The teacher in the classroom across from me was playing old school, school appropriate and uplifting R&B as the kids came in on Monday morning. “Outstanding” by the Gap Band played as I greeted little ones in the doorway. I danced along with the teacher. Kids came and hugged him. Sixth graders are still usually pretty small, but they are about to shoot up.

A few asked if I remembered them and I did. A few asked if I knew their brothers at the high school. “Is he bad? Is he bad?” they ask, hoping no doubt for a terrible report they can taunt their older brothers with. “No, he’s a very nice young man,” I say, no matter how the kid may have acted when I was there.

It’s funny when I go to the school I teach where there are girls. Girls are harder than boys in many ways. They are smarter faster, and they have deep interpersonal and emotional dynamics. I would love to teach in an all boys school, and I would think it was a circle of hell to teach in an all girls school. But when I get seventh and eight graders in a co-ed school, I have very interesting conversations with the girls.

“Do you know so and so at the boys’ school"?” one of the girls asked me. I did not know the young men in question. The pretty young girl had a look I know all too well: we were discussing her crush. Or one of them. I get it. I’m still a seventh grader at heart when it comes to boys, I just like my boys over forty with good jobs and safe cars. Preferably Jewish or Christian but let’s not get crazy here! I prayed that night that this sweet young girl find good guidance from her family and anyone appropriate, that she not fall prey to the predatory nature of sexual relations that can happen out there, and that she get a good education, a good job, and eventually marry and have her own family. So many things could go wrong - it can be dizzying and upsetting, so I have to put it in the hands of God, where it was anyway.

I’ll probably never know the results of the work I’m doing now. I’ll move away, they will go on to do what they do. I did once see a student I taught in Reading at the nail salon a couple of years later. She had been the leader of a group of kids who would not pay attention at all in a classroom I took over at midyear. Like too many classrooms, it had been without a teacher all year: just revolving subs or regular teachers covering it on their prep. The kids had piles of worksheets they never did, and many were failing. I worked with them to catch up and then created new lessons, trying to be interesting and engaging, but in this particular class, the kids would just not be quiet, ever, and pay attention.

One day I asked the young lady who seemed to be the leader if she would speak with me.

“The other kids seem to respect you and follow your lead. I wanted to talk to you because we can catch up on the work and get everyone’s grades up to A’s, but I need you to work with me so the kids will pay attention.”

She agreed, and they did. We got the work done and the kids were getting good grades. Then the schools shut down due to Covid, I lost my job, and I lost touch with the kids.

Two years later I saw her in a nail salon. She looked grown up and beautiful. She remembered me!!!

“Miss, Miss do you remember me?”

“Of course I do!”

She had graduated from high school and gone on to dental hygiene school. Daughter of immigrants, from a very poor neighborhood, tough as nails and on the way to a great career. The kid will have more job security than I do! I managed not to cry on the spot, but once I was in my car I cried and cried.

At those moments, there is nothing to do but thank God.

So maybe it is God’s work. It’s hard, it doesn’t make enough, it has no benefits and that’s a constant struggle, and I want to be settled and a part of a team where I belong every day. But for now, it is enough. I am blessed to be able to carry out a tiny bit of God’s work, and I pray every day for the strength and patience to be what these children need, to meet anger and violence with kindness and calm, to figure out what kind of sticker the AP at the high might accept. He said no to DC Comics and Marvel Comics. No Swamp Thing for this guy. Star Wars Clone Wars era? He’s one of the younger ones - maybe he’s not old enough for stickers yet.

Anyway, in this cold quiet rain between Thanksgiving and winter break, it is enough.

Dayenu.

Ficus loves the holidays.