Seventh Graders Impressions of the Supreme Court

"That's where P-Diddy was tried, right Miss?

When the going gets tough, I get creative.

Second day minding unruly seventh graders who literally scream all class while their teacher was monitoring standardized testing for eighth graders. It was so loud I couldn’t take attendance. I already have a sore throat from yesterday. But eventually I got them calmed down enough that I could figure out who was there and keep them from killing each other.

I love to throw in some civics lessons. They don’t get these as part of their curriculum. They are taught “history,” but it’s mostly just a political stunt where they learn “African-American history” that reads a lot like the 1619 Project, then they learn about how bad this country is. These really are the kids who know that Jefferson had slaves but don’t know that he wrote the Declaration of Independence. So if I’m going to fight a culture that can cancel Thomas Jefferson, I’d better be prepared to do something weird.

“All right, my darlings, since you say you are done with your work…” (they weren’t, but I torture them when they lie and say they aren’t by forcing them to learn things that require thought), “We are going to learn about Constitutional law!”

I will admit that I took a few breaks from battling urban educational chaos to catch up on what an old friend has been doing in the legal world… when you have children screaming in front of you and blasting unprintable language from speakers on their phones in class, reading about administrative state overreach is actually relaxing.

“What do you think the Supreme Court is?” I asked the class.

“Where P-Diddy got tried!” yelled a boy in the back.

Good! They are thinking! I had them look it up. P-Diddy was tried in Lower Manhattan. The kids asked why, when he lived in LA. This is wonderful! I’m getting them to think!

“Well, it looks like he was charged by prosecutors in Manhattan.”

“What’s Manhattan?” asked a kid, one who was in a fight two weeks ago but has been good ever since so I reward him with lots of stickers.

“That’s called a borough of New York. Like a giant neighborhood.”

The kids got it. I am, for a moment, actually teaching. Let’s keep this going.

“So, my children,” I began. I like to address them in grand flourishes, exaggerating classic white people talk. Those who know me from real life would recognize that my teacher voice is an act, part Maria and part Mary Poppins, almost all Julie Andrews. You have to be dramatic to compete with YouTube and TikTok, and I’m trying to get them to think outside the ghetto.

“So, my children…” a pause as the class starts to actually pay attention.

“Is the Supreme Court where they make the burrito supremes?”

About half the children affirmed that in fact, it is the Supreme Court where the burrito supremes are made. A good friend of mine should inform Justice Cavenaugh, as he may have been derelict in his duty in this regard.

Another seventh grader said, “It’s where they make the laws!”

AHA! WE ARE WINNING! (For the moment… the rest of the day was awful.)

“Well, darling, it’s not where they are supposed to make the laws, that is supposed to be the legislative branch.”

In another life, in another world, in another place and time, in another outfit, I might have taught a lesson on the branches of government and separation of powers.

But it was almost time for the bell to ring, I had to break up a fight, stop a Tik Tok video recording, and get the chairs pushed in and the desks lined up again.

It is horrifying how seventh graders have no concept of American government, politics, history, structure. No idea. They are being trained to accept and value ignorance. I can’t tell you the number of times a child has announced to me proudly, “I DON’T READ BOOKS!”

My friends, it’s even worse than you think it is.

My tax dollars, your tax dollars, are paying for kids to be issues Chromebooks that they use to play video games, blast obscene music, and shop online. A kid was actually booking tickets to another country online today in class! I said out loud, “I really hope nobody gave that kid a credit card!” But another one said, “We make money, Miss.”

“Oh, how nice! Do you have a summer or after school job, dear?”

“No, but we make money.”

I hope she only learned that from other kids who really are gang involved, because I hope and pray that my sweet (if loud) seventh graders are not gang involved yet. Not dealing. Not taking the rap because it will be less if they are under fourteen. Please, God, protect these kids.

The devices are a distraction, a disease, a waste of money and time. Buying them for kids is like injecting them with heroin. The phones must be banned, the devices must be taken away and computers only used in computer labs. I will fight for any politician who will support this. And when I fight, I win.

My little ones (this is funny to them because even seventh graders are taller than I am, and I call the giant tenth graders my little ones when they come to give me a hug and tower over me) are so vulnerable. Why is no one in their own community speaking out about the predatory nature of these technologies on their own children?

Anyway, I got to educate a bit today. Not much, but a bit. I survived to fight another day.

On my way into work I saw a squirrel hauling a large Philly pretzel onto a rooftop. This is such a classic scene that I asked a friend to make a picture of it.

The Supreme Court is where they make the burrito supremes. The squirrel totes a pretzel larger than her own body. The kids make reservations to fly Delta to overseas resorts before they are in eighth grade. Everyone is blasting rap and cursing, no one can read or write, and we’re all just pretending this is normal.

Another Wednesday.

A very happy birthday wish to my old friend Professor DAF, author of some legal papers that have taken my mind off my troubles at various times. How did we all grow up? Well, you did. Can’t so much speak for myself! I’m younger than I used to be, minding seventh graders and running up and down stairs.

Happy Wednesday to all, and to all a good night.