The Great Lunch Room Debacle, Part Two

Thursday, fifth period. Have forgotten all about yesterday’s announcement regarding cleaning up the lunchroom. Have just started the movie for fifth period Film Criticism class, when the PA system comes on. Pause Luke Skywalker.

The announcement, which I can’t remember word for word, said that the administration is very disappointed with the students’ performance in the lunch room that day, made oblique reference to unstated “privileges,” and then made much less oblique threats. The students looked at me, “What is he talking about?” (This PA announcement, like all others, came from an AP.) None of my fifth period students’ teachers earlier in the day had mentioned this program to them, just as I had not mentioned it to my morning classes. I assume this is because they thought what I thought: this plan was too vague to be presentable to students, and anyone with teaching experience would know that. I know it wasn’t deliberate refusal to cooperate. I was waiting for more information, as I’m sure my colleagues were.

Friday, fifth period went about the same as Thursday. I was sick the next Monday and Tuesday. Not “sick,” but sick. When I came back to school on Wednesday, I found that while I was gone, things had escalated and my fifth period class had listened to almost an entire period of PA announcements designed to get those who had left their lunch trays on the tables to confess to their crime. Eventually, this led to the calling of names over the PA and threats of suspension.

I didn’t take the students’ word on this. Another teacher verified this for me, and I believe it.

I agree with the administration’s assessment that many of these kids are so so entitled as to be bratty. They actually bitch when I ask them to pick up their own mess in my classroom. And, lately I’m having an issue with classroom cleanliness. Even with the MRSA virus running around, I’ve had weeks go by where my classroom wasn’t even swept. When we had an earthquake drill a few weeks ago, I spent several class periods sweeping the room because there’s no way in hell I would sit on that nasty floor, and I certainly wouldn’t ask lovely little cheerleaders in their school-day best to do so. So, I’ve been known to make an “admission fee” to the hallway after class of one piece of trash from the floor.

In the interest of fairness, I have to say that I’m pretty anal about organization and cleanliness at work. (Mr. Social Studies, a friend of mine, says I’m OCD. I can look at the book shelf from across the room and see that a book is missing. He should see my car, though. It’s disgusting; I’m only like this at work.) I also have to say that the plant engineer at our school is the absolute coolest person that works there. He always responds to my maintenance requests, and he does so with the attitude and understanding that he is there to support learning. He absolutely rocks. And the woman who used to clean my room was awesome, too. There’s a new girl who’s not quite cutting it, and they’re dealing with her. I have nothing but respect for those who come in to clean up after these kids so they can continue to learn. Plant Engineer is my favorite person in that whole building, with most of his employees a close second. I respect them because they are so diligent about their jobs, but also because they see the worst of most of these kids’ attitudes and still come to work to do their jobs every day.

The students’ response, any time I try to get them to clean up their own mess, is always, “That’s what janitors are paid for.” What assholes. If I heard my child say something snotty like that I’d make him clean school toilets for a week. He’s not too good to clean. Janitors are hard-working, lovely people, and many students’ attitudes towards them makes me sick. (I worked as a maid for a while, and if I thought I could make enough money, I’d clean school classrooms, or serve school food, in a heartbeat.)

So, admin is right that these kids need to learn some things about responsibility and taking pride in their own surroundings. However, what if I had created an assignment for students with requirements and rewards as vague as those that were presented to us that week, and then held students accountable, to the point of calling them out in front of the whole school? Parents would have a damn hissy fit. And rightly so. There’s nothing particularly admirable, or educative, about making people guess what you want, guess the standards, and then guess the rewards and consequences. It’s wrong.

This was obvious to every teacher in the room at that faculty meeting. Which is why none of them said anything to the students. So students were confused about what was going on, and the whole debacle served no purpose. What really gets me is that I, or any other teacher in the school, could have told them that would happen. We work with students every day. But they don’t listen to us.

And that, o my brothers, is the real problem in that school. Administration is afraid to listen.

Oh, and although there has subsequently been praise for how the lunch room looked after lunch, still no mention of wearing flip-flops. I will definitely let you know if that changes. It’s possible that they will be allowed to wear flip-flops after Thanksgiving break, which was the cut-off first mentioned in the faculty meeting. I hope so. If not, the students (the ones that know about it) will be even more angry.