Lloyde High School, nestled right next to the 405 Freeway just outside of Lawndale, is the continuation school for Centinela Valley.
The school was one of many dysfunctional schools in the region, a program of contracted-education in which students would make up credits on site, and after three hours they would go home.
Most kids would drag their feet at the comprehensive schools in large part because they wanted to go to the continuation school. Three hours and then the res of the day to yourself. What a deal, right?
It's unfortunate that the school district took no pains to encourage students to stay where they were, to make Lloyde a last resort. The lack of leadership on this issue stems in large part, I am sure, from the fact that the students are just not a priority in the district, among other districts in the area.
The white security guard on campus told me up front the first day that the school was just a mess.
"Don't worry about getting anything done," he told me. "Don't stress if the students do not want to walk or to work. The principal won't mind, I am sure."
"Do you like being a teacher?" At Lloyde, I did not have to worry about being a teacher, because I was not going to have to do anything. So, I resigned myself to dragging students to the Lawndale High School track after the first ten minutes, then returning to the classroom about twenty minutes before the bell was supposed to ring for the next class. Not much learning was taking place at this school, that was certain.
If I was not covering the PE class, I was overseeing the students in the other contract classes, including English and Home Ec. The E20-20 classes were interesting, and a lot easier for me, too. I just sat in front of a computer while the students were (presumably) working on on-line courses for high school credit (they were not UC-approved classes).
I got a lot of writing done in those days, and most of the time the students minded themselves. One or two students would talk too much, and I would move students if I needed to, but for the most part, those were the easy days.
The teachers were more approachable at Lloyde, too, a group of people who had left the corruption and confusion which they found prevalent at other schools in the district. One of the teachers sarcastically laughed when I told him that the administrators gave me no support at Hawthorne High School — "Really?" he bluntly asked. Then he told me of the exploits of previous "leadership" at the school, including one former Naval officer, who had told the teachers that they had better take care of their own discipline problems, because and his administrative staff would not do one thing to help.
"You cannot run a school like that!" I commented within myself. I am sure that the English teacher I was talking to was thinking the same thing then and when I was talking to him
I liked the Science teacher, Ms. L. She was into "positive pressure" – encouraging students to do the best that they could for their best interest, not just so that she would not get into trouble with the powers that were, who never manifested any real power. She liked being a teacher, and she was willing to do whatever it took to help those students do well. She was not cynical, as many of the teachers seemed to be to me. No matter what kind of nonsense was going on in the district or at home, she was not scared, she was not frustrated, she was not worried at all about what she was called to do.
The math teacher, Mr. B., was easy-going, someone who had gotten fed up with the bureaucracy at the other school where he worked. He was a popular type, too, young with a family. He lived in the area, too, which made things easier for him when he started working at Lloyde.
Students at Lloyde did not do any work, for the most part. The students were not motivated when they came to class at the comprehensive schools, and they were still not motivated at a continuation school, a site where three hours a day would go by very fast, and there was no pressure, good or bad, for them to get any work done.
"Stagnation school" would have been a more accurate title for the school, and I felt that I was wasting my time there. Still, for the time being it was an easy job, and I was guaranteed to bring in the money as long as the job was there for me. The secretary, Rose, usually called me when she had a need. The counselor, Mr. G — or Ozzie as I will call him — was great, too. He had a soft heart, cared about the students, but he would grow very tense during test time, for the students at Lloyde were expected to take standardized tests, even though they did not want to, and many times they simply refused. In heart, I was with the students when they refused to take the test, or they would protest to Mr. G.
The last month of the previous year, I helped proctor the standardized tests in the district boardroom. It was an easy stop, where I would just sit and watch and make sure that the students got all that they needed to get the tests done.
The students liked me. I was so easy going, and much of the time, when I covered a class, we would just sit around and talk. Some of the students whom I had worked with at the other schools were there, and they remembered the good times, and even some of the bad times. For the most part, it was a good deal.
One of the kids, fresh out of Los Padrinos, would ask me when I was going to get hired. I liked the reception that I was getting here, as opposed to the nonsense that I had endured at the other schools. Still, I had a diminished sense within myself that I would never have gotten hired, even if I wanted to work in the district. Corruption will stink up every organization, and no matter how much one tries to paint over the perversions, the stink cannot be wafted away.
I also had the ever-increasing and sinking feeling that the students looked forward to me precisely because I was just an easy-going type, one who did not expect them to get anything done, and who would not push them to do more than just sit there.
"Do you like being a teacher?" At Lloyde, I was hardly a teacher, more like a glorified babysitter who just made sure that the students did not hurt each other. It was fun while it lasted, but like wandering in Las Vegas, the tinsel and glitter of getting by without doing anything gets old, and very fast.