Of course, sending students out was not always easy, for me or for the
probation staff at Los Padrinos.
In another special ed class, the students were unruly as a rule. The
full-time teacher, Mr. I., was deaf, and oftentimes he neglected to put in his
hearing aids. Students would curse at him, shouting in his ear, and he didn't
even notice it. It took me a while to realize how deaf he was until I met up
with him one afternoon after school. He greeted me, then went back to working
on his computer. In the past, I could walk up to his room anytime and chat for
a few minutes, but on one day in particular he was just typing away at his
computer, glanced down at some of the paperwork he had to enter for the day,
then continued writing. I kept trying to talk to the guy, but for some reason
he just kept pounding away at the keyboard. I had no idea at that moment that he
was deaf, or that he was not wearing his hearing aids, to boot.
I learned about his condition from the principal one afternoon, after
confronting her about the outrageous and undisciplined behavior in Mr. I's
room, place the chronic lack of structure evident from the very moment that I
walked into the room. But more on that meeting later.
As for Mr. I's room, it could be a real nightare covering that class. The
teacher's aide on hand to help me out was really diligent with the students,
but even then he was there only part of the time. Like me, he was a substitute
who arrived only once in a while. If he helped out longterm, the students
received more boundaries, more attention, but he was not there all the time.
The probation officers stationed in every room are instructed not to
intervene unless they absolutely have to, like when a student is about to pound
a teacher in the face or start a fight with another inmate. This realization
was cold comfort at best for me one afternoon covering Mr. I.'s class.
In the morning during summer session, I met with a five students, two of
whom proved that they wanted to get their work done, get their good notes, and
get out of Los Padrinos as soon as possible. Besides the other two students who
did very little work without any concern for starting trouble, there was this
one kid, Scott, who had been enabled into complete insolence. He was trouble
from the start, cursing and refusing to follow directions. I gave him three
warnings, then sent him out of the room. Unaccustomed to being held accounted
so quickly, he huffed a little while the probation officer, Ms. V., escorted
him to the principal's office to be redirected (counseled to behave better).
Within five minutes, Scott ambled in an slumped back into the chair, propped
up his feet, and started cursing at me. I couldn't believe it. This guy had
just met with an administrator, and he was starting up again. I told him to
step oustide, he refused, then I grabbed a referral form.
The probation officer, Ms. V., was looking kind of tired that morning. She
barely got our of her seat, slowly walking over the minor, telling Scott softly
to get out of his seat, then barely coaxing him. The juvile sat there, defiant,
doing nothing.
"Come on, come on, you've got to leave," Ms. V. beckoned to the
stubborn stalwart. He still refused to leave the room. Next, V. called in
another staff member, Mr. S., who then told the kid to move out of his seat.
Then another probation staff — three in total — came into Mr. I's room to get
him to leave. By this point, I was disturbed, distraught, offended. Why did it
take three staff members to escort one student, a defiant reprobate who felt
that he did not have to take orders from anyone?
"Fine, Scott, I am writing you up again.” I whipped out the referral,
and wrote it out on the desk next to him. Furious yet steely, Scott inched up
close next to me, his fist clenched near my head, as I was bent down writing
out that the student had cursed at me, then refused to leave after told to exit
the room three times, and this after being redirected once already.
Clearly, this kid was trying to shake me, intimidate me, but he wouldn’t dare
lay a hand on me, or he would have had another criminal charge listed on his
record.
On the inside, I was cool. I may have bristled briefly when Scott first
menaced me with his fist, but I just kept writing, focusing on getting down his
infractions then sending him out.
When I finished writing him up, he seized the referral, then tore it up,
stormed out of the room. By the time he had left, the assistant principal had
joined the three probation officers who had arrived to assist in removing the
unruly and unwilling student.
on the inside about the gross failure of the staff to removed Scott more
expeditiously. I called Ms. V to the side, demanding an explanation in the hushest
of tones:
officers:
“I cannot lay a hand on the student,
but I would pepper-spray him if he was going to hurt you.”
I was not thrilled with her explanation. She did not give me a lot of hope
at that point.”
“Let me tell you, though.” V. said next. “I feel safe when you’re here. Mr.
I. let’s these kids get away with murder. I give you an A+”.
She was really supportive. I had no idea how troubled she was sitting watch
in that classroom.
“Well, I am glad that someone appreciates what I am doing,” I told her. “But let me tell you, if I do not
get support, then I am going home, because I refuse to put up with any
disrespect.”
they were instructed not to get involved mostly because substitute teachers
would just pawn off responsibility to the probation watching in the class,
while the sub would just play on the computer or text. In some cases, the
irresponsibility and incompetence of other substitutes had forced the probation
officers’ union to agree to terms in which the security staff would stay back
and do as little as possible. I was more troubled by the fact that they could
not physically intervene, that they were not permitted to put their hand on a
juvenile offender unless he did something aggressive first.
Ms. V. was a good sport, though. She was the first one who had dubbed me “Mr.
Extra with a Capital E” – and that was after I turned over one very unruly
group of students, refusing to tolerate their backtalk and corporate
interruptions. She sent the word around very quickly about me, and I liked the
support that I got.