Monday, June 1, 2009

Hot and Stuffy

My classroom has no air circulation. It sits in the center of a cube, overlooking an indoor atrium (the commons) and is nestled on the third floor between two bathrooms and two other classrooms. Consequently, the shape of the room is long and narrow. There is a small, 8 foot hallway that leads into my room along the center of one of the narrower sides and the windows overlooking the commons are screwed shut since 16-year-old neanderthals can't help but throw things like staplers onto the heads of their frenemies three stories below.

All this means that my classroom is an oven for the approximately ten days a year that the outdoor temperature soars to the MID-80s. I know. Ridiculously hot.

To be fair, this was never an issue in Texas, the air conditioning kicks on in late February and doesn't get shut off until November. And here, it is usually cold. The kids were wearing hats and snow jackets just last week. But every now and then, it heats up, and the lack of circulation in my room actually caused me to change my lesson plan today.

Which actually worked well, the kids worked relatively peacefully and I graded. I have hit the point of this year where I have accepted the inevitable failure of some of these kids. I can't force them to pass my class. So, I assign them work. The ones who have matured to the point of being self-motivated will do the work. The ones who haven't matured, won't do it, and won't pass.

Seriously, this particular class of kids is so unmotivated. Out of 120 kids in my 5 classes, I have 26 that are failing just due to ATTENDANCE. That doesn't even take into account the kids that are failing due to their utter refusal to do anything that vaguely resembles work.

So. I have one more week of schoolwork, then 2 weeks to work on the finals, and I'm done. And the way this year is going....I'll see them all again next year.

Bring it on.

1 comment:

smithdl said...

This is a my favorite sentence: "There is a small, 8 foot hallway that leads into my room along the center of one of the narrower sides and the windows overlooking the commons are screwed shut since 16-year-old neanderthals can't help but throw things like staplers onto the heads of their frenemies three stories below." Hate to get all LA on you, but I love the combination of detail and opinion. Staplers! Why is it always the stapler! Broken, stolen, missing. Grr.