Where Have You Been Tran?
It was so much easier updating the blog when you’re unemployed, and because of that – I’m sure my readership is down to 3 regular people, and that’s being kind.
Work has been keeping me busy – I’m an English teacher at a charter school designed for “high risk” students. On my first day at work, a Puerto Rican student came up to me with a doctor’s note which said please excuse “so-and-so” due to his gunshot wound. Later that day I noticed a female student wearing a GPS on her ankle. These are my students: hustlers, a few drug dealers, and two strippers that I’m aware of. Some of these students have parole officers and that is usually followed up by their weekly visits to anger management classes.
Some of them can’t read. It shocks me that someone can be 16-20 years old and not know how to read. Didn’t someone down the road catch this earlier? But it was explained to me that when a student from the grades of K-8 is marked to fail, only with the parent's permission can a student be retained. Even if a teacher fails a student, a parent can veto that recommendation and the student can still graduate to the next grade. So it is possible to be a fuck up until the eighth grade because until then your grades obviously don’t count. So I’m sounding out words with students, an unsaid ESL teacher, and a part-time Special Ed teacher.
I’m Asian in a school that is predominantly Black and Puerto Rican, and again I was the Chinese teacher. Some of them call me “Jackie Tran,” and I call them “Chipotle.” It’s tough having to educate people about yourself each day, everyday.
- No, Vietnamese and Chinese people aren’t the same.
- No, I don’t understand Chinese, but I do understand Vietnamese.
- Of course it’s offensive, how would you feel if I called you, Mexican.
I drink more these days. You kind of have to sedate yourself, because their stories are so painful. You want to save them, but you realize this is about all you can do. A student told me that she had gotten into a fight, and then later that night some people that had known the girl that she had brawled with, took shots at her. She wasn't hit but she did have to drive her friend to the hospital because she was shot in the arm. Another girl, who is 19 with two kids and pregnant with her third one, has heavy learning disabilities, and her husband used to beat her. Another student came in with cuts on his arm because the night before he ran from the police and had to clear a fence that had barbwire. Another student told me he was taken into custody because of curfew, and then he had to spend the night in jail because they couldn’t contact his mother because she worked the late shift. And lastly, another student asked me, “If you have drug trafficking on your record as a 17 year old, and then when you turn 18 is it wiped clean from your record because you’re not a juvenile anymore?”
I told him I didn’t know.
Work has been keeping me busy – I’m an English teacher at a charter school designed for “high risk” students. On my first day at work, a Puerto Rican student came up to me with a doctor’s note which said please excuse “so-and-so” due to his gunshot wound. Later that day I noticed a female student wearing a GPS on her ankle. These are my students: hustlers, a few drug dealers, and two strippers that I’m aware of. Some of these students have parole officers and that is usually followed up by their weekly visits to anger management classes.
Some of them can’t read. It shocks me that someone can be 16-20 years old and not know how to read. Didn’t someone down the road catch this earlier? But it was explained to me that when a student from the grades of K-8 is marked to fail, only with the parent's permission can a student be retained. Even if a teacher fails a student, a parent can veto that recommendation and the student can still graduate to the next grade. So it is possible to be a fuck up until the eighth grade because until then your grades obviously don’t count. So I’m sounding out words with students, an unsaid ESL teacher, and a part-time Special Ed teacher.
I’m Asian in a school that is predominantly Black and Puerto Rican, and again I was the Chinese teacher. Some of them call me “Jackie Tran,” and I call them “Chipotle.” It’s tough having to educate people about yourself each day, everyday.
- No, Vietnamese and Chinese people aren’t the same.
- No, I don’t understand Chinese, but I do understand Vietnamese.
- Of course it’s offensive, how would you feel if I called you, Mexican.
I drink more these days. You kind of have to sedate yourself, because their stories are so painful. You want to save them, but you realize this is about all you can do. A student told me that she had gotten into a fight, and then later that night some people that had known the girl that she had brawled with, took shots at her. She wasn't hit but she did have to drive her friend to the hospital because she was shot in the arm. Another girl, who is 19 with two kids and pregnant with her third one, has heavy learning disabilities, and her husband used to beat her. Another student came in with cuts on his arm because the night before he ran from the police and had to clear a fence that had barbwire. Another student told me he was taken into custody because of curfew, and then he had to spend the night in jail because they couldn’t contact his mother because she worked the late shift. And lastly, another student asked me, “If you have drug trafficking on your record as a 17 year old, and then when you turn 18 is it wiped clean from your record because you’re not a juvenile anymore?”
I told him I didn’t know.
This entry was posted
on Friday, November 11 at 11:23 PM.
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5:53 AMWelcome back Grand Daddy Tran,
It sounds like you've got your baggy pants pockets full with this one.
Why, oh why, is David Tran such a glutton for punishement?
I think it's because you never want to be too far away from human misery as the source of inspiration and if it works for you, go with it.
I on the other hand, would like the millionaire recluse lifestyle of buying a compound in the woods somewhere, fortifying it with satellite communications and guard dogs and blogging from a beautiful (but fortified) bunker.
The real world is just too painful to look at the raw canvas--you've got to paint it to suit your moods and tastes.
Keep blogging...every day...I'm not kidding. Blog a bog. Blog a long short story. Blog your life story, but keep writing to an unknown audience...keep writing to the world...keep writing to me.
I miss your face...punk!
4:36 PM
Sadly, my daughter has friends who are teachers, and they have related similar stories to me. It's difficult not to be cynical and give up entirely, but nothing will change until the optimists infect the profession.
8:43 PM
Punk. I talk to your ass everyday and all you manage to put on your blog is the negative stuff? Is this the next version of Dummy Poe? C'mon now, tell the rest of the story too. Losah.
10:11 PM
thought-provoking, mootable pv. just my thoughts, well anyways gl & be chipper is what i say
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