Reader Contest: "A Day In The Life"

Inspired by last week's vivid reader comment, A Day At Crane High School, we're having a contest of sorts for the next few days in which readers describe the school (or administrative office) where they work, or where their children attend, or where they pass by every day.

So brush off your writing skills and tell us what it's like where you are -- what it looks like, what it sounds like, what things you notice from being there all the time, or how it's changed lately. Describe a typical day, or the best or worst one you can remember. Be truthful, honest, vivid. 

Write anonymously if you want to -- I don't want anyone to get in trouble -- but be as specific as you can about naming the school, area, or neighborhood.  No one will know who you are -- there are 25,000 CPS teachers out there, and hundreds of thousands of parents. 

Comments

[Alexander for DT]

Every day this year has been absolutely fantastic but today was even better. Apparently the central office learned that its not a good idea to cut teaching staff by 1/4th during a gang war (we had to deal with seven murders last year.) So now we’re over-staffed by 25% with two uniformed police full-time and several on back up. Our only drive-by this year wasn’t fatal.

Most importantly, I had close to a couple of hundred belly laughs, not to mention chest-butts and hugs. We started with the best Honors History Class (the sophomores) in years. My wife always packs a big bag of fruit for the kids, and we got to rag on the wimps who were afraid to eat oranges from South Africa. The girl who had never eaten a plum didn’t like it so I gulped down the uneaten half. My wife also sent me off with an X-ray of our dog, giving another chance for the kids to debate who is weirder, my wife or me. One of my favorite activities, ragging on our catcher, backfired when some middle school kids came in and she gave them her “look.” I followed the 6th graders out, apologizing that I’d protect them from “Prickly Pear, “ I mean Rose, but I’m afraid of her. Laughing they said that they’d come back in a few years. We had another visitor, a deeply disturbed gang member who was clearly opening herself up, and my class responded wonderfully.

In violation of district-wide reforms, I have continued to start with the 20th century before looping back to ancient history. So we read about the post-WWI Pan-Arabic nationalist movement, and continued watching scenes from David Lean’s “Lawrence of Arabia,” concentrating on two themes: the relevance of Lawrence to the War on Terrorism and the movie’s depiction of free will vs. fate. Fatefully, I couldn’t get some girls to stop sneaking looks at a book on horoscopes so I gave my mock serious tirade against “Multi-tasking.” That lead to a series of jokes and puns when ever I made a mistake. My errors were due to multi-tasking, trying to teach and maintain discipline at the same time. Everyone knew that the book was fated to be confiscated, prompting that glare from the prickly pear.

Although this was the 8th week and we’d had some sophisticated lessons on the transformation from colonialism to nationalism, WWI and the Russian Revolution and Civil War, this is the first time we attempted to write two paragraphs. When I asked for a thesis sentence, the sweet and bright girl on the front lost her smile and asked if she could do Section Review instead. I stopped, got serious, but became even more nurturing and told them about my high school fear of writing and how I struggled for ten years until graduate school at Rutgers. It took one of the world’s greatest historians to shape me up. We have three years, I said This class is going to turn around our school, and they will never forget that accomplishment. Mr. C. taught at NYU and next week he’ll start teaching them how to write paragraphs also. We know what it takes, and they are going to get there. Besides, their generation with blogs and text-messaging will transform writing. So, don’t get frustrated and work smart.

The rest of the day I had seniors and did something I have never done before - I told them half of the truth. The central office, not our principal or me, mandated that we work out of the textbook every day. (Our seniors read on a 5th or 6th grade level but they have the moral consciousness of teens and now they want real learning.) So, I we’ll check out textbooks and today we’ll read the 4th Amendment out of the text, not the paperback documents. Nothing else will change. (I didn’t tell them that we are supposed to get 10 classroom visits to monitor compliance. I was surprised that the kids asked few questions because they know the I’m resisting the district’s scripted instruction plan; They seemed to sense that we in the building were not talking about it because we are protecting them. Teachers who stand up for them are called, “Ryders.”) And I had bought a lock and chain in case they wanted to store the books in my cabinets.

Having written a legal history monograph and with 20 years of experience in the Socratic method, it easy to take inner city kids into a discussion on the level of law school. After all, the room is full of case studies. Everyone always has multiple experiences of “Driving While Black” or “Driving While Brown,” including the new kid from the projects in Chicago. Unfortunately, more tragic stories were mentioned. (Interestingly, one girl gets $14 per month from her dad whose doing Life, while another gets $5.) One girl who was nothing but trouble from 8th grade until this year, was coming back from her first senior year meltdown. She started by griping at me a few times, but before long I was able to jokingly gripe at her for “reading my mind” and asking my questions just before I did. After explaining that the 4th amend applied to the homeless, she asked whether it would apply to a mobile home.

We also took care to discuss how to handle this knowledge in the real world. We compared what they had done right and wrong in previous encounters with the police. They teased me about all my years in the “hood” and that the police must think I’m white. I recounted an experience with Anita Hill and they concluded I was atypically polite, prompting hoots and complaints that I’m not as Black as they thought. They prefer my stories where I get myself in trouble. Then we wrote on strict construction vs. broad construction in interpreting the Bill of Rights. The written work was crude, but the verbal discussion reached a masters level in all classes.

I was flagging down our police woman to arrange her visit to the next class, when I saw that she and other patrolmen were busy. They had raided the house across the street and they were dealing with a troubled sophomore of mine. He was too stoned, and his grandmother was too worried to recognize me. So I joined a conversation with an E.D. teacher and two assistant principals. One of our concerns was a student of mine whose mother was just murdered and the guardian still couldn’t get it together with Medicaid to arrange counseling. Our big worry was an Seriously Emotionally Disturbed student who they had gotten into a ½ day job. Had he skipped the bus and gone to the busted drug house? The A.P. speculated that a third was self-medicating a back injury, but she was stymied by parental inattention.

As with my colleagues, it’s a great day when you can have one-on-one conversations with the gang-bangers who were trying. The outside gang truce had failed, but everyone in school is sick of the blood. I felt good about every single talk. Then I felt great when the SED kid wandered into my room. My seniors were in the middle of a blunt discussion, but discussion stopped and they were sensitive and welcoming to this struggling kid. And he was clearly pleased that the assistant principal had made a special call to his job because she cared about him.

I’ll skip the political discussions we had after school, except for two points. We made special efforts to joke with the people who are tasked with monitoring our compliance with the top down mandates. If we really care for the kids, we need to cover each others’ rear ends. Secondly, I found out that our new Parent Liaison, who makes home visits, represents us in truancy courts, and takes the same risks during riots, gets paid 1/4 of his salary in California, despite raising two foster kids in addition to his own. (I don’t know how many of our staff are raising how many foster kids but every day it seems like I meet new ones. And when you are completely stressed out its good to remember that any of those kids could be the foster child of a friend.) And if I’m allowed to describe my last 24 hours as a teacher, I’d describe last night’s middle school football game and my nightly phone call from my adopted daughter who teaches in the projects of Bed Stuy. Being a Black woman from generational poverty she chose the toughest challenge and excelled. But she can’t handle the non-stop pressure to stay on the scripted lessons.

In between it all, I lobbied to reopen the gym now that we have violence and drugs under control within the building. I don’t know how you can keep doing this job into your fifties if you aren’t able to run the court and play basketball with the kids. And all though the day I kept getting visits from middle school kids, getting them excited about taking World History, Black History, and Government when they get to high school.

Many times in the last 15 years I have come home stunned, wondering whether I had been dreaming. Except for the first few months last year when I had 240 students with the majority being on parole or having some other paper trail, classroom instruction has usually been wonderful. But when you contemplated the entire day, the magnitude of the tragedy was often overwhelming. Is this possible in America? Is this possible at all? But last year spun out of control because the district had pushed high stakes standardized testing and it tried to save about $300,000 in teachers salaries. Now, they’ve invested an additional $300,000 dollars on teachers and we’re turning things around. (Yes we have all that drama in a 6th through 12th school of 600.) We experience the brutality that comes from generational poverty and fear. But we also experience great kindness. And the way we feel now, we’re even going to beat the central office.

In elite universities we often go by first names but that wasn’t allowed so my students call me D.T., so I’ll use that here.

Posted by: D.T. | October 10, 2007 7:49 PM

My school is great!
The students are good, the staff is friendly.
My principal, believe it or not, is a real teacher's principal he is a decent guy who treats everyone with respect.
It is the only place like it.

[Yeah...]

Although this story spans a year in my daughter's life, I thought I would share it with everyone...

I am the mother of a 13 year old who attended a classical magnet school on the city's southside. I have since decided to homeschool my daughter... The public school she attended was "test-crazy" (as they all are these days, I suppose). So much so that they would pass out test-prep workbooks in October to prepare for tests in March and April. These workbooks made up the bulk of the homework assignments during the year. No grammar books, no reading books, just test prep workbooks. During the year, the school held several"test prep" assemblies, and school administrators would often visit classrooms to scare the children into doing well on these test, even outlining the consequences of what would happen if they didn't score well. After a couple of months of this, the tension became so apparent that fights broke out in the classrooms over trivial matters that normally would have been solved an in instant,incidents involving students rose, and students dissolved into tears in the classroom. All of this seemed to culminate first with the apparent breakdown of a student in the classroom, and finally with the tearful breakdown of my daughter's teacher right in front of the students (she, incidentally, retired after the school year). This brought out fears and anxieties in my daughter the likes of which she had never before experienced. For the rest of the year, I refused to allow my daughter to complete any more worksheets, which were merely exercises in filling in ovals anyway...

My daughter has finally settled down. She does not get nearly as anxious as she used to when taking tests, but it has taken quite some time to get to this point. She lost her self-confidence, creativity, and joy, and I have lost faith in our system of education.

Each day I read some of the postings on this website. Today I really wanted folks to understand the other side of things. I know it's hard being a teacher in today's classrooms. It's equally difficult being a parent and a student.

Thanks.

[Alexander for Will Okun]

Last Saturday, I attended and photographed the Chicago wedding of Keith and Tarita Thomas. While all former students are remarkable and unique in their own individual ways, Keith is the once-in-a-career student who holds a special place in every teacher’s life. Keith is also one of the very few students I have taught in nine years who was raised in a two-parent household.

read the rest here:
http://kristof.blogs.nytimes.com/2007/10/07/seeking-stability/index.html?ex=1349668800&en=b96405ecaa97cf83&ei=5088&partner=rssnyt&emc=rss

[Wendy]

I have a daughter who attends Bell School in their Regional Gifted Program. I love this school. This is our first year there, but everything I have seen about the school so far makes me feel so lucky that we are there. At Bell they call the "gifted students" options programs students to put less of a label on it. I think this is a good thing, after all the students in the options program aren't "better" they just are in a different program that caters to their needs.

For starters, there's recess every day for all grades, how fantastic is that? You don't outgrow your need for a break during the day and I'm delighted that she'll have recess in 8th grade too.

There is a deaf program in the school and all of the kids learn at least some American Sign Langage. Fantastic! There's after school Chinese for students in the options program. The options kids learn French during the school day, the neighborhood kids learn Chinese.

I love the field trips and I love the work that my daughter is doing, she is learning a great deal. And she's having fun doing it too. And it does not seem to me to be rote worksheets like she had last year at Disney. She has quite a lot of homework, definitely more than 15 minutes a day (recommended at her age) especially if you include the special project she is working on (100 Day Project due in February).

Still... it's a great school and I couldn't be happier. I hope and pray that we can get her sister to go there to.

[calling Yeah...]

Yeah...

I would be delighted to read a day-in-the-life of your homeschooling experience. I wish I could do homeschooling, and would like to hear how you and your child approch it as residents of Chicago.

MOOOOOOOOOOO...said the Cow

I'd send my kid to Mr. D.T.'s class any day.

Over the last few days, students have been asking me if I know when their progress reports will be mailed. I know many students have already received theirs and at first I figured that family communication problems or mail delivery issues were at the root of the missing reports. So I’ve been telling students to keep checking the mail. But I’m beginning to wonder if maybe the students are simply not going to get their reports due to the continuing problems with IMPACT, the be-devilled web-based attendance program that CPS has adopted system-wide.
When I entered my progress report grades for the first marking period this year, I struggled mightily with IMPACT. The simple process of entering a letter grade and a comment code for five classes of students--something that took about 20 minutes with the old L-SIMS system--required almost two hours this time. Allow a half of that time because this is my first time and I have had to figure out the quirks of the program and how to respond to or avoid error messages and so forth. Still, entering grades on IMPACT takes at least three times as long as it did with L-SIMS.
In the end, I was able to enter grades for four of my five classes. The fifth one, which exists for my daily attendance purposes, seems not to exist for grade-entering purposes. As it turns out, many of my students who received a progress report at all had only three or four classes listed—out of five, six, or seven classes. The missing grades were from teachers who have been here for a while as well as teachers who are new or who have recently transferred, such as myself.
I was told by my office clerks that at some point forms and envelopes would be made available so I could manually enter and mail out progress reports for my fifth class. It’s a task I’d rather not have to do, but I knew that someone else in my school would have to do it if I didn’t. So far no one has been able to figure out the rules for how to send out manual grading in the era of IMPACT.
This week I learned that none of my grades for any of my classes had appeared on progress reports. None. That means none of my students' parents or guardians has received a grade from me for her or his child. The grades I entered are still recorded in the system. I can look at them if I go into IMPACT.
Usually, the wait time for IMPACT support is very long. I sit at my desk grading or reading, with the phone crooked betthat my free period is over between my shoulder and my chin for thirty of forty minute. Mostly, my prep period is over before anyone picks up. I got lucky on Friday and after 10 minutes, called the IMPACT support hotline and, after waiting on hold for about ten minutes--w representative if they would eventually send out corrected progress reports for us, or if there was some provision for assisting teachers like me who are faced with the prospect of filling out, reporting, and sending manual grades to every single student. He said he'd have to wait till next week.
The IMPACT catastrophe is so vast and so damaging that there is no way of articulating it to the outside world without sounding like a crazy person. Teachers are unable to record attendance properly, administrators are unable to perform their reporting duties in a timely, comprehensive, and accurate way; parents are not getting their childrens’ grades, and schools are paralyzed with the extra work and the confusing, constantly shifting instructions related to IMPACT.
I wonder why there are no news stories about this, no hue and cry in the City Council, no rolling heads on LaSalle St. Maybe the lack of a response is simply because no one can allow themselves to imagine that the leadership of our public schools would make a mistake this big.

[Fearful of retaliation]

I get up at 5 and get dressed. Getting dressed means wearing a uniform...the same uniform my students have to wear, which is so depressing and demoralizing it makes me wonder if the grocery store is hiring. My starched shirts and dress pants hang collecting dust and I wonder what kind of role model, what kind of educated professional wears sweatpants to work. I arrive at school. Early. As usual. I make my way to my classroom and wonder how my appearance will be judged despite being dressed as I am told or what name I will be called today. Do I look 'haggard' and 'tired'? Am I 'arrogant' today or do I 'act superior'?

Which PD initiative will be heaped into my lap taking me out of the classroom next? I guess 3 all at once isn't that bad if its for the children, right? My students can handle it if I'm out 3 times in 2 weeks. Good thing I have all this extra time that I don't need for my students or maybe even myself. When do I get tenure? Oh, you're not sure? And you're not sure either? Wait, do I already have it? But it says here...well, I guess I'll call...oh, nevermind.

Maybe this doesn't make sense to some of you but these are just some of the questions I ask myself or bits of conversations I've had over the years that sometimes make me wonder why I still do this job. The list of problems in CPS goes on and on and leadership at all levels is weak, old-fashioned, selfish and dripping in negative attitudes that start to rub off after a while. I can feel it rubbing off on me and I am doing everything I can think of to avoid that fate. All the wrong people are in charge and all the right people are going to leave if things don't change.

[Teachers in sweatpants]

There is no teacher dress code in CPS. A teacher wearing sweatpants does not look professional. We are supposed to look professional. Who is sayimg you are arrogant or that you look haggard? An administrator should be able to answer your question about tenure. If not, call the union. They often are more knowledgeable about CPS policy than the new crop of semi-trained administrators.

The comments are newest to oldest now I see.

RE: The uniforms, this seems to be a popular thing at many CPS schools. I used to just think it was my old school, but my new school does it too. Both of those schools only do it once a week though. Though I hate going places after school on Uniform day and often almost apologize for wearing a school uniform when I am in public. We only do this once a week though. Rest of the week is buisness casual (except casual Friday- of course. I live for casual Friday. I know we should "dress professional" but I teach under first. I am often a tissue, a paint receptacle, a shoulder to cry on etc. Plus I spend a good deal of my time sitting on the floor. It is just so much easier getting dressed on casual Friday. Still I wonder how many schools have this uniform policy? I mean it can't be enforced, but at my old school it was somehow held against you. At my new school it is encouraged, but not like someone is going to hunt you down and use it against you on your record if you don't comply.

As a former attorney, I have a wide range of professional clothes, which I wear to school., sans suit jacket. My students often don't have males in their lives, and particularly men in professional dress.

[1.04]

A Day Like No Other

The dark November dawn was still an hour away as we left Orland for the
south side ghetto. Our last sight of the white world was the little joint on 111th
in Mt .Greenwood where we stopped for coffee and the Sun Times every morning.
This was usually our last chance to be normal people for the next nine hours.
Staring at us from the front page was the picture of a kid we had talked to just the day before. I knew then it would be quite a day. But, never imagined what we were driving into as we turned onto Vincennes for the run to 83rd street.
We parked on Steward Ave. behind the old gym and walked past the urine stained walls
Into the tunnel where a hundred scurrying creatures marked our passage from the gym to the basement locker room and up the graffiti tagged stairs to the main floor. Even at 6:30 the phones were ringing off the hook every desk a buzz with sound. I answered the closest phone, and said hello. It was the voice of our District Superintendent (AIO ) today and he told me he was sorry “Did He Die “I asked and he said yes? At that moment Channel 7 pulled up to the front door.

A bus load of kids got off the bus from 79th. As they began crossing the street
One kid said something and the entire group just stopped right in the middle
Of Vincennes Ave and begin to cry several passed out right there and had to be carried into school and it wasn’t even 7:00 yet .All along the sidewalk this kept happening
again and again. By this time several TV crews were filming the total breakdown of
An entire school in living color. This was great copy to the press but they were
Real people to me caught in an urban tragedy beyond reason.
By now the teachers began to arrive most heard the horrible news on their
car radios en route. I do not think anyone could comprehend the next 4 hours
Or realize the effect it would have on us. Some of us never even signed in that day
The overwhelming human need we faced began before we even took our coats off.
Benji was shot on the sidewalk by the parking lot fence the day before at high
noon on a sunny day. All the kids knew somebody who had been shot, that was just
part of life on the South Side in 1984.Everyone in that small tight school knew
Ben as a fellow student, or teammate, when he died in the wee hours of the morning
It came like a shattering punch to the gut.
Fifteen hundred students in a state of shock and grief so real emotions ran from
suicidal to homicidal and some of us weren’t in much better shape ourselves.
We saved a school that day, and found in ourselves a strength which even today
leaves those of us still left with a pride and almost reverent meaning to the word
faculty. All while the kids could cry and we couldn’t. I don’t know how many
people the Board of Education employs as grief councilors, or psychologists,
Or social service workers in general .But I do know none of them showed up
at Simeon that day. We were on our own, which was the way it always went
anyhow. Seventy faculty and staff began working like a machine to save the kids.
There was Lonnie the auto shop teacher who stopped three hundred hard eyed boys who formed a war party from going over to Calumet to look for the shooter.

the Library became a triage for those who fainted on the first floor.
up stairs on the second and third floors it was worse students were tackled as they
tried to jump so they could be with benji .
At 11:00 we all went into the gym for a memorial service. Mel the
Newly elected Treasurer of the CTU, and former faculty member
came home in our hour of need and was a rock. We actually made him
go up on stage with the other dignitaries. Our Principal gave one of the
most inspired speeches I ever heard, so did Ben’s Mother. The bravest kid I
ever saw was the student council president of Calumet High School who came
to tell us his school felt the same way, the shooters were calumet students.
Then we all went home.
On the way home my buddy and I didn’t say much to each other. Friends
And relatives called to say they saw us on TV.It was all over the news that night and in the days to come commentary flowed from the talking heads like they knew
what they were talking about. Only one reporter in this town earned any
Respect from us that day Verner Saunders ordered his cameramen to stop
As he helped me pick up a girl who passed out she wasn’t the only kid he
helped in those horrendous first minutes.
As time passed things began returning to normal. By Christmas kids were
Laughing and goofing around again. The shooters were in jail, basketball
Season had begun and life went on. Our principal, a serious man, wrote
A letter to us describing how he felt. The teacher’s lunchroom was still
as segregated ever but, there was a change in us. We all became vicious
gang haters. No more looking the other way, no more excuses some of them actually
moved on, others got their asses kicked. It came back through the grapevine that the gangs had no part in the murder, which was true. And they wanted everybody to know it.
Even the worst gang bangers walked quickly past the school without stopping.
It became far too hot for them.
Much later those of us who were there began to talk about that ordeal.
Where did we get the strength to did so deep into our faith and training
To help hysterical kids who wanted to die. Our principal called us
“ Magnificent “.we just called ourselves , Teachers

12:53 Good job! Please send this to a newspaper. It is an inspiring story.
Non-teachers have no idea what we do on a daily basis.

[TJ]

"The dark November dawn was still an hour away as we left Orland for the south side ghetto. Our last sight of the white world was the little joint on 111th in Mt .Greenwood where we stopped for coffee and the Sun Times every morning. This was usually our last chance to be normal people for the next nine hours."

It's always nice to see how well CPS teachers can show off their writing skills and weave such fascinating yarns. A dark November dawn......south side ghetto.......last chance to be normal people. Heres a challenge. If you still teach, pass these skills on to your students. Let them write about going to Orland and leaving their world of inner city comfort and entering the sterile, Pollyanna suburbia that is anything but normal. Let our students tell your stories as you so richly attempt to tell ours. The writer spins a story of tragedy that has students passing out in the street and being carried into the school. The incident and Ben, who if anyone remembers this tragedy, will recall moved not only the entire school but the entire city as well. Adding his last name and better retelling of the why would brought some of the story together. If you weren't around when this happened then you don't have a clue about the incident or how it affected the students, faculty, administration and the community so reference is vital.

We have a district whose student population is 85% African American and Hispanic yet 47.3% of the teachers are white. It's amazing how many of these teachers share similar thinking. Everyone, this is our reality check. Look around you and keep your ears open. I remember my son came home from school one day as a 6th grader and shared a classroom conversation with me. His teacher explained that, "You people just have babies. We get married, buy a house and then start a family." I was at the school the next day, demanded an apology through the administration and met with the parent council. That teacher did not return the following school year.

I love good descriptive writing but I am not only a product of Chicago's south side but a CPS graduate and now educator. I work alongside commuters from the burbs and Indiana who have similar feelings. The question I always ask is if the south side or west side ghettos, the smell of urine, the gangs, the violence, and even how we separate ourselves in the lunchroom are so bad, why do these people keep coming to work in district 299?

We all know the answer to this. Too bad we can't do to these teachers what I do to my garden. Seems to me like its time for a weeding.

[re: traveling into the ghetto]

I thought the posting reflected our reality. Most of us do not live in the poor communities we teach in. We are entering a world which we can somewhat understand and are also very glad we do not live in. This is the case for allmost all teachers regardless of race.

Many of us may care very much about our students, but we are not really part of the reality that they live in on a daily basis. I guess most of us went on to college and teacher certification to very clearly avoid poverty in our own lives. I thought the posting was profoundly honest.

[Please don't use this thread as an example of good writing]

TJ wrote: "I love good descriptive writing"

There is good descriptive writing in this thread? I must have missed it. That goes for the Crane thread, too.

Am the only one that has found these stories to be poorly written, trite, and contrived? Though I know they reflect reality I don't find them even remotely moving or persuasive because of the poor quality of the writing. I'll be the first to put up a fight for the importance of qualitative case study, rather than quantitative data analysis, as a better way to connect emotionally to troubling situations, but when the writing is bad enough that it becomes a distraction the impact of a piece is lost.

Yes, I know, it's a blog and blogs are special things where writing and spelling and grammar and structure and sequence and flow and meaningful description don't matter. But really.

Maybe my expectations are too high.

[Grew up in Englewood]

The answer to TJ's question is to look up the word "missionary" in the dictionary. I winder if TJ is going to "weed out" all of the inner city hospial and social service agencies of white people. TJ also needs to research salaries. Chicago is not attracting white teachers due to salaries because the suburbs have been paying more for years.

[1.04]

Dear TJ
To answer your questions, I came to work in Dist.299 because me and my
Family developed the habit of eating.
I was assigned to Simeon because, in the late 60’s if you were Black the
Board sent you North; if you were White they sent you South I stayed at Simeon for decades because as one teacher put it, “ Simeon is a bad place with good people”

9:16, I guess your expectations are too high, considering you began your sentence with "AM".

[Typos vs. deeply flawed writing]

9:43,

Good point - allow me to take this moment to correct the typo. In the third paragraph of my 9:16 post "Am the only one" should read "Am I the only one".

But the point of my previous post is not typographical errors. I have no problem with typos - and not just because I make them occasionally. I was referring more to incomplete sentences (when not being used for dramatic effect), meandering run-on sentences, confusing sequence, trite stereotypes, contrived writing style, and poor, irrelevant, or overly dramatic description.

So, thank you for your response and correction, petty and meaningless as it is. If you can muster even a mildly substantive response, I'm interested in reading it.

[Are you kidding me?]

From 9:16 - "Am the only one that has found these stories to be poorly written, trite, and contrived?"

I believe the title of this column is "A Day in THE Life...". Not a day in YOUR life or MY life but someone else's life and an opportunity for that someone else to connect or vent or do whatever it is that he or she needs to unload some small portion of the stress of a challenging occupation.

If you are finding this writing trite or contrived, perhaps you ought to simply count your blessings rather than condemn a colleague for wishing she had one or two more.

[Student writing?]

Despite my frustration with the quality of the writing in this thread, I think it's an excellent idea. Case studies and personal anecdotes can be a powerful way to convey the realities of some extremely challenging experiences that are foreign to so many in Chicago who never leave the relative comfort of their own neighborhoods.

I'd really like to see a similar writing project done by students at these schools. With multiple drafts, lots of editing, and teacher guidance I would think somebody at these schools could produce a publishable piece. I don't know of any English teachers at my school who utilize this kind of project. Are there English teachers at other schools that do? Where might someone find examples of top quality work that expresses the reality of student lives? Might Mr. Russo consider offering a student contest and then post the winner on this site?

[Not kidding...]

11:01,

I don't believe my initial post had anything to do with the writing not reflecting my reality. And nearly all students and teachers in CPS deserve more blessings. If you re-read my post I think you'll find I wasn't condemning anyone for wanting more, either. But maybe my original intent wasn't clear.

I certainly didn't intend to condemn anyone for venting or unloading stress and obviously don't expect the experiences of others to match my own. As I mention in my initial post I don't find the writing trite or contrived because of the reality it describes but rather because of the way that reality is described. I guess I was just hoping for something more effective and compelling. It's obvious some of the writing here has worked for some people, it just hasn't worked for me.

I am aware of the subjective nature of descriptive writing, so yeah, I should lighten up and recognize the casual nature of this blog and thread. Point well taken.