OWP Paper #3

Hart, Shannon

July 6, 1997

In just four quick weeks, period three had sent one teacher on permanent vacation, and caused the next two to not want any part of them. Other teachers in the building were afraid of them. Their seating chart contained thirty-one names. Twenty-seven boys and four girls. Next to eighteen of the names were little red stars. These, I was told, were the ones I really needed to watch. "I sure am glad that I'm not you," one teacher told me, a few hours before I was to meet the infamous period three.

I once talked to the teacher next door, and she described to me, vividly, how the kids from room S203 would run by and wave; exuberant, carefree, and delinquent. Frequently, the sound of airborne chairs, succumbing to the forces of gravity and crash-landing against the wall they shared, would shatter the calm of her social studies class. She knew most of the students very well. One kid reportedly beat a teacher at another school. Another supposedly raped a 10 year old girl. Yet another was illiterate and hated teachers. All of them have had three teachers in four weeks, and I was number four. This was going to be my first teaching experience?

I was beginning to feel the first uncomfortable pangs of reality. What positive experiences could these kids possibly have had in these first four weeks of the school year? It dawned on me that these kids were probably not going to be in a good mood. In fact, they were probably going to be rather disgruntled with things like new teachers, new rules, new plans. Everything new... again.

The first couple of days were of posturing and displays. The kids would ply the tricks of their trade, testing me to see if I, too, would leave them. I assured them that not only was I not impressed with their tactics, but I also (cheerfully!) was planning on finishing out the year. This did not deter them, but it did give me a goal to set my sights upon.

One of the previous teachers lectured all period while using the overhead projector, and therefore she couldn't see the gremlins at work. The class was in shambles. Desks sat in parts. There were three floor fans and one ceiling fan, and none of them worked. The kids had taken them apart. There was writing on the desks and on the walls. On the teacher's desk, the teacher's name was etched onto the wood front, followed by the word: "SUX". I informed the class, much to their amusement, that one of the first things we were going to do was work on their spelling.

All of my classes were hardened by the experience of having been abandoned by the first three teachers, and were therefore difficult. But period three was the challenge. They were what everyone said they were, and more. I am a firm believer that kids, like all wild animals, can sense fear. They can feel the sweat form under your arms, and across your forehead. Period three was the only class that would address it directly.

"Are you nervous, Mr. Hart?", someone would say.

"No, " I would reply, sweat beads rolling down my face.

"Then why are you sweating?", someone else would say.

"I'm not sweating. It's an illusion. Do your work," I would say, my shirt sticking to me like a wet paper towel. This would elicit a chuckle from the class, but it was a test. It was all a test. They would ask a seemingly innocent question, but no question was innocent. They were looking for a crack, an opening. They wanted to see me crack. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction. In fact, I would try to reverse the tables; to test them.

In Hawaii, it is common knowledge that certain cultures had eating habits that would be considered strange, if not revolting, most anywhere else. Having grown up in Hawaii, I was used to this. The kids, even looking at me, would still not believe that I, a 6' 5" white guy, was, as they were, a native. I could not be one of them.

One day, a kid named Duke asked a question in a very innocent tone.

"Mr. Hart, have you ever eaten dog?"

The collective ears of the class perked up. It didn't sound like it yet, but it had all the makings of a challenge.

"No," I replied. I looked intently into his eyes. I wasn't sure where this was going.

"I eat black dog all the time. If I brought some in sometime, would you eat it?" he asked seriously. I couldn't tell if he were joking or not. I looked around at the class. Every single student had stopped what they were doing to hear my response. This was it. Another challenge lay before me, and as usual, what was at stake was the power-hierarchy in the class, and my future role at the top of the pyramid.

"If you brought in some dog, and ate it with me, I would eat it." I smiled.

"O.K., I'll bring some in tomorrow." He smiled. In my mind, I had called his bluff. In my heart, I hoped to God that he would forget.

The next day, the class filed in and took their seats. I had completely forgotten the previous day's challenge, but, apparently, Duke had stayed up all night in sleepless anticipation of this moment. He took a Tupperware container out from his bag and placed it on my desk. All eyes of the class were upon me. Duke had a big grin on his face.

"There it is, Mr. Hart. Black dog I cooked last night." He opened the container, smiling all the while, and took a piece of what looked like barbecued meat. He quickly popped it into his mouth and chewed. He held out the container for me to take a piece. I hesitated for only a moment, then took one and quickly put it into my mouth. I made a face, and the class laughed, but then I smiled and took another. The class continued to watch in rapt attention as I chewed my dog and smiled, and Duke chewed his and smiled.

"Tastes like chicken," I announced to the class with a broad grin. Everyone laughed, including Duke. I had passed yet another test. To this day, I'm not sure if it really was dog that I ate, but to the class it didn't matter. From that day forward, third period seemed to ease up on me. Perhaps I was finally one of them, or perhaps they gave up, figuring they had given their best shot and I had taken it on the chin and was still standing. I would survive that first year, and in fact I became fast friend and mentor to several of those kids, including Duke. I remember that class as my greatest challenge, and my proudest achievement.

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