Burned CDs and Burning Rubber

I was making copies in the staff lounge when Mike the Photography Teacher came in; this is a man I’ve talked to probably twice in my life.

“So how can I get one of your CDs?” he asked.
“What?” I asked, surprised.
“The kids are playing your CD in my class!” he said. “And they’re singing along, they know all the words!”
“What?!” I said. “Are you serious?!”
“Yeah!”
“Oh my gosh… I gave out some of those as prizes when we played Grammar Jeopardy in class—I can’t believe they’re playing them in your class--!”
“They LOVE it!” he said. “I’d really like one—you remind me of like a 70’s folk singer.”
“Thanks...” I said, turning red. “I’m embarrassed, but flattered.”
Another teacher came in. “You have a CD?” she asked.
“Well, I gave out burned CDs when we played Grammar Jeopardy, as prizes—but initially, I’d just brought in mix CDs of my favorite music. But then the kids asked, ‘Are these YOUR songs?’ and I said, ‘No! I’m not going to try to push my music off on you guys.’ But they said, ‘Well we’d want the CD if they were YOUR songs!’... So I brought in a couple of burned CDs the next day of my music... Oh my gosh, and they know the words??”
He smiled. “All of them. They really care about you. It’s obvious they really care about you. So what do you think, can I pay you for one?”
“No, don’t PAY me.”
“I insist, I’d want to give you something.”
“Well, buy me coffee then. But sure, I’ll bring one in for you.”

When I got back to the classroom, Viola reiterated the same thing. “I forgot to tell you! When you were gone last Friday, all the kids were talking about your songs!”

What a funny, unexpected start to a dreary, rainy morning. My favorite part was when he said, "It's obvious they really care about you." Good words.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

Remember when I blogged about the students who were like peeing puppy dogs? Raoul is another one. Huge dark brown eyes with long lashes, a sweet temperament, a good heart-- and he never gets his work in. Some of my Latino boys have developed a trick with me: they ask for ONE MORE DAY to get it done, and give me some excuse for why that's valid. Usually it's because they were absent. (Which is usually because they were skipping class.) If I show any signs of wavering (which I usually do), they try to sweeten the deal. "How about for half-credit? Please?"

"Raoul, I need your reading journal."
"But I was gone."
"I know, that's why I need it now. It was due before break."
"But couldn't I have an extra day to get it in, since I was absent?"
"No, because it was due BEFORE break. You had an entire extra WEEK to get it done."
"You always say no to me! Why do you always say no to me?"
"I do NOT always say no to you, I have given you sooo many breaks, Raoul."
"No you don't, you always say no--"
"Raoul. This was due BEFORE BREAK. I will give you until the end of the day to turn in whatever you've got. If I don't see it by the end of the day, you're getting zero credit, and I won't accept it late. Okay?"
He grumbled and muttered.
"So DON'T FORGET to turn it in at the end of the day. Write it on your hand or something."

Raoul has done this before. He "forgets" to come back at the end of the day, gets his extra time, and then usually manages to get his credit.

In fifth period, one of the other Latino boys asked if he could turn his in-class assignment in at the end of the day, just to have a little more time. "Yes. And remind Raoul that he HAS to bring me his reading journal, otherwise I'm not accepting it at all."
"I will. Thanks Greta."

After school I waited. No Raoul. No George.

Grumpily, I packed up my stuff, and rehearsed in my head the conversations that I imagined ensuing the next day. "But I forgot!" "You must think I'm so stupid, Raoul..." They ALWAYS do this. Stupid peeing puppy dogs.

As I was driving away from the school, I saw the two of them along with some of their friends out of the corner of my eye, all waiting for their Metro bus. I whipped my car around in a U-turn and pulled up alongside the curb. Their eyes got big. I rolled down my window and smiled cheerfully.
"Raoul! George! I just wanted to let you know that you can slide your stuff under the door!"
"What...?" Raoul asked.
"When you go back to the classroom to turn in your reading journal. Because you were planning on doing that, right? Just go ahead, and slide it under the door!"
George untangled himself from the female he'd been draping. "What? You need my reading journal?"
"No, I need your in-class assignment, and Raoul's journal."
"Do you need anything from ME?!" their friend asked in panic.
"No Jose, you're fine."
Raoul had pulled his coat up over his grinning face. George turned to him, "Dude, I'm not done with mine."
"Or you can just give it to me now," I told Raoul.
"Noo... I'll go back and turn it in..." he said, grinning in spite of himself.
"Alright then. See you later!"

And I whipped my car back around and sped off. Lesson to me? No more allowing these boys to "turn things in at the end of the day." Lesson to them? I can, and will, HUNT THEM DOWN.