A Story to Tell, Part 1

My class and I pulled up very quickly to a second intersection this fall. At this 2nd yellow light, I feel the need to insert something fresh into the course. We received a little boost when we relocated to our current space. As a teacher who likes to keep his fingers on the pulse of my GenZers and monitor whether learning experiences are true to their respective names, learning and experiences, my challenge remains to keep up with Generation TikTok. "Trite" happens far more quickly than I remember it happening as a teacher even a few years ago.

Friday afternoon, I sat in my office contemplating a next move for Comm101 while also working on a little writing thingy to present. The heat in my office was on Hawaii, as one school police officer put it, so I relocated. I took my laptop and went to room 305, our classroom. While I needed to be somewhere less equator, I also needed to think.

I needed to be in the classroom.

In the "House" where our room is located, all was quiet, calm, and dare I say, relaxing, a slight contrast to how I was feeling earlier in the day. In the room, I kept the artificial lights off and let only the natural light in. I pulled up something relaxing on the SmartBoard. My colleague had a class of 11th graders next door. My other colleagues were engaged with their classes throughout the U-shaped House of classrooms. Lunches had long been over. This wing was on some learn and chill type stuff this afternoon.

As I sat and worked, one of my auntie-like colleagues passed by. As she passed, I yelled out because I hadn't seen her all day--possible, but atypical. We talked for a bit. She spoke of her experiences coming along in public school. I spoke of how my generation may have been the last to experience some of what she experienced in schools, particularly what teachers were allowed to do.

As we talked and compared notes, the elder with the younger, she mentioned the Black male teachers she had. I asked her what school she went to. She mentioned Barratt Junior High. We kept talking. Later, "By the way, were you there around the time Martin Luther King spoke there?" She lit up! Of course she was there and remembers it all very fondly! She began recalling how she and her classmates felt, where exactly she sat, and how some of the boys had to borrow ties from some closet or something. She remembers it all very vividly.

It was my turn to light up! I work with and am in the company of someone who was an 8th grade student at Barratt Junior High School when one of the most prolific of Black people came to speak with students in a Philly public school. Say less. "Would you mind coming to speak with my class?" Yes! <inserts something fresh for a couple of class sessions>

Short story.
Was chatting w older colleague.
Me, "Oh wht school did you go to?" "Barrett"
*chat some more*
"Were you there around the time MLK spoke?"
*beams*
"I was in 8th grade, X-row, 3rd seat."
✔Booked to come to Comm101 to chat with the class"
The end.

— Stephen R. Flemming, Ed.D. (@kellygrade6) November 5, 2021

I'm glad it was hot in my office

that my classroom was cooler

that she walked by

that I yelled out

that she came in

that we talked

that I asked

that she answered

that I asked another

that she answered another

that I asked yet another, again

that she consented to chatting with them

To be continued...