#CrockettHighSchool – Sittin' Ugly Sistahs

It was April, nearing the end of school, and the air hung low while the tensions ran high. The humidity outside made sweat bead up on my top lip and my clothes feel like I was wearing a wet diaper. And while I tried to start each day fresh and dressed to the 9’s, I ended these muggy days as barely a 3.8.

Lunchtime is always hectic at a large urban high school, and on this day at Crockett High School, as an Assistant Principal, I was outside patrolling the back of the school. Only seniors were allowed to leave for lunch, but of course we knew that was a rule followed by few. Complaints had come in from teachers hearing cars spinning out from that back parking area by the tennis courts, along with loud music and the occasional waft of smoke; cigarettes and other smokables.

Crockett high school is a beautiful campus and backs up to Garrison Park, a neighborhood park with baseball fields and a swimming pool. Unfortunately, some students liked to take long lunches or skip classes and hang out in the park where nothing, but no-good shenanigans would take place.

On this particular day, the SRO, School Resource Officer, had suggested that two AP’s be on the lookout for a late model, rusty blue chevy, with three male, non-students, inside. It had been reported that these guys were trying to pick up girls from that parking area behind the school. It had also been reported that they were blasting their music with loud, low bass thump, thump, thumps, disturbing classes while they waited for the girls to come out.

Another female AP, Ms. Wilson, and I were positioned in that back area by the park. We walked around, turning under-classmen back toward the school, while keeping an eye out for our rusty blue chevy. As we circled around, we spotted our three guys, parked under some trees, music thumping and a faint smell of marijuana floating through the air. They didn’t see us as we lurked behind the dumpster.

“Officer Smith, we spotted the blue chevy,” I whispered over the radio.

“10-4. I’ll be right there,” the SRO answered.

When he arrived at the dumpster, the SRO, Ms. Wilson, and I made our plan of attack.

“The bell rings in 4 minutes, we should wait until the bell rings then nab them just as the girls are approaching the car,” Ms. Wilson said.

“No, it might be too crowded with kids coming out for lunch. Besides, they’re smoking joints right here on school property. We should call for back up,” I suggested.

And before we could finalize a plan, all hell broke loose.

Two girls came out of the back door of the school three minutes before the bell rang and were looking left and right for the car. The blue chevy boys saw the girls and turned up the thump, thump music and put the car in drive.

Without a real plan, the SRO, Ms. Wilson, and I sprang into action. The SRO took off toward the opposite end of the drive to set up a road block. Ms. Wilson and I waited by the dumpster because the car had to come down that way to turn around and get out of the driveway. As the car approached, we stepped out yelling for the car to stop.

“Hey guys, stop right there,” I yelled, and I saw out of the corner of my eye, the girls start running toward the park. I heard Ms. Wilson say, “Well s!*#”, and take off running after them. Now, Ms. Wilson was a tall, big boned woman, dressed in a smart looking, purple colored knee-length shift, wearing mid-heeled espadrille sandals, so this was no track star chasing the students, but her commitment to the challenge was unmatched.

I knew I had to get this car to stop, so I stepped in front of it.

“Are you crazy lady? Get out of the way,” one of the boys yelled.

“Hey man, let me see your school ID,” I told the driver, knowing full well these three hooligans were not students.

“We’re just picking up my sister,” he said as he started to turn the car away from me.

In a reflex action, I grabbed his arm, which was hanging out of the smoke filled, thump, thump, rusted blue chevy. “Stop!” I yelled and for some unknown reason, he did.

I still had my hand on his arm even as the car slowed and finally stopped, and as I glanced down at his arm I saw a yellow band on his wrist with “WWJD?” And I lost it!

“What would Jesus do?,” I hollered at him. “What would Jesus do? Not smoke pot and pick up underage girls!!!” I hissed. “Jesus would definitely not do that.”

“Let go of my arm, lady, you’re crazy!” And the car started to go.

In a split second, I knew I had a decision to make. I couldn’t hold on to his arm and run beside a speeding car, but for some reason I didn’t let go of his arm. I started to jog beside the car and then finally let go as he tried to roll the window up. When I suddenly looked up I saw a police car parked, blocking their exit. (Not a minute too soon.)

I don’t know how she did it, but Ms. Wilson brought the girls back to campus and we called their parents. The boys went with the police, and the smoke filled, rusted, thump, thump blue chevy got towed. April turned into May and school was finally out, but not before I had a little time to reflect on that yellow wrist band.

Maybe our wanna be thug/pot smoker had a devil and an angel sitting on his shoulders. On one hand he wondered, what would Jesus do, and on the other he just wanted to live his best life out on the streets. It’s definitely a conundrum as old as the ages, and it was definitely one day in my life as an assistant principal that I will never forget.

Back in 2004 I was teaching AP English IV at Crockett High School. My seniors took their AP Exam in early May. We had studied Joseph Conrad’s The Heart of Darkness the weeks before the big exam. I had told them, “This book is only 90 pages long; however, it will be the most challenging book you’ve ever read.”

Some sentences meandered for three quarters of a page, and Conrad smashed the dialogue between different characters into a single paragraph. Conrad helped readers feel the confusion and danger of taking an old steamboat down the Congo River in 1834. The paragraphs were as dense as the jungle, and the characters’ secrets were as dark as their greed. Also, the narrator’s story got more menacing as he got closer to Mr. Kurtz, the ivory merchant he was supposed to take out of the jungle.

While my senior classes endured their 3-hour morning AP exam, I realized that my afternoon classes would be in no shape to study literature that day. My video about free verse poetry and the short story with a surprise ending would hold no one’s interest. Their hands would be tired after writing three literary essays, and their brains would be fried after the exam’s grueling multiple choice section.

During lunchtime I went to the teacher lounge and noticed two large rolls of colored paper in the supply closet – the kind of paper we used to cover bulletin boards or let students make projects with. One roll was green and the other was brown. An idea emerged. I grabbed a box of scissors and a few rolls of masking tape. With ten minutes left of my lunch, I hurried to the art classes downstairs and borrowed a large roll of blue paper and one of black from my favorite art teacher.

She asked, “What are you making?”

I looked at her and smiled. “A jungle!”
Being open-minded, supportive, and cool, she asked no questions and had two art students carry the paper rolls upstairs to my classroom.

My seniors came to class both tired and energized. Some wanted to talk about the AP Exam (which violated the form they had signed to not discuss test details with anyone). Others were hoping for a movie to watch, and maybe one or two came in thinking we might analyze a poem.

I surprised all with, “Today we’re turning our classroom into the Heart of Darkness Jungle!”

First, we brainstormed setting details from Heart of Darkness. They mentioned the Congo River, the steam boat, Krutz’s cabin in the jungle, and the severed heads on poles used to ward off intruders. We decided to use the green, black, and brown paper to make trees and vines to suggest the jungle, the blue for the river, and white to draw the boat and the main characters.

All got into the jungle idea. I told them they had to join a group: Vine Makers, River Workers, Steamboat Builders, and Hut Makers. A few asked if they could make the heads on poles. To receive a 100 for the day’s assignment each student had to help build the jungle and to add a quote from Heart of Darkness. My students worked like large elves on Christmas Eve. Someone even used my computer to blast the song, “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” as we worked.

As as an experienced teacher, I’ve had successes some days. Sometimes students really enjoy discussing a thought-provoking story like “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas”; or they give star performances of a Hamlet soliloquy; or they cry at the end of Elie Wiesel’s Night. However, so many of my seniors loved building the jungle that the next year I let my sophomores contribute to the jungle by adding details from The Lord of the Flies. One student decided the entrance way needed a waterfall, so people had to push aside the long strips of blue paper as they came to class. Some of my peers told me they’d hate so much chaos and mess in their classroom, but I learned to embrace the wild spirits and high energy of my students.

After a few years of building jungles, I had my coolest teacher buddies (Paul & Janie), who also taught Heart of Darkness, build their own jungles. And the groovy art teacher would visit our classes and give a certificate for “The Best Jungle.” I did not win that certificate, but I did have future students (freshmen, sophomores, juniors, and seniors) come to the very first day of school and say, “Hey, Miss, when are we gonna make a jungle in your class?”