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The “X”-Class
“Wait, what?” she asked Kathy, not sure she had heard correctly.
“Ms. Jackson tells me you have been teaching the x-class the Regents science curriculum.”
“Yeah?” she said. “What’s your point?”
“It’s an “X” class,” Kathy replied, exasperated.
“It’s a class,” the teacher said flatly, trying to choose her words carefully. After all Kathy was the A.P. and the teacher was new to this school. She didn’t want to be tagged as “sarcastic” or worse “insubordinate”. Two labels that she’d hoped to shed once she left her last school. She was not used to watching her mouth, especially when a situation was ridicules and this situation was getting more and more ridicules by the minute.
“You asked me to do you a favor and take on this class until you found another teacher for it. And I agreed even though it meant another prep, which by the way, is over the legal limit”
“Yes, and I appreciate your co-operation. But I told you then that it was an “X” class” Kathy said. The pitch of her voice rising.
“I’m sorry,” the teacher said trying to keep an even tone. “But am actually I being called on the carpet for teaching the class?” her eyes trained on Kathy.
“X . . . X . . . do you know what the “X” in X-class means? Do you even recall?” Kathy asked, meeting her gaze, waging her finger in front of the teacher’s face, head tilted.
The teacher thought, now who’s being sarcastic.
“I’m not sure I recall, but I do recall what you told me when I agreed to take the class. Let me see” she said, mocking Kathy’s tone, “I think I can quote. You said ‘Nobody cares what you teach them’. Isn’t that what you said?”
“Well yeah, but you knew what I meant.” Kathy replied, pitch even higher, cheeks flushing crimson.
Warming to the exchange, sensing Kathy’s vulnerability, having been trapped by her own words, the teacher couldn’t resist going on the attack.
“Yeah I did understand what you meant.” she said sharply “I understood that I didn’t have to teach them jack, that I could do what everybody else around here does with these kids, babysit! X-kids, non-diploma bound, basket weaving and finger painting! Isn’t that it? Isn’t that what you meant?”
Turning away from her, Kathy began to shuffle papers on her desk.
“You are out of line,” Kathy said softly, her voice shaky and surprisingly contrite.
“I’m sorry,” the teacher said and she really was. There’s no fight here, she thought. Confused because Kathy’s tone belied her words, she said,
“But with all due respect, this is my favorite class.”
“The X-class?”
“Yeah, they are thirsty for knowledge. They are attentive and funny and, well, they’re just a pleasure”
“The x-class? How can they learn Regents science. They’re in the 11th grade and none of them can read.
“They’re just dyslexic. That doesn’t mean they can’t learn the information. I do all the reading. I make games of it. They love it,” she said. Then on impulse she added
“Let me keep them!”
“The x-class?”
“They’re non-diploma bound anyway so they don’t have to take the test. That doesn’t mean they shouldn’t learn anything. I don’t mind the extra class.”
“I’m pretty sure we would be out of compliance,” she said weighing the possibility. “And we’re due for an audit. So, no, I can’t do that”.
Bureaucrat bitch, the teacher thought. Then she turned and left the office. Tomorrow she’d start looking for another job. There must be s school somewhere that practices common sense.
B. Lynn Carter: Born and raised in the Bronx, Lynn graduated The City College of New York with a B.A. in creative writing. Currently she is enrolled in the Writer’s Institute at Sarah Lawrence College in New York. She is the founder of the “B•X Writers,” which came out of The Bronx Writer’s Center that is affiliated with The Bronx Council of the Arts. She is also one of the founders of “Fannie Lou Hamer High School”, a small progressive school in the South Bronx, NYC.
Email: B. Lynn Carter
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