a school

the first couple times i subbed at this school, i had to say little more than "okay folks, we're gonna get started" to get everyone's eyes and attention. it was a nice change. i could relax a bit, sit in the chair, get some other work done while they self-managed. when i subbed for an econ/wh teacher for three weeks in january, however, i began to make some observations. or perhaps the observations were made of me.

the first incident was with the teacher i was subbing for. "are you ryan?" offering my hand. "i'm eunice, nice to meet you." "can you give me five minutes to finish this email?" of course i said yes. is asking someone to wait a power move? i don't know. he explained his unit(s) to me, sifting through messy piles of papers on his desk. eventually the students came in and i sat to observe his lecture. "if you get A's it's bc you are increasing your brain capacity and making your brain worth more so if you're a doctor and get paid more it's bc you deserve it bc you invested in your brain." and "if you get knocked down in the field, what do people call you? that's right, you said it, not me." and "i'll be out this month, this is your teacher, euniece."

if my insides weren't dying yet they were now. i sat next to him to review the econ project. "to clarify, my name is eunice, and i go by ms. h in the classroom." he apologizes and corrects himself to the class. could that have been avoided? i don't know.

for the next couple weeks, i stressed much, slept little, planned my ass off unnecessarily. partly because his lessons were shit, partly because it was my only way to resist what i perceived to be an ideologically hostile environment. i taught the students that economic markets were different than economic philosophies, and that marx's ideas were a utopian reality intended to fix perceived wrongs. it was the best i could manage, especially because whenever i said marx, a collective shiver seemed to arise through the room. it was like i said voldemort or something. in the world history class, i asked students whether it was okay for someone incompetent to declare war. at which point a student heatedly said, "that's your opinion. i happen to think he was right in the suleimani strike."

through those weeks, it was small moments that quickly began to erode my sense of well-being and safety. moments like these:

"i taught in south central la." raised eyebrows, downturned mouth, a reactive "oh wow."
or, while working in the faculty room: "hi tiff!" a white male. "i'm not tiff." "oh.... all good... all good... you looked like tiff from behind..." where was the ownership? apology? i don't know.
or, another, "euniece." from another white male.
or, a white male with dreads in the lunch room.
or, an older white teacher: "we should really send you to africa. that'll teach you to complain." what the fuck?
or, "i student taught at valley. that was a school." to which i pursed my lips and did not respond.
or, getting in my car and seeing a tesla in front of me driven by a student.
or, "freedom writers." after my introduction. to which i say "i don't like that movie."