When you step into any school, you have no idea what to expect. I always said expect chaos when you come to a middle school, and most days it is like that. Preteen children are, in a nice term, absolutely crazy. Most times, it's not their fault; any psychology textbook will tell you that the connections between the limbic system (regulating emotion) and the prefrontal cortex (regulating logic and decision making) are nowhere near strong in a young adolescent. So, if a 6th grader acts crazy or starts dancing on a table in the middle of lunch, most likely it's brain psychology working. However, if that same 6th grader lives in a war zone like the Lower Bottoms, or was exposed to drugs and alcohol in the womb, and is already 2-3 grade levels behind in reading or mathematics, that brain connection is even weaker due to stress. Throw in some PTSD or learning disability, and there may be no connection at all. This 6th grader is acting out and can't tell you why. A counselor told me once that the brain chemistry of a "functioning" 12 year old is similar to a 45 year old with schizophrenia. So, coming to work every day is like walking into a psychiatric ward, except the padded walls are replaced with metal lockers.
However, I never imagined the chaos to extend to the adults running this asylum of learning. The dysfunction amongst adults working at the school can be as bad as the dysfunction amongst the students. It's not overt; you can't walk into the front office and point out the madness most days. But, there is one tool to help understand what the environment is like...the administrative radio.
The day I got the admin radio, I felt like a king. I was finally in the big kids club; I had arrived on scene. Really? I can listen into the adult conversations? I can call the principal or anybody else with this thing? I get to look official in front of the kids? It's like a status symbol, akin to driving a BMW or owning a home in the Oakland hillside. Look at me, I'm a boss. I got this, and you don't. But, once you turn it on, you desperately want to give it back. Communication on this thing feels like we're walking a beat in the Poe Homes, just got jumped by some dope boys and we need backup...IMMEDIATELY. Honestly, 99% of the communication is not that serious, and doesn't demand the faux intensity. If you need paperwork or need a student out of PE to take their medication, don't calmly talk in the radio and ask; you scream as if your body is on fire. Any form of help requested on the radio sounded like a disaster was happening...except if you needed toilet paper in the bathroom (you never freaked out towards custodial...NEVER).
ASSISTANCE NEEDED IN ROOM 15 IMMEDIATELY!!! TEACHER NEEDS SECURITY NOW! First time I heard that, I did a Usain Bolt towards the class, thinking it was a weapon or a dangerous situation. Nope...kid didn't want to take her seat and start the Do Now. After a while, unless a "999" or "943" code was given, I usually didn't pay too much attention to what was said. Between the hours of 2pm and 3pm, that radio was turned off. Silence is golden, especially at a middle school.
The worst part is the attitude that is transmitted with the message. If you don't like somebody, your voice inflection will display it. Office drama doesn't need to exist in the office; it exists on the radio, directly in earshot of students and parents. If the principal is having a bad day, Heaven help you if she gives a direct order over the radio...you'll find out whether you're still in her good graces. If the attendance clerk needs a student in the office, she'll give a 5 minute explanation WHY she needs the student. If you're sending a student to in-school suspension, and you know the kid is an absolute pain the ass, the reply of "copy" will detail the feeling of Oh my God...not this little fool again...just send his sorry self home for today. The radio is not a tool of effective communication; it's a medium to express your frustration in working in chaos.
If that dancing 6th grader got their hands on an admin radio, they would probably think we're the crazy ones.
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