What's in a name?

I said this about D'Andre James, but the same is true for Darian: all you need to do to get a good story is talk to him. For any length of time. Period. Toward that end, I talk to Darian as often as possible.


Me: "Hey, Darian, I read that the Rams signed an offensive tackle named Darian Smith."

Darian: "Man my name is BLOWIN' UP!" ::waves arms emphatically, as if challenging those not named Darian Smith::


You need proof that there's a benevolent God? I get Darian in two classes next year, homeroom AND English. Expect the output of this blog to increase tenfold.

Thank you, Jim Halpert

Here's a joke I stole from "The Office" [US]. Of course, it has only worked for me once--on April Fools' Day.


Me, passing out papers: "Man, it smells like up dog in here."

Student, angrily: "What the HELL is 'up dog'?"

Me: "Not much, what's up with you?"


I was, and am... unhealthily proud of this.

Isn't it ironic?

In my younger, weaker days, I was still under the impression that I had to follow the district-created curriculum exactly. This led to that fateful, dreary September day, when I used a recording of "Ironic" by Alanis Morissette to help teach irony. (Thankfully, though, the song actually convinced me to get rid of most of the curriculum--I made it through two of six classes before 86-ing the lesson--and I have never looked back. Cheers, Alanis!)

Anyway:


Me, unenthusiastically: "OK, who can give me some examples of irony in this song?"

silence

Me: "What's ironic about this song, everyone?"

Student [Cory Mantle]: "It's ironic that she got a record deal!"


Needless to say, Cory solidified his 'A' for the rest of the year right then and there.

Nicknames

In one class I had a "Mo Mo," a "Neek Neek," and a "Nay Nay," all friends. Another student calls me Mr. "Vonn Vonn."

As much as I enjoy repetitive nicknames, my all-time personal favorite is still Vonnimilian--shortened on delicious occasions to Vonn-a-Mil.

He Ain't

Student [Kaneisha]: "Mr. Vonn, can I go to Mr. Stevens' class?"

Me: "Not right now, Kaneisha."

Kaneisha: "But Mr. Vonn! I have to work on a project for his class and I need his help!"

Me: "Kaneisha, I think he's teaching right now."

Kaneisha: "Trust me, he ain't."

Dr. Smith

On the last day of class I took pictures in my homeroom.

Me: "Darian, look at this, you look like a professor in this picture."
Darian: "Man I AM a professor!"

Did I mention he was my favorite?

Point!

Before we get too far on this blog, some explanation is needed for what will surely become a recurring interjection. I am speaking, of course, of "point."

The word "point" (or "point!") as an interjection, as far as we can tell, was invented in our school district sometime in the last 10-15 years. (I've met the man who says his class invented it. OK, my friend met him.) Many have tried to define the interjection, but essentially it translates to "Give me a break!" or "That's ridiculous!" or "What you have just said is poppycock!" I see now that "point" does have a definition on urbandictionary.com (it didn't earlier this year), which looks like it may have been written by one of our students. I cite now from the website:

"as in when someone says something stupid or randomly that does not make any sense
person 1: "aint it possible to burn trash in a bubble?"
Person 2: "man... point"
or
Person 1: "Ooh he fine" (when he really dont even look good...)
Person 2: "Point, he ugly."

And another definition courtesy of urbandictionary.com:

"When a person says something that is stupid, makes no since, or is not true.

Person 1-Didn't you go wit Beyonce'?
Person 2-Point!

Person 1-Did you know that the grass used to be purple?
Person 2-Point!"

For the full effect, you have to imagine it pronounced in the proper accent. This is hard to communicate in print. Think puh-oint, but pronounced as one syllable. (The word takes a parabolic journey from start to finish, the range of which changes based on the ludicrousness of the situation. "Man, point"; or, "POOOOOINT!!!") One of the best things about "point" is it is so staunchly one of the kids' words, it is virtually a guaranteed laugh anytime an adult says it. (I will take all the laughs I can get.)

Student: "Why we gotta read this?"
Me: "Point."

The recent, now more popular variant is "oint!" which, obviously, leaves off the 'P.' This I am not a fan of. "Point" just makes sense. We don't have many other good words that express the same feeling (the closest I can think of is "Pfft!" or "Bullshit!" but the former is too old-fashioned and the latter is un-sanitized and not an exact translation). I suppose a better way of expressing my dissatisfaction with "oint" could go thusly: "Oint? Man, point!"

"Point" was, I am told, excessively commonplace before I became a teacher, having had its heyday a few years back. Now, regrettably, it is on the wane. But Mr. Vonn is determined to keep "point" alive. It has become such a part of my everyday vocabulary that I now struggle NOT to use it. Example:

Automated Operator: "Please enter or say your nine-digit account number."
Alan: "Man point you know my account number."

Anyone initiating an "icebreaker": "OK everyone, stand up..."
Alan: "...point."

Here's a random anecdote from my favorite student, Darian Smith:

Mr. Vonn: "Point." (For whatever reason--I can't remember exactly.)
Darian: "Man don't say 'point,' we too gangsta to say 'point!'

You hear that folks? I am "too gangsta." Watch out.

Irony

Rarely do I one-up the students and get laughs. But once I think I actually won:


Mr. Vonn, explaining an example of irony in a short story: "You see--that's irony!"

Student: "You're irony."

Mr. Vonn: "...Your mom's irony."


BOOYAH!

The Chronicles of D'Andre James, Part I

D'Andre James is a freshman and will probably be one for a long-time to come. He is a BD (behavioral disorder) student, a chronic member of the "DNA List" (Do Not Admit List, meaning he's always up for suspension, whether in-school [ISS] or out [OSS]), a class clown to end all class clowns, and by many accounts the worst-behaved student in the school. He is also pretty hilarious.

Here's how you get a funny D'Andre anecdote: talk to him for any length of time. It only takes a few seconds. Here's one from when I walked past him on my planning period one day last year:


D'Andre, sitting outside a classroom (like you do): "You married?"

Mr. Vonn: "Yes."

D'Andre: "How long you been married?"

Mr. Vonn: "Almost five years."

D'Andre: "You ever cheat on her?"

Mr. Vonn: "No."

D'Andre, nodding in approval: "Good man."


D'Andre James as moral crusader. I love it.

Mr. Vonn, signing on

I started this blog a year ago to chronicle the anticipated trials and successes of my first year as a teacher. Having mustered my typical amount of energy, this idea fizzled about mid-summer, when my graduate classes ended--before school even began.

This, I am now convinced, was a good thing. The first year is intriguing to the party involved but quite boring to those not. This is irrelevant, though; rather, I can't help remarking on the arrogance of the whole endeavor. Doubtless, I anticipated there would be opportunities for humor. I would be the witty bystander, cracking wise about the subtle ironies of teaching youth in the inner city. If I possessed a greater work ethic, this blog might have continued and induced the occasional laugh. But what good is that? Now, one year on, I see the flaw of my original design (which, to be fair, I couldn't have foreseen).

I'll be blunt: I am not as funny as the kids are. Period.

High school kids (I teach 10th grade English) run the gamut of personality type and trait; they are a mixture of irrationality, brashness, cockiness, and ineptitude, possessing varied--but always skewed--concepts of manners and morality, ever trying to one-up their peers or position themselves socially. It is impossible to generalize (see the last sentence), but fun to be specific. Toward that end, I've now decided on a new tact for this blog. I will not be the creative author; rather, I shall be the dutiful reporter. If the kids are funnier than I am, then let them be funnier.

An added bonus for me is that I am constantly trying to remember funny stories to tell people about my job. (I've gone so far as to write down exact quotes on scratch paper or even my own hand to ensure I don't forget a particular story by lunchtime at the teacher's lounge.) If anything, this site will help me become a better conversationalist.

As for now, it's summer break, so I don't see kids again until August. (Be leery of the person who says they're "teaching for the kids," as these people are either heavily medicated or sociopathic liars. We'd have to add some words to make that sentence true: "I am in it for the kids who I don't have to see for three-months paid over the summer.") Until then, I'll try my best to throw in some stories from memory--some funny, some just awkward, but all of them case studies in the peculiarities of American youth today.

As will become obvious in the entries to come, I really do love these kids. You can't help but love them. To paraphrase Bill Cosby, they say the damnedest things.

(Heads up--on the off chance that anyone more than my small circle of friends reads this website, I'll be changing names for purposes of privacy. So there.)