root beer float

my trial separation with the tenth graders continues. we have been trying to work things out. we are doing this because, for the first time ever, they're trying to do some work. i mean serious work. in a fit of anger i gave them a story well beyond what seemed like their abilities to understand and they've spent five days talking- talking intelligently- about it. we read something with a reference to root beer floats and only one of them knew what one tasted like. one. the downfall of the american family, really, society in general, is reflected in this situation. you get your first root beer float with your family. maybe at an a&w drive in. at least this is what i raved in class. they had no idea what most of what i said meant. drive in? family?

i have been mentioning in class how i hope we don't have to break up for good and how we should be enjoying class more, enjoying literature more. this relationship should be more fun, i whine. i've been telling them they're representing their own lives as very empty places, places it makes me sad to think they inhabit. i have been telling them how awful it is they don't know what a root beer float tastes like, how it makes me mad. i use words like heartbreaking and tragic and bleak. i have also been mentioning to them every day the good things i see happening in the room, the changes, new choices they're making. i am telling them the truth. i think they might be believing some of it.

our school sends out grades every six weeks- three times a semester. but because someone somewhere thinks that's not enough information for parents, we also send out midperiod academic alerts for students in danger of failing. so pretty much every three weeks parents get an update. they never pay attention to what i write. i use words like immature and depressed and inappropriate and overwhelmed. but they look at numbers. if their kid earns that glorious 65 (the minimum passing grade in nyc) they don't care if he sets things on fire, cries in class or hears voices. so i filled them out for the tenth graders and i tried, like i always do, to be honest, as honest as a person can be on a preprinted form. the school mails them out but i took mine to class and handed them out. they read and were indignant. "i do not ever cut class!" from a child who attended my class last marking period eight times. that's eight times in six weeks. "what do you mean i talk all the time?" i didn't even have to address that one. the other kids laughed so loud they quieted the snarly child. "i don't understand. why do you think i'm not learning anything?"

so there was a little tension in a place we'd been working so hard to make peaceful. they'd been working and it didn't seem fair to them to hold them responsible for anything that happened before the breakup. but i wanted them to see that it takes a long time to repair the damage of not caring and not trying for months. it's not about being good one day. it's about learning how to live in this environment successfully. i wanted them to see that but i didn't want to lose all we'd done the last few days so i suggested they hand write their own letters using the information on the sheet, tempering it with good things they knew they'd been doing lately. they did. they signed the letters and i signed the letters and they took them home. they did this because i made a deal. i don't make too many deals but when i do they're high stakes. very high stakes. here's the deal. i love root beer floats. i feel sad when i think about those ridiculous children not even knowing whether they love them or not. it seems like maybe at least a little bit of why they're so unpleasant might be that they've never experienced anything so incredible. so i want to have root beer floats and i want them to have root beer floats. i want to make some in class so we can all have them together. i want to see them get something new and wonderful and very, very simple. if they will take those letters home, share them with their parents and bring them back signed, i'll make root beer floats for everyone. but if even one person doesn't do it, i will give all the root beer float supplies to the teachers. we are all in the same boat. sink together. sail together. they don't even hesitate.

i have been talking up these floats, saying there aren't really words sufficient to describe the way they make a person happy. i explain how the ice cream gets all crystalline when the root beer hits it and how the root beer smooths out as the ice cream melts into it. i talk about the foam, how it sits on top and if you pour just right you can make the foam crawl up above the edge of the glass. i worry i'm talking it up too much and nothing could be that good for them. i worry they eat things with such intense synthetic flavors they won't be able to taste the soft wonderful rootbeeriness. i get nervous.

i get eight liters of root beer because i have no idea how much root beer i will need to make 12-20 floats (it's nowhere near eight liters). i get four pints of all natural, organic vanilla ice cream and a pint of soy ice cream and a few small cups of italian ice for a kid who won't ingest dairy. i get black spoons, black straws, black napkins. i get clear plastic tumblers that are square. is is absolutely crucial to get clear tumblers so folks can see the root beer and ice cream dancing together in the cup. halfway through class, two kids go downstairs to get the supplies from the fridge in the teachers' room. the cups are set out in rows on the napkins, a straw and spoon in each. i start dropping small plastic spoonfuls of ice cream into the cups as we talk about themes in the two stories they've read. i pour root beer into the first cup. they are appalled. it is hideous, they say. there's scum on top. they have never seen root beer foam. but one child wants to try it and i hand him a cup. it is delicious. i hand out the rest of the cups and for the most part they are in love. one little boy, a child i've considered duct taping to his desk, a child others have considered duct taping around the mouth, says at least six different times, i've got to start making these at home.

one boy gets out his phone. i glance over but he's holding it up toward his float cup. he's taking a picture of it. i'm not even joking. a few children want to make some. i step away from the table and wave them up. they don't know what to do. they watched me put in ice cream and root beer but they can't believe it's that simple. the flavor is too complex. one child finishes making one and says, amazed, it's so beautiful. she holds it up and turns the cup, watching the swirls, the root beer, the ice cream, the foam. root beer floats are heavy and although the kids can't really drink more than one (well, two boys had seconds) they want to keep making them. they ask what to do with the extra ones they're making. because it is near the end of the period, i suggest they stop by classrooms and offer them to teachers. they find students wandering the halls, children who have lunch but can't bear to be in a stinking, shrieking basement full of things that pass for food but really aren't. now i'm not suggesting root beer floats are lunch, but they're better than not eating at all. so the kids use every bit of ice cream and the ices and hand out all the floats they can make to random teachers and occasional students. some teachers demure and the students are disgusted by this. how could you not accept a root beer float when it's offered to you? but the random lucky students stroll down the halls, sipping from straws, spooning small lumps of crystally ice cream into their mouths. and when other students ask what they have and where they got it, they just smile and keep walking.

i did not tell them today that i don't want to break up anymore, but it's true. i don't want to. i think they know because they have been handing in real live assignments and they even did homework last night. and i know one or two of them didn't want root beer floats but they took them and tried them and helped make some for other people. but here's how i know they know i love them. they all knew i bought everything and they knew i really wanted to make the floats. they also knew one child didn't get his sheet signed. now, this is bad. i'm not saying they did the right thing here. i'm just saying i get the sentiment. they had a conversation with him before class and he spent class in the lunchroom so we could have floats (i found this out after class). they knew we wouldn't have floats if he showed up without the sheet. now, he only shows up about half the time anyway and i'm sure there wasn't any arm twisting involved, but i'm pretty sure he learned something today, which is that his peers will cut him loose for a root beer float and he better start keeping up with them if he doesn't want to get lost.

but i really hope the kids who showed up today learned that trying just a little, working, being smart, has real rewards. not just a passing grade or a decent job or even a root beer float, but a better shot at spending time with others, doing something simple and fun together, giving something without demanding something back. a shot at real joy.