Grading Essays

When I was growing up, I spent the night at my girlfriend’s house and we played Barbies, watched Nightmare on Elm Street, and looked at the penises in her father’s Hustler magazines. I thought we were living on the edge. Alas, by the standards of my students, my Middle of America upbringing is very tame.

I just asked my students to write an essay about violence. When I was young, we had the comedy, Throw Mama From The Train. You remember, Billy Crystal? My student wrote about how robbers took over the bus that his Grandmother was on in Mexico City, took her purse and jewelry, and threw her off it at 60 miles an hour.

A ninth grade girl was transferred in my class after she went off and started swearing at another teacher. I started to read her essay about spending the night at a friend’s house. The friend’s father comes home, drunk and starts beating the mother. Apparently, he does this every Friday night. Her and her friend are told to lock themselves in the bathroom. The mother grabs a black box, runs up the stairs with a bloody, broken nose, and shoots the father in the legs. The girl writes, “I’ve seen dead bodies before, but there was blood all over.” She goes on to say, “I learned you can only push someone so far until they explode.”

I’m realizing I should have given them the funny story assignment—you know, where they tell me all the warm, fuzzy things about growing up in South Central Los Angeles.