A Memory and A Predicament

"We recognize our own mortality, and we are reminded that in the fleeting time we have on this Earth, what matters is not wealth, or status, or power, or fame -– but rather, how well we have loved -- and what small part we have played in making the lives of other people better." -President Barack Obama

"There is nothing wrong with America that cannot be cured by what is right with America." -Bill Clinton

Something wasn’t quite right. I could not simply enjoy this performance, a boys choir visiting our school. It wasn’t their voices—they were lovely. As my eyes panned to the audience, checking to make sure my students were being the respectful audience they had been taught to be, I realized what unsettled me. And when the director invited my students to think about joining the choir, I knew full well that the likelihood of any of my students joining was slim. It wasn’t for the reason the director brought up—that a year-round school schedule wouldn’t fit with the choir’s schedule. It was socioeconomic status, and in an interconnected way, race.

What had made me stop and think was that seeing an all-white group of boys perform to my much more diverse school brought to mind the inequalities prevalent in our society today. Even if one of my students had the means to pay for the expenses of this elite boys choir, would they feel welcome? Watching this homogeneous group, would they think joining was even an option? This may be a small example, but people tend to internalize what they see, and so on some levels, children may not realize the wealth of opportunities available to them if there’s no one like them currently occupying those roles. We can trace this issue back to the disparities in education where children get their first ideas about what is expected of them and what they have the potential to accomplish.

On a related note, there is one thing I feel conflicted about in becoming a teacher. As a white female, I am just like just about every other elementary teacher out there. And I see that there is a need for strong male role models in the lives of my students. I'm not helping the ratio. What makes me qualified for really any sort of advocacy, when I don't fall into most of the disadvantaged groups? Except for being female, so of course I go into the profession where we're most well represented. I want to make a difference, but I know that some criticism of hollywood's portrayal of successful teacher stories is that it's always some "white savior" who swoops in and rescues these kids from gangs, death, jail or what have you. How can I advocate for my students without coming across as condescending, or racist? How can I make a difference in the places that most need good teachers, but who also need role models who represent the students, both in gender and race?

I don't really want to work in some upper middle class (mostly white) neighborhood where the teaching is "easy". Okay, teaching is never easy, but those kids don't need my help, they're going to be fine and successful, and I feel like I have a lot to offer, and that can be best placed in a high need area. I can't really say why this is where I want to teach; it certainly isn't the easy way out. Maybe it's the incredibly positive experience I've had the past two years. Maybe it's that, while I have not encountered huge injustices that impact me personally, I have now seen the results of the inequalities in America in the touching stories of my students. That on some basic level, I believe in America's ability to follow through on its ideals of equality. And I believe in the power of education to right some of America's current predicaments. I suppose it comes down to my moral compass. I'm basing this on my principles versus experience. Otherwise I'm just perpetuating the status quo, and that's not going to be good for anyone in any class.

Count Your Blessings

Always jump in the puddles!  Always skip alongside the flowers.  The only fights worth fighting are the pillow and food varieties.  -Terri Guillemets

Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret weapon.  A happiness weapon.  A beauty bomb.  And every time a crisis developed, we would launch one.  It would explode high in the air - explode softly - and send thousands, millions, of little parachutes into the air.  Floating down to earth - boxes of Crayolas.  And we wouldn't go cheap, either - not little boxes of eight.  Boxes of sixty-four, with the sharpener built right in.  With silver and gold and copper, magenta and peach and lime, amber and umber and all the rest.  And people would smile and get a little funny look on their faces and cover the world with imagination.  -Robert Fulghum

More often than not, this blog is where I can rant, and ranting is usually critical or negative. Now, I consider myself to be a very optimistic person, but think that perhaps my outlook seems dire on the state of education in America, or even my students. I love my job, yet does that come across in my writing? I hope so, but if it doesn't, I'm going to make a more conscious effort to share the positive side of my job.

I'm on the Communications Committee with Reading Corps, and we're doing a lot of recruitment efforts. Part of that is writing articles for college newspapers to spread the word. Naturally, I wrote one for my alma mater. I added the link to the article to our Committee's Google doc., and the next thing I knew, all of my bosses/program coordinators I didn't even know had read it, and loved it. My supervisor must have sent it to my principal, because the next thing I know, I had teachers telling me they really liked the article. I was glad--I initially felt insincere, putting together this op-ed, because I wanted it to be my voice, that even though I was promoting Reading Corps, it was also my experience that I was sharing with Carleton. I wanted it to be worthy both of my amazing Carleton experience, and my experience with my current school.

From this experience, I learned that I don't know how to take praise, or at least am a little uncomfortable with it. I don't know what to say. It was a good ego boost to know that something I wrote could impact so many people who weren't necessarily the intended audience. I suppose it was good that it went out to the staff at my school--I'm not always the most talkative and outgoing at work, so while the article doesn't express anything that would be a surprise to you, dear reader, it's something that a lot of my co-workers don't know. I also never consider writing to be one of my strengths, but a lot of the commenters on my article mentioned my good writing. So much of what I do--as is characteristic of many jobs in which you're serving others--goes uncommented on. It's good to know that something you're doing does actually make a difference in the here and now.

The brightly colored "no sweets" signs at school last year

In related news, today was Valentine's Day, which is just a happy day in an elementary school. Plus, you always have a Valentine (or 20) when you work with kids. It's a good reason to say screw the "no sweets in SPPS public school" rule, and give out cards and candy and love. Really though, had we tried to enforce the "no sweets" rule, it would have been like trying to put out a fire using paper. At any rate, I gave my students Valentines, and got some in return. All my students were in good moods, no one was absent (so rare!), and no one had a bad day. It was one of those days that made me remember why I do what I do. (Lucky for me, I have moments like that everyday...but rarely can I say that about the entire day.)

My third grader, the one who made me cry, was in a very good mood. Today she asked me why there had never been a woman president. She also stated that she wanted to be president one day. Naturally, I turned the conversation to "what do you need to do to become president?" And like the clever student she is, she starts with "confidence," and then added "needs to be a good reader." Bingo!

Hidden Costs of Teaching

I am still learning. -Michelangelo

The real menace in dealing with a five-year-old is that in no time at all you begin to sound like a five-year-old.  -Joan Kerr

Here's the story about the student who made me cry:

One of the first grade teachers routinely goes through the day without lunch, and every time that comes up, I think, man, I could not do that. I am SO hungry by 11:20 when I get to eat. (Let's be real, I'm supposed to have a 30 minute lunch each day, and I really only get 20, because I'm always running a little long with my students). This day, back in November, however, I found out what it's like to go without lunch. And I was surprisingly fine, on the stomach front. When normally my stomach is declaring mutiny by 11, that day it was shockingly silent. And while I don't mind missing a little of my lunch to finish an activity with a student, lunchtime is necessary to recharge for the afternoon. My schedule is exhausting--every 20 minutes I work with another student, with no transition time built in. I need lunch not just to satisfy my stomach, but to take a breather.

While physically I was shockingly okay, I was emotionally drained, not getting a chance to take a break, because I spent it with a third grade student who I've been having some trouble keeping her motivated and focused on the task at hand. We had our 20 minute session per usual...which extended through my lunch. When she makes a mistake/gets to a word she doesn't know/has trouble with an assignment, she shuts down. Instead of working it out, learning what it is and moving past it, she gets agitated and frustrated, where her performance declines greatly. Every other day though, she does fine, so I don't really know what sets it off. The day before she started crying during our session. She gets discouraged because she's in 3rd grade, reading closer to a 1st grade level. This session she started crying again. She went off about how I wasn't really a teacher, she didn't like reading, she didn't like reading with me, we did boring things, she reads at home why does she have to come with me blah blah blah.

I tried to give her a pep talk. I asked if there was anything I could do to make it better for her. I told her that it's okay to make mistakes, no one reads perfectly the first time, that reading is hard, that I get it--I've struggled with things too. (Perhaps I exaggerated my school struggles--I was a good student, and learning and school came much more naturally to me. But she doesn't need to know that.) Still, I got to a point, about halfway through my lunch, where I couldn't think of anything else to say. And she sat there with her head down, crying a little. And I could tell I was tearing up, so I went silent.

I tried so hard to keep it together--but the tears just started coming, and, well, it's hard to hide it when I had to wipe tears from my cheeks. Which of course makes her feel even worse. She freaks out a bit and gives me a hug and just starts sobbing into my shoulder. I told her it's okay and we just kinda hugged and cried for a bit. Finally, I tell her that I need to go--I have maybe 5 minutes of lunch left, and I say, I'm not mad, I'm just trying to do what's best for you, and I know we don't do the most exciting things, but I like reading with you, and want to help. She returns to her class in tears, and I go wash my face in the bathroom. I pull myself together and go read with my next student.

I spent the rest of the afternoon on the verge of tears. I ran into the 3rd grade teacher later and she asks me what happened--this student was crying through recess, and all she would say is that she made someone else cry. Well, that was me, and here come the tears again. The teacher gives me a hug, and reassures me, and says well, there's definitely a teacher in you, already crying about your students. I go to my next class to pick up a kindergartner and the teacher asks if everything is okay, tells me not to take it personally and that I'm doing a good job. One of her students asks "Why is Miss Amy crying?"

At the end of the day, I got a (very poorly spelled) apology note from my student, so that was sweet. And the next day my student had a spectacular day. Since then, it's been ups and downs, but I think my tears got across a message that my words couldn't. It's still not perfect, but no more tears, on my part at least. Teachers have to keep so much bottled up for their students, and not let them realized how frustrated or on the verge of tears they might be. Maybe I shouldn't have cried in front of a kid, but sometimes what can you do? It's not a weakness, I'm actually usually pretty good at holding back tears. It's just that I'm only human.

It helped to have those teachers reassure me that it's not just me, that I can't take things personally and that I do a good job. Knowing I have their support means the world, because while I'm pretty disconnected with the other teachers--I just work one-on-one with students, they've got my back. I don't know what I'm going to do with this student. I don't know what to say to help turn her attitude around, to keep her going during our session, or if I even said the right things. But man, it is exhausting. Just from one of my 17 students. It's not like I have easy students, but I'm lucky--I love the kids I work with, melt downs and all. But you get so invested in each and every one, it drains you. There's only so much you can do. That day was rough, possibly the roughest I've had, but by no means the worst. It just made me realize how invested I am in my job, and how much my kids mean to me.

#firstworldproblems

I like an escalator because an escalator can never break, it can only become stairs. There would never be an escalator temporarily out of order sign, only an escalator temporarily stairs. Sorry for the convenience.
 
My friend said to me, "I think the weather's trippy." I said, "No, man, it's not the weather that's trippy, perhaps it is the way that we perceive it that is indeed trippy." Then I thought, "Man, I should have just said, "Yeah."
 
If you find yourself lost in the woods, fuck it, build a house. "Well, I was lost but now I live here! I have severely improved my predicament!" -Mitch Hedberg

My friend was griping hardcore about his broken flat screen TV. It was such a hassle to talk to customer service multiple times, get a 2nd broken TV, and send that one back, but ultimately they're sending him a new model.

One of my students' house burned down. She was surprisingly cavalier about the whole thing. She missed a couple of days of school, because (according to her at least), she didn't have any school uniform to wear. But she seemed (at least on the surface) more concerned about the fact that she now doesn't have a TV. The kids I work with are so adaptable. Many of them go through a lot of turmoil, transition and change in their lives. From having parents in jail, no parents, being homeless, not having enough to eat, not having support at home to alcoholic parents, the list is endless.

It's all about perspective.

I can be a good complainer. I'm not looking forward to when Minnesota decides to buck up and become Minnesota, i.e. incredibly cold, and dealing with taking the bus in the cold. I'm making steady process towards needing a cup of coffee in the morning (something which I've been trying to avoid), and am still so so tired at work. I'm not getting to the gym as much as I'd like, because I naturally create a very busy schedule for myself. Yet I am constantly reminded that really, I have it pretty good. I made it through winter last year, I'll do it again. I have awesome friends who live close, and a fantastic family I get to see every couple of months in one way or another. I get enough to eat, have a good winter coat, and even though I make a modest living stipend (that enables me to get food stamps), I'm still able to invest in leisure activities--movies, plays, drinks, runs, events etc.

I'll leave you with the above video. Take a moment, and realize how lucky you have it. As cheesy as it sounds, take the time to count your blessings every now and then. Make it specific, and try to think of new things as often as possible. As it turns out, that's actually scientifically shown to boost your happiness (hellooooo comps research). So is volunteering--so take the time to give back to your community, to those who don't have it quite as good as you.

And thanks for reading, whoever you are, I'm glad you're in my life, to whatever extent that you are.

I am AmeriCorps and So Can You!

Working with kids can make you feel both old and young. Just ask a kid how old they think you are. I've gotten in the 30s sometimes, and today this conversation occurred with one of my 3rd graders:

Me: Okay, let's read this paragraph together.
Him: How old are you?
Me: 23.
Him: That was unexpected.
Me: Um, how old did you think I was?
Him: 16.

I suppose I shouldn't judge, I also have a terrible concept of age. But I feel like I at the very least look like I've graduated high school.

Shoot, I'm now a year and a half out of college. It feels like it wasn't that long ago, and now I'm applying for grad schools. I submitted an application to the University of Minnesota, for their teaching program, leaving my options open to stay in Minnesota, but I'm also applying to two California schools. So as I'm preparing to go onto my next step in life, who's going to fill my role at my school? Well dear reader, you can!

Here's my plug for the Minnesota Reading Corps:
The application just opened December 15th, and for anyone who has read about my experience and thought, gee, I'd like to do that! Well, you can. Check out joinreadingcorps.org.  Or, if you'd prefer to work with slightly older kids, and do math, you can always join the Minnesota Math Corps! (Check out joinmathcorps.org). Imagine changing a child's life. Now multiply that by the 1,100 tutors the Reading Corps hopes to place all over Minnesota next year. You too can be a part of it all. You too can make a difference.

As long as I'm promoting things, I'd like to share with you an inspiring project that my friend Kate is undertaking. It's called "Walking Walls: A Photographic Journey, for Peace." She's hoping to address the question "What happens to communities and individuals when a political, physical wall divides a land and a people that were once whole?" by traveling the borders in Cyprus, Northern Ireland and Israel. Check it out here.

I don't care about your color or your creed, I will judge you for no reason.

...But your deeds.

So Tim Minchin is this hilarious comedic musician (see also his bit on the power of language) who has a great song (lyrics linked above) that you can't find him performing anywhere because of copyright. But anyway, it's about context. Which is very important.

Outside of a dog, a book is a man's best friend. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read. -Groucho Marx


Remember when you were younger and ran into your teacher at a grocery store, and totally didn't recognize them? Or nowadays, if you're walking downtown and walk by someone who is soooo familiar, but you just can't place them? And after the fact you realize you work with them, or went to school with them? Well, that's super common--and I remember learning about the phenomenon in intro psych.

It's interesting when you're on the other side--when the other person is the one who is confused by how familiar you look. I ran into a 2nd grader last year at the Minnesota Zoo, and said hello in passing. And he just stared blankly and almost didn't seem to notice that I said hello. I saw another kid at the Martin Luther King Day festivities-he was in the boy scout procession with some flag, and I also said hello. He kind of looked at me seemingly uncomprehending the situation. If you're so used to seeing someone in a certain place, you don't ever expect to see them in another, so you might just totally miss them in any other situation. It's like the opposite of the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon, where you learn a new word, or meet a new person and then all of a sudden--they're everywhere! You never noticed it before, but it's not because it's occurring more often, but because you now actually have a reason to notice.

Interestingly enough, in both these situations when I saw the students at school the next day, they were overly enthusiastic about the fact that I saw them--They practically shouted at me. Where was this reaction when I actually saw them the day before? Well, now that they had time to process the situation, it was a special event. For all they know I live at the school and have zero life outside. Plus, they also now have friends to whom they can brag.

Although, my students are relatively aware of my life outside of school--Kim visited again, and now I have a whole host of kids who now continually ask about my sister. This was a month ago now, and I still get "Are you the real Miss Amy?" "Where's your twin?" Shoot, the other day I had a kid ask if she was married, or has a boyfriend. (Followed by those same questions about me). So curious. But again, makes you realize how much kids pay attention to the adults in their lives, that my sister was a big enough event in the lives of students who I don't even directly work with that they still comment on it basically daily.


I wonder though, if I move back to California for grad school, how quickly they might forget me. People are adaptable, and I know I have an awful memory--but if I come back to visit, how well might they remember me? Will I have even made a big enough difference in their lives to merit being remembered even years from now--into middle school, or high school? I don't remember many adults from my elementary school outside of my classroom teachers, so I can't expect much. At least I'll remember them. I can only hope I've made a fraction of the impact on their lives that they have on mine. I know that sounds horribly cheesy and/or cliché, but, while it's still a while off, I am dreading saying goodbye.
 
Now, we're back to the beginning
It's just a feeling and no one knows yet
But just because they can't feel it too
Doesn't mean that you have to forget
 
Let your memories grow stronger and stronger
'Til they're before your eyes
You'll come back
When they call you
No need to say goodbye.
 
 -Regina Spektor, The Call

Great Expectations

"Children are likely to live up to what you believe of them." -Lady Bird Johnson

"Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid." -Albert Einstein

Children are incredible perceptive, whether they are fully aware of it or not. And they take their cues from adults, the media, the general public, the government even. It may not be said directly, but some kids are not expected by the adults in their lives to do well in school, or to graduate, or to go to college, or to do much of anything. Which is sad--every kid has enormous potential, but when we separate them, we set them on an expected path for success, mediocracy, or failure--say in tracts in high school (AP/Honors, Vocational, etc.), or segregate schools. Yes, I suppose that's a charged word. But don't try to tell me that students aren't segregated. No, not by the color of their skin necessarily (although that is often the case as it ends up), but mostly socio-economically, based on neighborhood and whether they have the resources for private school, or have the chance to go to a successful charter school. It wouldn't be an issue if everyone were given access to the same resources at schools--then it shouldn't matter as much if your neighborhood happens to be all white, or all hispanic, or all whatever you might be. I suppose this is why some cities do city-wide bussing--but St. Paul just moved back toward a neighborhood school model. (With certain schools--like mine, unique in its arts-integration--keeping city-wide bussing).

But this isn't just on a school-wide level--where some schools, based on population are expected to do better, but on a personal level as well. If a teacher gets it into their head that a student is a low performer, or has poor behavior, you know what? That student will continuously perform well or behave poorly. Kids have a knack for meeting your expectations. It may not be at a conscious level, but a teacher will treat a student differently based on expectations, whether it's slightly less individual attention, or unknowingly giving up early on a kid, the kid will feel it. Recently-ish I came across this article (Thanks Stefani/twitter!) about the Stanford Prison Experiment, which was all very interesting (me being a psych major and all), but maybe not directly education related, until....

"One thing that I thought was interesting about the experiment was whether, if you believe society has assigned you a role, do you then assume the characteristics of that role? I teach at an inner city high school in Oakland. These kids don't have to go through experiments to witness horrible things. But what frustrates my colleagues and me is that we are creating great opportunities for these kids, we offer great support for them, why are they not taking advantage of it? Why are they dropping out of school? Why are they coming to school unprepared? I think a big reason is what the prison study shows—they fall into the role their society has made for them." -Richard Yacco

Yacco summed up what I could probably never put into a nice, succinct, eloquent statement. And touched upon a point that I see so much at school. We do our best to teach our kids to be good people--be nice to others, blah blah blah. And it seems like they get it--that they understand and see where we're coming from, and then the next thing you know, this sweet kid is in the office for hitting another kid.

So what do you do? I don't know, you tell me. I'm just going to pay attention to how I treat my students, and consciously continue to believe in the potential of every last one of them.