Hey Girl, I Appreciate You

“Education is what remains after one has forgotten what one has learned in school.” -Albert Einstein

Apparently it's National Teacher Appreciation Week. With that in mind, I'd like to take a moment and step back from being critical of our education system, and think about what's right in our schools. Namely, our teachers.

For great teachers, the job is less a career than a calling. You don’t become a teacher to make a world of money. You become a teacher to make a world of difference.

I'd like to take a moment to thank some great teachers (and educators) I've had. I had an epiphany during an education class I took. It wasn't anything special, it was just realizing what I knew all along. I could never quite place why my all time favorite teacher was my all time favorite. Why he was such a good teacher. It wasn't the subject--I entered his class expecting to have a boring year. Boy, was I wrong. And I think the subject could have been literally anything, and I would have had a good year. It was because he was so passionate about both his subject and teaching. Enthusiasm is contagious.

So here's to Mr. Williams, my US History teacher, who not only got me interested in US History, but also gave me a model of the kind of teacher that I would like to become. Who let each student be more than just a face in the crowd. Who I will continue to visit, years out of college, even though most students stop visiting their high school teachers after sophomore year of college.

To Mrs. Bruch, who decided to show our sci fi class American History X, not because it was sci fi, but because it's a powerful, thought provoking movie. Whose class I aced, but that fact is wholly unrelated to how successful I felt it was.

To Mrs. Russell, my Jr. High English teacher who taught me how to write, to whom I thank for my success in any writing endeavor since then.

To Mme. Harvey, who gave me a strong foundation in French in Jr. High, that carried me through High School and enabled me to actually place out out 3 levels of college french.

To Coach Day, who may have talked a lot, but taught me so much about horizontal jumping technique, and helped fuel my passion for track.

To Mr. Reevesman, who made 4th grade in a new school the best it could be. Who let us mimic trench warfare with crumpled paper and lines of desks, and made each of us the faces of our class currency.

To Cathy, who reminded me that I do love French.

To Deborah, who inspired my passion for education, whose class gave a directionless senior a path to follow, and continues to be a supportive guiding force in my journey to becoming a teacher.

To Donna, my first introduction to Carleton, who encouraged and helped me through one of track's hardest events, and who was consistently there to support me all four years.

To Mrs. Pappas, my Minnesota mom, who not only is one of the most amazing elementary teachers I know, who I can only hope to be half the teacher she is, but also a friend that will be so hard to say goodbye to when I go back to California this summer.

To my parents, who may not have officially been teachers, but whose support pushed me to be successful in school, and who I still rely on for guidance in just about any aspect of my life.

To all my teachers I haven't mentioned. Some of you, like in any profession, weren't the best. (But hey, now I know what not to do!) But most of you did a pretty good job. Most of you made a significant positive difference in my life. And I thank you for that, because I couldn't have made it to where I am now without you.

I'll end with something great to come out of the "Hey Girl" Ryan Gosling internet explosion: this site. Because hey, we all need a little reassurance that teaching IS hard, and you are, indeed, doing a good job.

Tale As Old As Time

 Through the mist, through the woods,

through the darkness and the shadows.It's a nightmare but it's one exciting ride.
New and a bit alarmingWho'd have ever thought that this could be?True that he's no Prince CharmingBut there's something in him that I simply didn't see
(Beauty and the Beast)

            In the fall of 2010, I was about to begin my first job after graduation. I was a little nervous to be working at a primarily non-white, non-middle class school, which was different from my own school and life experience. Nervous not about the students, but about me. How was I going to react? How would I feel? I was out of my comfort zone: living in a big city for the first time, relying on public transportation, and working with children whose histories were in many ways completely different from my own. It is like in the Disney movie Beauty and the Beast, when the villagers are storming the castle where the Beast lives. They sing "We don't like what we don't understand and in fact it scares us and this monster is mysterious at least." It's the difference that creates these rifts between groups, because no one took the time to get to know the other, and discover that different does not make one characteristic better or worse than another. Belle knew better because she took the time to get to know the Beast. Because I was not entirely sure what to expect, I entered my job with an open mind, ready to learn, ready not to make the mistake of the villagers but to give difference a chance, à la Belle.

It turned out to be a very smooth transition. The differences between my students and me were important not because they were differences, but because each one meant a different story that affected how a child learned.   In the end, it was not too difficult to find common ground with every one of them. I may not have the same skin color as my students, but that did not stop one African American student from proclaiming that he wished I was his mother. I made an effort to get to know my students as individuals to learn how to best help them. I had more things to worry about than the color of each student’s skin when I was focused on bringing them up to grade level in reading or math.

My school requires students to wear uniforms, which helps diminish some socioeconomic status symbols, but my students’ histories began to emerge, and with that I began to learn the most important lesson about successfully interacting in this diverse environment: Don’t assume anything. My previous picture of what comprises general knowledge or common childhood experiences had to change. I could not assume anything about my students’ situations and thus had to be wary of making one of them feel uncomfortable with a seemingly harmless comment. It affected everything from the smallest detail, such as my freckles, to life altering details such as talking about parents. You quickly seek alternative ways to phrase these questions when a kindergartener shuts down because asking about their father leads to learning he is in jail. While at first it was a very conscious effort, it now just rolls off the tongue to ask for a parent, grandparent, auntie or uncle’s signature on an assignment versus asking for a mother or father’s. Education, in many ways, must be personalized for each student in order to optimize his or her learning.

Humans are adaptable and I am no exception. After a couple of months into the year, I felt very comfortable at work, even though it was quite different from every other place I had worked or lived. My job has enabled me to think about opportunity and privilege in a way I had not before. When I look at the beautiful rainbow of my students I realize that putting yourself into new situations, as long as you shed your assumptions and get to know your surroundings personally, can be incredibly rewarding. A good relationship can transcend the superficial differences that separate us and you may find out that what you did not understand is not so different after all.

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.