Some days are so long.
Some days, you start work as early as 7AM, mentally choreographing a number for the spring musical by listening to the song on your I-Tunes, while you dry your hair and put on make-up to get ready for the day.
Some days, the school copier breaks down. And you have to get REAL creative, REAL fast to revise your lesson. And then sometimes, the copier gets fixed at the very last second, and you can carry on after all.
Some days, you can rhapsodize about Shakespeare, and the history of medieval and Renaissance England, and tell students about your own performance on the Globe theatre stage in London, and they listen, and they laugh, and they sit up and look at you with bright eyes and grins on their faces, and you feel so good.
Some days, the kids are great about doing an in-class assignment, and they work together, and you feel awesome about their progress.
Some days, you and your mentor-teacher read "The Merchant of Venice" out loud to your students with especially silly, exaggerated voices, and the kids giggle and follow along.
Some days, you have to end regular school by rushing off to grad school, and prepare for a big presentation in front of your other grad school cohorts.
Some days, the presentation goes great. You play your guitar, you teach your classmates a song (sung as a ROUND!) to describe your teaching philosophy, they all sing, it sounds great, and people tell you afterwards that they loved your presentation especially.
Some days, you go home wanting nothing more than to just get into your pajamas and watch a mindless sitcom.
But some days, you can't rest yet. You have to finish choreographing that musical number by scratching out notes in a script while eating dinner.
Some days are awesome. Class goes well; grad school goes well; you've prepared for tomorrow, and you feel GOOD about life as a teacher.
But some days... leave you EXHAUSTED.
So some nights, you're in bed by 9:30PM. And on those nights, it takes you less than 10 seconds to fall asleep.
But those are great days.
Those are really great days.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Out of Reach
Today was sort of a depressing day.
The kids are starting a poetry unit with this renowned spoken-word-poet Seattle woman, who's coming in every Tuesday for the next ten weeks. She's great with them-- very encouraging, and affirming. The kids read some of their initial free-writes out loud at the end of class today, and I was completely shaken. The writing was STUNNING-- but in many cases, absolutely heart-breaking. One girl wrote about her alcoholic/drug-addicted mother. Another boy wrote about his uncle who was in jail for murder, and his mom who had died, and his dad who had been crippled. He ended it with saying in this strong, sharp-edged tone, "I'm Dan. And my life's been f*****." Some poems were funny-- one kid wrote about cake. Another girl started off with, "I used to think dinosaurs were real. But now I KNOW I'm a Gloriasaurus." But so many of them... were just shattering.
It's like these kids have finally found a venue through which they can actually TALK about what's going on in their lives-- and it's explosive. It's resounding-- but utterly devastating to witness.
Anyway. That gave me heavy boots.
And then Jane was supposed to come work on her paper after school, so I waited, but she didn't show, and I started thinking about all the different kids that have basically tried to scam us this week, with bogus excuses, and lies... And I just felt discouraged.
I decided to just go home. I got my things together, and began walking slowly down the stairs. The particular staircase I was on has big windows looking out onto the parking lot below, and I saw my latino posse, all gathered. The afternoon today was warm, and full of sunshine, and I squinted down at them on the staircase landing, just watching them.
There were George, and Raoul. There were Jose and Eduardo. I saw Miguel there too, who hasn't come to school in weeks. He's a junior, but was taking our freshman/sophomore English class a second time-- but I think he may have just decided to drop out. I squinted at his hand, which he brought to his mouth. Smoking. I saw a blonde girl, facing away from me. Was that Jane? Is that why she wasn't getting help on her paper? No, I realized. It's the Ukrainian girl. Miguel's girlfriend.
A mini-van slowly drove by them, and, as if on cue, they all began moving with purpose as if they were going somewhere together. Then, once the car was gone, they abandoned the act and resettled on a stair-case in the shade, like birds settling themselves on a wire. I just looked at them. Every single one of those boys is failing right now. I saw them talking, laughing, smoking. I never see Raoul laugh like that in class. He always looks so afraid.
I looked at them and just thought: I don't know how to help you.
Eduardo looked up at me, and a moment later, other heads swiveled up to look at the window. Caught. I walked down the rest of the stairs and went outside into the warm sunshine. Waved at them. "Is that Mikey there?" I called out.
"What?"
"Isn't that Miguel? I thought I saw him!"
"What? Oh! Yeah!"
Miguel stood up. "Hey!"
"Hey! How you been? We've missed you!"
"What?" he called.
"How have you been?" I called again.
"I can't hear you!" he called back.
I know, I thought. I wish you could.
_
The kids are starting a poetry unit with this renowned spoken-word-poet Seattle woman, who's coming in every Tuesday for the next ten weeks. She's great with them-- very encouraging, and affirming. The kids read some of their initial free-writes out loud at the end of class today, and I was completely shaken. The writing was STUNNING-- but in many cases, absolutely heart-breaking. One girl wrote about her alcoholic/drug-addicted mother. Another boy wrote about his uncle who was in jail for murder, and his mom who had died, and his dad who had been crippled. He ended it with saying in this strong, sharp-edged tone, "I'm Dan. And my life's been f*****." Some poems were funny-- one kid wrote about cake. Another girl started off with, "I used to think dinosaurs were real. But now I KNOW I'm a Gloriasaurus." But so many of them... were just shattering.
It's like these kids have finally found a venue through which they can actually TALK about what's going on in their lives-- and it's explosive. It's resounding-- but utterly devastating to witness.
Anyway. That gave me heavy boots.
And then Jane was supposed to come work on her paper after school, so I waited, but she didn't show, and I started thinking about all the different kids that have basically tried to scam us this week, with bogus excuses, and lies... And I just felt discouraged.
I decided to just go home. I got my things together, and began walking slowly down the stairs. The particular staircase I was on has big windows looking out onto the parking lot below, and I saw my latino posse, all gathered. The afternoon today was warm, and full of sunshine, and I squinted down at them on the staircase landing, just watching them.
There were George, and Raoul. There were Jose and Eduardo. I saw Miguel there too, who hasn't come to school in weeks. He's a junior, but was taking our freshman/sophomore English class a second time-- but I think he may have just decided to drop out. I squinted at his hand, which he brought to his mouth. Smoking. I saw a blonde girl, facing away from me. Was that Jane? Is that why she wasn't getting help on her paper? No, I realized. It's the Ukrainian girl. Miguel's girlfriend.
A mini-van slowly drove by them, and, as if on cue, they all began moving with purpose as if they were going somewhere together. Then, once the car was gone, they abandoned the act and resettled on a stair-case in the shade, like birds settling themselves on a wire. I just looked at them. Every single one of those boys is failing right now. I saw them talking, laughing, smoking. I never see Raoul laugh like that in class. He always looks so afraid.
I looked at them and just thought: I don't know how to help you.
Eduardo looked up at me, and a moment later, other heads swiveled up to look at the window. Caught. I walked down the rest of the stairs and went outside into the warm sunshine. Waved at them. "Is that Mikey there?" I called out.
"What?"
"Isn't that Miguel? I thought I saw him!"
"What? Oh! Yeah!"
Miguel stood up. "Hey!"
"Hey! How you been? We've missed you!"
"What?" he called.
"How have you been?" I called again.
"I can't hear you!" he called back.
I know, I thought. I wish you could.
_
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