An Unexpected Emotion

I have been totally consumed all day by the Trayvon/Zimmerman verdict and even more so by the larger societal issues it, and all the incomprehensible deaths of former students, has highlighted. But among all the sadness, frustrations, there is also an overwhelming feeling of gratitude and honor to be an educator at this time. My students and colleagues have opened my eyes to a world of beauty and hope. They have added to my inspiration, my courage, my strength. I will miss being in the classroom with them next year dearly, but all the more so, excited and ready to engage in the difficult conversation of RACE and for the once in a life time opportunity to work with and learn from the Civil Rights Leader Bob Moses and his Algebra Project. This is not a time to dwell in what happened, but think about how we as a society, as individuals, are going to move forward, and take that step. Taking my step...

Looking Back

As I try to put my thoughts together for my next post, I thought I would share two teaching journal entries of my 1st and 2nd years of teaching.  Much has changed and has been learned since 2006 (I have changed as an educator and a person and I have learned a lot about myself and what I believe a "great" teacher and education should look like), but some things remain the same: I still cry, I still love and believe in my students, and I can not imagine doing anything else.

Even in 2013, my students from those beginning years 

remain inspirations and reminders to stay resilient no 

matter the challenge. Each and every one of them is 

worth it!

November 14, 2006

I’ve been teaching for about 11 weeks, and I thought I would give you a glimpse into a day in the life of Ms. Red.  For starters, it’s not fun.  For every good day there are 5 bad ones right behind it.  There are more tears than smiles.  I come home from work each day exhausted and drained, and I hate going to sleep at night (especially on Sundays) because I’m scared and nervous to have to go to work in the morning.  Everyone I talk to says that it gets easier – so as the weeks go on the routine and organization of being a teacher gets easier but the job seems to get harder.  The ironic part of it all, is that, I never really cared much about being a math teacher, I just wanted to inspire kids through coaching basketball, and as a first year teacher I haven’t touched a basketball in months.  I think about finding a new job about once a week, but the Chicago Bulls don’t have any positions open in their community relations department just yet, but I’ll keep trying.  In the mean time, I try to make due with where I am at. 

I am teaching in a Chicago neighborhood called North Lawndale, on the central west side of the city – near the United Center.  98% of the students that come to my school are coming from low income homes.  99% of the school is Black.  My students are faced with more than just passing my class, let alone high school.  They worry about getting Jumped after school, and even in school.  Sometimes its gang related and sometimes its just because one kid didn’t like the way another kid was looking at them. A lot of students are already involved in Gang activity and most will join a gang by the end of the year. Some go home to a household where they are in charge of 5 other brothers/sisters/cousins and household chores of cleaning and cooking because their mother or grandmother is out working her 2^nd job of the day.  I’m having difficulty just connecting and relating to my students.  And on top of that teaching math is extremely challenging because my students have no concept of respect for me or even themselves. 

The other night I attempted to make about 15 phone calls to parents (some pos. and some neg) to try and get them involved, yet half the numbers were disconnected.  I got in touch with a few but most parents/guardians are not so involved and some of the ones that are do so by trying to instill fear within their student, often by using force.  I’ve witnessed students get slapped in the face by a parent/guardian numerous times as a way of discipline – while other staff and parents also watched as though nothing wrong was going on.  For me I sat there, not knowing if I should look or not.  If I looked away, I felt I would then be denying the fact that something wrong was taking place, but if I looked, I would just become another passive bystander.  Then last week I was chewed out by a mother (who was mentally unstable) accusing me of Character Analyzing her child for calling him a class-clown on a write up as well as making up the fact that her son had also cursed me out in class.  It is these types of issues I am asked to deal with each and every day – along with trying to convince my students that math is fun!

So you might be asking yourself, why the hell am I still working here…..  I ask myself that same question almost everyday around 6^th period.  And this is what I usually come up with:

To think, how little I knew about teaching back then....

My 8th period Algebra class Y1.  These students taught 

me more than I/they could ever have imagined. I am 

forever grateful to have had the privilege to have been 

their teacher! 

I used to be very idealistic, and thought I could EASILY walk into a school and change the life of my students for the better.   I once remember telling a friend that if I even just affect one student’s life, for even just a minute, it would all be worth it. Now they disagreed – they argued what’s the point of doing something when you know the possibility of success is so low its basically nonexistent.  I think about what they said all the time these days wondering if what I am doing really is worth it.  I haven’t found an answer to that question, but I do know that when I talk about quitting teaching, my mom constantly suggests that before I quit teaching I should maybe try working at a better school.  My response to her every time is no.  If I teach, it will be at Manley (As long as I don’t get fired).  Yet I can never tell my mom why – and I’m not so sure I know why.  It’s kind of like that gut feeling that just tells you yes or no.  And mine tells me yes….well at least until I open up my own basketball after school youth center/safe heaven, preferably funded by one of the professional basketball teams (depending on where I am living at the time).  But until that day – I’m going to try and keep trucking.

...and one year later...

November 18, 2007

I feel like I have dropped off the face of the planet.  It’s amazing how fast this school year is flying by.  I have been meaning to sit down and begin the tale of year 2 for months now, but it seem time has escaped me.  As I write this now with one quarter down and three to go I can say a lot has changed since those ill feelings I was having over 3 months ago.  In August I wrote in my Journal:

“The first day of school is approaching fast and those nauseous and anxiety filled feelings are beginning to creep in.  My dreams have already been taken over by first day of school nightmares: 30 plus students running around, out of uniform, not listening to a word I say, with nothing to teach.  And to top it all off, I’m being observed by administration.  So to say the least, I’m ready for school to start – if only to get those precious hours of sleep back. However, I know I’m in for another rollercoaster of a year, and unfortunately I can’t say I feel that much more comfortable then I did last year.”

Now in November with the first day long behind me, I am happy to report I sleep soundly (when I find time to sleep) and I am far more comfortable this year then I ever was last year.  And most importantly, the tears are few and far between, and I can honestly say that I LOVE my job.  Year two is definitely easier than year one, however, it is still far from easy. 

In life we tend not to see our accomplishments when we are in the midst of them, however, it is only afterwards, when we are able to take a step back, that we are able to see all that we have achieved.  At the end of last school year, I felt accomplished; I mean, I made it through the year in one piece, and ready to try again only after a well needed summer vacation.  Yet, I wasn’t sure if I felt accomplished in terms of my students.  I wondered if they had learned, not just about math but about life.  Was I able to get through to some of my students that there is more out there then they see?  Was I able to make a difference in their lives?  You always here of these teacher that single handedly changed students lives, you watch their stories on TV and in the Movies, and I can name a few that changed mine.  I want to help change lives, I want to be that teacher to some!  And after year one, I wasn’t so sure if I had accomplished that or if I am meant to accomplish that….

But then they start to trickle in – within the first few weeks of school, my students from last year started to come back just to say hello.   Now that I am not their teacher I have become approachable – and I begin to realize, I was able to do what I had hoped to do.  It sounds so controlling – that want to have this power over my students – but on the contrary I want to do my job correctly.  To me a teacher is more than an individual who stands at the front of a classroom teaching you the laws of physics or the ways of writing, but is someone who also a role model, someone who helps ignite a passion

A student of mine came to me the other week.  She is now a sophomore.  She looked at me and told me she wanted to tell me something but didn’t want me to be disappointed in her.  I told her she couldn’t disappoint me and asked her what was going on.  She then handed me sonogram pictures, she couldn’t even tell me, all she could do was show me the pictures, she was 3 months pregnant.  I faked a smile and told her she would have to do far worse to disappoint me.  We then continued to talk about her plans for having and caring for the baby as well as staying in school.  I didn’t lie to her, I wasn’t disappointed, I was just sad.  As she left my room, I just sat unable to move or speak. 

Working late hours is what I do.  I realize more and more my job does not end at 3pm when the bell rings, in fact if I let it, it would never end.  A friend from work and I call it the curse of being a teacher who cares.