frustration

This whole winter break thing is giving me a lot of spare time (okay, I actually have a lot to do, but I need a break). With spare time comes blogging. Here we go. Again.

During college I wrote countless papers. I wrote about so many things I cannot even remember - I tried to look, but somehow many were deleted from my computer...? I researched, studied, and wrote about: students' perception of homelessness, dramaturgy, the perception of Asian women within immigration policies, the current education system, roles of women during the Mexican Revolution, and so on. Random. So many random papers that I loved. However, if you knew me well, you would have known my biggest interests in sociology revolved around gang structure/influence, youth, and race.

I have been interested in gang structure and influence since high school - this probably has to do with the fact that I am a sheltered, white, suburban girl interested in everything outside of my bubble. I was always fascinated. Here is the thing. I am still fascinated, but it is different when you love people involved in these gangs. This fascination shifts toward worry and frustration. I'm frustrated with the fact that some of my kids have gotten in huge fights just over someone flashing another gang sign. I'm frustrated with how much trouble my kids should be in because of the choices they have made - things I should not even write about in detail here. I'm frustrated when I have students come to me saying they don't want to fight or do this or that and they want to change, but they HAVE to go through with it. Just stop. Why? I'm frustrated that my kids' friends have died. I'm frustrated with the mindset some of my kids possess - I want them to know that it DOES matter if they live or die. It DOES matter that they graduate.  I'm frustrated beyond words. I can't make them change. They have to make choices. All I can do is love them, encourage them, teach them, and question them. I have to step up. I have to be more of a leader. I have to be the leader I planned to be. I have to surpass that. I have to push them more.
I have to love.

hatred, door talks, and love

I have not updated since the first week of school. I have almost no life outside my job.  I cannot squeeze my emotions and experiences into a blog post, but I will attempt to provide you with a series of ramblings. I'd rather just talk... let's do that sometime.

Let's begin with hatred. Many days I hate my job. Hate is a strong word. But I want to be honest. I don't hate all of it. I think it comes down to the fact that I have very little control over what happens each day. I can plan and plan and plan. I can manage, invest, redirect, and so on. However, my students have very few consequences for their actions at school and get away with too much. I hate that. They know their grades mean very little in 8th grade; they know they can get away with so much; they push the limits. This sometimes causes me to hate them. Yep. Truth. I hate how disrespectful they are. I hate how many of my kids separate themselves based on race. I hate that I am still a terrible teacher and know nothing about math... I hate that many of my students don't see how important they are. I hate that some don't realize their choices have lasting consequences. I hate that no matter how many discussions we have, some don't realize they can work to change their situation.

I could write, in detail, about everything that is going wrong for days and days. Let's move on to something completely different. I warned you I would ramble.

The difference between investment this summer and this school year is huge. Investment was obviously different with 18 high school students compared to 90 middle schoolers. It is so different, but still what I rely on to have a somewhat okay classroom. I have found that my classroom doors have been where my students and I connect most. It is my favorite and least favorite place. It is where I can have a conversation with a student and still make sure the rest of my class is on task working. I send students to my door to wait when they are misbehaving in class. I have conversations about life at the door. I hear about my students' ambitions, lives, mistakes, and joys at the door. I correct while at the door. I yell while at the door. I dance and joke there. I hear, "Can I talk to you about something?" I've even held back tears at the door. I wish I could write about all of it.

Finally, love. I never thought I would love these kids. I instantly fell in love with my students at institute. I liked some of my kids here almost right away, but I mostly couldn't stand them. After a few months, I still didn't care to see some of them and didn't really think I loved any. I mean, I loved when they finally got something in class after being puzzled for a while; I loved when they stop by during passing period to share a random story; I loved when they helped each other. BUT it wasn't until this weekend I realized I really do love them.... well, only some of them. I'm still getting there.

It finally occurred to me when I felt like fighting someone because two of my students were suspended. My students are suspended often and deserve it. This time I was just angry. I wanted to yell at someone like an upset parent would. I was just upset about how students are sometimes treated. And then how it conditions them to react in the future, creating a cycle that I hope they jump out of. I am just frustrated about what this suspension could mean for one of my students. What it usually means for him. I am sick of my students making ridiculous decisions - then they get more time to continue making these decisions. Ugh. The fact that I wanted cry about this made me realize I love them. I really do. I'm often terrible at loving them and do not teach them very well, but I try. I wish you could meet them. You wouldn't like them right away. I don't even like them. But, I do love them. Well, a few of them. I want to tell you more, but I am tired of rambling.

the switch

My heart hurts in a way it never has before. It is confused and frustrated and exhausted.

I left LA not wanting to leave. I loved my students there, and still do. They were very challenging. I squeezed through the cracks and wiggled my way into their hearts. They easily got right into mine. Saying goodbye to them was one of the hardest things I've done... or so I thought.

Let's jump to KC. To my surprise, I was switched from teaching high school social studies to middle school math. Math, really? Yikes. Did some professional development, training, and house searching that week, then jumped into teaching. This past week was my first week as an 8th grade math teacher. This really is the hardest things I've ever done. Ever.

I teach three classes. They are each two hours long. In a room with no air conditioning and almost no windows. Being in a sweltering room for two hours learning math is not an ideal situation for my bunch of 8th graders... or myself. My two Algebra 1 classes are great. They like to be a little sassy and complain, but altogether they are a joy. I get to be myself with them (well, my teacher self). I'm excited to see what happens. But, here comes the challenge.

My 8th grade math class is my last class of the day - the hottest part of the day. It is my biggest class. It is full of groups of friends and enemies. All week, they have yelled. It doesn't matter if I break groups up because they get up out of their seats, walk around, yell, curse, hit, and never stop talking. Never stop talking. I have asked for advice, followed advice, and kept going. There has been very little change. I just don't know what to do. I send at least 3 kids out of the room every day. They do not respect me at all. I look their age and I'm white. They hate me - some have said this to my face. I can barely eat because this makes me so anxious. I cried every day but one after this class. I am not a crier. Apparently I am now. What is this? I can't let my class continue to go on like this. Learning needs to happen. Respect must be developed. I just have NO CLUE what to do. I won't give up. They don't deserve that. I need a miracle.

My heart hurts. I do not know how to end this frustration. Lord, help me.

study session

Let me tell you about last night. I will never forget it. It probably makes it into my top ten...

Next week is the final exam for summer school. We decided to buy dinner for our students and have a study session at a restaurant down the street from our high school. Seven out of eighteen students came last night. And it was a beautiful, hilarious time.

1. Our students were so hesitant to get any food. They thought it was so weird that we offered to buy them something. I had to stress the fact that we are family now in order to convince them to get food. [And it was hilarious because one of my boys asked if he had to tell people he was from Missouri now that we are family. bahah. Love it.] Oh, we also had donuts. Hilarious.

2. I need to start wearing sunglasses to teach. Or buy color changing contacts. Not even kidding.

3. I'm so proud of all of my students for studying and asking questions. Let me tell you about one super exciting thing. One of my boys who has a B in our class came last night. He only needed help for about 10 minutes in the beginning. Even though he was done, he stayed for two more hours. He sat there and read, circled things in his study guide, and asked questions to clarify. This might not sound too exciting to you, but it is amazing. This kid was pretty resistant at the beginning of the summer. On the weekend he hangs out with his gang and does who knows what. Yet he stayed to study with his teachers on a Saturday night.

4. I had an amazing talk with one of my students. He basically told me his life story. This kid is fairly quiet in class and his a "tough guy." He gets 100% on almost every exit exam in my class and he doesn't know why. I told him it is because he is brilliant. I can see it in him. He wants to be a police officer. He told me how he gets so frustrated while taking tests and gives up. He didn't learn to write until the eighth grade. He told me that his family has been trying to get him to drop out of school since eighth grade. His father only has a fifth grade education. His father also thinks joining a gang would be better than staying in school. He told me how his family has been going through some tough stuff - they want him to get a job and forget school (he is upset they don't understand that education will get them more money). He said he had never had anyone tell him he was smart or actually care until this summer. During this entire jumbled conversation, both of us were fighting back tears. I can't leave.

5. I am hating the American education system more and more each day. Three of my boys told me they have never had teachers who actually care. They are usually pushed to the side if they don't do well. Because of this, they cause trouble. They don't deserve that. They told me we can't leave. These boys are usually the first out the door (unless they are in trouble). Last night, one fought with his mom on the phone because he didn't want to leave the study session. He wants to do well. As he left, he hugged all three of us teachers. This is so out of his character. These kids need love. One parent came in when she dropped her daughter off. She stayed for a while going from teacher to teacher thanking us. She told us how smart her daughter is (so true), but she falls behind because teachers don't care. She was amazed by a study session. I can't leave.

6. I know these kids can go so far. I need someone to step up and push them next year. They deserve it. I know I will have more amazing kids next year. I will love them. I will teach them. I will push them. But right now, I can't fathom leaving my Los Angeles family.  I don't think these kids will ever understand how deeply I love them.

furious

I am furious. I am broken. I am in love.

I am furious. I have known my students in Los Angeles a little over a week now. During this time, I have seen how terrible the education system really is. Sure, I have read a lot about it and met people who have received a poor education, but this is personal. My 11th graders deserve every good thing in this world. They want to be doctors, pro athletes, dentists, police officers, and engineers. I truly believe they can do this. I just don't know how. I'm giving them all I can at the moment. But the question I want to shout at the top of my lungs in pure frustration is: Why the heck did their previous teachers let them slide by? Who will teach them next year? Why does our country allow this to happen?

I completely understand why one of my kids is so interested in our Cold War/communism unit.

I am broken. Even when I have a bit of free time on the weekends or this rare afternoon off, all I can do is think about my students. My heart hurts so much. I sometimes physically hurt / feel sick because of this. I'm actually crying as I write this. I'm not even talking tearing up. I'm a freaking mess. Yes, me. The girl who rarely ever cries. There have been countless times in LA where I have almost broken down and cried. Not because of my workload or how tired am. I don't care about that. It is because my students don't deserve this education. They deserve the best. I'm new and giving them the best is difficult - I can only try. Do you hear me? They deserve the best.

I met two boys yesterday who told me they want to go into the marines and then study music and engineering. They are amazing. Here is the thing. They want an awesome education. They want to transfer to a better school, but they can't. They are stuck until graduation.

And can I tell you about two of my boys? One is a seriously brilliant kid. He wants truth. He answers difficult questions. He asks difficult questions. He wants to know more. He comes up with the most beautiful responses within seconds. He is smooth and funny. I brag about him all the time. The thing is, he doesn't think he is smart. Another one of my boys is just awesome. He talks back. He has great conversations with me outside of class then falls asleep in class. He won't finish worksheets even when he knows the answer. He tells me he is lazy. He doesn't care about school. He just wants to ride bikes and shuffle all day. At the same time, he has high academic goals for himself.

I am in love. Anytime I talk about my day or my students (which is all the time), I say how much I love them. They are sometimes a handful, but I love them so much. I am furious with the system and can't stop thinking my students because of this love. I want to take them back to KC. If I could, I would. 18 days of summer school is not enough. I will never forget them. They don't understand the reason behind my lessons/consequences/rewards/laughter/awkwardness/questions... is my love for them.

I want them to have everything.

KC and Why I'm Here

One of the main reasons I preferred my Teach For America placement as Kansas City was because I saw the differences between the public school in KC and my suburban schools less than 30 minutes away.  It is personal. These differences are not fair. This is something fairly easy to simply state. I want you to see something though. I want you to know what my students are up against.

 [http://projects.nytimes.com/census/2010/explorer]

Historically, Troost Ave in KC was the line that separated blacks from whites. It was not something that happened "naturally." Rules, segregation, and real estate forced this on people. Black families lived to the east, while across [and on] this dividing line wealthy whites built mansions. The blue dots on this map represent blacks and the green dots represents whites (each dot is one hundred people). You can obviously see which road is Troost on the map solely by looking at the separation. Here's the thing. This map does not represent the population in the 60s. It is data from 2005-2009.

[Ibid.]

This map represents the percentage of students in private schools. See that area with dark blue? Yeah, the right edge touches Troost Ave. Everything east of Troost is light blue (showing less than 20% in private schools). This represents how: 1. many families do not have access to private schools and 2. a large chunk of white and/or wealthy families in KC do not send their children to public schools. In reality, they will do anything possible to get them out of the public school system.

This is [part of the reason] why I am teaching in Kansas City. I want to help close this gap. I want my students to receive the same education as wealthier students in private schools or my suburban public schools. It is only fair. My students deserve someone who won't give up on them when it comes to school. They can achieve so much. If we do not give up, the education system in Kansas City, and the country as a whole, will be fantastic. When asked, those families who previously sent their children to private schools will actually want to send them to public school.

My scholars deserve everything.

small talk

Okay listen, I'm such an introvert it is ridiculous.  I didn't need to tell you that. You already knew it if you've spent any time with me at all. Sometimes I try to pretend that I am extroverted because my antisocial ways annoy me at times. But really, I cannot change this quality. In all honesty, I'm okay with that (most of the time).

Why am I writing this? Well, on Sunday I move to KC for a week, then five weeks in Los Angeles. I have to meet hundreds of new people. This means small talk. Lots of painful small talk. Sure, I'm excited to meet them [some of them, anyway]. We will have the same mission of bringing excellent education to students in KC for the next two years. That is awesome. And hopefully I will become great friends with some of them as well. I'm pumped about this. However, I am not looking forward to these weeks of: What's your name? Where are you from? What school did you go to? What is your subject placement? Why did you join TFA? Yadda yadda yadda. Can't we just jump into some real stuff? I am going to be so, accidentally, rude to some people because I just don't care for small talk. Sorry, I love when people get to be real with one another.

It is weird how these next six weeks are going to be the most draining of my life and will require relentless work, yet the thing I'm not looking forward to is professional small talk. Dang. I'm so socially awkward. But hey, at least I'm not worrying about the whole teaching thing (right now, anyway).

Why this is going to be rough

I graduated Saturday. I still have not fully grasped what this means for me. It does not feel real. Not at all. In one month (and two days) I will begin my TFA journey and head on over to "Induction" in KC for a week followed by five more weeks in L.A. I have no idea how to be a teacher. I do not know what classes, school, or grades I will be teaching. I do not know where I will live. I do not know how to manage a classroom or plan lessons. I do not know how to be that disciplined teacher. This is going to be rough.

A week ago I observed a high school classroom. The same day was my last time leading my junior highers at youth group [this was rough - probably the worst part about leaving Columbia - I am so proud of how much they have grown and of the leaders they are becoming]. That day, I fully realized that one of the toughest parts about transitioning into teacher-dom will be the fact that it is not my job to be the students' friends. I am so used to working at camp and leading youth group where I aim to be friends of students - I can joke around, use some sarcasm, let them get away with things (to a certain extent), and have really personal conversations.  As a teacher, I have to be strict (sure, I can be their friends and joke around, but not how I am used to). I know I can do this with ease, but it is not what I want. This is going to be rough. Yikes.

I am also worried about transitioning into a completely new environment. I am from the KC area - it isn't as though I'm moving across the country - but it is always difficult going somewhere with no connections. I will not know the teachers at my school. I do not know any of the KC corps member entering in with me. One of my biggest fears is that I won't make solid friends. I want true community. I want to be surrounded by people I can share with (this is a challenge in itself). I want to become connected/involved in an awesome church (and I'm having trouble deciding between churches). I want time to grow and have fun. I want to stay connected with Columbia and camp friends [not being at camp is a rough emotion as well]. I know some of these things will be so difficult. Here is the thing. I'm terrified; I'm an introvert; I want to be the best teacher I can be; I want community; I want to grow... Here is the other thing. It should not be about what I want. I desire to want what He has for me. I really know that my Father has everything worked out already. He loves and provides and is gracious. I need to cast my cares (all of them) on Him. Take it. Take it. Here. This journey is going to be rough; I know it. I also know that He is my constant through these changes.

This is going to be rough. Good thing He knows what's up.

“Grant that I may not pray alone with the mouth; help me that I may pray from the depths of my heart”
-Martin Luther

I can breathe

Throughout college, I never knew what I would do once I graduated. I knew I wanted to get a job and possibly go to graduate school after a few years, but that's it. Even going into my last semester of college I had no clue. I dreaded telling people my major because the response was always the same - "Sociology, how interesting. What exactly do you plan on doing with that?" I did not know. The only thing I ever wanted to do was love people in some way.  I want to change society for the better.

As of Tuesday, I can now answer the "future question." I found out on Tuesday that I was accepted to Teach for America - a national organization with the goal of closing the achievement gap and giving all an excellent education. I told everyone I was not going to be accepted (I don't like to get my hopes up or jinx myself), but I still hoped for the job. When I got the news, I could finally breathe. I stopped worrying about jobs and the future. Sure, this is only for two years, but I'm so excited. It is actually funny because at one point I was an education major. I switched because I only wanted to teach for a few years in the inner city. How funny is it that I am doing just that?

When I graduate, I will become a high school social studies teacher in Kansas City. This will be one of the most challenging things I've ever done, but I know it will be worth it. I have the chance to be a part of hundreds of lives.

One of the most beautiful things that has come of this [aside from the guarantee of a job after school] is the large amount of encouragement I've received. All the excitement and questions and hugs and calls and whatever else from friends has just been an overwhelming blessing. God has shown His faithfulness to me once again - I will be doing this for Him. How beautiful an opportunity to love others.