Label Me

When I accepted this position at this school, a teacher friend of mine begged me not to. "You will always be perceived as a 'bad' teacher if you go there. You will be labeled".

If that's true... so be it. Label me. As the teacher who makes a difference. The teacher who takes on the "worst" schools with dignity and pride. The teacher who digs in and teaches with lovingkindness to children who so so need GOOD teachers.

And I am... a good teacher. Actually, I won't even be modest. I am gifted and talented at my craft. The reality is... at those "utopia" schools, whomever teaches those students won't really make a difference. Those children will succeed regardless of who their teachers are because they have strong family and community and economic support.

My students do not have that. They deserve the BEST teachers. If we are going to change our country... we must do it from the ground up. I have never been one to voice my political views on social media or talk talk talk. Instead, I walk the walk. Over the course of twenty years, I have served the most needy children in Ohio and Kentucky. Children who have very little privilege. Children in poverty. Children in the foster care system. Children who are struggling.

For the one hour a day they are in my classroom, I give them everything I have to give. I never once lower my academic standards or my expectations for their success. Ask them to RISE and they will. Devote every waking moment to researching, writing, creating lesson plans and then being dynamic to reflect over what worked and what didn't to better serve them is what I do best.

It is my honor and privilege to serve this school. Label me the teacher who cares. The teacher who overcomes obstacles and barriers my students suffer to educate them. I teach them how to shake hands properly and make eye contact. How to say, "Nice to meet you." How to raise their hands in class. Then... I teach them the most beautiful poetry Shakespeare offers. Ask them to stand in front of class and learn how to give public speeches. Direct them to embrace dramatic monologues and act them out. Through the process, empower them to be productive members of society.

Because they deserve nothing but the best.

Keep Your Head Up

Okay... what in the what what? I am struggling! Seriously! And really? Okay, so I have this seventh grade class that just. hasn't. bought. in. I mean... really hasn't "bought in" and I'm perplexed. I haven't met a jar of pickles that hasn't loved me as much as I loved them. What did I do wrong? What haven't I done? Most importantly... what do I need to do?

So... first strategy of attack. I called every single parent in the class yesterday afternoon. One of those, "Just wanted to reach out and introduce myself since I'm new to school. Your child is an absolute joy and I'm so delighted to have them in class this quarter". Phase One.

Phase Two: plan "Fun Friday". Instead of hammering hard... I'm going to play into their strengths. They want to tap a beat? Drive me crazy by tap tap tapping with their pens on the desk while I'm lecturing? Okay... time to unleash Shakespeare Sonnet 18. I already copied the poem in text. I've got the music. We will read it. Listen to it. Sing it. Then, I will group them up. They can turn it into a rap. Translate it into Spanish. Act it out. Go crazy!

But first... my secret weapon? Good old Tupac. And thank God for him. These pickles are already dazzled by the photo of him I have on my collage wall. They exclaimed, "Oooh! Is that Tupac? I love Tupac!" Ooooh, child... you weren't even born before he died.

But I was. I was alive when he was alive. I was introduced to his poetry by my very first pickles and it's time to unleash my secret weapon. "Keep Your Head Up". 'cuz that's what I'm gonna do. That's what I'm going to inspire them to do. We are all gonna keep our heads up.

Phase Three... I'm going to go to the computer, take attendance and pretend that the song "magically" popped up. On those fabulous speakers I have that BLASTS music like nobody's business.

Then, Ms. Beck is gonna show her skills. I'm going to sing sing sing. Dance dance dance. We're gonna Tupacalypse Now. Share the love. Become inspired.

Then... we're gonna show Shakespeare who's boss.

Or perhaps remind them...

I'm the boss.

Regroup

Okay, time to "take stock". The first two classes rolled without a hitch. I'm on pace with them and will continue. The next two classes went fairly well. I know what direction we're heading. It's the last two classes that flummoxed me. Unexpected events occurred. The last bell, I didn't realize it would take all bell to organize the bus dismissal procedures/paper work, so I didn't have "seat work" for the students to be contained, so of course... chaos ensued. Not the way to start a first day/set a first impression.

Last night, I came home depleted. Exhausted. Demoralized. Mentally, I listed my "options". Of course, it helped that I didn't have a voice. I strained my voice by talk talk talking too much. So, in silence, I stewed. And really, that is better. I think "venting" sometimes makes it worse. Sometimes, silence is best. What I focus on, expands. Best to focus on what worked vs. what didn't work.

This morning, I woke up and wrote in my journal to think. Then, I got to work. Looking at the notes I took at the end of my classes, I regrouped. Created a new document to differentiate instruction. Printed the document and "chunked" the material in more easily digestible parts. We will get through the material. I will not lower my expectations and standards. I just need to do what I did with my son when he was a baby learning to eat... start more slowly. Drench it in Ranch dressing and "trick" him into eating. Of course, this is a metaphor. But, the idea behind it is the same.

Equity/ not equality. That was a lesson we learned in PD. I just didn't realize what it meant until yesterday. I will place support after support after support in place. I will dig even deeper to get there. I will allow my students to grow and develop with my lovingkindness. I will figure this out. I have to.

My students are shining stars that deserve the best from me.

First Day of School!

And I'm ready to roll! To curb my anxiety, I remind myself... this is the day all of my hard work and determination will pay off. I'm going to float with students! Chaos, confusion, fear... all the feelings my students will be experiencing and it's my job to lead. With grace and dignity.

So, when I answered a colleague's question of whether I had taught Drama before with "no".... I have to remind myself: YES I have! What was I thinking? Drama is part of the English classroom. I've also taught Arts and Humanities for years. Drama was a huge component of that curriculum. Finally... I'm the story-teller teacher. Drama is nothing more than produced story-telling. I've got this!

And weird... today marks my twenty year anniversary of the first time I walked into a public school classroom. Twenty years ago? Doesn't seem possible, but it's true. This will mark my ninth year of public school teaching over the course of twenty years. In between, I've been a professor of English, a writing instructor for workshops and a long-term sub. Teaching is like breathing at this point. I just need to remember to launch on my stories and all will be well.

Of course, I overly prepared. If I move through my first unit in the time I've allotted, it will be a miracle. I practice dynamic teaching. Not everything is set in stone (well, it is on the long-range plan document I was asked to submit), but I know what every experienced teacher knows. Learn your kids' interests and levels and work from there. Even last night, I was jotting down notes and ideas for today's lessons. What do I love to do more than anything else? Research, write, create lessons and implement them. So, reminding myself to not get ahead of myself is key.

Focus on the task. Stay in the moment. Enjoy the ride. What a long, strange trip it's been. I'm just so grateful I got here. Today! Today! First Day of School: hooray!

Balance

As I hustle to launch back into my career in teaching, I feel like I'm neglecting my son. Of course, that's to be expected. I'm simply not physically in the house as much as I was. His school begins a week after my school begins. Because he's fourteen, I didn't have to arrange elaborate daycare plans. But, the long days last week and the beginning of this crept up on me. I should have planned better.

So, imagine how grateful I was to receive the email last night that he will be at golf tournaments the next three days. Okay... at least, I did something right. I got him involved in golf. I reached out to a school mommy and arranged for my son and hers to get together on Friday at the pool. I emailed the organization where my son will be volunteering and asked if he could spend a few hours there next week to get started. Check. check. check.

My teaching career has suffered neglect in my life. When I got pregnant, my husband and I moved to another state and I resigned my career in my favorite high school. I stayed home with my son until he was three. Turning my back on my teaching career was not hard for those years. But, oh! was I excited to return to teaching when my baby turned three and was old enough for Montessori school. The thrill I felt the first morning I drove to school. Freedom! Teaching! However, I had a hard time balancing then. I remember when his teacher called after the first few weeks and said, "Aren't you at all concerned about your child's progress/transition in class?" Of course I was, lady! Because my husband took our son to school and I picked him up in the afternoons, I primarily met with the afternoon teacher. I didn't mean to neglect the morning teacher. I had to hustle to achieve balance.

Five years later, I had to resign my career in teaching again. For six years, I've been home. I definitely felt the pain of neglecting my teaching career. Of course, I taught writing workshops and launched my writing career... but, that's nothing compared to committing to a public school life. This transition is definitely difficult. I want to be completely present at school. I want to be responsible to my family. The typical working-mom struggle. Both sides of my world require intense organization and preparation. My brain is overwhelmed. I write lists for home when I'm at school. I write lists for school when I'm at home.

And finally... there's one other baby that is being neglected. My writing. I wonder, though. If Facebook existed when Trollope was alive, would he have written his novels? I think not. My mornings are better served writing (at least these little essays if nothing else) than scrolling through the interwebs.

Eventually, though... I believe I will strike a balance. I'm certainly not the only mother in the world to do so.

Staff Community

In any school, it's the staff that makes the difference. I have never felt as welcomed in a school as I have in this school. The teacher with whom I did home visits is one of the most kind, considerate and positive people. She texts me to "check up" on me. My first team meeting, one of the teachers approached me to share that nine years ago, he observed me during his teacher-training. When moving the previous teacher's stuff from my room so I could move in, the entire team jumped in to help. This team is also organizing a getting-to-know-you potluck picnic next weekend. For once, I'm not dreading a work event. I'm already planning a recipe.

The administration is incredible, too. Professional, caring, dedicated. I am honored to serve with this staff. I have to confess... it's a dramatic change from the previous two schools I substitute taught this past year. What a long, isolated year it was, really. I felt like an outsider (which I was). I ate lunch alone. Except for a few kind people, no one came in to "check in" with me. Administration ignored me. I never felt part of their school communities. I guess it makes sense that I didn't land a position with either of those schools this year. I'm where I'm meant to be. And welcomed with open arms.

This dynamic supports welcoming our students with the same generosity of spirit. I can't wait until next week to swing open my door (and my heart) to a new group of pickles.

Love this double-entendre. Indeed, this staff has class.

To Da Roots

The universe has a way of speaking, doesn't it? Right now, I am in the process of accepting that I am intended to serve the same students I've always served in my teaching career. And I'm grateful. But what an ordeal. I know the best teachers need to be at the perceived "worst" schools... but this... this... I did not anticipate. Not. One. Bit. And, what's more weird? I'm excited. Inspired. Determined.

I accepted a position in a school whose students I am honored to serve. Not the "utopia" school. Back to my roots... and even deeper. I have the honor of continuing my life's work to serve in a school I believe in with a staff that is beyond-supportive, doing home visits and caring for children to whom I have always been drawn. (good grammar/bad writing)

See, I have this thing about "environment". I truly believe that the room and its "vibe" sets the tone for expectations and behaviors. So, when presented with the opportunity to teach in a classroom with no windows; no white boards; no bulletin boards; stinky, scratched up walls filled with the previous teacher's stuff in boxes everywhere... I freaked out.

Even the furniture is not what will eventually be there... and there's less than six days until my pickles walk into my room. The large, windowless, rectangular room is filled with outdated "computer lab" furniture that is "ordered" to be replaced with tables and chairs. The previous teacher's boxes stacked wide and hide throughout the space. No teacher desk. No computer. No windows (repetition intentional). And again... did I say there were no windows?

Miraculously, I have been graced. A dear friend posted help for me and my community responded beyond my wildest expectations. A teacher's desk, a massive white board, old windows, a custom-built stage were offered. My head is spinning and my eyes are full of tears. Could I be any luckier? I helped the previous teacher move her stuff out. My team swarmed in and helped. My principal showed up to assess and lend support.

If this is my task: let me serve it well. Because before and beyond all else.. I am serving children. In need.

And that is my task.