Upswing

It occurred to me recently, at yet another moment when I thought about writing to my blog but decided not to, that most of the time I decide not to write purely because I couldn't possibly summarize or narrow down my current life experience into a concise and readable blog entry.

Lousy excuse, I know.

But I realized that I don't need to say everything in order to say something meaningful. This requires effort though -- Keeping it brief has never been one of my strong points as a writer!

What amazes me most about my job is what an absolute roller coaster it is, sometimes on a minute by minute basis. This is, simultaneously, the reason I love it and the reason I would consider leaving it. It is emotionally draining and overwhelming in a way I never thought possible. This is true of all teaching jobs, let's be honest, but I've never experienced anything quite like this.

This week is a great example. The students have been an absolute nightmare in almost every way they are capable of. Or is it just that I was more irritable this week? Maybe a little of both? Regardless, I am proud I made it through the week without strangling anyone. Can I have a dollar for every time I have said each of the following sentences: "Please pay attention, you need to know this information if you want to pass the class. Put your cell phone away or I will take it. Why are you out of class right now? Take your headphones out, you are in class now. Why didn't you bring a pencil? Do not lose this handout as soon as you walk out of the room. Please do not use the F word in my classroom. Stop pushing her, we don't roughhouse inside the school. Sit in the desk, not on it. Take out a piece of paper, for the 3rd time. Are you telling me that nobody did their homework?"

Crap, is that what I sound like? I actually feel embarrassed writing those words! Is that some classic teacher talk or what? Sometimes when I hear the stuff coming out of my mouth, I cringe. But it happens to the best of us, no matter how hard we try.

I'll tell you one of the most unnerving feelings in the world. Talking in front of a roomful of people and realizing that nobody is actually listening to you. Whether they are talking to the person next to them, texting on their phone, focusing on getting that crumbled up piece of paper to make it across the room into the garbage can, enjoying their PopTart, or trying to get their friend across the room to give them part of his PopTart, you realize that your words are not making their way into anybodies brain. And when it happens over and over, day after day, it really starts to make you doubt yourself. Why is nobody listening to me? Am I really that boring?

And then I start to question everything about my teaching. What am I doing wrong? Are my lessons unengaging? It the material too difficult? Is the topic that boring? Ahhhhh, I suck!!!! I should have never become a teacher!!!

But then you talk to the other teachers at your school, and realize they are ALL going through the EXACT same thing as you. So it's not me, it's the kids. We are all really, really frustrated with them right now. They have been acting like lazy assholes in everyone's class this week.

And as one of my colleagues pointed out, a whole bunch of the girls are menstruating right now. People tend to get on the same cycle in such a small, close knit environment. And we always know because our girls are not shy at all about complaining about their cramps or asking for some Advil.

But just when the lazy assholes and the menstruating teenage girls have me ready to throw in the towel, the little things happen that remind me why I took this job in first place.

We've been doing home visits this week. This is one of the neat things about my school, and something I've been looking forward to all year. It might sound weird and awkward, for teachers and principals to make trips out to students' homes, sit on the couch with the family and talk about the student's progress towards graduation, but it's actually one of the most interesting things I've gotten to do while teaching. We go out alone or in teams of two, and spend about 20-30 minutes at each house, eventually making it out to see all of our eleventh graders. We bring transcripts and college information, and tell the family exactly what the student needs to do in order to graduate on time. And from what I've seen so far, the families love it. The gesture of the school coming to them really sends a message that we want to see them succeed, something that is absolutely crucial with our students.

And for the teachers, it is a valuable peak into the lives of our students. Especially for someone like me that grew up in the white suburbs of middle class America - I sometimes forget that my students are from Oakland - mostly East Oakland. In the moments of my greatest frustration, when I can't comprehend why they act how they do, it is so valuable to take a step back and remember that my kids grew up in a place where nighttime guns shots are the norm, where your neighbors have vicious pit bulls in the yard, and where the police are NOT seen as people who are there to protect you. I need to be reminded more often of the fact that my students are incredible emotionally vulnerable, and that some of them have seen more horror, pain and violence before the age of 16 than I will ever see in my life.

Meeting the families in their homes is extremely heartening, because you realize how hard the parents have worked to protect their children from the violence of the neighborhoods they grew up in. Some have succeeded admirably, others not so much. But the most valuable thing to remember is that the parents, almost without exception, want to see their children succeed, and you remember that you have a partner in your quest as a teacher.

You also remember that the students themselves, for all their maddening behavior, are still only teenagers. They are confused, hormonal, hopeful, discouraged, scared ... just like we all were once. I remember how hard it was to be a teenager. Imagine being a teenager growing up in the inner city. A child of the ghetto, going through puberty.

One of my most powerful moments this week was when one of my more, um, "streetwise" boys was struggling to understand a reading in class, and he said to me, "You gotta help me learn how to do this. I can survive on the streets of deep East Oakland, but this stuff is hard for me." And I said, "Well, I'm pretty good at the school stuff, but I doubt I'd last very long on the streets." He said, "Ah, all you would have to do is call the 5-0 and tell them you a white girl, they'd come pick you up in a second." And then he smiled at me.

Coincidentally, I have to make a phone call to that boy's parents this weekend, because he got in trouble for too much taking in my class today. But I needed to call them anyway, because I see him teetering on the verge of deciding to really buckle down and be a good student, and I need all the help I can get in giving him that push. I just hope the parents will be supportive. I'm sure, 95% that they will be.