Snow Day

It's 9:12 pm. I've been in bed for about 12 minutes, but I've been in my pajamas for just about 24 hours. That's right, no school today--our first official snow day of the school year, and my first snow day as a teacher. You better believe that teachers get WAY more excited about snow days than students do.

Case in point: Last night, we went to bed knowing we had a 2 hour delay. Getting to sleep in two extra hours was glorious. I woke up without an alarm clock at 7:00, and got out of bed at 7:20. I checked the school closings and Wake County (near Durham/Raleigh) Schools were already closed. I got out of the shower and, with a towel on my head and my pajamas back on, I went out to the living room to complain to my roommate about our misfortune of still having school. At the exact instant that I opened my door, Lojo jumped up from the couch, threw down her cell phone, and went shrieking through the house, screaming, "NO SCHOOL NO SCHOOL NO SCHOOL!" In a panic, I ran behind her, trying to make sure I was hearing her correctly. I had to chase her up the stairs, where she was frantically beating on our other roommates' doors. We danced and screamed and laughed as we watched the snow start falling outside our window onto our frozen pond. This evening, when we got the call that we had a second snow day, I started jumping through the air, doing hurkeys and ice skating on our kitchen floor. If only we had cameras to capture the excitement, our kids would have to agree that teachers are much more appreciative.

Even though I haven't changed my clothes, I've been more productive today than most weekends. We cleaned the whole downstairs before 10:00 am--scrubbing, sweeping, vaccumming, washing, and reorganizing until our kitchen, living room, and bedrooms looked like new. I planned 4 different lessons for tomorrow (which will now function as Monday's lessons), created a fun activity for Tuesday, graded papers, and cooked myself three meals. Tomorrow's agenda: more planning, hopefully to reduce the amount of work to do over break, and just enjoy the time off. Heavens knows we'll probably have to make it up somewhere along the line, so I might as well take what I can get, when I can get it.

Here's to a four day weekend and an impending winter break.

It's the holiday season...

I’ve been struggling with blogger’s block for the past few weeks. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say. Believe me, there are always plenty of stories to tell and students to quote. The problem is that I have too much to say, and no idea where to even begin.

I knew this would be hard. In fact, I knew it would be the hardest thing that I’ve ever done. Precisely why I preferenced a region close to home, where my family and friends would be easily accessible for support. I prayed, read teaching books, gathered materials, organized my classroom, shelled out money for supplies, created systems, prayed some more, and went in for the kill.

Four months later, it is very clear just how unprepared I was for this job.

When I say unprepared, I’m not referring to my lack of professional training. Of course a degree in education would have benefited me. One thing I never wanted to do when I joined Teach for America was disrespect traditional education programs. I would be lucky to have gone through one of the many great programs that Virginia universities have to offer. However, I would say even an education degree could not have prepared me for some of the situations or students I deal with everyday.

More importantly, nothing can prepare you for the emotional rollercoaster that is teaching. One day, the kids are on point, raising their hands to answer questions, encouraging each other, and leaving the classroom with desks in a row and paper in the trash can. The next day, it looks like a tornado rolled through your room and knocked the sense out of the kids along the way. Kids are shooting paper with rubberbands, talking about each others’ mommas, and talking back like they have no “hometraining” as it’s called here. There is absolutely nothing consistent about these kids, except that they consistently drive me crazy.

Last week was a disaster. I yelled, I whispered, I gave the silent treatment, I sat down, I walked around, I gave out rewards, I gave out book work, I wrote names on the board, I called parents—nothing worked. By Friday, I was ready for a break and took a quick road trip to Richmond to be surrounded by people who were so far removed from my life in Enfield/Ro Rap that I felt something I hadn’t felt in a while: peace.

Saturday, when I returned to my place in North Carolina, I cried like a baby, thinking about how miserable life was going to be these next two weeks as I tried to chug through until Christmas break. And then how miserable life would be after break, when we had 6 months left. I even pulled out the school calendar and started planning weekend trips and sick days in my head. Krista and I hung out with some other corps members that night, and they expressed concern over my management after I told them some stories (and it was much needed, good-natured concern, not controlling or pretentious concern). I went home that night and felt even more hopeless than ever. Clearly I’m an awful teacher, and clearly I have no control over my classroom.

Then, God had mercy on me (as if he doesn’t do that enough). Sunday morning, I got up and went to the early service at church. I love my new church. There is an unmistakable passion in every member I’ve met, young and old. As I sang the lyrics to one of the familiar songs, God totally got a grip on my heart: “I am not forgotten, I am not forgotten, I am not forgotten, God knows my name.” The preacher gave a sermon on the church and its purpose, and he spoke of our power over all the earth because God gave us authority. Through him, we have the power; we can do anything.

At the end of the service, an older woman turned around to greet me. She had seen me before, had spoken to me before, but had forgotten my name. She asked me how my week was, and before I could stop myself, my eyes were welling up with tears, ready to let the build up from the past week flow freely. She and another woman, whom I had met before and is a teacher, took turns praying for me, and I just soaked it up. I needed it. The stress of planning, grading, and teaching has distracted me from the source of all life and energy: God. I hadn’t taken time to bring any of my fears, frustrations, or pain to Him. Instead, I’d been running on empty, sputtering down the road, waiting to burn out any minute.

Then it occurred to me that I was doing this to myself. Well, some of it at least. Clearly I’m not the one shooting paper at myself, or back talking myself, or slapping kids who talk about my momma (although I must say I have wanted to many, many times). The kids do their fair share to break me down. But I know the secret to life, I know the source of light, and I’m the one turning away from it. I have been given authority, and I am a child of the powerful, merciful, loving God, and I have been living like a prisoner. So I had to ask myself:

What are you going to do about it?

Then last night, as I was getting ready for bed, I prayed my heart out. I prayed that God would not only change my heart, but give me the power to make a change in my attitude and my demeanor for TOMORROW. A change of heart doesn’t happen overnight, but Lord knows that I needed some hope for today. So I went to bed smiling as I thought about just how powerful and how good my God is, and how these kids can’t take that away. And I promised myself that the first thing I would say in the morning was, “This day is God’s, and I’m his child—Hallelujah!”

I woke up at 5:20, as usual, and immediately remembered the promise I made myself. I said those words, and got out of bed with a smile on my face and a skip in my step—something I haven’t done since the first week of school. I walked confidently into school, with my head held high and my eyes on the prize. I am a child of God, I told myself, and nothing that happens today can take that away.

I had to repeat that phrase to myself over and over again today, but it was well worth it. The kids were still out of control, they still annoyed me, and I became aware that they are even further behind academically than I thought. But God changed my attitude today, and it changed the way I acted and felt all day. Thank you, and amen.

It may have something to do with the fact that we actually had a semi-normal life last night. At 7:30, we put down the computers and textbooks to make Christmas cookies and watch the Polar Express. Lauren and I built a foam gingerbread house and reveled in the break from work. I felt like a person, not a teacher. Tonight, we drove to Rocky Mount to go shopping and have dinner out—on a Monday! We’re living dangerously, people, and it feels so good.

Now that I’ve carried on for pages…it’s time to get back to work. Lesson planning and eating Christmas cookies…anything is better with Christmas cookies. Thanks for reading.

Little Victories

So much of my last few entries have been highlighting my failures, my struggles, and what isn’t going well. Let’s face it—that’s the larger part of my life at Enfield Middle. However, I’d like to take some time to bask in the few little moments I’ve had in the past week or so that have brought a brief if tired smile to my face.

First, I must say that I protect all of the identities of my students by using their first initials. It’s annoying to read that way, and it also takes away from some of the hilarity of it all, because their names are often as much a source of entertainment as their actions. Regardless, safety and privacy first.

Let’s start with A.F. A.F. is in my dreaded 8^th period. He was one of my biggest problems at the beginning of the year, and still has his moments. I used to have to send him out everyday without fail, usually across the hall but occasionally to the office. He would blatantly refuse to do work, then laugh about it, then apologize and try to make up for it when I kicked him out. He was one of two students to fail my class the first 6 weeks, and I even had to have a conference with his mother to discuss his grades.

Recently, A.F. has surprised me and almost moved me to tears with his progress. I’ve instituted a new rule in all of my classes: if you don’t finish your warm up in class or do your homework, you have to do it at lunch. In eighth period, I go around to check their warm ups right before lunch, and anyone who hasn’t finished has to bring their “tablets” (what they call spiral notebooks) with them. One day last week, A.F. didn’t finish because he didn’t understand, so he sat with me at lunch while we went over the problems. When we finished, instead of returning to the table with all of his friends, he asked for more practice problems. I was floored and excited. After practicing some more he decided to spend the last few minutes with his friends. But when I went over to tell them to clear their plates, I saw A.F. leaning across the table with his tablet open, showing one of his friends how to do the problems we had worked on. Words cannot describe how proud I felt watching him talk about math at lunch, willingly! The next day, a test day, he asked if he could bring his tablet to lunch to do some more practice before our test. He spent the whole lunch period with me and one of his friends, working problem after problem and getting them all correct. When we were going over the problems in class, he even asked to work one out on the board. He is still grade levels behind in math and needs a lot of coaxing, but to see the progress in his work ethic and his behavior was so encouraging. He hasn’t been quite on his A game this week, but I know it’s possible and I won’t give up on him.

Many, many failures today, as always, but these stories of progress give me little glimpses of hope for my kids. Bring on another day…

Minority Report

“I ain’t goin’ across the hall. You go across the hall.”

That’s how a 14-year old seventh grader responded to me today when I asked her to leave the classroom after being disruptive during a test. Would you have ever spoken to a teacher like that? Would you ever really speak to anyone like that? And that’s just one instance with this girl. Just two days ago she had overnight suspension for walking out of my classroom after I told her to sit down. She’s also previously said, under her breath, “I don’t like your a**,” after I gave her silent lunch for continuously talking during class. She’s now been written up three times in my class alone, and her mother came out earlier this week to talk to me about it. We were standing outside my classroom while the drop-out prevention officer mediated the conversation, and M.’s mother reamed her out in front of me. But here’s the fundamental problem:

All M. was doing was laughing at her own mother.

Her mother was full of empty threats, and M. knew it. They’ve had problems with M. in the past, and nothing has ever been done about it. If this girl is going to stand up in front of her mother and laugh as she is disciplining her, how will I ever get her to respect me?

I think I know the answer to my own question, but it scares me. I’m going to have to spend one-on-one time with her to show her that I care and that there’s a reason that I’m pushing her.

There is nothing in the world I want to do LESS than spend one-on-one time with M. It’s harsh, I know, but I’m just being honest. This girl has a nasty attitude, and a very tough front up that is hard to break. And I’ve written her up 3 times, so why in the world would she want to spend time with me? But I know if I truly want to see progress with M. (and she desperately needs it—she is grade levels behind in math), I’m going to have to go above and beyond for her. The real question isn’t can I do it, it’s will I.

One day last week, as I was driving home, I began to think about why it is my kids seem to respect me so much less than other teachers. They’ve told me it’s because I’m young, I’m new, and I’m not black. And it really hit me that for the first time in my life, I’mthe minority, and it’s possible that I’m being treated this way because these kids think there is something inherently different about a white person that means they should be treated differently. It’s not surprise that white people are not in abundance in Enfield. Walking into a football game one day, I felt all of the parents’ eyes on me. At first I was paranoid that I was dragging toilet paper on my shoe or that I missed a button my shirt. And then I realized that I was the only white person at the game, and that was enough to draw some attention. Now don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’m not trying to make myself a victim, point fingers, make excuses, or say that my students or their parents are racist. But it is entirely possible, and probable, that some of my kids think that because I’m white they should treat me differently, whether they recognize it or not. It is the first time that I can understand even an ounce of what it’s like to be treated with prejudice, and I must say I’m not a fan. Every day I just want to scream, “I’m still a person, an adult, an AUTHORITY figure! Have you no decency?” I may be young, I may be new, and I may not be black, but I still am pouring everything I have into this job, these kids, and this school, and it is hard to fail so badly every day. But it comes with the territory.

When I took this job, I didn’t know I’d be dealing with M. I had heard stories about kids like her, but you can’t even imagine how frustrating, infuriating, and terrifying these kids can be until you are in the situation. But I’m here, and M. is here, for at least another 8 months, so I’d better do something to get this situation under control.

Just another day in the life.

Happy birthday Dad, this one’s for you—I love you!

Dry, Dusty Wilderness

It's amazing what a day off can do for your soul. I haven't even had my day off yet, but I'm already reaping the benefits. Just knowing that I'm taking Friday off has made this week so much easier to face. I'm leaving directly after school on Thursday to pick up my friend from Winston-Salem, drive to Knoxville, stay the night with another friend, and end the road trip in Nashville to be apart of another friend's wedding. Four day weeks should be mandatory. It's so much less daunting than five days.

My roommate and I had a great discussion last night about just how hard this experience really is. But the one big word that God has reminded me of over and over again these past few years is perspective. It's all about how you approach something, how you perceive it, and how you let it affect you. Everyone agrees that your first year of teaching is hard, exhausting, and overwhelming. And the added stressors that we are dealing with in our community is only making it harder. The first few weeks, it was easy to come home and complain, worry, and wonder what life would be like if I hadn't chosen this path. But through the grace of God, I've been reminded not to take everything so seriously, to give it my best, and to take care of myself.

This is for sure a period of wilderness in my life, much like the wilderness that the Israelites were wandering through after they were rescued from Egypt. It's lonely, tiring, scary, and unpredictable. But I also have confidence that it is no mistake, that God intentionally brought me to this place and that He is using it. For what, I have no idea. I do know, though, that at the end of the day it's all about following Him and drawing near to Him.

We're doing a study by Priscilla Shirer for the women's Bible study at my new church, and the author's words have really hit me hard. She says: "The wilderness is designed to reveal whether we really want God or if we just want to 'get out of town' and to Canaan as soon as possible. He is interested in knowing if we have submitted to the wilderness only to receive the rewards that come with Canaan or if we truly desire Him more than anything...even the rewards...Obeying is easy when it makes sense and when milk and honesy are flowing all around us, but the true test of our commitment is best seen when there is no refreshment in sight, just plain after plain of dry wasteland. Will we obey God even then?"

Enfield is not a wasteland. Yes, it takes some convincing in the morning to get out of bed at 5:30 am. No, I don't love every moment, nor do I truly look forward to seeing every kid. But at the end of the day, I love (most of) my kids and I love what I'm doing. It's hard to explain, but it's all about perspective. And God has been nothing but faithful, so it would be silly to let the rough patches ruin the journey.

Cupcakes = Classroom Management

A lot can happen in two weeks. And a lot can not happen in two weeks. A significant amount of lesson planning or updating my blog, for example. I don’t know where time went, but I do know I could use a little bit more. In fact, I could use a lot more. It’s officially the end of the six weeks, so my “To Grade” pile has grown significantly. Not to mention the stack of standardized writing tests I have to grade for my homeroom. Oh, and the kids have been begging for new seats for over a week, now that we have had a few weeks of “Row Races”, and they are finding out exactly who the slackers are that are holding back their rows from winning muffins and juice. And speaking of muffins, I baked cupcakes and hauled them to school three days in a row as a class reward, only to have kids complain about the flavor or ask me why I didn’t bring them juice, too. Not all of my kids, though. Many were grateful and complemented my cupcake baking abilities, and were seemingly unaware that anyone can do it with a little help from Duncan Hines. One girl was even so bold as to suggest that I bring cupcakes every Friday on her end-of-six-weeks survey.

There are so many great stories I wish I could tell, even just in two weeks. We had a rain delay last Thursday, after three days of non-stop rain. Theoretically, a two-hour delay is a precious gift. In reality, it turned the whole day into quite a disaster. I arrived at Enfield at 9:30 and reported to the gym for gym duty. Gym duty makes me not want to get out of bed in the morning. There are supposed to be three teachers in there patrolling the kids who don’t go to breakfast. However, the past week I had been the only one reporting on time, so it was me against half of Enfield Middle. But today, not only was I the only teacher, but I soon realized as the gym filled up more quickly than usual that they were sending the entire school to the gym before breakfast—it was me and four hundred 11, 12, 13, and 14 year olds, many of whom are signifcantly larger than me. Inwardly I started to panic. It’s stuffy, hot, cramped, and the kids are wet—there is bound to be a fight. And what in the world could I do to stop it, with 400 students who would most likely cheer it on? Luckily, our drop-out prevention officer came in to help, followed shortly after by the rest of the staff. We collected our kids and did our best to navigate the mess of the day. Needless to say, I was incredibly thankful that the next day was Friday.

That Monday, I tried to give my kids a bit of a break by doing a lesson on debit cards/personal checks to tie integers into every day life. We learned why debit cards are different from credit cards, the difference between withdrawals/debits and deposits/credits, and how to record transactions in a checkbook register. I even showed them my online bank account, with the numbers whited out of course. But I had another “reality check” (no pun intended) moment when I asked the class to name the four most common types of payment in the United States, and one of my kids (in each class) answered “EBT”. I didn’t even know what that was, but to my kids, it is one of the most common types of payment (EBT is like electronic food stamps). Eye-opening.

Everyday has its ups and downs. For example, my homeroom drove me up the wall today, and I gave three kids silent lunch. Two of them did pretty much nothing the whole class period. But in the same period, I saw two other boys who hardly ever participate excitedly raise their hands to point out the fractions, decimals, and percents in pictures of a gas station, an advertisement, Walmart.com, a cupcake box label, and my Target receipt (I strategically used the receipt from purchasing my electric pencil sharpener that someone broke this week so that they would see how much I spent on it). Then, at the end, round Antoine and lethargic Roger got into it, over who knows what. But it was enough to send Antoine running after Roger, and send me running out of the classroom to tell Roger to flee. Goodness knows there was no way I could stop Antoine once he got going, so I did all I could.

Two periods later, as I struggled with my hole puncher, I had one of my more talkative boys offer his assistance: “Do you need a man?” I laughed as I surrendered the 3-hole puncher, and laughed even harder watching him struggle and another student say, “You need a real man, he’s just a boy!” When the first student finally fixed it, I puffed up his ego a bit, letting him know how glad I was I had a man helping me. Hysterical.

I could go on with the stories. But what’s really important is, are these kids learning? Several of them say it’s their favorite class, but I think it has more to do with the cupcakes and my less-than-threatening demeanor (I’m working on that). And a lot of what we’ve done so far should be a review, but according to their diagnostics, they need some extra practice. Well, the results are in: almost every student in my 8^th period failed their Unit 2 Test, with a curve. And the highest grade in 2^nd period was an 85. I’ve yet to grade my 3^rd and 4^th period, both of which are on an honors level, and I’m less worried about them. But those are the kids that are more intrinsically motivated and would do well anyways. So am I effective? Am I a good teacher? Am I really reaching these kids?

Only time will tell. I find it hard to believe that 6 weeks in to my first year of teaching, I really am any good. But I plan to spend the weekend revamping my systems and finding ways to invest these kids so that by the end of the next 6 weeks, I’ll at least see growth.

P.S. I've finally done something for myself: I signed up for the gym!

Reality Check

another late night, another early morning that will come too quickly. I try to be in bed by 9:30 on weeknights, but Thursdays are especially brutal. We have our lesson plans due for the next week on Fridays, so Thurdsay nights I’m usually planning 5 lessons for the following week as well as planning/finishing my lesson for tomorrow and creating the weekly quiz. Not to mention this week, I had to make 2 batches of muffins for the winners of our newest management technique disguised as a competition: Row Race 2010. In each of my 4 classes, the students try to earn points for their row by bringing their homework (this is a bigger battle than you would imagine), sitting quietly, taking notes, etc. This is our first full week of the competiton and so far it has worked incredibly well in my first three periods. All I have to do is give Row 3 10 points for sitting quietly, and Rows 1, 2, 4, 5, and 6 are usually quick to follow. It’s worth the 67 cents per box of muffins and the $4 Capri Suns. However, it’s not working quite as I would hope in my 8^th period.

I’m still having a rough time with that last period. I wrote 6 people up in 3 days, sent a student to another teacher’s room, and came the closest I’ve come so far to tears in school when a fight almost broke out in my classroom. The whole class has been on silent lunch, and the resource officer and the drop out prevention officer came by to observe my classroom. They had incredibly nice and encouraging things to say, and claimed the kids were very engaged in the lesson that they observed. That also happened to be the lesson right after their silent lunch (given to them by their homeroom teacher, not me) and they were for some reason really well behaved. That lasted all of one day. We’re back to normal, or normal for them: yelling, talking, getting up randomly from their seats. This class is truly going to challenge me.

Yesterday one of my roommates and I went to the Enfield football game. We had to drive out to the local high school, about 15 minutes away in the middle of nowhere. On the way, we drove through some of the neighborhoods that our kids may live in, and it was definitely a reality check. We hadn’t yet seen anything in Enfield besides a few trailers, a run down gas station, and our beautiful new school. (plus, the cotton is blooming—it is an incredible sight!). To see the conditions of the neighborhoods was devastating and depressing. And to think that some of our kids could live there makes it even worse. You don’t think of those things when your kids all walk in wearing their uniforms and their mischievous smiles. You don’t see them as living in poverty; they all look the same at school (clearly that is the point behind uniforms). But seeing those houses made it seem more real. The biggest challenge is not letting that affect the high expectations that you hold these kids to. They have much more to overcome than your average Glen Allen kid, but if we lower the bar simply because of their circumstances, we only hurt them even more.

Back to the game. I had so much fun I can’t even explain. It was so great to see our boys in their element, doing what they really love. They looked so proud to be wearing their uniforms, and it was cool to see them outside of school. My heart melted when Darrius, a teeny, narcoleptic and unmotivated boy from my homeroom, flashed me the widest grin and yelled, “Hey Miss H!” when he saw me in the stands. And to see D’Andre score a touchdown, Rayquan and Dashuntae on the sidelines together, and Diane’ give me a big wave—I was in heaven. I do love these kids, no matter how crazy they drive me. Well, most of them, at least.

Going home this weekend to recharge, be surrounded by friends, and remember what life is like outside of teaching and the rural lifestyle. I can’t wait to go to Target, have time with my friends, and eat at Panera. And I may even be a little bit excited to go see a soccer game at Randolph-Macon. I never thought I’d say that….

Hope and Raspberry Muffins

It's 5:15 in the morning. I should still be sleeping. At least for another 15 minutes. Instead, I'm sitting in the kitchen, waiting for the oven to preheat. Raspberry muffin mix is strewn across the countertops, and maybe even a little bit in my hair. Give me a break, the sun isn't up yet, I could hardly see what I was doing. But it doesn't matter, anyway. Little Mack has finally asked to meet in the mornings for tutoring. And two days in a row he has stayed true to his commitment. Two days in a row, I have gone to pick him up from the hallway where the buses drop off the students, and both days he walked towards me himself, without pretending like he didn't see me and without any complaining. And yesterday (drum roll, please), when a friend made fun of him for coming to study with me, he said, "Man, it helps me!" I could have cried. And if I wasn't so focused on making use of every one of the 13 minutes we have before class starts, I may have.

Maybe it's the fact that my SmartBoard is finally working, so we can now do his flashcards on the interactive board. Maybe it's because I bring him muffins and a Capri Sun every time he comes. Maybe it's because we had a test this week and he knew he was behind. Or maybe (and hopefully), he's finally starting to understand how much knowing his addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division facts will make his life and math class easier. That counting 8 minus 5 on your fingers is not efficient. That not knowing 3 divided by 3 equals 1 is a problem for a 7th grader. Regardless, he wants to practice.

It's the small successes that keep me going. Because heaven knows if I was counting on the big ones, I wouldn't be here, in education or in Enfield. Small steps, my friends.

Hiltini, Hiltuna, Hilteena....

I used the Flip Camera our school has given us to tape some of my kids working on a group work assignment. That alone is not very interesting. However, listening to Rayquan trying to pronounce my name about a million different ways is. It's the last 10 seconds of the clip...listen carefully. I'm dying laughing as I watch this.

TFA (Tired, Frustrated, and Annoyed)

Week three is coming to a close and I have such mixed emotions. Most days, it's a struggle to get out of bed, more because my alarm goes off at 5:00 am than because I don't want to go to school. By the time I get up, put the finishing touches on my lesson, shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, pack lunch, and get in the car, I'm almost always ready to face the day ahead. And it helps that we're greeted by a beautiful sunrise every morning as we turn the corner onto the main road where Enfield Middle sits quietly, awaiting the hustle and bustle of students to fill the halls.

Today was not one of those days. As I stare blankly at the empty desks before me, two hours after the students have left, I can't help but wonder what I'm doing wrong. Three days in a row my last period class has been literally out of control. Yesterday, I had to have a teacher across the hall come over and reign them in. My voice just isn't loud enough to bellow over the voices of 18 twelve year olds. They were up on their feet, for the second day in a row, yelling insults at each other. A boy and a girl were ready to fight. Another girl laughed in my face when I demanded that she sit down, and then promptly yelled, "I ain't gotta do nothing!" in my face. Chaos, I tell you. Ms. Pitt came in, I watched her class, and she did whatever it is she does that made them get silent and start copying definitions from a math book. When I came back in, we moved the 7 students who never give me problems to the front of the room so we could continue with the lesson, while the other students continued to copy from the book. Of course, as soon as Ms. Pitt left the room there was noise from the others, and I ended up having 8 students on silent lunch today. I left yesterday feeling defeated and embarrassed. But at least someone can now see just how out of control my class it.

I spent my planning period today calling every single one of their parents. I got in touch with some, left messages for others, and found that some phone numbers did not work. But those parents that I did speak to were all very supportive and promised to talk to their students. No one wants to see their kids fail, and that's exactly what is happening to almost all of my 8th period kids. It's frustrating, exhausting, embarrassing, and frankly, just pathetic. These kids have never really learned the importance of school and have very little motivation to do well. I want them to see the world, to see what they are missing outside of the little towns of Scotland Neck and Enfield, and see where they can go with an education. But how?

I dreaded school today because I did not want to face a room full of 12 year olds after I so obviously buckled under pressure. I even had a kid in Ms. Pitt's class say, "Miss H, why you over here? I thought you could handle kids." Well, darling, I can handle normal children. And in smaller groups. But 18 out of my 25 kids on their feet and screaming? Welp, not so much. I have to figure out what makes these kids tick. What consequences will make them "hurt"? What's going to motivate them to do really well in my class? I haven't figured it out yet, but I'm not giving up.

I'm tired, I'm annoyed, I'm frustrated, I'm overwhelmed, but most of all, I'm sad (ok, most of all, I'm tired. But for the sake of the argument...). I'm sad because so many of these kids are just being pushed through the system, and they're losing their opportunity to change their lives. They have NO idea what they are missing, and they may never know. And I'm sad that I have to be the "mean" teacher to have any semblance of control over my classroom.

Five lesson plans due tomorrow, plus I have to create a quiz. I have a feeling that my eyelids may win the battle tonight, though. I am really looking forward to this weekend, to finally get caught up on sleep and maybe even plan a little in advance for once. Oh, such high hopes.

Oh, and my latest phone conversation with Akila:
A: "Hey Miss H!"
Me: "Hey, who's this?"
A: "You don't know my voice by now? This Akila!"
Me: "Hi Akila. What are you doing."
A: "Nothing, just taking a bath."

Really??

At the end of our conversation:
A: "Alright Miss H, I'ma call you later after I get out of the tub."
Me: "See you tomorrow, Akila."

Phone calls & birthday candles

The first day of school, I sent home a parent letter with my email address and phone number in it, plus a memo about joining our Facebook group for the class. Clearly my students didn’t read the letter, because when I used my phone number as an example for a math problem, they could not believe that I would actually give out my number. Everyday a new student says, “Ima call you, Miss H…”, and they always do. I’m up to 4 different students calling our home phone now. The following is my most recent conversation with a student:

Akila: “Hey Miss H.”

Miss H: “Hello, who is this?”

A: “Akila.”

MH: “Hi Akila….what can I do for you?”

A: “What are you doing?”

MH: “I’m lesson planning, Akila.”

A: “Oh, I’ll call back later.”

MH: “I can help you now. What’s up?”

A: “I was just calling to see what you was doing.”

MH: “Oh. Well what are you doing?”

A: “Eating popcorn.”

MH: “Oh. Have you done your homework yet?”

A: “Homework?”

MH: “Giiiirrrlll….you know we had homework. Those 8 problems on the board.”

A: “Oh Miss H, you late.”

MH: “You’ve done them already?”

A: “Yeah.”

MH: “That’s what I like to hear.”

A: “Alright. Well I’ll call you later. Or see you in school tomorrow.”

MH: “Ok, Akila. See you tomorrow.”

Based on the tone of our conversation, Akila thinks we’re best friends. She was just calling to chat, to see what I’m doing. It’s entertaining and cute and oh-so-middle school. And that’s just a little flavor of what my kids are like. I couldn’t even begin to do them justice. Rahjanique comes to my room between all of her classes and after school to hug me. Yesterday she brought me a picture she drew me in one of her other classes. Naquien wrote, “Miss H is best teacher in the world” on his whiteboard when we were working multiplication problems with decimals (even though doodling is strictly against the rules, my heart melted and I couldn’t take the board away). I pick Makala and Amber up in the morning from the gym to come to my room for “extra help”, although I expect it’s more to write on my white board than to practice. So I’ve won over a few students, but tomorrow is the moment of truth: our first quiz, when I’ll really see if I’ve gotten these kids invested in me or invested in learning. I’m afraid of the results, because for every student that likes me, there are 8 more that don’t.

I’m mean. I’m strict. I’m not fun. I’m not fair. The students have said many things about me, whether under their breath or to my face, in the past few days. And most of them are true. I have been mean. My 8^th period is a disaster, and I’ve had to be ridiculously hard on them to get even five minutes of quiet. I’ve resorted to bribing them with class points for every little task they complete, and that still doesn’t work all the time. I am strict. I’ve made them work quietly and move if they are being disruptive. I gave my first silent lunch today. But none of that bothers me. I’ve told them over and over again I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure these kids work hard, even if it means being mean.

What I hate is that I have been unfair. But not the way the kids imagine. I haven’t been giving out consequences as consistently as I should, and I let the troublemakers get away with too much. In my 8^th period, the kids who do want to learn are suffering at the expense of their not-so-productive classmates. And I’m terrified to see the results of the first quiz tomorrow, especially in that class period. I think it’ll be a wake up call for both the kids and me: it’s time to get serious.

You know you’re a teacher when you blow out the candles on your birthday cake and you wish for a well-behaved 8^th period class. My roommates made me my favorite strawberry cake to celebrate yesterday, and sad to say I had to waste my magical wish on behavior management. But regardless it was nice to take some time away from school work and relax around a meal together, even though all we talked about was school and our kids (what can I say, they provide an endless source of entertainment).

Life is still hard, but still wonderful. So many things I could say right now, but my bed is calling my name. Driving back to Richmond tomorrow and to Northern Virginia on Saturday for a friend’s wedding. And that all depends on whether I make it out of 8^th period alive…

TGIF

Don’t worry, I’m alive. Not only am I alive, but I’m also smiling. It may have something to do with the fact that I’m currently enjoying a Warm Delight (thanks Mom) and the prospect of sleeping in later than 5:30 tomorrow, but it’s also in big part because I truly enjoyed my first week at school. It was long (even though it was only 3 days), it was hard, and it was exhausting, but it was also fun and invigorating. As much as I’m looking forward to some time to recoop this weekend, I am genuinely excited to get back to school on Monday. Let’s hope this lasts.

You know you’re a first year teacher when….your idea of a good Friday night is an omelette, some television, and Facebook. My roommates and I have collapsed around various parts of the house, trying to catch up on life outside of school before we before we jump back on the teacher train tomorrow to lesson plan. We’ve exchanged stories, compared our rosters, read student surveys aloud, and shared our concerns for the upcoming weeks. We’re tired of talking about school, but we can’t help it. As hard as it is, I’m loving it.

There are so many interesting things about the situation in the school that didn’t surprise me much after being in Mississippi, but I suppose they are not quite normal. For example, there is no bell system. Well, there is, but the company that installed the bells set the wrong times and never left instructions on how to change it. So the bells go off at random times during the day, and we dismiss our classes by looking at the clock. I’m already used to it, though, and I think it’s even good for me, because it keeps me accountable for how long I have left in class.

At the moment, the lunch situation is a disaster. Someone has to come around and knock on our doors at the beginning of 8^th period to dismiss us for lunch. Then, by the time I get my kids to line up quietly and walk them to the cafeteria, we have to wait in line for 10 minutes before we can even get in the cafeteria. Because of the behavior issues and prior incidents, there are some pretty tight measures taken to keep things under control. Such as only letting one class in the cafeteria at a time, and making the other classes stand in the hall. I’ll just be honest—my 8^th period is already my toughest class behaviorally, and to try to have any sort of control over them while they stand in the hall for 10 minutes is out of the question. Ten minutes in the hallway. Twenty-five 12 year olds. Not gonna happen. Yesterday I had a girl throw water on another girl. The day before another girl put this tiny (but instigating) boy in a headlock. On top of that, I have to stand around their lunch table while they eat to help keep things under control. It is certainly not ideal, but there isn’t much of a way around it.

My first three periods of the day have been fantastic. A few behavior problems here and there, but I’ve been able to nip them in the bud pretty quickly and I think we will be okay. This 8^th period, however, is a different story. Thanks to two girls and one boy in particular, we get off task easily and the noise level is ridiculous. There’s also a lot of back talking, which before I was too tired to address, but now I know that I have to take care of it. I devised a new system that revolves around individual rewards: giving out green tickets for good behavior, yellow tickets are a warning, and red tickets for consequences (isolation, conference, phone call home, etc). It seemed to work relatively well today, but we’ll see if that holds up. Kids can cash in the green tickets for rewards such as homework passes, bathroom passes, spiral notebooks, candy, etc. It may be a little more expensive to maintain than I would like, but if it means that these kids are working hard and learning, I’m okay with it for now. Maybe eventually I can wean them off of it.

It’s amazing how much my 7^th graders are like my 4^th graders from this summer. They may think they’re more mature, but honestly, they don’t act much older than 9 year olds. And ultimately, they still want attention, they still want to know that someone cares about them, and they still want to be accepted. And don’t we all?

I would be lying if I said I love every minute of it. There have been moments where I wished I could just sit down and take a break. There have been moments where I thought I might have a meltdown because of behavior. And there have been those overwhelming moments where I realized just how much work I have ahead of me. But as cheesy as it sounds, none of those matter when a student whose name I can barely remember yells, “Hey Miss H!” out the bus window, or when round Antoine proclaims to the class that I’m a good teacher when I make them practice lining up until they can follow all directions (is that what my life is coming to, measuring my value based on the words of a 12 year old?). I can’t even imagine what it’s going to feel like to actually see student achievement in action.

What I can’t get over, though, is how many of my students come from broken homes. As I glanced over my student surveys, I noticed that a good majority, maybe 85%, of my students live with only their mother and siblings or their grandparents. And it’s very rare to come across a child whose mother has the same last name. It breaks my heart to think that so many of these kids will never know what it’s like to grow up with two parents in a healthy relationship. Although I guess that’s something I’ve always taken for granted, because it’s supposed to be that way. I don’t care what anyone says. That’s the way we were created to live, in two-parent families. These kids already have so much working against them, so much that they cannot control.

Okay, enough from me. Check out a few photos from my classroom below (before Day 1—it’s a little more together and decorated now). My exciting Friday night continues as I move from my desk to my warm, soft, inviting bed to catch up on some much-needed sleep. Until next time…

Bulletin boards, mailbox system (each student has a file folder and I have one in each class's box), numbered cubbies, masking tape homework calendar, and room view.

My numbered cabinets, masking tape homework calendar, my I Want To Be A... wall (which is now covered with 95 index cards and the students' dream jobs), and the Shout Outs makeshift bulletin board.

Work Day 1

I have a feeling my blog posts are going to become a rare commodity very, very soon.

I already knew I had so much to do. But being at school today, looking at my unorganized room, and realizing how badly I want my students to learn and love my class, it hit me that I will never, ever be done. Lessons could always get better, activities could always be more challenging, and posters could always be neater. But this next week, these next months, these next two years and hopefully beyond are really going to challenge all of the lessons I have claimed to learn in college.

I’ve referenced it already in my blog, but one of the ways I’ve seen growth and God’s hand in my life is realizing how far I’ve come from being a relentless perfectionist. I still expect nothing but hard work from myself, but I’ve learned to relax, roll with the punches, and accept my state as a mere human in ways that I never could before. But as I think ahead to the challenge that lays before me, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll forget everything I’ve learned and revert back to “the old me”. I can see how easy it will be, and already is, to get consumed by the “it-can-always-be-better” syndrome. And now, the stakes are higher. My failure means student failure, which is unfair. Plain and simple. These kids deserve the best. The challenge is figuring out what that means, and how to deliver it to them in a way that they are filled with wonder, excitement, and amazement at the power of mathematics. And my personal challenge is to work hard, but not to get too lost in fancy activities or resources. I want to teach these kids, love these kids, and do it all the only way possible: through the strength of God.

Here’s an excerpt from my “Big Goal” for my 7^th grade “Pre-Algebra” class (I decided to call it pre-algebra to emphasize its importance for moving on to Algebra):

“Middle schoolers often enter a math classroom with the same question in mind: “When will I ever use this stuff in real life?” Instead of discouraging this question, I will use it as the perfect starting point for an inquiry-based exploration of the pre-algebra curriculum. In Room A410, we will develop a mindset that math is essential to everyday life, and we will begin to make connections outside of the classroom. We will explore the many ways we already use math everyday, and throughout the course, we will be asking, ‘Where else can I find math in my life?’”

It’s a tall order, I know. Get kids excited about math and still teach meaningful, aligned lessons? Welcome to the world of teaching. We do have a few tools to help us, though. Our school received a $2 million grant to use over the next 3 years, I think because of its status as a low income school and because of its performance. This year, they’re installing brand new SmartBoards to help faciliate a smooth transition into the technology world. We received an extra surprise today: each of us left with a flip camera to use in our classrooms and with our SmartBoards! However, I am terrified that I am becoming apart of a generation that will soon be behind the 8 ball on the newest technological advances, and I may for the first time understand how my parents feel when they are trying to master a new technological device that I could easily master. Gulp.

Last story for the day. We had opening ceremonies at a local middle school this morning with the whole district, and because we finished early we had a long lunch break. During that time, my roommates and I, along with a handful of other teachers, ran over to the local Staples to take advantages of some of the weekly specials: 1 cent notebooks (up to 25 if you are a teacher) with a $5 purchase and 1 cent reams of printer paper after a rebate (which was all really free to me--thanks to a gift card from Donna & Buddy!!). While we were shopping, we ran into our sweet elderly neighbor Marge. Marge has already delivered sweets and gathered up a huge box of office supplies for us, and when she heard we were school supply shopping for our classes today, she bought us 50 notebooks, 12 composition notebooks, and a set of sharpies, glue sticks, pencil sharpeners, and scissors for each of us--PLUS she gave us each $5 to spend while we were shopping. Marge is our guardian angel.

The rest of the week will be spent in meetings, with maybe a little bit of time to set up our classrooms. Next week, we have workday Monday, an all-day open house Tuesday, and then the kiddos arrive on Wednesday. So. Much. To. Do.

I was very grateful for a fun two days in Charlotte with good friends this weekend. It was a great way to reenergize and it was so nice to have some fellowship and be with people I'm comfortable with. I love my TFA friends, but there really is nothing like old friends. I'm looking forward to my first visit home to see neighbors, friends, and family. But in the mean time, you can find me closing the achievement gap.

Peace, love, and happiness.

Oh and PS. I just had to use a screwdriver and all of my balance to change our outside light bulb while standing on a bar stool and stretching my arms as much as possible. I am woman, hear me roar.

Work Smart, Not Hard

It’s official…I have my North Carolina license, am registered to vote in the Old North State, and have a coffee table in my living room—all very important indicators of my newfound adulthood. I did always say that the day I get a coffee table is the day I’ll know I’ve arrived. Although I must say it’s my housemate’s coffee table, so I’m not sure if that counts. But I think the other two are sufficient. As if I didn’t already feel grown up living in my own place that doesn’t require me to wear shower shoes or drag my laundry across campus. And certainly making my first bill and rent payments made it feel real. But now, it feels like things have really settled into place; now that I have somewhere to prop my feet when I sit on the sofa, that is.

My fourth roommate, Lauren, is finally all moved in. She’s been sleeping on the futon in the sunroom and living out of a suitcase since her parents couldn’t make the 10 hour drive until this past weekend. Her dad spent Sunday through Wednesday helping her unload boxes, set up her room, and making us dinner. He left this morning, as we headed out for our first day of New Teacher Orientation. Which may as well be called New Teacher Bore-ientation (whoa, that one came out of nowhere. So punny.). But seriously, it was almost unbearably inefficient, with too much time allotted to topics that could have been easily summed up in 20 minutes, and breezing through the important things like policies and procedures of the county. We were well-fed though, and by the time we left I was stuffed to the brim with Subway sandwiches, juice, candy, and crackers.

When I got home, I immediately pursued the one item on my to-do list that has caused me the most frustration in the past few days: obtaining my North Carolina driver’s license. Monday, on our day off, I woke up early and decided it would be my “Big Goal” of the day to cram for the written test and go to the DMV to get it over with. (side notes: 1. We often jokingly throw TFA terms, like “Big Goal”, into everyday conversation. Although it’s turning less into a joke and more into a lifestyle. 2. We have to register with the DMV by the end of August to get in-state tuition on our teacher licensure courses we’re taking through ECU. Otherwise, I would have avoided the DMV and this process like the plague.) After a rather unpleasant encounter with one of the officers, including having to return home to grab a more legitimate proof of residency and get back in line, I proceeded to fail the written test. After telling him in a less-than-friendly tone that I didn’t need a book to study. The questions that I missed, though, had nothing to do with actually driving. In fact, the test is pretty common sense when you’ve been driving long enough. On most of the questions I could make educated guesses. Rather, the questions I missed asked statistics about deaths in automobile accidents, what a leaky exhaust means, and other irrelevant topics. Needless to say, I was embarrassed when the officer asked me in front of everyone in the office whether I passed or not.

Today, I am reminded of a very important lesson I learned over and over again at TFA and our district professional development sessions: work smart, not hard. Yesterday, I spent two hours torturing myself with the North Carolina DMV handbook, trying to cram all of the information into my head. Today, I spent two minutes Googling “most missed questions on the NC driver’s test”, 10 minutes scanning a list of at least 75 questions and answers from the drivers test cheat sheet, and 7 minutes acing the test at the DMV. If only I had thought about it the first time…

On top of being a resident of North Carolina, I am also a teacher. Krista and I drove to our middle school on Monday (a 22 minute drive, mostly on 95 South—not bad!), where our principal greeted us at the door with a friendly, “Welcome home.” I immediately felt the weight of her words, and have never felt more sure about where I’m supposed to be than in that moment. It just sounded right, and it felt right running through my mind. Our math instructional coach also took time out of his day off to meet us up at the school, which was apparent by his casual dress—basketball shorts and a tee-shirt on a man I’ve just seen in a suit and tie the past 5 days. We got a tour of the school, a brand new building that we share with the elementary school, and even got to see our rooms. I was not prepared for how beautiful, open, and organized our rooms would be, and I think my jaw hit the floor when the principal opened the door to my new room, A410. It’s huge, with one wall covered entirely in windows (bright!), the back wall completely covered in drawers/cabinets/cubbies (a dream come true), and a Smart Board. It won’t feel so huge when I get enough desks in there and 25 twelve year olds running around, but it is beautiful nonetheless. I’m pretty sure my reaction was pretty entertaining, because my principal got a good laugh and proceeded to tell the next two teachers we saw how I freaked out over the cabinets. Which I did. So much space to be organized, I cannot even wait. It was surreal to think that in a little over two weeks, I’ll be standing in front of that very room, staring at the faces of my 7^th grade babies. I get so excited when I think about it that I can hardly contain myself.

This year is sure to present its fair share of challenges. In fact, I think it will present more than its fair share. But I have never felt so sure about something in my whole life. That doesn’t mean I’m going to love every minute of it, or that I’ll feel this confident everyday for the next year. And it certainly doesn’t mean I’ll be completely successful. It does mean that I can move in faith everyday because I know that this is what God’s will is, and that even the rough days will be worth it. I can trust the He’s using it for something. Even the days when I can’t see the fruits of my labor, or there are no fruits, I will keep on planting, sowing, raking, whatever I need to do, for these kids and for the One who has called me to this beautiful place. How did I get so lucky?