It happened.

I had my first "moment" about 30 minutes ago.

I had just hung up the phone with my parents. Just minutes before, I got an unsettling call from the bank about my loan for the condo, and of course wanted to tell them because I needed an "adult's" interpretation of the implications (I guess I'm technically an "adult", but as soon as someone starts talking about money in amounts larger than $100, I turn it over to the expert, my dad).

Right before that phone call, I was talking to the TFA teacher who is inheriting my EMS babies this year. It was open house tonight, and she met some of those sweet babies for the first time. Every time she read a name from her list, I felt a bit like those annoying seagulls in the movie Finding Nemo. All I wanted to shout was "Mine! Mine! Mine!" Those are my babies.

I got carried away telling her how S. is brilliant but sloppy and has no control over his own limbs; J. has huge dreams of going to college at Duke, and she deserves to get there; M. is a sneaky little rascal, watch him with those playing cards.

As I was sharing my insight and sometimes completely irrelevant stories about the kids, the new teacher nonchalantly interjected with some of the conversations she had that night. Words that rocked my world.

She told me my kids came bouncing into her room (my old room!) with genuine excitement about math. She said they told her that I was the first teacher that actually taught them math and broke it down so that they could understand it. They told her excitedly about the activities that we used to do that they loved.

The teacher was telling me all this with hopes of acquiring my resources. She wanted to know what I did to build such a positive rapport with them, because she told me it was very clear that I got through to them.

She had absolutely no idea how much those words meant to me.

After the combination of those three phone calls, I lost it.

To be honest, I've been having a tough time getting adjusted to my new job, for reasons that I probably shouldn't post about in a public forum, but eventually will anyways (with the appropriate amount of discretion). The challenges I'm facing are on the opposite end of the spectrum from the ones I faced previously, but they feel so much less rewarding. I said it before, but I've had my moments where I wondered why I even left EMS to begin with. I've always been able to step back and remember why, but after tonight, I've found myself back in a place of doubt. And at the same time, a place of incredible certainty.

I know I would have always wondered "What if" if I hadn't taken this job, so I don't regret it. But after hearing about my kids tonight, that fire was lit in my soul again to fight for them. To love them. And I began to wonder how I could have abandoned them. I feel certain that I made a difference for many of those kids. Not in a "oh, I'm so great, look at me, I changed lives" kind of way. In a "I'm so incredibly proud of how dang hard those babies worked, and I know I pushed them just the right amount" kind of way. I know I made them work harder than they've worked before, but I also know that they can see and articulate that it paid off. And I couldn't be prouder of them for that. They actually like math. They aren't afraid of it. They are excited about it. Those are huge wins. We did it as a team, we did it when no one thought we could, and we did it with very little resources. Those words from the new teacher were a reminder of all of those things.

Now, I have unlimited resources, unlimited support, and a town full of people who believe in our cause, but I feel like a first year teacher again. Because I came from a school that operated on a very different set of systems (re: no systems), there is a huge learning curve, and the presumption that I don't know what I'm doing. My teaching and management styles are different from the expectation, both of which are perceived as inferior. Being new to the school is perceived as synonymous to being new to the profession, which is incredibly frustrating after fighting my way through my first two years.

Don't get me wrong. I'm am very quickly growing attached to these new sweet babies. My advisory class (aka homeroom) reminds me a lot of my honors babies from last year, even though they aren't technically "honors" kids. I appreciate all of the systems that are in place, because they allow me to really focus on teaching, and I have a blast doing my job. But there are things that I don't agree with, that I'm having a hard time adjusting to, that are making me miss my old school, my old staff, my old babies.

I'm not worried, though. I've come such a long way these past few years, and I say it all the time, but one of the biggest lessons I've learned is about perspective. It changes everything. So right now, I'm just remembering that things were not always warm and fuzzy at EMS, and there was a reason I sought out a new job. And that if nothing else, this is a learning experience and is making me even more aware of what I want and don't want in a job. I'm grateful for the doors that have been opened and am looking forward to where this year takes me.

Every vote counts!

I think it's very clear by now that the school in which I began my teaching career has a special place in my heart. The staff and the students have shaped who I am as "Miss H", and I miss them dearly. To say it was a difficult two years would be an understatement, but I would never, ever take a minute of it back. It shaped me professionally and personally in so many ways, and I learned more lessons than I taught.

Part of the challenges facing a school like my old school is the obvious lack of resources. It's a burden that falls on both the administration and the teachers, and one that can affect the quality of education provided to the kids. I was lucky enough to have generous family and friends (you all!) to donate supplies for my classroom my second year, and my kids never went without the essentials. But I vividly remember my principal scrambling for pencils on testing day and running out of copy paper at the end of the school year. Our textbooks were over 10 years old, and there were barely enough for a class set. Our art teacher had to borrow markers from me, the math teacher. It shouldn't be that way.

As if Target wasn't already my favorite store, another reason to love them. They are giving away up to $10,000 to schools across the country, and all we have to do is vote. You can vote once a week, and after a certain number of votes, a school earns Target gift cards. My old school is on the list, and all it takes is the click of a button. Want to help? Simply click here, then click "Vote". That's it. My sweet babies are one step closer to getting the resources they deserve.

Thanks for all your support!

Twas the night before school....

I know I should be sleeping. I know 5:00 is going to come to early, and I'm going to wish I had gone to bed hours earlier. Luckily, I already have the coffee maker loaded with grounds, pancakes in the fridge, and my clothes laid out. Because tomorrow is a big day.

Tomorrow is THE day.

The first day of school.

Ahh!

I can't believe it's here. After weeks of sessions, planning, role playing (yes, we pretended to be kids and ran through just about every scenario possible), more planning, more sessions, and even more planning....the day has arrived!

This is technically my 20th "first day of school" since kindergarten (when you think about it that way...I sound old!). As a student, every year felt a little different, yet strangely similar. I don't remember much about elementary and middle school, but I'm sure there was a healthy mix of nerves and excitement, as I clearly remember from high school and even college. But my two first-days-of-school as a teacher were a whole new level of emotion. I'm not sure I could ever put into words how I felt those first days, but I do remember this. As much excitement as there was, especially my second year, there was also a tiny sense of dread at the pit of my stomach. My first year: what if a kid curses me out on the first day? What if all of my kids are defiant and refuse to do anything I tell them? What if there's a fight in my room? (All of which happened at some point over the course of the year.) My second year: What if none of my kids want to learn? What if they think my jokes are lame? What if I can't get them to where they need to be by the end of the year? What if there's one kid who ruins it for the rest? There was an ever-present uneasiness that stayed with me even in my second year, when I was truly in charge of my classroom and my babies worked hard for me. Because at the end of the day, there was little support outside my four walls, and my kids took advantage of the lack of systems and discipline, as any kid would.

Desipte all of that, I found myself especially nostalgic for my old school today, as they started professional development and we prepared for our first day with kids. I miss the women I work with, I miss my principal, I miss the freedom I had to run my own classroom, and I miss having planning periods where we did nothing but socialize. And of course, I miss my sweet, sweet babies.

Much like when I first joined TFA, there have definitely been moments when I've wondered if I've made the right choice. This job is so much harder than my last job in so many ways. The expectations are ridiculously high for students, which means they are that much higher for staff. The hours are long, we work weekends, and there is always more to be done. Not to mention I still feel like I've abandoned my kids and a community that I fell in love with. My chest tightens every time I think about my volleyball girls, my honors babies, and my fellow teachers. My heart hurts when I think that someone might write my babies off as incapable of learning, and that I'm not there to fight for them. Oh, I have my days.

But then I remember that dread that I had every morning as I walked into school. Everyday was so unpredictable- with kids, with adults, with the district. I had no support, and although I grew leaps and bounds from my first year of teaching, no one was pushing me to be better. I was left to my own devices, because I wasn't a priority. Other teachers "needed" more guidance, so it was up to me to figure it out. In my second year of teaching. I needed support, I needed coaching, and I needed to be held accountable. This move was the best for me professionally, and I know it was the right thing to do.

Now, here I am, the night before my first day at my new school, and I feel not even one tiny ounce of anxiety. Maybe it will come when I wake up, or when I pull up to school, or when I see the buses outside the building, but I know for sure there will not be any dread in the pit of my stomach. I have never felt so prepared for something in my whole life. All the hours we've spent training, planning, and pretending to be misbehaving children have been worth it. I can go into tomorrow with peace of mind. I can walk into school feeling confident in myself and my teammates. I can breathe easy.

Chapter 4

Chapter 1 (of my teaching career): Accepted to Teach For America; begin hellacious 10-week training period to pursue my teaching career

Chapter 2: First year of teaching. And I thought Institute was hard...

Chapter 3: Second year of teaching. Whole new ball game. Bring it, babies.

Chapter 4: Third year of teaching, first year of teaching in a charter school. World officially rocked. And school hasn't even started yet.

While my parents helped make sure my physical transition to Tennessee was as smooth and comfortable as possible, nothing could have prepared me for the transition into my new job. Not even a 10-day European vacation (more on that in a later post).

I cannot even begin to explain how intense my new school is. It is simplfy off the charts. In a good way. But in a way that requires quite an adjustment on my part, coming from a place where no one had their act together and children got away with everything.

On my first day, I walked into our meeting space (one of the 5th grade classrooms), greeted by the energetic faces and voices of my new coworkers. I was 6 days late because of my trip across the pond, but no one seemed to care. They didn't resent me or treat me any differently, even though they had been working 10 hour days while I was running around Italy, Germany, Austria, and Switzerland.

On my desk was a 2 inch binder, filled with our professional development materials, tabs labeled by my thoughtful neighbor. We know how I feel about organized binders.

From my first few minutes in the meeting, it was clear that the team not only respects each other as professionals, but loves each other as a family. They enjoy each other's company, joke with each other, and work hard with and for each other and the kids.

That has remained the case these past 10 days or so. Our official workday is from 7 am - 5pm, but most of us are here before 7 and almost everyone stays past 5. And no one goes home empty handed. We all take our computers, plans, etc. with us and work even more. We work Saturdays at least 9 -3, but again most of us are here before and long after that. Simply put, we work our butts off. But it is so much more purposeful this year than the past two I've had. We have plan after plan after plan due, and while the deadlines nearly kill me, they set me and my students up to be successful before they ever even walk through our doors. I already have a vision document, a year long calendar, an outline of my entire curriculum (with the breakdown of knowledge, skills, and activities for each of my 40+ objectives), a Unit Plan, a Unit Assessment, 2 comprehensive exams, and a week of lesson plans. And I'm sure I'm still forgetting something. It hasn't been the most fun process, but it is necessary and so worth it. I have never felt so supported in my two years of teaching as I have these past ten days.

It is incredibly, incredibly challenging, though, to maintain a personal life, similar to my first year teaching. Luckily, I already love the people I work with. There are 12 or so of us, all under the age of 30, all very friendly and outgoing. Last week we did happy hour, and we're on our way to another one tonight. We have staff lunches on Fridays, where the school provides food and we sit around and just be for an hour. Todya we shared stories about our most embarrassing childhood injuries (riding my bike into the back of an 18 wheeler) and our favorite books (Harry Potter and anything Sophie Kinsella). In the process, I discovered 2 other girls who love One Tree Hill as much as I do, and learned a little more about all of my coworkers. But I'm having a hard time balancing my life here with my life outside of Nashville. I've been horrible at calling people, even though I think of at least one new person a day that I want to catch up with. The hardest part is, this pace is going to keep up all year long, so if I don't find a way to balance it now, it's only going to get harder.

So much more to tell, but my brain is fried today. Ready for a drink and some laughter (although we spent a large part of today laughing during team lunch and at various ridiculous things that have happened at sessions). More later (hopefully soon!).

All settled in

Two weeks with no internet is enough to drive a girl crazy. Currently, Panera and I are pretty tight. In the two weeks that I've been in Nashville, I think I've eaten at a Panera at least 10 times--mainly because I've needed to use the internet, but also because it provides a sort of comfort away from home. I love that every location looks almost exactly the same, with only a few differences in the layout of the particular franchise. I always know what to expect.

So far, Nashville is fantastic, besides the unbearable heat. One of my friends from college and her husband live in a suburb about 25 minutes away, so I've seen them multiple times for dinner dates, movie dates, a crafternoon, and even a trip to the lake. Seeing familiar faces regularly has also helped ease the transition.

The first week I spent here, I was staying in a hotel and spending the days working at my new school. I'm helping to develop the curriculum for 6th grade math since it's the first year it will be taught at this school. Last weekend, my parents came in to town to help me move into my new place, and this week is really my only "down" week before work starts again.

Pictures from my new place are below. I have to say, all of the decorating credit goes to my mother, and the building credit goes to both my mom and my dad. Mom did an amazing job picking out a color scheme that used what I already had (purple dining room chairs) and the backdrop that my condo provides (concrete floors, stainless steel appliances, espresso cabinets). And dad was a champ, spending many hours putting together at least a half a dozen pieces of furniture. I could never, ever have done it without my parents' help, and it definitely would not looked even a fraction of as great as it does.

It's a one-bedroom, 1.5 bath condo with space for a laundry room and a walk-in closet. And so far, I have loved every single minute of having my own place and living by myself. I absolutely loved my roommates in Roanoke Rapids, and miss them dearly. But I really appreciate having my own space and only having to worry about ME! It will be a nice escape after spending all day in a classroom with students or in meetings with other teachers. The only thing I don't have a picture of is the view from the rooftop terrace. My unit is on the second floor, and the view is nothing special, but if you go up to the 5th floor, there is a public rooftop terrace that has an amazing view of the Nashville skyline. I'm exactly 1 mile from school and 1 mile from downtown Nashville...doesn't get much better than that!

The on

Hope to have some visitors soon!

"Final" Results

Notice "final" is in quotations, because technically the data is still preliminary.

At our staff meeting before we departed last week, we were presented with our test results that included our retest scores. Only a handful of kids passed the math test the second time around, so I was feeling a little discouraged. My principal had already told me that we had pretty much broken even with our scores from last year, which is good considering our kids came to us a lot lower this year, but to outsiders it looks like we've made no progress. But I was holding my breath to see how 7th grade math did overall, and how we compared to the other tested subjects in the school. Because let's be honest, we're all a little competitive, and I had been telling my kids all year long we'd have the highest scores in the school.

Well, guess what?

WE DID! As far as we know, 7th grade math had 66% proficiency - the highest in the school by 11%! For a school whose composite proficiency is usually around 40%, this is pretty big news. We were also the ONLY subject to surpass the district expectations, and one of two subjects to meet HIGH GROWTH. 84% of 7th graders made at least some growth, and 5 out of every 6 made HIGH GROWTH. I cannot even tell you how proud I am of my babies. We worked hard, and it shows.

Here's the discouraging part. Our district harps all day long about wanting to see student achievement. They want passing test scores, they want students who are ready for the next grade level. But then my babies do it - they blow the previous scores out of the water, and they pass the district's goal for them, and nothing is done to celebrate them. I feel like I've been a one-person cheerleading squad all year long. No one congratulates them or acknowledges them for their hard work. I'm beginning to sound like a broken record with my constant affirmation and praise - can I get some back up please? These kids will never learn to value educational success if they aren't even simply acknowledged when they achieve it. And we can't just expect it from students who have a history of struggling. If there's one thing I've learned these past two years, it's that we have got to make students believe they can do it, and them encourage them the whole way. If they've never done it before, why would they believe they can do it now? Because I am telling them they will, and I'm the best math teacher they could have (I'm the only math teacher they could have - shhh!).

It worked, didn't it?

The hardest part is saying goodbye

It's been a crazy week. Seven days ago, I was finishing my last day at Enfield with some of my favorite people in the whole world. And I thought saying goodbye to my kids was hard....

After an emotional weekend, I danced, yes danced my way into work on Monday. Part of me thinks I was just avoiding the reality that in just three days, I'd have to say goodbye to some of my favorite people in the world. Nevertheless, Justin Bieber was blaring on my Smart Board, Starbucks was flowing through my veins, and life was good. For two days, the other teachers and I worked, cleaned, laughed, reminisced, and worked a little more. But as Wednesday approached, I started to feel a bit of dread in my stomach. I wasn't ready for it to end quite yet. I never imagined how attached I would become to this school, this staff, and this community two years ago.

I still remember my first day ever at the school. My then-principal met my roommate and I at the front door and the first thing she said was, "Welcome home." I never imagined that a place 100 miles away from the only home I had ever known would actually start to feel like just that: home. From the first day, my fellow teachers made me feel not only like a part of the team, but like family. Despite our obvious differences, they have become some of my best friends these past two years. Most of our time together was spent in common planning sessions, meetings, in the lunchroom, or debriefing the day at the bus ramp after school. But the occasional sports event or dinner out allowed us to really let loose and enjoy each other's company outside of work. While other teams at school struggled to communicate and in some cases even to tolerate each other, our team turned into a family. We had our differences and we hit some rough patches, but by the end of the year we were closer than ever. There were many mornings, especially my first year, that I simply did not want to go to work. And then I remembered that going to work meant hanging out with 4 or 5 of my friends (in between classes of course). Sure, I could have survived my two years without them. But I never would have felt so much a part of the school, and I never would have enjoyed my job as much as I did. And especially the ladies on my team this year--I never would have had as much success with my kids as I did. We were an incredibly strong team, disciplining our kids with consistency, holding high expectations across the board, and working together to make the best decisions for everyone. Many a day did they sacrifice their class time to give me more minutes in my tested subject, and I am convinced that every little minute contributed to the success we saw at the end of the year. I am so thankful for the women I worked most closely with--they are beautiful, hilarious, and inspiring.

And that's just MY team. There are so many other people at school that made my two years unforgettable. Our principal this year is amazing. She works her butt off for the kids, her team, and the community. She has endured so much criticism from the district and the state, yet she stays positive when it matters. She is frank and real; she is not afraid to admit when she makes mistakes, but she also recognizes when others aren't working to their potential. Her faith in our kids is what continued to inspire me even when it felt hopeless, and I am forever grateful to have worked with and for her for the past year. Our assistant principal, guidance counselor, drop out prevention officer - all of them - hysterical and fun and so welcoming.

Needless to say, our last teacher work day was a tough day. Everything was a "last", so I found myself choking back tears all day. The last time I'd make the drive to school, the last time I'd walk down the hallway, the last time I'd turn on my Smart Board, etc. etc. Dramatic, I know, but I wanted to savor every moment. I wrote letters to each of the women I worked most closely with, and cried reading a few that had been written to me. In the afternoon, the whole staff had lunch together in the cafeteria, and it was easy to forget what was coming as we laughed together over grilled chicken, corn, green beans, and pie.

As we headed back to our rooms, I started to panic internally. Was I really saying goodbye to these women, this staff, this school? When I walked out the door today, was I really not coming back? I was overwhelmed, and retreated to my empty classroom to hide. The other teachers were busy laughing and celebrating the beginning of summer, but I was sitting at my stool, trying to hold it together. And then...the flood gates broke. I don't know what triggered it, but I absolutely lost it. All the teachers were congregating in the 7th grade hallway (that's how awesome we are--everyone wants to be part of our team), so one by one they started to notice my meltdown and tried to console me. Naturally, that only made it worse, and my body was shaking with sobs. I know they probably thought I was crazy- after all, I was the one choosing to leave, and I was moving to a fun new city with a great new job. But what they don't understand is just how much I love them. How much they made me feel at home, and how much I appreciate the way they accepted me from day one. They shaped me as a teacher, and in some ways even as a person. I am forever indebted to the teachers and staff.

I know these past few posts have been a little bit less than uplifting, but it's important for me to remember what I was thinking and feeling in my last days at my first school. I promise the next post will be filled with some good news :)