Megalopolis

It’s been difficult, honestly, to try and look back and critically engage with what just happened over the course of the past year. My first year of teaching - hell, anyone’s first year of teaching - , is such a personal experience, made up of such complex, unforgettable though you wish so many parts could be forgotten and yet teeny things that need to be remembered. See? I’ve probably already lost you.

All I know is that next year, I’m going to know how to teach literacy. I’m actually excited about the prospect of this, and I’ve had to do some actual TFA reflection as to why I did such a crappy job of teaching it this year. I came to the following conclusion:

I am good at literacy. I am an English major. I was blessed with a relatively good understanding of the written and spoken word. That being said, when other people do not understand it, I fail to draw the necessary conclusions as to how to bridge that gap in comprehension. Math? I operate at around a 5th grade level in math, so when my kids struggled, it was a pretty good bet that I was struggling too. I think that’s one reason we made such positive gains in math was because we all were genuinely learning together, wherein in language I felt like I was just dragging them through the mud behind me as opposed to stopping to figure out how to set them back on their feet (all kidding aside, I did actually teach them simile and metaphor.) So this summer I’m setting several big goals for myself, one of which is definitely to teach myself how to teach literacy. I need to get started on that.

One thing that has hindered my educational education is induction, which by far was one of the more rewarding experiences of my recent memory. I have been waiting for these corps members for a while. It’s weird to think that just a year ago, I was in their shoes (sort of, some of them have much larger/smaller feet than I do), and yet here I was, not a year later, feeling grateful and humbled that they all chose to come to the Delta. Why? I’m not a Mississippian. I only recently started to call Arkansas home. So why do I feel so grateful to these people? I think it must be like when you feel like you’ve got to take on the world all on your own and suddenly people are standing by your side, ready to help you. Not to say that this year I didn’t have flanks of support, but seriously. ALMOST THREE HUNDRED PEOPLE. It’s amazing to feel part of something so much bigger than yourself. Absolutely amazing.

I’m rambling, I know, but the new corps members really knocked my socks off with their enthusiasm. I can’t wait to see them after institute and see their faces when they realize they’re actually teachers. I remember the actual moment it hit me that I was going to be teaching every day and it was awe-inspiring. It’ll be overwhelming to watch that same moment with all these new folks. Plus, it’s just fun to have the prospect of so many new friends. Dear new CMs- Delta love!!!!

Now I know this has been a touchy feely entry full of Delta love and school love and forward thinking, but that’s only because I’m writing it in the airport waiting to hop a flight to California.

I need a BREAK.

Back in a few days, when the Great Delta Housing Hunt truly begins…

That being said, i’ll write some significantly less serious, less emotional, entry about my last 3 weeks at a time when i can breath. I’m REALLY busy. (I know, I know, school is over).

I promise, light-hearted romp through my teaching to come!

“Hey, you survived!”, they said,
two days after I finished. “At least you’re done.”
(I see science experiments in dog toys.
I hear stories from my children when I pass through
every intersection of my town
on every inch of my skin i sense
that i’m not done.)
How can I be done?

If you want to call it survival, alright.
maybe to you it appears that I survived, but
I would call it “learning from.”
I learned from the first week fight.
I learned from students slamming doors and throwing chairs,
I learned from a lot of “uhhhhhhhhhhhs” an d “I ain’t been doin nothin’s.!”
the ups, the downs, the farther downs.
I learned from the things that stay the same when you want them to change and the things that change when you need them to stay the same.
I learned from the defeat of looking into my student’s eyes
and knowing I can’t take them home with me.
Knowing that maybe being in my classroom, maybe by coming to school,
Maybe that’s how they’re surviving.

I’ve learned from the bad, sure,
crying into an ice cream cone, driving down the highway, crying to a random country song singing “it won’t be like this for long,” but….

I’ve learned from each and every hug (except Lamarcus’s arms-length ringworm hugs…)
each tearful, regretful downcast stare as I asked what can we do to change our attitude in life,
each 25 percent followed by a ”most improved”
each knock on the door for a “may I come back in now?”
each “we don’t say shut up in our classroom.”

You see, teaching was like waking up every morning
totally soaked
standing in the middle of the street
in the middle of hurricane season
and expecting to see the most beautiful sunrise.

And it would be cliche at this point
to say “I’ve seen the sunrise“
so I’ll say this:
I’ve seen my students say thank you (this is a bigger task than you might imagine).
I’ve seen them do the cha cha slide to N*Sync.
I’ve seen my students believe in something as great as themselves
Done? No. None of it’s done.
But even on the rainiest of days- my students have hope-
That’s my sunrise.