Megalopolis

My life has been full of changes recently, which is out of the ordinary. I guess you might say it’s a change.  I said on March 1st that this would be a good month and I stand by it 100%. Yes, I recognize that it’s only March 11th, but if it’s been this good so far, it can only get better, right? (I’m actively jinxing myself, I’m aware…)

Ok so first things first- NASA was spectacular. The week of presentations, which were on Friday, my class was a mixture of paranoia and indigestion. Jorge, tearful and resentful of other group’s slightly more artistic posters, was crying to me shortly after lunch one day when suddenly he cluched his mouth and ran out of the room. I made made a child so nervous he almost puked. Healthy? Probably not. Power-seeking behavior by myself? Perhaps. But Jorge is a drama queen….seriously.

Our NASA specialists arrived in incredibly official looking attire for their day off of teaching- thank you thank you thank you. Dallas, upon entering the classroom in a line of nervous babies, went straight for his inhaler. With straight faces, my NASA experts watched as my children presented posters with a Venus that fell off it’s string, a rap that included the lyrics “wocka flocka plane” and “Galileo,” and a poster about Uranus where the most prominent feature was a crip star. Ahhhh, knowledge. They then fielded incredibly intelligent questions like “yeah, but what’s real space look like?” and ” how big is your office?” Also, when we took the science 9 weeks test this week and they all stared down an open response regarding the planets, none of them flinched. Hooray! Investment pays off! If I can take away one thing from working to hard to convince my kids of a lie, it’s that when I told my kids it was time for science, most of them would cheer. In Arkansas, in 5th grade, hell, ANYWHERE- does that happen??

This week, however, is to be viewed in stark contrast to the happy investment independent research magical collaborative learning fun time we had the first week of March.  Every morning this week for two hours we have been taking tests made of released items. “Practice,” we’re calling it, for the Benchmark we’re going to take in a month. Not to psych the kids out or anything, but rather to put the fear in them. It’s been hard to make it though the week and not want to destroy the creator of the test item, but we’re making it through- most of us with smiles on our faces! Drawing faces on our pointer fingers and giving them names (mine’s Gary- he helps me read questions…) has been monumental to say the least. Little things like that. Also little things like when your principal tries to set you up on a date with the elementary school photographer. Here’s how that went down.

11:30- Ms. D herds her chickens into the cafeteria and clowns with them on stage. Everyone laughs appropriately.

11:35- Ms. D herds her chickens off stage and back into the classroom, where she drops the facade of being a kind loving teacher and resumes control of the dictatorial region otherwise known as Room 305.

12:00- Ms. D takes her chickens to lunch

12:05- The principal walks into Ms. D’s door and, with a smile on her face as wide as the Mississippi River, says “The photographer wanted to know if I could set him up with any of the young teachers.” She pulls him in by his arm. “This is Ms. D.”

12:05:10- “I’M NOT AVAILABLE, MS STONE!!!” I shriek.

12:05:15- “Oh drat,” says the principal, and she pushes him out of the room and on to one of the other unsuspecting 2fers.

Ladies and gentlemen, the professional boundaries of LUES!!!!!!

All of this and you’d think I’d be ready to quit teaching. Actually, for the past several weeks, I’d been downright looking forward to the fact that in 49 days I would be done with my 2 year commitment and could move on to a mindless job of filing or typing or, as my job search suggested for me- social work. (Not mindless, job search survey….not helpful…) However,  when my roommate’s ceiling tiles fell in (thank you delta!) my landlord, also a teacher, came over, and he reminded us that not all teaching has to feel like you’re constantly in the presence of a dementor. His words, much more poignant, actually stuck with me through the ridiculousness of my life and my teaching and the things that I feel I am motivated to move towards, and somehow, in some way, my brain is starting to say “but maybe I could apply to just a few schools.”

Ok then.

So, like my sister always tells me, I will baby rhino my way through the end of the year.
 

All four legs off the ground, running full speed ahead. The look in my eye is one of grit and determination, one that says, “Watch out Benchmark test, obnoxious students, really awkward encounters with my principal, an uncertain future, and whatever else! All four legs are off the ground, propelling me forward towards YOU!”

“Ms. Dilks, what does it mean when you said Henry was humping?” -Dallas (I said he was HUMMING)

“So Copernicus was like…nobody wanted to be his friend, just because he was smarter?” - Ayanna

“Well yeah,but how many people actually LIVE on Uranus?” -I don’t even know, but I will find it hilarious for a long time

“Ms. Dilks, I don’t have a favorite place…” -Kira, in response to our writing prompt.

“Well you better think of one quickly or I’ll make you write about school.” - me

“NOOOOOOOO!!!!”- my whole class

“I wrote about school!” -Makiya

“Ms Dilks, i’m getting some information on Venus that i never knew.”

BAM. KNOWLEDGE UP IN YOUR FACE.

follow-up quote:
“Yeah, I just feel pretty confident about Venus….”

I took Friday off for mental health purposes. It took all of January, coming home drained every day, and the cathartic watching of Ellen giving things away to brightly dressed women with no circles under their eyes, screaming their thanks on national television for the new iPod touch they had just received for me to realize that maybe i too deserved something for myself.

“your voice sounds lower,” my friend said. “have you been smoking?”

“no,” i sighed. “it’s just friday. it’s been a long week.”

I went to Oxford. I went to bookstores, ate sushi, saw white people in polo shirts, ate a bakery with cream of mushroom soup that looked like cat vomit (but ate it anyway because there was artisan bread as a side that i didn’t want to send back) and what did i get out of the trip- a new children’s read aloud and several extra hours of sleep. Oh, and maybe the motivation to at least get through to spring break.

But the best thing to come out of my day off besides the caramel spiced apple cider i had was the fact that NASA once again selected my classroom for their YAIT program. That’s Young Astronauts in Training, for those of you who have not read “How to Lie to Your Children and Manipulate Them Into Doing Independent Research Happily.” Chapter 3 focuses on science, and there are a few key pointers that i’d like to bring to the forefront:

• If you LEAVE for a “meeting” with an “important NASA official” the same day some “important documents” are “dropped off” at the classroom with the words TOP SECRET on them, it’s a good way to dupe children.
• If you feign complete and utter ignorance upon your return, students believe it. It helps if they think you’re pretty dumb to begin with.
• Official looking things like printed labels, color pictures, and binder clips never hurt.
• a.c.r.o.n.y.m.s.

So, three days in and my class has fallen for YAIT like the preteen population for Edward Cullen. Last year there was at least a glimmer of “but Ms. D, ain’t you been typing some…” before i had to just say “NO. NASA. I have nothing to do with what looks mysteriously like an EdHelper article!” This science project continues to be one of my finest moments in teaching, and the presentations are one of the most darling things EVER. I will be sure to take pictures this year, unlike last time, at which point I was just running around trying to prevent children from bludgeoning each other with styrofoam replicas of planets.

I don’t feel like a bad teacher. I don’t feel like an excellent one, either. I feel like I’m batting around .260. I’m not bad enough to send down to the minors, but in no way am i about to make the all-star team. Hell, I’m not even the one helping to get the team to the playoffs (CEK =  babe ruth), but i’m there. I’m part of the 6-4-3 every once and a while. I make a nice running snowcone grab every now and then, but I’m not really a web gem, you know? Probably not. I probably lost most of you around .260…

“It’s something that happen with Cold Wars and that happens with countries and dominoes.”

“Like if the USA was a domino and they gave up war it would fall and then other countries would fall because they were in war with the US.”

Or as i like to define it: When one fifth grade boy begins to sulk and i do not pay attention to them, thus rendering them further helpless, other fifth grade boys will join in. Soon you have a class of sulky fifth grade boys with problems ranging from “but i been saying i don’t go with her and she been writing my name on her folder” to “man them tacos just ain’t done right!”

For my mood, simply reference the poem i wrote about January. For my optimism, see Judy Garland’s “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” I am fine. My life is better than it’s been….ever? Seriously. I say that seriously.

I can feel the grinding in my lungs
my heart
my brain
like I’m going up some monumentally tall hill.
January, my soul eeks outs
between ragged breaths
it’s…
only….
Jannnnnnuuuuuaaaryyyyy!

So I switch gears.
Retool a little, you know?
What makes a bike really shine?
Oil, patch a tire, new chain and then
Before I know it

Legs out from under me
Wheels spinning freely
Faster than I can control
Children flying
Out of control
“off the handle”
and my arms are flailing
(because at this point why hold on to the handlebars)
and I’m screaming at people as I pass by
“IT’S ALREADY JANUARY! HOLY SHIT!”

And yeah,
There’ll be the bottom of the hill eventually,
I’ll coast
And slow down
And catch my breath.
Won’t I?
Or will I flip over a stick
And break my shoulder?
Or hit a car?
Or bust my head?

Or will I hit a perfect flip
And land and impress the waiting crowd?

(Shh. It’s January- I can dream…)

It seems like only yesterday I was crying to myself about how much time was left in this awful two year  what was i thinking who in their right mind would ever agree to live in this godforsaken pit of a commitment. Ahhhhhhh, the memories. And now, only a semester left until they kick me to the curb, Americorps payment in one hand, inflated resume (though still a polisci-english double) in the other. And what do I have to show for it?

I have no clue. I feel like a better, older, wiser, smarter, more capable, calmer, more appreciative, more compassionate person. Was it teach for america and my classroom that make me this way, or was it simply going out into the “real world”? Am I even in the real world? Is what I am going through, what we (the collective thousands of us- that we- thats the we I always refer to), is that really what you can call real life? I hope not. I hope at some point it sort of gets easier.

I was teaching my kids about equivalent fractions the other day, and how to simplify them. We focused on that word- simplify. “Simple things are easy,” I said, ” and easy things are small.” Yes, they all nodded in agreement, they certainly were, and we set to work reducing 400/800 to 1/2. It was that night, in a conversation that I had with my dad, that i realized this rule unfortunately applies in life as well. He allowed, at the age of 50, that things were only getting more complicated. I asked, hopeful and optimistic as ever, if my life was about to take the turn towards clarity. He laughed at me- no, he said, not at all. Age, growing older, dealing with life, is just like numbers in fractions. My 10 year old kids have it easy. Their number is small. The problems they deal with are seemingly microscopic.

The bigger the number, the more complicated the problems. Such is life.

All this being said, i recognize that my kids are being forced to simplify fractions way beyond their numerical value. My babies shouldn’t have to deal with improper fractions and mixed numbers in their lives yet but….ahh well. Delta, poverty, etc. That’s what teachers, back rubs, shoulders to cry on are for.
It’s analogies like this that are making me a really good math teacher- our average on our last landmark was proficient! Read it and weep folks, 63% Well, 62.7%, but I round on occasions such as this because thats freaking incredible. That means that on average, my class is proficient. 8 of my kids scored proficient, 1 scored advanced, 4 scored basic, and 4 scored below basic. To meet my schools standards, I need to bump up those 4 basic kids and I am good to go. I can do this! I have 4 months to do this. I really know that I can.

In lit, we are slowly and steadily improving- our average on our test before semesters’ end was a 54%, which is solidly basic. I’ll take it, because literacy in a classroom where children greet you with “what that is that you got, Mz. D?” is not an easy thing to master. We’re working on it.

I am working on finding ways to feel NOT panicked about next year, including but not limited to extensive research of culinary schools, longer naps, more time to read, and a LOT of baking (I now own a 9×13 pyrex dish, a food processor, and a double boiler!). If I had realized how valuable these things were last year, I may not have been a better teacher, but I sure would have been a happier person.

All this and baseball season starts in only 105 days. AND it’s Christmas time!  Boy, life is good when you really just take a second to think about it.

It’s not that it hadn’t been graded. It’s that it’s been sitting here and there, around the house, in piles. Staring at me. So tonight i took it upon myself to organize these papers so I could hand them back tomorrow. An hour and a half later, all papers alphabetized and sorted, I hauled it into the bathroom to discover that I’d been ignoring 8.5 lbs of paper…

Ew.

In other news, I am having an incredible life, all things considered. I went to New Orleans over Thanksgiving Break (oh are you from here? No. Just leaving your family behind? yep) and discovered that it’s possible for my heart to ache for places outside the Delta. Not just the cultural aspect of it, because i love the Delta and at this point in my life appreciate every aspect of the culture in which I am immersed- I don’t need the museums and the concerts- but the need to help other people. In New Orleans moreso than a lot of other places, it’s very evident that there are people who need help that are being ignored. Driving around New Orleans and seeing the lack of action combined with the hope- it’s there. can you blame me for wanting to be a part of it? Especially that in some small way I was part of it before, though the house in which I lived is washed away.

That’s all a veiled explanation for the fact that, in my searching for what I’m doing in the future (next year future, not tomorrow future), I am considering New Orleans.  And Mississippi. And culinary school. And publishing. And grad school.

Life, I told my kids- sometimes you get what you don’t want, and sometimes you want what you don’t get. You make it work, and then when it finally does, you don’t know what to do with yourself!

Maybe all this comes about because I got my new phone. After two years of waiting, one toilet phone, one phone that only operated on speaker, I finally got it- the blackberry. Signed under my name, it was mine, and all I had to do was take it home, charge it, and dial *228 to activate. Eagerly I plugged it in, allowed it to charge while I went out to dinner, and then raced home. *228, I dialed, and listened as it rang once, twice….beep, beep, beep- “Activation was unsuccessful!” In cheery blackberry font, it reminded me of my inability to connect to a bigger network. I dialed again. “Activation was unsuccessful!” The exclamation point was a dagger. You, Verizon reminded me, have failed in some particular way, to connect with us, this network to which EVERYONE can connect. What is your problem? Can you hear me now? No.
I called the 800 # and discovered that I was in something rather philisophical sounding called Verizon’s footprint. They could see me, but I was out of their reach. I could see them, but I could not connect. I knew what I wanted, but I couldn’t get it. LET ME DOWNLOAD RINGTONES DIRECTLY ONTO MY PHONE. WHAT DO I PAY THIS DATA PLAN FOR?!?! I wanted to use my browser to google useless facts on my phone, damnit. Frustration abounded, though in a calm collected manner, as a man named Devin and I discussed nearby populace epicenters towards which I could migrate. I detected confusion, then sarcasm, then pity in his voice as I described my location.

“How far are you from Little Rock?”

“About two hours.”

“How far from Jackson?”

“About two and a half.”

“Memphis?”

“Three.”

“Oh…mmmk.”

Devin and I both eventually gave up and parted ways.
I thought about my phone today during school. My children were not bad, nor where they overwhelmingly wonderful. They were fifth graders- frustratingly talkative, at times focused, at times overwhelmed, at all times ten years old. We lost the multiplication contest by 1% point to another class after weekly quizzes. One % point. Our test averages have been declining as the difficulty of the material (and its newness to my students) increases. Oh and, What’s that, Ronesha? You want time to talk? Well we’re in school. We’re here to learn, not to relax and chat. I know it’s just the time of year, but I also know this is a failure on my part in investment- my kids aren’t connected to a bigger picture.

We know what we want, but we can’t get to it yet. Right now. I don’t know what the proper descriptor is.  We’re in a footprint.

October is not my least favorite month, it’s my second least favorite. I remember last year everyone telling me that October was the worst, only to discover that in November, I truly perfected the crying-in-fetal-position technique. Well October started out well, and even half-way through I wasn’t upset. By the end, I was flustered, but not defeated. Now, 5 days into November, the ugly faces of disrespectful children who haven’t had a break since Labor Day cause me to wipe my face off onto my cardigan. Not with tears, just with total frustration.

Add in some IMMENSE frustration with my administration (I feel like I’m writing a political poem), and I make for a 40% of the time not happy camper. Luckily my life is good otherwise. I’m still lightyears past where I was last year at this time. I honestly don’t even remember last year at this time, so this year is an improvement. The fact that I can wake up is an improvement.