Jessica Biel Gets On My Nerves.

The title has nothing to do with the following account, but I just thought I'd slip that in there, on account of I just read an interview with her where she claims, "Being very beautiful is...difficult. In terms of how you're perceived, people's expectations of you. Sometimes that's all they see."

mmk, Jessica. We'll take yer word for it.

ANYWAYS. Yesterday I decided to go to the mall north of town. It has several stores in it that our local (really expensive) mall lacks. It was strange driving right past the exit to my school; I hadn't been up this way since school got out almost a month (!) ago. Then it dawned on me. There was a good possibility that I could actually see one of my kids there. Remember this post? This is the mall that they were referring to every single Monday.

Bracing myself, I parked the car at the far entrance and walked toward the doors. "Please don't let me see a student, please don't let me see a st--" No sooner had the thought entered my mind, the doors slid open and there stood Jemon. I mean, RIGHT in the doorway, unavoidable, like he'd been waiting on me. A look of fear seized him and he froze, eyes locked on mine. Deer stuck in the headlight? No. His expression far exceeded that territory. It probably resembled the look on Regan MacNeil's mom's face when she crabwalked down the stairs or the mourners when Lazarus' four-day-old corpse rose from the dead: a delicate balance of terror and wonder.

There's nothing like an unexpected run-in with a teacher outside the classroom walls, is there? (Oh yes there is and it's called an unexpected run-in with a STUDENT outside the classroom walls--why is this so uncomfortable??)

"Hey Jemon!" I said, a little over-excitedly.

"Hey." he mumbled in return. I'd never seen him look more embarrassed. In fact, he's probably one of the most confident boys I taught.

"Is that your teacher?" an older girl asked him.

WHY DID SHE ASK THAT?? HOW DID SHE KNOW THAT?? Do I LOOK like a teacher!?! Sound like a teacher?! Or...far worse...DRESS like a teacher??

Moving on.

Jemon grinned awkwardly, nodded, and looked away. I hadn't stopped moving, but kind of had to walk around him at this point. It sort of felt like I needed to make at least a little bit of small talk, considering I'd spent every day with him for nine months and hadn't seen him in one..."Havin' a good summer?" I meekly attempted.

Another awkward grin/nod/glance away one-two punch was my only response. "Mmmkay well...buh-bye now!"

Sheesh. I spent the rest of my shopping trip ducking in terror every time I caught sight of a teenaged black dude in my peripheral.

putting the good in good-bye

I looooove being a teacher.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking: "This fool has complained all year long about her job. At least half of her posts involve tears. If being melodramatic was at all useful in the educational field, she would have won Teacher of the Effing Century back in September."

Well, you're right.

But as I sit here typing this, I can see from my bed a desk free of all papers and planners. Where text books and workbooks once rested, David Sedaris, J.D. Salinger, Fitzgerald and Rick Bragg now smile back at me. That's because yesterday I threw away the massive stack of ungraded papers cluttering my workspace. Just THREW THEM AWAY. My gosh, it was like I actually threw away all the bad memories from last year and lost ten pounds in the process. There's nothing like starting fresh is there?

.....Which is what I did with my pantry today--after I threw away all the expired stuff, 409-ed the hell out of it, installed new shelves and organized staples into categories. I've walked by and opened the door about five times just to look in and pat myself on the back. Each time I do, I catch a whiff of gumbo--which we began cooking six hours ago and finished simmering two hours ago. My baseboards are clean, my dog is walked, my eyebrows are plucked. These are all things that completely fell by the wayside...oh...six months ago.

In case you haven't figured it out yet, IT IS SUMMER. While my friends used to complain about their jobs, I'd bite my tongue not to be the obnoxious one-upper (Oh, your lunch break got cut down to an hour and you no longer have the time to make it to La Petite Gargotte for brunch specials?? I had to eat cafeteria beanies and weenies because someone PISSED in my tupperware.). I can now lend a sympathetic ear...then get back to my book. I can sleep late, go to the pool, travel and shop--all during the middle of the day!! True, you'll more likely find me organizing my closet or doing laundry, but the option is there! And I am loving every minute of my home improvements and midday errands. I'm free as a bird and happy as a lark. And I love. My. Job.

The last day of school was very anti-climatic. I am one of the most sentimental people you'll come across, so I had envisioned tearful goodbyes, meaningful conversations, remorseful students apologizing for their abuse, kids clinging to my skirts...you know, something along the lines of this:

Goodbye
Just substitute "Ms. M" for "Wilson."

NOPE. I didn't really even get to say goodbye to most kids; several of them just kind of stopped coming the last week. I brought a disposable camera and took pictures of myself with all my boys, but that got stolen in fourth block. When the final bell rang, I stood in my ransacked room and felt...I don't know. Not sad. Not happy. Kind of sad that I wasn't sad? I would miss some of those boys, but that was tempered with the relief I felt to have my first year behind me. More than anything it was strange. I spent more time with those kids than I did with anyone else this year--my family, my friends, my dog...I saw them every. single. day. They saw me at my worst , at my best on my good days, and all the days in between. And there were a lot of them. Now, I wouldn't be seeing them at all--several of them probably ever again. I wonder if teachers ever get used to that feeling.

I will always wonder about those boys...where they ended up...who they became...

Rosie and Ananias did call me last Saturday night. I didn't recognize the number but picked up anyway.

"Ms. M? It's Rosamuel. We over at Ananias house. We wanted to say hey."

"Yeah, Ms. M. This Ananias and guess what. Brittany dumped me."

I laughed. "Sorry to hear that, Ananias. Maybe you won't be so cocky anymore though."

"I am NOT cocky. I jus' know I look good. But we gotta go, we'll talk to you later."

It's funny. I know that when I look back on this experience I'll forget most of its heartache and growing pains and use words like "fun," "exciting" when I recount it. That's just the way it usually goes.

And I'm left with only one nagging question:
Now that my life is back to the mundane...What the HECK do I do with this blog??

What do you think?

Out With a Bang! and a Potted Plant

I'm sorry I've taken a hiatus from blogging (I know all three of you have been waiting with bated breath). Mostly, I just haven't felt like writing. Usually when I don't feel like writing, I read back over what I wrote and hate, hate, HATE it. I can't say what I mean and I don't want to ruin the poignancy of the moments themselves by describing them inadequately. However, I am not even CLOSE to being a perfectionist in any other areas of my life, and I know that when I check my dear friends' blogs and they haven't written (Lindsey, SCO, Megan, Sara, Erica...), it's like I've come to visit them and knocked on their doors and they aren't at home. Sad! So here we go.

A lot of bad has happened since the last entry. I could tell you about how Rashee went to jail. I could tell you how and why I ended up in my boss's office two weeks ago sobbing hysterically. I could tell you about the racial tensions that have mounted among our staff lately or the increasing difficulty of getting my kids to do anything at the end of the year. But frankly, I don't want to.

I've actually got some good things to share--so I'm going to seize the opportunity!

The EOG retest was two weeks ago. The weekend before, several of them were freaking out--Rosamuel being among them. "Ms. M! Imma haf to get with you. Like, I need help. I FAILED that thang [he got a 1]!"

"Rosie, I can tutor you Saturday morning if you think that would help."

"You gon' come to my house and pick me up?"

"Well...if your dad says that's ok...then I guess I could."

So Saturday found me: pulling up into Rosie's dad's driveway getting strange looks from the kids playing basketball at the dead end. Whaat? Not too often a blonde in a car with a UA sticker and a sorority decal drop by here? After we got to the school and practiced some test questions Rosamuel pleaded with me to give him some study materials to take home, so I printed them off and took him back to his house.

Later that night, I was on the phone with Mark, quizzing him and reviewing him in a last-ditch effort to get his scores where they needed to be as well. Rosie beeped in. "Yes?"

"Uh...I lost the stuff."

"You lost the study stuff? How did y--never mind. I'll just email them to you. What's your email address. [Silence] Rosie?? What's your email?"

"...ummm I can't tell you that."

"Why not? I'll just send them to you and you can print them off. I'm not going to start emailing you on the reg."

"No...it's not that...it's just...my email address nasty. I can't tell you."

"Rosamuel. It can't be that terrible. I promise I'll overlook it this once--but you've GOT to study tonight."

"I really can't."

"Okayyyy. Fine. I'll email Norman and get him to forward it to you. That'll work?"

"Naww I gotta idea I'll just make a new email."

I sighed. "Whatever."

Well, I got the retest scores back last Thursday and.....

....fifteen (FIFTEEN!) more students passed the second time around! Norman passed! De'Angelo passed! D'Angelo passed! Dazia passed! Dwight passed! Mark passed!! ROSAMUEL passed!!! I really couldn't believe it. I am unbelievably proud--especially of those who reached out for extra help and put in the work.

Last Tuesday was the 8th grade awards ceremony, where we got to celebrate all of these accomplishments. Mr. E, the Assistant Principal, stood up and told the crowd of 300 students and 100 parents all about RMS' achievements this year--how we've increased our pass rates in every subject. He paused to share that 8th grade science had the most growth this year of all tested subjects--jumping 36 percentage points from last year! God is good.

After the opening words and songs, teachers began to give their academic awards. We went by team, and after each team of teachers presented their awards, one of the students from their team would perform. After team A's teachers presented, one of their girls rapped. After team D's teachers, a girl sang. The time came for our team to present. We all gave awards (mine a little shakily) and then sat down, leaving me to wonder which of our students was going to perform and what he was doing. Apparently, I had either forgotten or hadn't paid attention during that conversation. Ms. F returned to the podium. "Team C is going to do something a little different. We're going to recognize a teacher. " I smiled. It was Mr. K and Mr. L's last year at RMS, and we were going to send them off with some well-deserved praise. Ms. F held up a plant. "This," she said, "has been in my room all year. And it's been through a lot. Somehow though, it's still alive. And it's still growing. With that being said, I'm going to hand it over to some of our boys."

Jordan, Jemon, Norman, Will, Rosamuel, and Kia came forward, smiling. They took the plant and the mic, then turned around to the row of teachers. "MIIIIIIIIIISSSS M!" Will began. My face fell. Whaat? 400 eyes bored into my forehead. "This has been a interesting year!" Will continued. "You been through a lot your first year at RMS. We messed with you. We argued with you. We made you upset. And sometimes, we just plain BAD. But you stayed with us and you still worked hard an' we wanna thank you for that." Will looked over his shoulder and grinned at me as I walked forward to claim my plant. My boys. My sweet boys. With a goofy smile plastered to my face and tears brimming in my eyes, I started down the line, throwing my arms around them. "Wait Ms. M! We not through!" I awkwardly stood beside them as Jemon took the microphone from Will.

"Ms. M, we put her through h--a lot this year. I mean I don't know how she still standin' up here with us. I don't even know how she can stand to be in the same room as us! I'da left a long time ago. But she a trooper."

Rosamuel took the mic. "I got a one on the science test the first time I took it," he told the crowd. "But...Ms. M, she came and picked me up on Saturday an' she help me study an' I made a three on it last time, so I wanna thank her for dat."

Kia: "MS. M!!!" he addressed me--almost accusingly. "We had our ups and downs this year. We made each other mad, we argued...We ESPECIALLY hit a rough patch this quarter when you wouldn't let me do something [here he stopped to give me a meaningful look] and I did anyway and you wrote me up and I couldn't go to the social!" I laughed. "Well...I guess at the end I still wanted you to know....I love you. And I hope next year's class ain't NEAR as good as we are."

The whole crowd burst into "AWWWWW"s and applause while I again blinked back tears and gave each of them a huge hug. As I stood on my tiptoes so my arms could reach around Kia's neck, it struck me that we were more comrades than anything else. I never fully gained their respect this year as an authority or a superior, and hugging him I understood why--with more clarity than I'd been able to all year. The picture of me straining to reach Kia's eye-level was a pretty accurate representation of my struggle with him and the rest of my students. For nine months, I grew up with these boys. I learned alongside them. I had come to teach them, show them a world outside their neighborhood. I might have done a little of that, but I can say with much more conviction that they taught me, showed me a world outside my own. I was going to challenge them, push them...instead I found myself being challenged and pushed farther than I thought I could go. Hopefully next year will be different and I can establish some respect, but for now I'll accept this as a massive character-building experience. And a lesson in humility.

After I'd made my teary rounds, I looked up into the now familiar faces of the boys I'd come to know so well. Only ten years and a couple of inches separated us. They have a long way to go, and so have I. Their way will paved with much more difficulties than mine. I can only hope that they'll emerge gracefully, unscarred, not jaded, successfully. I'll always wonder...

A sweet day. I think I might could do this forever.

Then I go to school Wednesday and immediately remember why I can't WAIT until June 10.