Anotha Day, Anotha Dolla

Interesting stat that might reveal my slight increase in authority this year:

Average age students thought I was during the 2009-2010 year: 24.

Average age students think I am during the 2010-2011 year: 31.

PROGRESS!

But then, DC: "Heyyy. Imma need to get yo number... you know in case I need help with homework or sumthin."

"Riight. Well you can definitely stay after on Tuesdays and Wednesdays and I'd LOVE to help you with any problems you might have!"

"Yeah never mind."

That's the first time any of them have even dared to toe that line, though. I keep thinking back to Rashee on that first day and how bold he was...ohhh, Rashee.

1st block: good for the majority

2nd block: great!

3rd block: pretty terrible

4th block: great!

The difference in 3rd block? Oh, about six people. Meaning that six more boys are in that class than my next largest class. Six people may not seem like a lot, but you couldn't imagine the difference it makes in trying to manage a classroom.

In fourth block I have a really good track runner named Essa. He is one of the quiet ones that has this nonchalant attitude. Nothing can phase him. I've had kids like that before--they're never blatantly rude, just...blase about EVERYTHING (how do you type an accent mark in the word blase?). One of them last year was named Da'Terrious. I only had him for about a month, but he was probably one of the most threatening kids I've had walk through my door. And you better believe he "yes ma'am"-ed and "no ma'am"-ed the hell out of me. He'd smile and comply with my directions, then wait 'til my back was turned to "tax" the smaller kids around him for money.

I'm not saying that Essa is at all a threat to the other kids, or even that he belongs in the same category as De'Terrious; I don't know him well enough for that. I DO know, however, that he has this way about him that screams, "I'll oblige you not because I feel like I have to, but because I don't care enough to make a fuss."

Today I was telling a story involving a potluck dinner while I was in college. As I was telling the class how I

"... decided that for the potluck, I was going to bring the--"

"CRACK," Essa finished, not meaning to be overheard. I recovered quickly and resumed the story.

"--macaroni and cheese. I didn't know that someone had already brought a--"

"lot of BEER." (Essa)

"--pan of the same thing. So once I got there, I--"

"Got wasted and tried to get with all the boys there." (Essa)

"--hid the other macaroni and cheese in a random cabinet."

What kind of potlucks are YOU attending, brah??

As we left 1st block, DC: "Whew! It's my favorite parttatheday--gettin' to leave here!" (As he slyly grins at me)

Me: "WHEW. It's my favorite parttatheday--gettin' to watch DC walk out the door!"

DC: "Yeah what she MEAN was gettin' to watch DC walk up IN HERE. At least it in the mornin' so you can hold on to that sunshine fo the rest of the day!"

Embracing Motherhood.

Let's face it.

I'm a mother.

I'm the mother of eightysomething 13-14 year old black boys that bear no resemblance to me whatsoever. After I passed out a Starburst to each kid today, I actually heard myself say:

"Can you believe I gave out 31 Starbursts and only got 3 'thank you's?"

To which they replied a sing-songy:

"THAAAAANK YOU MS. M!"

"That's right! When someone gives us something, we say 'thank you!'"

Yeahhh. That happened. They honestly have not been taught to say 'thank you.' That's when the thought entered my head--the thought that, at 24, I am mothering 14-year-olds. Creepy.

You literally have to teach them. Everything. You can't say "Take out a piece of paper and fold it into fourths." You have to say "On three, everyone is going to fold their paper in half like this. One, two, three! Good. Okay now we're going to do the same thing again--not lengthwise...there you go!" I forget sometimes I teach teenagers, not kindergarteners. For kids who are incredibly self-reliant as far as raising themselves and their younger siblings, they are also incredibly dependent.

Back it up. If you noticed above that I gave out thirty-one starbursts and were wondering why I would do that when my biggest class was 22, let me clear the air. Thirty-one boys are now in my third block class. THIRTY-ONE!!! Special. Maybe you can't picture it, but that is a LOT of 14-year-old boys in one space. Did I mention I have 28 seats? And that in that class there's a kid in a wheelchair AND a kid with autism that wanders around talking to himself the whole 75 minutes? I'm only one person, folks. And a person who can handle a very little amount of multi-tasking at that.

So much for small class sizes this year!

Other than that challenge and a couple of kids who I've already flagged as "difficult," things are fine. Good, even. But I don't want to lull myself into a false sense of security because it's still the first week.

I'm trying to remember what last year's first week looked like. It was a blur. And in the moment I would have punched my future self in the face for wishing it to be any worse than it already was, but I find myself wishing that now. Did that make sense? I'm saying that I hope last year's first week was not as good as this one, because that would mean it wasn't just that the kids were at their best, but that I've improved as a teacher.

In the same way I'm sort of wishing last year was worse without wishing that on my poor last-year self, I'm looking for the first-year teachers to have it worse than me. Gosh that sounds terrible, and I guess it is. Certainly I wouldn't wish my last year's experience on anyone, but I would selfishly feel a little validated if they were struggling. All I want is to listen to some poor newcomer's plight and nod my head knowingly. "It is difficult. You just have to..."

What?

I never figured it out last year. But maybe, just maybe that's what this year is for. And maybe by the time I get through mothering this year's boys, I'll have practiced enough so that I won't mess my own kids up too much!

Started Back at One

"I like yo watch." x6 (only funny if you've seen it--it's huge and gaudy)

"You play sports or sumthin'? You look real athletic. Like a volleyball player or sumthin!'" (only funny if you know me)

My boys were mostly quiet today. But they tend to do that the first week, so we'll see.

Walking in lines is still a bitch.

Cecil and his mustache are going to be a lot to handle(bar). Their joined forces have the power to wreak havoc.

I was afraid to show my personality at all today, and class was actually kind of boring (?!). The best part of this job is getting to know the kids, but I'm holding them at arm's length for fear of them becoming too comfortable around me.

Speaking of comfortable, someone in first block got a little too relaxed and let out the most giant fart I've ever heard. I laughed. Good thing I have that air freshener.

Under Pressure

It is the night before my first day. Well, my second first day. Which is infinitely better than the first first day, but still a little scary. I've made my copies, finalized my lesson, set up my room and said my prayers.

I know you're ready for entertaining stories where someone jumps out my window or tries to date me or imitates my mannerisms, but honestly I'm not. It might make for a boring blog, but I'd actually like to come home and write:

"Today in first block I taught the difference between relative and absolute age. I didn't get interrupted. Everyone stayed in their desks and did all of their work. Dante called Anthony "fat," but I got on to him and he apologized. Then I did the same thing three more times and called it a day. The end."

I feel the tremendous pressure to set things up perfectly tomorrow to ensure that that vision is more of a reality. Here we go...

Laters.

A Feast for Your Eyeballs.

Tonight was open house. I met some really sweet boys, along with a certain "Cecil" who declared he wanted sit in the far back corner and tried to give me dap when I reached out to shake his hand. Though he was only 5 feet tall, he had a mustache. Rock on, Cecil. You're sitting front and center.

Here are some pictures of my classroom. I really like it...hope you do too!


Back of the room.

Insert me here, squinting at the computer screen trying to conjure last year's login password from the depths of my cerebrum. Was it "JESUSSAVEME" or "xanaxplease"? I just can't remember...

Christmas lights make me happy. So happy.

So do ficus trees and lava lamps.

If you were an 8th grade boy, you would love to be here, wouldn't you? I wish you could smell the lavender and vanilla to get the full effect.

Calm in the midst of chaos. I kept thinking about this Seinfeld episode. Classic. Should be my new class mantra.

Whatcha say?

*special thanks to E for helping me acquire/transport many of the items pictured and for photographing the room with her supercool phone that does way more things than mine does.

Let's Hear it for the Boys!

4 A GOOD TIME CLICK HERE .

Not only is the song appropriate, this is also the most awesome part in the most awesome movie ever in the history of forever.

Got my rosters today and noticed two things immediately:
1. My classes are small!!! The biggest is 22. The smallest two are 17!
2. Most of the names seemed masculine. I was fairly certain about the Dequaviuses and Levontes, but names like Essa and Neeka were a little more ambiguous.

When I took the lists to a co-worker for confirmation, she kindly suggested I look in the "Gender" column to see.

Duh.

Gender:
M
M
M
M
M
M
M
M
M
M
M
M
M
M
M
M
M
M
M
M
M
M

Looks like it's me and my little men again this year. Saddle up, y'all.

To Cry or Not to Cry?

The past week and a half, I have been on a see-saw, teetering precariously between anxiety attack and hopeful excitement. Par example:

Ohmygosh am I going to have the same four rules? And what am I going to do WHEN they won't follow them, because you know they won't. ...How do I establish authority and gain their respect right off the bat? What tone of voice do I use? How do I set things up so they are invested and excited to come to class? I can't. I didn't last year. Why would this year be any different?

But then:

This year will be SO much better than last. You are miles ahead of where you were last year. You have the opportunity to fix so many mistakes! You have a fresh start! New kids! New perspective! I can't wait to meet them all and get to know them. I can't wait for the exciting year of work where I have the unique opportunity to impact dozens of kids!

It varies not from day to day, but from minute to minute. I haven't slept a solid night in a week, and I haven't been able to remember where I put ANYTHING...ok, those of you who know me are thinking, "She NEVER remembers where she put anything." You're right. But it's even WORSE lately! Today when I drove to school for the first time since June 10, my palms started sweating. That has never happened to me before as a physical reaction to anxiety.

But this minute, right now, I'm excited. I spent all day (and way too much money) on something I enjoyed: getting things to make my classroom pretty and comfortable. Last year, I didn't put much effort into how the room looked because it wasn't a top priority at that point. But the truth is, I spend more time in that classroom than I do at home, so I might as well enjoy being in it. And my kids might as well feel comfortable and welcome there...

Call me what you will, but I actually googled feng shui to research what kind of colors, sounds and scents create a calm atmosphere. I'm not usually into that New Age-y stuff, but I'm desperate here. And it couldn't hurt! I scoured office supply, craft, thrift and general stores for:

-soft lighting
-blue tones
-lavender/vanilla scents

Yes, I am a loser.

I'm actually excited to go in and make it pretty in there! I'll try to post pictures when I'm through.

Today I found out that while I was out of the country, one of my students was shot and killed.

He was one of my oldest students because he repeated 8th grade, but that still only made him fifteen. He was always getting in trouble, always trying to make people laugh. He'd curse at me one day then hug me the next and ask to help me move desks. I tried to be patient with him, but I wasn't a lot of the time.

I wish I could go back and hug him.

Tell him how much I admired him for being so resilient.

Tell him he didn't need to impress anyone. That he wasn't dumb because he failed 8th grade. That I thought he had a kind heart. That I cared about him.

But these words and gestures seem trivial now.

So I read his obituary and cry.

Uh-oh.

I can feel it coming in the air tonight. Phil Collins style.

School. It starts soon.

Which means the nightmares have already begun. Literally. Every night. I won't bore you with the details (don't you just hate it when people tell you every detail of their boring dreams and they last FOREVER?? Yeah, I've done it before too. Sorry.), but they're scary.

When I first started teaching, TFA showed us a diagram that was supposed to chart our emotions over the course of a school year. It looks like this:



My friend Sara redrew it to represent a more accurate account of what truly takes place:



Funny right? (You can check out her blog here)

I want to start off this year so much better and do a much better job (boy, that was eloquent, was it not?), but DARE I DREAM?? I've had expectations before and where did that get me? Oh yeah, waving scissors in children's faces.

BUT. I learned so much last year...about myself, about the profession, about the kids, about the Lord...And I'm still here, which means I still have a job to do. So I remain cautiously hopeful, timidly excited. As terrified as I am to begin year two, I'm eager to see what the Lord has in store. As many people have expressed to me over the summer--you are too! I hope that for a lot of you, this has become more than a collection of entertaining stories. I hope it's become a very real portrait of a group of kids who fly under the radar so often and who need love and stability more than you can imagine and more than I can give.

Will you pray for the new group of kids coming August 25? Will you pray that God will equip me with everything I need to serve them? It makes me excited to know that so many of you will.

I was talking to my dear friend SK today. She taught with me at RMS last year (meaning she laughed with me, cried with me and prayed with me on a day-to-day basis. In that order). We were imagining what it would be like to teach in a wealthy private school. You know, where kids cared about their grades and did what you told them to do (!?). As many tears as it would save us, we decided that it would be...well, dull. Along with the tears, it would also save us a lot of laughter and excitement. Even though most days we forgot our kids were kids and thought of them as "The Enemy," God answered our prayers that we would walk away with love for them; in an inexplicable way we are still drawn to them.

This was supposed to be a really short post.

Oh guess what? I'm teaching mixed gender classes this year! Which means girls! And bigger class sizes! And who knows what else! I'm off to go plan...