And now what?

I'm moving Monday. Starting to pack up now will not only depress me by forcing me to stare at blank walls and boxes for days, it will also be inconvenient. How can I pack up all my kitchen stuff if I'm still going to be cooking for four more days? I could pack up all my clothes and walk around naked 'til Monday, but that doesn't sound very prudent either. Since I don't really know what to do with myself right now and I'm a little overwhelmed, I'm MAKING LISTS.

Making lists is a great way of doing something without actually doing something. You feel productive while making these lists--even if you don't get anything on them done! It's great! Besides my "To Pack" list, right now I'm making a list of songs to download and burn a CD from. I'm also compiling a list of "Things I'll Miss About My City" to blog about.

And now, a list of "Potential Career Paths for the Unemployed Ex-Teacher with an English Degree, a Penchant for Sarcasm and Good Food, Aversion to the Cardigan, Fluent in Country Colloquialisms and Ebonics":

1. Teach again

2. Go to school again

3. Work at a Honky-Tonk

4. Work at Bojangles

5. Be Homeless

6. Be a Food Conna...Connisss..... if you can't spell it you can't be it.

7. Write an Fashion Advice Column for Educators

8. Marry Rich

Well, that's all I could come up with for now. Number one requires number two, which complicates things. As does the fact that I'm potentially overqualified for number four and underqualified for six and seven. Number five is the path of least resistance, and if I'm going to do number eight, I'd better quit hanging out with only teachers. So there you have it.

Did I leave anything off my list?

That's A Wrap.

I walked out of room 525 and closed the door by behind me. For the last time, I stepped out of the double doors near the plaza and walked to my car across the pothole that is our parking lot.

How many days have I waited for this moment? How many countdowns have I created in my head? How many times have I told myself or someone else "I don't think I can make it 'til the end"? How often have I fantasized about this day?

I think I thought that it would be like last year. I would sprint to my car and drive the whole way home with my windows down, music blaring: nothing but relief and joy. Instead, I find myself either in tears or on the verge of tears at any second. It is difficult to put into the words all the emotions I feel right now, but I will try.

First, I think I am crying because I tend to over-sentimentalize everything (such a white girl). I sobbed through the last episode of Friends because it happened to air the last week of my high school career, and I basically thought I was Rachel, saying goodbye to all my friends. If the last episode of a 90s sitcom can do it, you can bet a two year life phase will. Though short, it has also been the most meaningful; I have grown up more during these two years than I had in the past 23.

The people I've met here have challenged me, inspired me and made this difficult experience a sweet one as well. I think of Ms. J across the hall, who made me feel welcome on my first day and helped me and encouraged me more than she'll ever know. I think of Mr. E next door who made me laugh on the days when I'd be crying otherwise. I think of Mrs. M, who prayed with me in the mornings and for me at night--a tangible reminder of God's faithfulness. I think of Ms. F and Ms. Z, who inspired me to be a better teacher. I think of the two Ms. Ts that kept me on my toes and cracking up on a daily basis. I think of Ms. A who hugged me when I cried and Ms. L who stood up for me. These are people who I'd never have met otherwise, and I'm so thankful that our lives intersected for a moment. I'm better for it.

And ohhh, the kids. I will never see most of them again, and that was a sad realization as I watched their buses pull away from the school Friday. One-hundred and eighty days we spent together--180 LONG days. There were days I wanted to strangle all of them, there were moments when I wondered how I'd ever leave them. And now I say goodbye to them with a lump in my throat; despite their rudeness, entitledness and lack of respect, by the grace of God I walk away with nothing but love for them. I prayed that the Lord would show me these children through his eyes, then wondered every day why he didn't. Well he was and he did. Take Shakeem, who stole everything he could get his hands on and cursed at me under his breath more than once. When I think of him, I first remember his willingness to laugh at himself and the the desire to please shining eversofaintly from his eyes. I remember him fondly, as I do all of them.

I will miss this city, this house, and the friends that have made it home here. Ms. P, Ms. G, E, Ms. K, Ms. F, Ms. S, Mr. C, Mr. B, Mr. R...couldn't have done it without them. They filled this experience with fun and laughter. They kept me grounded. They are the star players in some of the most precious memories I've made to date.

...did I mention I was sentimental? How many people are still reading?

Secondly, I am afraid of the future. How many times does God have to pour lavish blessings on my head and provide for me beyond what I need for me to realize I'm taken care of? I'm afraid because I don't have a plan, I don't have a direction and I don't have a clue what I'm going to do next. At 25, that's kind of scary. Shouldn't I have at least an idea?

Lastly and most importantly, I am touched by God's faithfulness to me. I've already mentioned it (and in the next breath doubted it), but how sweet it is to finish up these two years and see it. Everything I asked for, He gave it times ten. He gave me support, love, fun, laughter, joy, meaningful work, a home, encouragement and so many other things I can't even think of right now. He carried me through this emotionally-draining job and spiritually-draining school. He taught me so much. He used me for good things. He protected me from bad things.

My words are trite.

As Mrs. M pointed out: We began this journey crying and we leave it crying; we've come full circle. I know that my overall sentiment when looking back on this will be one of fondness and affection. I'll remember the challenges and the days when I'd rather run off the road and hit a telephone pole than go to school (see posts 1-50), but more than that I'll remember the fun I had.

I know that this chapter has been preparing me for what's next, and it's okay that I don't know what that is right now...

...if it's half the roller-coaster, rewarding, hilarious journey this has been, IMMA BE STRAIGHT. Thanks for reading, keeping up, praying, laughing and crying along with me. Stay tuned!

1

I found myself tearing up a few times today at the cookout.

I'll say it was just because it was about 283746 degrees outside.

Luckily Que was there to cheer me up. This is Que. He has a special message for us in his hair.

In case you can't read, it says "SCHOOL OUT."

"Love it Que," I told him. "But shouldn't it say "SCHOOL'S OUT?"

"No." He shook his had and laughed at my stupidity. "I only go to one school!"

2

We rotated the kids throughout all the different 8th grade classrooms for "Game Day." It didn't really work; as soon as the kids hit the hallway, they went wherever they wanted and did it on their own time. After the first couple of "rotations," we decided to just keep the group we had for the rest of the day.

Mr. W stopped me in the hall. "We're not rotating anymore, right?"

"Right," I confirmed.

"Good. That was a disaster. I had Mr. E's kids and it was AWFUL. I couldn't take it."

I smiled sweetly at him for a few seconds.

"...Oh yeah...those are your boys too," he said sheepishly. "Sorry."

Don't apologize. Now you know what we had to deal with ALL day EVERY day. I actually feel a little validated by others' acknowledgement of how different it is to teach that particular group.

Today while I was playing Uno, Malik randomly and urgently posed a question to me:

"MS. M! YOU CATHOLIC OR BAPTIST!??"

"Umm, neither, actually. I'm Presbyterian."

"Oh, oh yeah! I know 'bout dat! That man be wearin' dem gowns when he be walkin' down the aisle."

I stared blankly at him.

"But he be spillin' dat wax on me when he holdin' that big candlestick. He be walkin' down the aisle talkin' 'bout some 'Hoooollllyyy Gooodddd Ouurrr Faaaatherrr Hmmmmm'"

He sang and pranced through the classroom holding an imaginary Paschal candle, a clumsy cross between an altar boy and a chanting monk.

Clearly he's never rolled with the Presbos.

3

"What is you WEARIN' Ms. M!?!"

"I'm wearing today's dress code for teachers: 'college t-shirt and khaki pants.' Only the one pair of khaki pants I own are these and I look like a boy."

"Yeah....dey too BIG. Dey black people pants. You finna sag."

I had to agree. I looked ridiculous. I also happened to wear my hair wavy, which incited several unsolicited comments on my appearance.

James: "You havin' like tha worst hair day EVER. Like what is yo hair DOIN'?"

"That's impolite, James," I told him.

"I jus' tell the truth all tha time. Better than lyin' to ya an' tellin' you you look good then you walk out'tha house lookin' a mess like you do right now!"

But later, Stephon: "Ms. M, you look pretty today."

"Thanks?" I said, gesturing to my masculine threads.

"Naww I mean your hair."

"She looks pretty EVERY day, Stephon," Brent chimed in. "Why you actin' like today any different?"

Silly boys. Wish they paid as much attention to my lessons as they do my choice of clothing/hairstyles.

4

Well, the winner of my unofficial ebonics quiz was...Susan(!?). Who would have thought that the whitest, prissiest graduate of Trinity Presbyterian School would be the darkhorse candidate to take the prize?

Maybe it was because there were only two entries (the other being by my sister). However, since the number of applicants was so low and DA's was so funny, I declare both of you winners and will be commissioning your letter-writing tomorrow.

Hey, don't worry about sending me your addresses because:

A) I will live with you, Suz, in a matter of weeks, and

B) I will see you, sister, in ONE week

Four days.

well you would KNOW if you had paid ATTENTION!!

Quiz time! Time to test your ebonics skillz. Since I've immersed myself in the language, I consider myself fluent. I love some of the phrases I've learned over the past couple of years and will use some of them for life. When I go home, I often break into, "Why you trippin? Imma be up there in a second, you just gon' hafta chilll for a second, talkin' bout some 'HURRY UP, WE TRYNA LEAVE!!'" To which my parents respond with blank stares. "Why are you talking like that?"

If you've been keeping up with my blog (or are just a natural born gangsta), this list should look familiar. Comment and tell me what each means and you'll get one point for each one you get correct. Person with the most points by Monday will receive a hand-written letter from one of my precious angels.

Don't look at the comments and cheat. (I must think I'm talking to my students; y'all wouldn't do that!)

Great idea, Suz.

1. Wilin'

2. Flexin'

3. Goin' ham

4. Sheisty

5. Real talk

6. Racks

7. Trippin'

8. Duck

9. Box

10. Real rap

11. Gutta

12. Trill

13. G

14. OG

15. doin' too much

16. Bake

17. Twirkin'

18. Donk

19. Kush

20. Workin

21. Kicks

22. Put on blast

23. Flamin'

24. Killed

25. Beast

26. Threads

27. Straight

28. boom

Carowindz

We went on a field trip to Carowinds yesterday. For those of you who live outside of the Carolinas, Carowinds is an amusement park.

It. Was. AWESOME.

Initially, I was skeptical, as I have only ridden two big girl roller coasters in my entire life. Heaven forbid I give my boys any more ammunition on the "Ms. M is wimpy" front though, so I bravely attempted every last roller coaster there. The boys were thrilled that I was willing to ride the scariest rides with them and begged for me to take a turn beside them.

Highlights:

I convinced Dante to put his hands up with me during the biggest drop in the whole park (the picture at the top), which merely resulted in him grabbing my raised hand and holding it so tightly my rings made indentions in my flesh.

During one line, Rashin (one of my gay students) asked my if I'd had breast surgery. Umm, if I had, I'd better have asked for a refund!

Je'Corey talking me through a particularly stomach-wrenching ride. "It's gon' be OK, Ms. M!! Just hold onto that lil knob right there an' quit trippin'!"

My autistic student chanting "I believe, I believe, I believe" while we climbed a summit then yelling "I FEEL LIKE I'M IN HEAVEN!!!" as we descended. Then, at the bottom: "See what happens when we confront our fears, Ms. M!? [high five]"

My favorite ride, however, was with stoic Willie, who screamed like a girl the ENTIRE two minutes of another roller coaster. Hilarious. Tears streamed out of my eyes and up my forehead (that's a first).

It's so nice to hang out with these hilarious, dynamic and crazy fools when I don't have to teach them or discipline them. Aka every other day of the year.

*

I hope that it was clear in my last post I was comparing myself to my students, not God. Duh.

One Week...

That's all I have left.

I've taught for 355 (!) days and have five left. That's so...surreal. I still feel like I will be held hostage within RMS' halls for a lifetime. Like August 25th will roll around and I'll be back in room 525, giving my "Welcome to 8th grade science" speech. Again.

I've been looking forward to this since the day I started, and now that it's here, I don't believe it. I guess I feel like something grand and momentous should happen to mark the occasion/bring closure...like...a kid come to me and through tears tell me how I've changed his life and how he's already gotten his scholarship letter from a prestigious college....

...or...fireworks should be shot inside the building and blow the roof off to reveal a giant "YOU DID IT MS. M!!!" written in the clouds (by God, of course).

or I walk outside the building and an emotional song plays over the loudspeakers while my students parade behind me, sobbing and waving streamers.

I don't know. Something like that. Instead, many of my kids have been suspended for the rest of the year, meaning I won't say bye to them at all. The rest who don't just stop coming will get on my nerves up until the bell rings for 5th block on the very last day, when they will exit out of the door and my life.

I suspect that then I will be the only one crying. Crying out of relief, a little regret that I couldn't do better, a lot of sadness for the sad culture I was immersed in but couldn't (and can't) change, knowledge that I will miss these knuckleheads and always wonder about them, fear for their futures, fear for my future,

do I need a new paragraph? or at least sentence?

gratitude toward the Lord for His faithfulness, humility at what He taught me, and amazement at how much I've been forced to grow up and toughen up over the last few years.

Already crying? Seriously, M.

A word of encouragement, straight from my final survey...

"Ms. M always gave it her all and did her best, even when we was actin' crazy."

I might not have been the greatest, most inspiring, heroic teacher ever, but that was never my prayer. My prayer was that, in spite of my shortcomings, the kids would recognize just that: I was trying my best for them. I don't think my efforts would have meant as much without the bad attitudes, disrespect, ingratitude and misbehavior. After all, God's love for us wouldn't be as amazing and compelling if we were obedient and perfect.

"But God shows his love for us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."

Amen.