This morning was cheerleading practice (I know, I know. . .). Lydia, one of my 5th graders, is among them (I have her sister in 6th grade, too), and today I took her home. Her mom died at age 26 of heart disease, leaving behind eight children who now live with their grandma in a tiny apartment. She seems like a very nice woman (every time I see her, she is wearing a huge fur hat), but she’s in poor health & in no place to be raising a second round of kids (6 are still in elementary school — plus 1 year-old twins). Lydia normally sasses me a little in class & sometimes gets in fights, but if my childhood was that tumultuous, I would be the same way. I have been meaning to find a way to speak with her in a quiet moment, so on a whim, I decided that we should have lunch together before I took her to back.

I was nervous for a minute that shouldn’t wouldn’t want to eat with me (weird how I get self-conscious still — like choosing where to sit in the lunchroom and maybe being rejected), but I got over it, and when I asked, her eyes lit up. We stopped at sonic, and with glee she ordered a huge, strawberry, lemon, blue slush (we couldn’t figure out what flavor the blue is) while we jammed out to Beyonce. Over burgers & fries I finally got up the courage to ask about her family, and we ended up talking honestly– like I’d hoped–about losing loved ones and making it through hard times. She said the doctors told them that part of the reason her mom died is that she had too many children, and it weakened her organs. I’m worried that she’s internalized that to mean  she is part of the reason her mom died? how awful.

Anyway, the point is that I wanted to take her home with me, but instead I’ve got to do my best during the few hours a day that I see her to love her up (and teach her) really well so that she can make it through all the crap life is dealing her. I am slowly realizing that too many of my other students have similar stories. During training, we heard a lot of stories about the things our kids might be dealing with, but it’s different in the flesh — darker, sadder, and often obscured under all sorts of disguises like toughness, ambivalence, and downright meanness. And sometimes I let myself be fooled by the games and disguises, and I get angry and frustrated with the kids. But there is always more to the story than what is seen. I mean to be better at remembering that in the new year. Not that it makes trying to teach in the face of constant defiance, disrespect, and attention-getting shenanigans any easier, but maybe this knowledge, always at the front of my mind, will give me the grace and patience I so need but usually lack. perspective is key.

For now, though, Matty and I are going to secret santa Lydia’s family, and I’m totally stoked about it. This is my favorite kind of gift-giving. If you’re reading this, you probably won’t get a Christmas gift from me . . . but I figured you’d all approve of this alternate use of funds

Peace to you.

I’m always thinking about hours now. If I stay two extra at school, I have about six left by the time I get home and a little over six for sleeping. And right now I am sitting here trying to unwind over a glass of pinot noir, but I’m thinking about the hours left before I need to go to bed to be ready for the six hours of professional development tomorrow, plus 1-2 hours hanging out with people I’ve neglected and the hour it will take me to get back home. On Sunday, Matty and I will have our weekly lunch date, and then I will have eleven hours (two and a half will be spent at school) before it is time to get my a-little-over-six-hours of sleep and start the whole mess over again.

Part of me thinks it is good to be so aware of using my time, my life, purposefully, but another (perhaps lazier) part of me wonders when/if there will ever be a time when I won’t feel Time always ten steps ahead of me. Heck, I’m already thinking of my 2 months off this summer (I feel like it was 3 months when I was in school?) and making a list of things I want to read, paint, sew, plan and prepare for next year. I think soon I will be at the end of my life, and there is so much to do.

But I least when I do get my a-little-over-six hours of sleep at night, it is genuine, purposeful sleeping — not the kind of sleeping that bored people do. I am thankful for this, and at least for today, the things that don’t get done can wait for that magical day when there is enough time.

Now I have about five hours.

I started this day back with a district Science meeting. A really enthusiastic lady talked to us about inquiry based Science and the all new curriculum that will be introduced next year. Our county curriculum director (a really nice lady) openly admitted that we’ve been way overlooking Science for a long time and teachers don’t have the supplies they need to actually do it in the classroom. This somehow made me feel slightly justified, or at least less insane.

When I got back to school, surprise! I have a new student. Most of the kids referred to him as “that newboy” all afternoon, but his name is actually Trevion Toovarius Terrell Ross. He’s bright, but also very chatty. hoping for the best.

After school today, I was approached in the library by Christopher Craig. Normally he is very whiny and opposed to doing anything I ask, and he sasses me like he’s getting paid for it. Last time he was in my class, I told him to spit out the peppermint he was eating. He refused, so I took him to the trash can and I squeezed his cheeks together with my hand (in true mom fashion . . .). He still wouldn’t do it, so I sent him to wait in the hall. When I got out to him a few minutes later, he had tried to swallow the damn thing whole, gagged himself, and barfed on the floor. I called it karma.

BUT today in the library we had a real conversation — about thanksgiving, family, the tundra . . . and he hugged me. Then he said goodbye & hugged me again. Then, a few minutes later, he wandered to my classroom, said goodbye again, and hugged me again.

I nearly cried. I think I’m going to work on relationship building — as a practice of love and (rather conveniently) as a preventative classroom management strategy.

Tomorrow is Thursday, and the day after is Friday. A whole week — A WHOLE WEEK — off.

Yesterday I got the worst haircut of my life (and I’ve had some doosies). I said, “trim and shape; sleek.” She heard, “Make short layers, fluff, feather, and make an old lady mullet.” Thanks, Judy.

Today after school I was playfully (?) picked on by the other teachers for being too quiet. Apparently that’s why my students don’t listen to me. Except that at the end of every day I am nearly hoarse from shouting and talking loud over all the nonsense. But next week I am resting my vocal chords & getting myself together. I am reading wonderful things from RH & AL, spending time with my family, and putting together a kick ass plan to get my kids in line and on track. And I am going to see my husband.

The Writer’s Almanac warmed my soul today. Have a listen:  http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2009/11/18

Expect a letter back . . . soon.

Dear Friends,

I want you to know that the cotton has been harvested. After it was baled, a huge gin getter packed it all up and hauled it to places that will make it into our t-shirts. Now, the fields are all bare and stubbly, and all that’s left is the most wonderful roadside litter — fluffy cotton balls and tufts for ten miles. It occurred to me as I drove to work this morning with the sun shining bright in my eyes (SO nice to not drive to work in morning-dark) that the world’s largest pillow fight may well have taken place here last night while I was sound asleep. This poem came to mind, and it was a good way to start the day.

Unharvested

A scent of ripeness from over a wall.
And come to leave the routine road
And look for what had made me stall,
There sure enough was an apple tree
That had eased itself of its summer load,
And of all but its trivial foliage free,
Now breathed as light as a lady’s fan.
For there had been an apple fall
As complete as the apple had given man.
The ground was one circle of solid red.

May something go always unharvested!
May much stay out of our stated plan,
Apples or something forgotten and left,
So smelling their sweetness would be no theft.

(R. Frost)

I heard this woman on Fresh Air one day, and I had to sit in the driveway for about 30 minutes so I could listen to the rest of the interview. This poem is from her 1st collection, Slamming Open the Door, about her only daughter’s murder (an exboyfriend and a telephone cord), the trial, grief, and life going on somehow. It is both chilling & beautiful (even better if you listen to her read it around minute 43: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=111218053 )

Poem About Light

Kathleen Sheeder Bonanno

 

You can try to strangle light:
use your hands and think
you’ve found the throat of it,
but you haven’t.
You could use a rope or a garrote
or a telephone cord,
but the light, amorphous, implacable,
will make a fool of you in the end.

You could make it your mission
to shut it out forever,
to crouch in the dark,
the blinds pulled tight—

still, in the morning,
a gleaming little ray will betray you, poking
its optimistic finger
through a corner of the blind,
and then more light,
clever, nervy, impossible,
spilling out from the crevices
warming the shade.

This is the stubborn sun,
choosing to rise,
like it did yesterday,
like it will tomorrow.
You have nothing to do with it.
The sun makes its own history;
light has its way.

This week I kept a list ( a real, handwritten list), of the good and beautiful things going on in my life that they might prove victorious over all the mess in the end.

1. Almost all day last Saturday I did no school-related work. Instead, I cooked an enormous pot of my favorite tomato soup, and for hours the house smelled like simmering garlic, tomato, and onion with a touch of cream. about 10 pints all together. I put 6 in the freezer and felt pleased to know that on some cold, difficult day in the coming weeks I might come home and be warmed by something delicious. and I felt very close to Shaub who mass produces vegetable soup at the first hint of cold. this thought pleased me, too.

2. I sort of accidentally had a 5-day weekend. I spent part of Friday vomiting, so that didn’t feel much like vacation, but on Sunday I packed up and headed to Jackson for a teaching conference. My directions took me down an old road I’ve never driven — lined with cotton fields in full bloom, rusty maples, golden oaks, and all manner of beauteous things. I very quickly got over my disappointment at traveling alone. The Avett brothers kept me company, and the wonders of Autumn restored my soul. I didn’t wear a watch for five days straight.

3. I slept 2 nights alone in a hotel, in a huge-cloud-of-a-bed with six (6!) luxurious pillows all to myself.

4. In one session I went to, the word umbrageous came up. (and no one else knew what it meant.)

5. I am in love.

6. I received two (2!!) letters from dear sisters this week.

7. Several kids were genuinely pleased to see me back at school on Wednesday. For nearly 30 minutes they worked quietly and seemed to appreciate how good they have it in my class.

It’s becoming increasing clearer that I’m failing. Too many kids in my Science classes are failing (I have to start grading more gently, they say). Volunteers keep showing up to help me, which I like, but it also makes me feel inadequate — and I think my kids are starting to get that idea, too. I have a mentor teacher who showed up last week to help (a 44 year! veteran now retired), and she is awesome, but then some kids asked if she was going to be their new teacher or if she was there because I need help. fuck. And this is not going like I wanted. And failure is frustrating the hell out of me.

I had parent/teacher conferences that went well this week — lots of parents gave me phone numbers and told me to call. I hope they meant it. Then the teachers and parents went over last year’s standardized test results together. Only a handful (literally) of students passed the Science exam. No one was proficient. The principal turned around at this point of the presentation and gave me the look that said I have lots of work to do. just in case I didn’t already know. I’m working my butt off, but I don’t know any magic tricks. Any ideas?

Also, I get the feeling that the other teachers are talking about me. Every time my class is too loud in the lunch room . . . every time I send someone to the office . . . it’s kind of painful to think about.

And tomorrow while I am gone all day at a “professional Saturday” some lady is coming to look at “our” house because she wants to buy it. so we might have to move.

I just needed to say those things. Now I am done & must get back to lesson planning.

I realized last Saturday (when I showed up at basketball practice and received smiles and waves from some of my most bad ass, behavior problem little boys) that I haven’t been meeting my students on their terms. I have been staunchly demanding that we meet as scholars, and I try to hold myself to high standards of professionalism so that my students will understand the seriousness of the work we have and my high expectations for them. There is certainly a place for this. But I have forgotten to connect that to humanity. How can my students look at me and try to emulate my work ethic or high standards if they don’t first see that I’m a real person and that there are real reasons to try hard and real rewards for self discipline and jobs done well? I think I’ve been trying to reach them from an abstract, academia sort of land that they have no knowledge of or interest in — which is fair because that’s not where real life happens for them or anyone else. And it doesn’t fit with everything I’ve been telling them about all of life being a learning experience or education being concretely useful.

So I must find ways to be a hardcore, but still human, teacher. I have decided that I need to be wherever they are outside of the classroom. Surely if they see that I really do care about them, and I like to watch them having fun, they will realize that I don’t give them work to do just to make them miserable. I’m hoping all of this will draw us back to a sense of purpose about all that we do. You may not believe this, but I’m helping out with the basketball team AND the cheerleaders. Yes, the cheerleaders, too. These are the only 2 extracurricular activities our school really has, so they are a huge deal to the kids and a huge honor to be part of.

Of course, I’m normally pretty skeptical of the role sports (especially cheerleading) play alongside academics, but I’m realizing that they really need this. Most of them have never been part of anything before. They don’t have little league teams or girl scouts. I’m beginning to understand why they can’t work with each other in class or get along with anyone else — they’ve never had to. I lecture them about teamwork and responsibility thinking they understand, but I see now that all of this is brand new. It’s comical to watch them trying to play basketball because everyone is on his/her own planet, but it’s a little sad, too.  I see now why sports change people’s lives, and if that’s where light bulbs are turning on and progress is being made, that’s where I’m going to be. And it doesn’t hurt that now  I can threaten kids with running suicides after school. (laughs, wildly.) My favorite cheer so far is entitled “Shake Them Skirts”.

Also, this week was the end of the 1st nine weeks. And I’m still alive — still hopeful even!

Now about non-school things. The Stone Pony is now officially open for business. Matty is kicking ass and taking names with his pizza skills, and everyone is thrilled. They opened on Wednesday — it was a hot mess of people everywhere and the wait for a pizza was about an hour (!), so I headed to the kitchen and pitched in. By Friday night, it was a well-oiled machine, and I think good things are coming of this already.  Everywhere I go, people have read about my husband in the newspaper (or read his articles), and they predict that he will do very well here. I agree, and it pleases me beyond words that good things have been prepared in advance for BOTH of us in this place. But I am not surprised.

Today I had all most a whole hour of near perfection. It started out looking very bad in the hallway, just like every other day. This is my last Science class of the day — right before lunch, and lately they’ve been giving me more attitude than you’d think a bunch of 11-13 year olds could give. . . .

But a few minutes into class something miraculous happened — they stopped talking and fighting, and then they started listening and actually doing the work I was assigning. All of them. It was like a very fragile layer of calm had settled over the room, perhaps like the winter’s first dusting of snow, and I had to step very gently to keep it from melting as I walked around the classroom talking about vascular and nonvascular plants. And I had to keep my voice very low and smooth (like coaxing one down from a high window ledge) so as to not add too much noise or disturb whatever balance was holding things together. But it lasted. The whole rest of the hour. I quietly announced that I was going to write a positive note home (attached to 20 scholar dollars) to each student’s parent because they had shown me perfection. Then they lined up quietly, and we went into the hallway, just like I’d always dreamed we might.

This will be enough to get me through the tumult next week (report cards!) will bring. Good things are happening — even if at a snail’s pace, they are still happening.

All of this and tomorrow is Friday.