At the end of my first week teaching, I find myself a little blue. The kids are pumpkins. My colleagues are chill. My principal is supportive. The school is solid. My first parent meeting 1) was scheduled in advance by the parent 2) started early and 3) involved a succinct 20-minute conversation about the kid's academic progress. In other words, I have a pretty dreamy job, and I'm not complaining at all.
Yet I feel a little blue. What's up with that? So, the kids are easier. I knew they'd be. So the school is larger and has more resources, especially in the sheer number of adult bodies on campus. Again, no shock. I don't resent the privilege of these kids because they are as much a product of the inequalities in the world as my former students. These kids are the winners, but they are not to blame. (Though there is blame aplenty to portion out. Please vote for Obama and anything that will help kids this Nov.! It's not nearly enough, but it's a start.) Political commentary aside, I made a completely conscious decision to travel across the world and live in a new country--and I knew I'd be teaching the winners as a result of that choice. I had a lot of reasons for doing so, but I came into this with my eyes open. It was never my intention to equate the work we did in Bayview/Hunter's Point with the work I'm doing here. I thought I had made peace with that. And I have, in many ways.
Then I realized what it's been like to plan this week. I realized that for five years I have thrown myself into the curriculum, digging into concepts with the tenacity of a wolverine. It was vital that I find the key buried in the abstractions that would unlock the door for my students--the door to that magic place where their own knowledge and what they needed to learn melded into a solid building block that would outlast the class period or the week. For five years I planned around the question: what will unlock the door? Because the door was often shut (plenty of other doors were open, but the one I dealt with were closed tight and hard to find--sometimes they had been slammed long ago by previous teachers who hadn't bothered to look for them).
This week I've been approaching planning the same way and feeling kind of useless. There is not the same urgency. Duh, you may be saying. I know! I reply. But then what is my question? If I'm not unlocking the door and digging with the ferociousness of a wild, backwoods creature, then what am I doing?
Do NOT give me a corny answer. If you're going to say: well, this is your wonderful opportunity to push them farther and challenge them even more! Don't say it! Give me a question instead. I don't have to have the same intellectual challenge as I did in the city, but I'd like one, if it's possible. I'll keep thinking...let me know if you have any thoughts...
8 years ago
4 comments:
Ray, that admirable tenacity you blasted out for five years left you with NOTHING left for yourself. You went to AD in part to get a little more balance back in your life. The answer might be that it's OK to direct a little energy on something else, like yourself, and that work doesn't always have to be that hard.
Ok, since when was it not okay to be thankful, even happy, for your privilege? When did it become wrong that some children/people have "normal" lives? Why should people, especially children or you, feel guilty for what they have? I pose those questions for you, because you have worked hard for the plight of the underprivileged. Yes, it is wrong that so many have so little. However, you need your balance back in your life and just as Jane said, that is why you are in AD. If anything, if you want a challenge, pose this questions to yourself..."How do I help these children understand that they are so very lucky and should be thankful everyday for the lives that they lead?" Now, that would be a feat all unto its own.
Hmmm, I always wondered what it would be like if I ever went to a school that was not in dire need, a transition to the Marina like Richard, or more like you when we think about teaching abroad at a a school that O could attend. Your internal dilema (if that is what it is) is not unlike the one in my head. I fear that I would not be such a good teacher in a less dire situation.
Belated answer due to going on vacation for a week: I think "the question" depends on what YOU want to get out of teaching these kids. Why are you there?
At your old school you wanted to open them up to learning and success. These kids already have that. What else do you want to give them? A distinct voice? A love of books? A broader awareness of the world?
Whatever it is, I hope it's something you can do with less intensity and more energy left over for you.
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