Permanent

one lonely night - 25 January 2012 (first night of student teaching)

i desire the temporary because it is a reflection of the permanent.
so though i fall in love with shadows, and my hunger never ceases;
so though every street has an end, and the oceans have a bottom;
and though my height is not to the heavens, nor my reach across the canyons, and my vision cannot penetrate walls
i desire the temporary because it is a reflection of the permanent.
and the permanent waits for the temporary's end,
patient not for its death, but for its rebirth that it may never die again.
so though every morning has an evening
--every moon its stars, and every sun its clouds--
i desire the temporary not for its reflection but because of its reflection.
i am a reflection.
and i desire to be permanent.

----

So, I am a troublemaker. I am that teacher that makes exceptions. Well, more than a teacher, I am that person that makes exceptions. I am the queen of exceptions. I bend the rules all the time. All the time. Rules are not made to be broken, not really, but then they are not so rock-solid that a little flexibility is out of order.

This is difficult, but a catch comes with this: not everyone agrees with me.

It's just that...you do agree with me.

You change your rules all the time. You do. You change your rules according to situation and person. Years ago it may've been all right to take pictures of students, but now it's not. Years before, you might've been able to drive a student home, but now it's not. But exceptions can still be made. Where do you think all those phenomenal inspiring teachers came from?

Rule benders.

But that's enough of my high horse. I'll just have to keep doing what I do to stay where I am. The status quo is not meant to be broken. ...yet.

Muahahaha. Okay.

Tell Me Why!

last wednesday i watched Jeopardy! one of the contestants on the show was a teacher (i forget his name). alex trebeck asked the teacher if his students knew he was on Jeopardy!

"they do know. actually, they cheer for me. they're probably watching right now."

   "do the students who cheer for you get better grades?"

   "weeeeell, all my students get good grades- correllation is not necessarily causation."

or the dialogue went something like that. 

frankly, i can't remember the last time i had to grade something, but i work with, play with, and hang out with enough kids to know that they never run out of questions. ever.

but it isn't something for which they recieve a low of high mark, no matter how much they may try to flatter the teacher. 

it might be easier to grade based on flattery, though...

but why don't we 'grade' based upon curiosity? 

"why do we have to learn adverbs and adjectives."

   "so you don't confuse then with nouns and verbs."

   "why do i have to know those things, too?"

   "because you speak. if you're going to speak, you are going to have to speak well?"

   "but why do i have to speak well?"

   "because you want to be heard. you want people to know that you matter; that what you say matters."

   "i don't care about what people think of me."

   "do you have friends?"

   "yeah."

   "do you want your friends to stay your friends."

   "yeah."

   "then you care. now- adverbs and adjectives."

okay, okay. that scenario is idealized, yes. on the spot, a student asking me "why" might put a little more pressure on me just to answer, "just because." and everyone hates that answer. i don't want to be that teacher- that adult- that condescends. 

it may be annoying to ask "why?" because going back to the correlation/causation thing: the student may not even be particularly sincere in asking. he may just be trying to get me off track and waste time. (i know i did that.)

but he asked. 

don't ask if you don't want to know. you may or may not be ready for my answer. and don't be worried if i don't know either. that's one of the main points of being human: asking and growing.

"no, seriously. why do i have to know about adverbs and adjectives?"

   "well, let's figure it out together shall we?"

   "brownie points for interest!"

   "but we'll see about that higher letter grade."

Job hunts are like relationships. Bad relationships.

Dear Justine,
   Thank you very much for your interest in ----. We appreciate your time and effort. Although your background and experience is extensive, we have decided to move forward with other candidates that best fit the position. We wish you great success in your career search.

You wish me 'great success'? My 'background and experience is extensive' but apparently, I'm still lacking. Generally, every candidate will lack something, but I obviously lacked that one thing. That one thing!

You know that movie He's Just Not that Into You?

There's this part of the film where two women talk about the different lines guys use to break up.:

"He'll tell me 'Oh. You're too good for me.' Or!- 'You'll make someone else really happy. He'll be lucky to have you."
   "Yeah, yeah, yeah, and you feel good about yourself. But then you realize, 'That could've been you!"

This is how job hunting feels like- I'm good enough, but for someone else. I'll get a job, I will. Because I'm a hard worker, competent, and intelligent. I just...okay. I'll wait. I can keep waiting. You're right.

Whoever will hire me will be lucky to have me.

...I wish you wanted to be the lucky one. I must have bad taste, or something.

How is this a teaching tidbit (TTB)? Aren't TTBs on Fridays? It's Saturday today.

Because wanting a job that seems 'perfect' for me, well, it may not be. I don't have to learn why I'm fit for the job. I just have to learn to move on. To keep looking. Maybe it'll find me. Maybe it won't. Still, a couple bad experiences don't dictate every other experience I'll ever have.

There's still reason to hope.

I'm only two years into job hunting. The way I see it, I'm a sophomore in job hunting. So...two more years.

Yay.

----

I'm not going to pretend. I didn't read my Bible at all this week. Actually, no- I take that back. I read my Bible last Monday. I don't remember what I read though. Admittedly, I have been preoccupied, obviously meditating on thoughts I shouldn't entertain.

I guess that's another thing I have to learn. If I expect to do this every Saturday, I need to be prepared to do it. I have to prepare throughout the week. I need to plan better. Okay. I can do that. It's a new week tomorrow. I got this.

Tomorrow, too, you'll get your song [:

Hopeful

Apparently, this month is also not going to be a month of full of blogs. It's like, have you ever mentally answered a text but you never sent it? That's what my blog is like now. Gah.

what should have been yesterday (Friday):
A couple weeks ago I read Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption by Stephen King. A novella. Read it in a day. Loved it. Even if you've seen the 1994 movie, the main character, Andy Dufresne, is just as endearing. So you know that while he is imprisoned, Andy builds a library and from that, helps people earn their GEDs/high school equivalencies. Don't ask me when Andy said this, or to whom he said this, but he at one point talks about what makes or breaks a man- frankly, what it is that makes a person:

But it isn't just a piece of paper that makes a man. And it isn't just a prison that breaks one, either.

Even two years out of college, it's easy to still think of my success and failures in terms of percentages and letters. And, no, I've never been in prison, but if it's anything like what Brooks Hadley (from the movie) experienced, it's sad: a poor definition that limits him as a human being. Or, as Red would say, institutionalized.

What makes or breaks a person is not as easy to point out. To each his own weakness, but also to each his own strength, and unfortunately, the two are often intertwined making it harder to understand and know what we need to do in order to develop and improve.

If only I arrived the moment I graduated. If only he were completely torn down when he was imprisoned. But either way, that's not how it works. We read stories like the Shawshank because of the hope it gives. Hope that there is more to me than papers and stone.

Speaking of hope...

what is today (Saturday):
I decided I want to reread Nehemiah, one of my favorite books of the Bible. So much so that I want to name future daughter after him. Daughter, you ask? Uh, yeah! So I can call her Miah (MYa) for short! Anyway, anyway.

I only reread the first two chapters, which brought a question to my mind: Why does Nehemiah have to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem? No, no. I totally get what walls meant back then. I mean, have you seen the blue walls of Babylon?! The walls of a city are its pride- the first wave of protection. A city without walls is a vulnerable city, susceptible to any attack. No city wants that.

But still... Why Nehemiah? You're not even living in Jerusalem anymore. You're cup bearer to Artaxerxes, King of Persia. Why go back? Because it's where he belongs: it's still home.

But then I ask, why was it destroyed in the first place? If we believe in the same God that means Nehemiah and I both know that God allowed the walls to be destroyed. But why, God?

Nehemiah answers, ...even I and my father's house have sinner (7) We have acted very corruptly against you and have not kept the commandments, the statues, and the rules that you commanded your servant Moses.

From what I've read and studied so far, God's relationship with his chosen people is short-term conditional. Before the Messiah comes, they have to follow all those rules. (8) Remember the word that you commanded your servant Moses, saying, "If you are unfaithful, I will scatter you among the peoples- Nehemiah is cup bearer in Persia- far from home- (9) but if you return to me and keep my commandments and do them, though your outcasts are in the uttermost parts of heaven, from there I will gather them and bring them to the place I have chosen, to make my name dwell there. (emphasis mine)

Generally, God will act with or without his people, but I sense that he prefers to work with his people.

So, it looks as though, Nehemiah doesn't just rebuild the walls to restore safety and honor to his homeland and people, but also to restore his people's relationship with God. "God you promised this and have upheld your end. Now it's my turn to uphold my end of the promise."

Huh, that is a lot of pressure.

Shoelaces

A lack of experience doesn't necessarily mean a lack of experience. On a small scale, some of my students don't know how to tie their own shoes. I, therefore, have the responsibility to tie it for them to prevent them tripping over their own feet. But I can't tie their shoes forever for two reasons (1) they'll have to grow up sooner or later (2) I only have, at most, 8 hours a week with these kids- there isn't much I can properly teach in that short time.

Still, with their imaginations as running wild as they do I'm surprised they haven't imagined a different way to tie their shoelaces. In their minds they can rob banks, or be the policemen who catch the robbers who rob banks. They can play house, pretend to be cats and dogs; climb mountains; score winning goals, but they're not creative enough to tie shoes?

Is it because it's too practical a task? It's not whimsical enough to use your imagination on?

I mean, when I was learning how to tie my shoes, I cried a lot of tears. A lot. I didn't receive my gold sticker for, like, ages.

I don't have a solution, but what would it take to transfer all that knowledge- all that imagination- to more 'practical' problems?

On a large scale, I was a never pleased when I knew that the school hired a teacher who didn't have a teaching degree, just a doctorate the field, or had a couple television shows-how's that so different from teaching a bunch of high schoolers?-hardly any sharks there. If its experience we want these children to grow up and have, it begs the question: what kind of experience?

Getting a high school diploma is a kind of experience, but surely it's not the only one. It wasn't until at least a century ago, and apparently, the world's much older than that- 6,000 or 30,000,000,000, a century's not very long.

That won't stop me from tying my students' shoe laces- seriously, they could hurt themselves if they trip! But I regret the day they think they can do anything, and are thwarted with, "Not Enough Experience."

"Experience" is too often equated with "qualifications": that undermines how much of an individual's life is truly out of his or her hands. She can get into RIT, Stevens, and Columbia, but she can't afford it nor does she 'qualify' for enough scholarships so she has to settle for community school. It may not undermine her determination and willpower, but it certainly undermines any potential prospects she could have had had she been able to afford RIT, Stevens, or Columbia in the first place.

We are responsible to make these choices, and take the consequences that come with those choices, but I think I need to stop imagining that every person has a multitude of choices from which to pick. Most of life choices are a fork in the road, not an overflowing buffet.

I don't know. I was just talking about having imagination enough to tie shoelaces in a different way, but I guess that doesn't look very good on a professional resume.

Eh, give and take what you can.

...but if you find out a different way to tie shoelaces, I know I'll be all ears.

Exclusive

More than once I've had a student approach me to say, "They won't let me play with them." My first instinct is to tell the student to play on his own, or to find other friends, but out of my mouth always comes: "Okay. I'll talk to them."

Having already gone through growing pains, I now know and understand that I value my alone time, and am sometimes mature enough when people want to hang out without me. Sometimes I want to hang out without you, too [; But I still remember how it felt when I had no one to play with during recess- even after I stopped being the New Kid.

Students who come up to me expressing sadness at being left out don't lack independence, they probably just want to know, "Why won't they play with me?" which is an easier question to ask than, "What's wrong with me?"

Situations vary, and are separate from one another, yes, so there may be justifiable reasons only to play with a certain number of friends, but those reasons do not erase the larger problem at hand: exclusivity. In a present world of sides, I don't want future adults to continue the legacy of exclusivity. I want a future of empathy.

"But- but we're playing house and we already have the mommy and daddy and baby and doggie!"
   "How about an uncle?"

An entire future of empathy and creativity: How can we include more people? / I hurt that person's feelings. I shouldn't have done that. Because whether the consequences of exclusivity on the playground are short-term or long-term doesn't matter. If I tell the kid to go find other friends, then maybe when he's older he'll be a little more independent. Or if I tell the other kids to let him join, and the kid discovers on his own that he doesn't actually want to play with them, then he learns that on his own. Of all the possibilities that can unravel from that situation- I frankly don't care about the unraveling. No one knows what will unravel. I do, however, care a great deal of how I want these students and children to react: if I can foster a little flame of self and other-awareness I think I've done the majority of my job. If I can offer them the tools necessary to deal with whatever possibility comes at them then that should be enough.

"They won't let me play with them."
   "Here, come with me? Let's go talk with them."
   "Can you play with me?"
   "Oh yeah, of course."

And more often than not they eventually find other friends to play with.

Honesty is the Best Policy

Truth is a difficult concept. I believe in an Ultimate, universal Truth, but that's the not truth I'm talking about. I'm talking about truth with a lowercase 't', which frankly, is harder to find than the Ultimate, universal Truth because that doesn't change. Lowercase truth, however, is a paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaain.

Some of my students lately have asked me to tell them stories during their after school time, waiting for their parents to pick them up. They wanted to be characters in the story so in the stories I had them go on adventures with unicorns who steal rows of teeth, and changeling kittens.

Today was no different- they wanted to hear my stories again, except this time they would tell me the stories. This time I was the bad guy (although they couldn't think of a crime for me to commit) and they were the cops who were chasing me. Then I became a zombie. Then a human. Then a zombie again, but this time could be commanded to do stuff. So, they told me to run. I didn't think they actually wanted me to run because, you know, they were telling me a story, but then a student said, "You need to run because you're fat!" I expressed mock disbelief, and returned with, "That was not nice, mister," and proceeded to stay seated and listen to the rest of their story.

I am overweight. According to my BMI, I am obese...although I haven't checked my BMI in a while, so that could have altered, but still, I am not exactly slim, that's perfectly true.

And you know how difficult it is to tell children to be honest, to tell the truth, and yet counter them with, "Don't be rude!" Maybe instead of saying "Honesty is the best policy," or "Don't tell lies," adults should say, "Be encouraging with what you say. Don't not say the truth, but is it appropriate to say the truth just now? Did you really need to call your teacher fat just then?" I mean, why do adults tell kids such cheap lines like "Honesty is the best policy", and then get all surprised when they say embarrassing things to friends or strangers? You just told the kid it's the best policy, and you probably also told him he only deserves the best, and is the best, so why wouldn't he want to use the best policy? Why do adults talk to kids like kids?

Heck, why do we talk like that to each other? To our peers?

Now, okay, wait, back-up: I don't want to expose children/students prematurely (I already wrote a blog post about this here >> Expose vs. Educate), but why should I be the one to start them off confused? They're already going to be confused the rest of their lives- I want to give them the tools they'll need to search for and gain clarity instead of telling them the easy way out of things. Maybe they'll have a better chance at empathy and stop exclaiming, "That's weird!" (in a negative way) at everything (frankly, they're probably just as weird as what they're calling weird).




It's true people experience pain. It's true that there are those without homes and food. It's true that people are mean. It's true that I can't afford to pay off my bills. It's true that things aren't for forever. It's true that I'm lazy and frustrated and conceited and fat and distracted.

I'm sure there are a lot more truths about me that I could dig up and be ashamed of, but then the greatest truth of all: that I am loved--overpowers them all.

Trust me, you're loved, too.

"Stop yelling at me!"

Sometimes I don't know what boils my blood until someone asks me a question, then the volume of my voice gradually increases until the questioner is like, "Calm down, Justine."
   "Sorry," I'd reply, "I didn't know this bothered me. Did you know? Is that why you asked?"

Now that I know whatever-it-is bothers me I can do something about it, but I have to admit: all that yelling I did didn't get anyone anywhere; well, except me, but that's selfish.

Why I equate an increased volume with clarification is beyond me; I need to change this assumption because I know the moment someone starts yelling at me I stop listening. I don't like being yelled at, and, frankly, in spite, I will stop listening.




Once, I told a student, "Look me in the eye!" and I immediately regretted it. Hadn't I learned never to command a student to do that? Why shouldn't I do that? Because it's belittling. It's like when my parents told me to look them in the eye, and I was like "Nope!" I don't remember why I demanded that particular student to look me in the eye, but I do remember that I apologized right after.

I once called another student a drama queen- I made him cry, and I apologized for that, too.




When I yell, I guess I feel a sensation of power over the one I'm yelling at. This sometimes is necessary, but I can't imagine why it would be necessary in a community of peers who are equal, not in age, or rank, but in situation because the moment any adolescent walks into the school building, he or she is made my equal. As a teacher, I don't fill empty jars (how many times do we need to hear that?); I hope, instead, that I am adding positive things to his or her collection of life experience and truths because I'm a human who just happens to have a degree- a sheet of paper (and loads of debt)- that my students don't have yet.

Yes, yes, I have a responsibility as an authority figure in that classroom to make sure my students are safe and comfortable, but I am not their dictator. I can't just yell and command things.

If I don't stand for yelling, and passive-aggressively ignore it, I can only imagine how other people who more active-aggressively might come to ignore it...to me--I don't need to foster this sort of negative environment, anywhere, ever.

If you are going to yell, make sure it's not at someone. And yell good stuff like, "Have a great day!" or something else cheesy. [:

Good Readers

The following isn't really about teaching, but I would be remiss if I as an English teacher didn't at least once talk about reading.

Lately, I have been daydreaming about opening a tutoring center. Just me. In a house down the street and to the right. It's blue. I was thinking about teaching kids how to read properly. I don't mean how to read properly, like, "See Spot run." No, no, no, I mean, like translate Shakespeare and Tolstoy, and understand their context. But then, I don't know that parents would want to pay me just to let their kids read in cozy corners, they can do that at a library. But they don't. It's just, you know, parents sometimes already pay the stores in the mall for their kids so why should paying me to teach their kids to read a bad way to spend your money.

Because reading isn't passive. Reading consumes (or should consume) a person's entire being.

Reading won't develop your biceps any time soon (unless you're bench-pressing encyclopedias), please don't expect them to, but the ability to read well doesn't mean you can read 950 words a minute, or can discover the solution 30 pages before; the ability to read well, however, does mean that no matter what you read you allow yourself to be challenged by its theories, themes, conclusions, insights; etc.

Good readers appreciate a good plot, but crave a challenge, a statement, a purpose that requires more than me just turning the page. Good readers don't just want to find out what's next, they want to participate in what happens next for more than just experience, but for empathy. In books they may come across ogres, but in real life they'll be prepared to meet bullies.

Of course, all this has been said, but I should like to keep saying it: read, and read well.




Here's the teaching (-ish) bit!

Though I enjoy teaching English grammar (some phonetics), and literature, sometimes I feel those things futile when I don't have enough time to tell my students to use the tools I give them to read well because, I'll just be honest, having the tools to write and read well is very different from actually using those tools. Sure, I want them to know the difference between a question and a statement; sarcasm versus sincerity; a noun and an adverb; passive and active voice,, but if only there were an explicit, easy way to connect the two seemingly separate things.

Why should they be separate?! Working out is a vital part of any sports game, right? So why isn't the homework and in-class assignment I assign a vital part? Oh, that's right...because our educational system is more screwy than helpful. Man, I really need to learn how to make the system work for me.

A Glamorous Life

Teaching is not glamorous. (Like you need to be told that.) I mean, I guess it could be glamorous for theatre teachers who get to act and win Oscars, or train their student actors to win Oscars, but other than that, no glamour. Won't see any teachers on the front cover of Vogue anytime soon (but, you know, this is an unpredictable world). 

As far as my own teaching experience goes, I've gone through a lot of it when rose-colored glasses. As an idealistic undergrad I was always like, "I am never going to do that in my classroom." I had a list of things I would never do in my classroom, then come student teaching, I did most, if not all, of them--talk about hypocrisy in its highest form! 

I wanted to teach like The Dead Poet's Society, or Good Will Hunting, or Freedom Writers, Lean On Me- who wouldn't want to be that positive affect in someone's- a lot of someones- life? Not that those teachers would ever claim complete credit for their students' various successes (though why they claim complete credit for failure is beyond me), but good teacher's want to be good role models: this is the ideal.

However, realistically, the ideal cannot be lived out every day. This is not bad or wrong, but some days really do just drag on and on- some days are just mundane, which perhaps should make me more thankful for the days that are incredibly exciting and life-changing. 

Some days I don't get teachable moments- I just get a bunch of things I never thought I would say like, "No more crackers for you, kid. I said one cracker at a time, you have, like, fifty, which you're going to throw away anyway. No. No more crackers for you." Seriously, I never thought I'd get Jillian Micheals-serious about snack food. 

Some days need to be lazy days because I, or one of my students, might be going through a rough time outside of school (or even going through some petty drama: "He said he liked me, but he won't call."). Some days are just as far from glamorous as if 'glamour' didn't exist. Some days, I just need to make sure that my students leave with their pens and pencils in their backpacks. Some days, I can't ask for more than I can get, and that's fine- even fire crackers fade out. 

Still, I'd like to think I teach well enough to merit an inspirational, heart-wrenching film, I just want to make sure my students feel safe to make mistakes and ask questions. Anything extra is a plus.