to school

Near the end of the summer break, I made the decision - I even publicly announced it - that I would blog weekly, if not daily, about my experiences student teaching.

Yeah…about that.

I would like to say I've simply been too busy, so darn busy that I can't even think straight.  While that is, to some extent, true, it's not the whole reason: the rest is simply that I've been lazy.  I typically get home between 5:30 and 6, 5 if I bolt right at the bell, and usually after an hour-long drive.  (The school is 25 miles away, and 25 miles in rush-hour traffic - well, you get the picture.)  I know that sitting in traffic requires minimal physical effort other than that required to stay awake, but still, the last thing I want to do when I get home is think about anything, especially school-related anythings.  Please don't take that the wrong way: I adore my students, and even after the most frustrating of days, I often wake up the next morning actively brainstorming what I can do that will make that day better than the previous one.  The only times I ever even remotely question my decision to become a teacher is on Sunday nights, and that's mostly because I can feel the physical weight of what's left of last week's missed-out-on sleep resting heavily on my shoulders.  Truly, other than that, I love my job.

But I've been tired and busy and lazy, and I have allowed those reasons to keep me from blogging.  At all.  As days and weeks have passed, I have felt increasingly more concerned about the fact that I have more and more to write.  This means more time I need to spend writing it, which, in turn, makes me once again feel tired and unmotivated.

But not today!  It's time I took a stand against my laziness and started writing already.  After all, I tell my kids that I write every day.  Little do they know that, up until right now, that "writing" has been lesson plans and daily warm-ups/exit tickets.

I suppose, for now, I can start with a (vague) description of my setting.  I am, voluntarily, at a low-income school, a.k.a. "urban" - defined not by its location, but rather by its student body demographics: a certain percentage or higher of students who fall into minority racial categories plus a certain percentage of students enrolled in the Free and Reduced Lunch program (meaning they/their parents can't afford to buy or provide lunch for them).  In other words, kids whose families have a low socioeconomic status and are typically minorities.  Why teach in a school like that, you ask?  Well, I would counter, why not?  It's a school, they're kids, they need learnin', and that's that.  Yeah, things are different.  The behavior issues are quite different than what one will likely see in a suburban or predominantly white school - though, of course, kids who attend those such schools act out in their own manners.  The students at urban schools experience and deal with things in their homes and communities that many who come from almost anywhere else cannot imagine - though, of course, kids who attend affluent schools have their own home and family issues with which to contend.  The budgets at urban schools are quite low, often meaning that teachers are paid less, raises (which should occur annually - more $ for more experience) might happen sparsely if at all, and - worst of all - supplies are far from readily available, meaning that teachers must often teach with limited or outdated materials, technology is often unavailable, and extracurricular programs are in constant danger of being cut, either in part or altogether.  (The money thing might not affect affluent schools quite as much.)

Really, though, that doesn't sound so miserable to me.  Granted, I am fortunate enough to be in one of the better-run urban schools in this particular district - I have heard horror stories from teachers who have observed or worked in some of the neighboring schools, and, to be quite honest, it terrifies me.  But it does no good to think about those fears.  Trust me: I had plenty of them even going into this semester, when I knew I would be teaching alongside a woman with a decade of experience and who is regarded by everyone in the building as one of the best assets the school currently has.  Those fears kept me up at night.  They still do on occasion.  Honestly, I'm sure they will in the future.  But the fears are not greater than the outcomes, and they are certainly not better than the day-to-day joys and successes.  Even of the worst of days, there are small successes.  And, honestly, even if a kid is horrendous - a true, scaly, fire-breathing monster - at least they're being horrendous at school, not on the streets.  I know it sounds cheesy, but our kids inspire me, they really do.  (I can see every one of my students rolling their eyes at me as I think this.)  The things they see, the pains they suffer, and yet (almost) every day, they're in school.  They may not always participate, and they certainly may not always want to be there, but they are.  When I wake up at 5 in the morning for the fourth day in a row and I'm feeling groggy and unenthusiastic and all I can think about is when I will get to go to bed later that night, I think of my kids.  They'll be there, so I sure as hell better be.