Forward

And so I move forward...but not without looking back, and obsessively keeping in touch with my kids, as much for me as for them.
Today I met my new kids and spent the day at my new job, meeting teachers and colleagues. At my new job I'll be a "learning specialist" and "special education coordinator". Basically I'll work with kids in small groups for part of the day, both in and out of the classroom. I'll also teach reading for 1 block of the day, and have parts of my day blocked off for administrative special ed duties, because I'll do the IEPs for the whole school. I have an office, not a classroom. I have a desk, and a phone, and tons and tons of materials I could only dream about at my old school. I wanted to stay afterwards and play :)
I met my kids, or some of them, and chatted with them over lunch. One told me about a movie he saw over the weekend, then went right into, "and on Saturday my dad died and my cousin tried to stab my aunt, but he didn't, and now he's in jail." He was so nonchalant, but talked for half an hour about his dad, the funeral, and how the rest of his life would be much harder because now he just had his mom. I wanted to bawl. This little 7 year old just told the story matter of factly with his bookbag on his shoulders and a chocolate milk mustache on his lips. My new kids need help, too, I thought. But still....
The excitement for the coming year is overshadowed by the doubt that maybe I didn't make the right decision. That I abandoned my kids and colleagues at my old school. That it wasn't time to leave. But maybe it would never have been the right time to leave. Then again, maybe I should have stayed one more year. To see Adony, Joshua, Chris, Adrielis, Brianna, and Jose graduate. I've never had a harder goodbye than the one on the last day of school. We walked around the school yard crying. Joshua had to be escorted to his bus because he wouldn't stop holding on to me, and I didn't have the emotional strength to pry him off. Adony tried holding the classroom door shut so we couldn't leave.....and at the end of the day, as the rest of the building emptied, my kids surrounded me in my room with a group hug.
So even as the excitement grows, I wonder if I'll ever find what I found with those 13 kids those first few weeks of September, 2006. Somehow, I don't think it's possible.

Reflection from the Mouths of Those Who Made the Experience

Chris's reader's notebook went from being covered with gang graffiti to the following poem (not originally written by him...):
I can overcome my fears
I can buy for the hungry
I can help stop pollution
I can give to the poor
I can be what I want
I can use my head
I can give advice
I can receive
I can behave
I can listen
I can think
I can teach
I can know
I can give
I can feel
I can see
I can

I asked him if I could have it. He asked why.
"To remember one of the smartest 11 year olds I've ever met," I said.

"Life is nothing but a bunch of start-overs"
My wise Aunt Ginny

In 5 days my life will do a complete 180. School will be over, we'll move to Brooklyn, and I'll once again feel like a tourist in my own city....the only substantial time I spent in Brooklyn was when I was looking for apartments :)
Change is needed, but resisted at the same time...and with daily pleads to stay another year I find it hard to come home to boxes, bare walls, and empty cupboards.
The last week was full of happy hours that lasted well in to the night, late planning sessions at school to make sure their new teacher had EVERYTHING she needed to educate my babies....and hours of story telling with both colleagues and kids. We've experienced so much in these last 2 years...and while it was never easy, I can't imagine having done anything else after college.
It's time to go....to start over....to see where the next leg of the journey will take us.
Me, the Boyfriend, the 2 dogs, and the piles of boxes that have become our home.
We're different now, and tied by 12 strings to a little neighborhood school in the Bronx.

I underestimated them, once again. I never, even in the best case scenario, thought they would be this understanding or this well behaved....or this eager to keep in touch.
I cried, they cried. I started by telling them how proud I was of them, pointed out individual growth in each student and as they clapped I cried....I could see on their faces that they knew, and by the time I uttered the words, "but I won't be teaching here next year," no one was really surprised.
The first thing they asked was if they could still call, and email. "You better," I said.
And when I told them I would take a day off to come to their graduation, they gave each other high fives and cheered.
My babies - loyal to the end.
And so began the exchange of myspace info and email and hi5 accounts and 30 minutes later I had made them fully capable of stalking me forever - just the way I want it.
By the time I got home half of them had already added me to their MSN, made novel because it was something I hadn't allowed earlier in the year.
They need to stay in touch as much as I do.....and as the end of the day came with pleads to stay one more year, I knew that they would be okay....and so would I....and that a year from now I'll be returning to watch the remainder of my kids walk across the stage....
I couldn't be more proud.

More Snapshots

I remember the weeks before college graduation and how I would look around at people knowing it was the last time I would see them, eat with them, go to class with them, etc, and I found myself wanting to hold on to these seemingly everyday moments because the finality of everything somehow gave these routine things more importance.
I find the same thing happening with my kids. Today 5 of them were sorting papers on the rug. No fights or put downs or problems of any kind, but instead simple cooperation in a tiny spot doing what has become one of their favorite classroom tasks. I watched them, amazed at how they had grown, both physically and socially, until Chris said, "Stop, Ms. G. is waiting for us to listen."
"Actually Chris, I was just watching you guys and how great you were all working together," I said, and left, not realizing how long I had probably been standing there.
They all kind of looked at me like I had lost it, and I don't think they'll ever understand the depth of pride I have at times like silent reading when they're actually silent and reading, or during Social Studies when other classes are watching movies but my class is dying to read about the Revolutionary War.
They've come so far, and it's finally clicking that now is the time to stand back and enjoy it. Not push further or wonder what could have been, but take them for where they are, remember where they came from, and celebrate the incredible journey we've shared.

Tomorrow I'm telling my kids that I'm not coming back to my school.
Today, at happy hour, one of the other teachers warned, "They're gonna revolt."
"I'm gonna try to play it as a good thing because they're getting a great new teacher, I'll still be in touch...change will be good for them," I said, trying to convice myself as much as her.
Afterall, the closer it gets, the harder it is to come to grips with this decision that I know is right but feels so....not right....because of what will be left behind.
"They're still gonna revolt," she said.
"I'm kind of afraid of that," I replied.
All of our memories, good and bad, have come down to the fact that I, too, am leaving them. Even I can't find justification for that.

Snapshots

Yet another one of our teachers graduated today with his masters degree. My kids make a huge deal out of it. I let them. They need to know that post high school education is important and something to be proud of.
"If I drop out of school, will you send me a card?" Chris asked.
"Only if it's followed by a big kick in the butt," I jokingly responded.
"That's what I thought," he said.
"Man, if I drop out of school, I'ma move and not tell Ms. G where I live," Adony added.
"You'll have to do better than that," I said. "I'll find you."
"Yeah, I'd have to change my name." he concluded.
"How about ya'll just graduate and lead fantastic lives," I said.
"Yeah, that's what I'ma do anyways," Chris said.

And the days pass more quickly than I'm ready for them to, but the end of this experience is inevitable...who'd have thought 2 years ago that these kids would become mine?
They are leaving bigger, stronger, older, smarter, wiser, changed. I see it in their conversations, in the way they interact with the world around them, and the fact that in these days when numbers are dwindling, I have nearly all of my kids in school, waiting to see what we're going to learn today.
"You're still teaching?!" a colleague said in disbelief as I worked on next week's lesson plans after school today.
"Yep," I replied.
"Oh yeah, your kids actually show up," said another.
"Yep," I replied...smiled....and got back to work.
Time to be totally and completely their teacher - 10 more days and this is all over.

Too Fast

The only 2 words that can accurately describe how the end of the year is shaping up.
The days fly by, and somewhere between Monday and Friday are moments where I try to fill them with everything I can; knowledge, confidence, courage...wisdom.
On Friday they met my parents - interviewed them for 45 minutes about Kansas and life where I grew up. I'd never seen them so engaged in 2 people for such a long time.
My 5th graders graduate 4 weeks from Monday.
20 days, minus PD days, 2 half days, and all of the school they miss at the end of the year, and our time is almost done.
Panic - where did the last 2 years go? Did I do enough? Give enough? Will they forget? Will they be angry when I leave? What does the future have in store for them...and me?
There's only so much I can control, and after June 28th I have to trust someone else to teach them.
The thought of that makes me physically sick.

Fessin' Up

Today I told my AP I was leaving at the end of the year.
It did not come out like I'd imagined it.
It was forced, by the fact that our preference sheets are due tomorrow and she will be gone. I didn't want to turn in a paper saying "I'm not coming back" without telling her first...so at the end of a tiring day I sat down in her office and just told her.
I didn't thank her for her help as much as I should have or intended to...didn't tell her how much the last 2 years had meant or how much I would miss the school and my kids.
The best of intentions sometimes just don't play out the way you think they will.
"I'm sad," she said.
"Me too," I replied.
And it was pretty much left at that.
Both knowing there was much more to say, but not much point in it being said.
It's time for a change....this is not the first time change has felt so hard. 2 years ago everything inside of me was telling me not to come here. I'm so glad I did.

Get so caught up everyday
Tryna keep it all together
While the time it slips away
You see I know nothing last forever

Imagine there was no tomorrow
Imagine that I couldn't see your face
There would be no limit to my sorrow
So all I can say

I wanna tell you something, give you something
Show you in so many ways
'cause it would all mean nothing if I don't say something before it all goes away
Alicia Keys

The end of the year is full of paper work and looking forward, but I find myself hanging on desperately to every hour I have with my kids, for fear that I will regret the decision I made to leave them. Slowly but surely people are finding out that I am leaving and explanations of why make less and less sense...to me, and to them. This is the time of year where its easy to forget all that happened in earlier months, and instead you look only at the success that all the struggle produced.
Sometimes they attempt to convince me to stay, other times they only wish me luck and say how much the kids will miss me. "Only 2 more pay periods left," said someone today. She said it with hope. It made me panic.
2 more pay periods to teach my kids all I can...about reading, math...life. I'm not egotistical enough to believe that they'll never have a good teacher again...but some of them need help NOW, and there's a panic that I didn't give enough, didn't listen enough, didn't teach enough....that they need more, and I'm abandoning them.
I carry a guilt with me every day like none I've ever felt before. Maybe it will be better once they know...but for now I find myself trying to impart so much wisdom in each and every moment when my kids are full of spring fever and talking about "next year when we....." not knowing that I won't be part of their next year.

Done

With grad school.
As of Saturday, I'm officially done, and graduation is May 21st.
As a final activity we had to fill out chart paper with "things we would take with us" and "things we'd leave behind"....not from grad school, but the TFA experience....from learning to be a teacher, a New Yorker, and....well....a grown up.
Some were funny, some were serious, and some gave rise to this knot in my throat that is still there when I think about the last day of school in June.
I looked around the room at people I'd known for the last 2 years. We came in thinking we could change the world, that we knew everything about urban education, and that nothing could shake us as people. I think all of that was shattered within our first week as teachers.
We were shaken, proved wrong, questioned, and and made responsible for some of the toughest kids you'll probably ever meet - the special education students of NYC's public schools.
We came in as future accountants, lawyers, investment bankers, and politicians. We're leaving as teachers. Even those of us that aren't staying in education can't help but look at the world as an advocate. "My kids" is the way we begin every other sentence, even though very few of us have any biological children.
This is not the end, but the beginning of lives changed, not just for us, but for our students.
We've made a difference. Could the impact have been bigger? Yes. Could we have been better? Yes. Is there room for improvement within TFA? Yes. But are my kids better off because I was their teacher? I hope so, because I definitely am. That's what I'll try to take with me....that....and the privilege of getting to know 13 of the most resilient people I've ever met.

Break

We've made it to the turning point.
When we return from break it will be time to begin graduation practice (for 5th grade), do intense reteaching, especially in math, to make sure kids master what they need to before they leave the grade, and fill them with all I can, academically and otherwise, before I leave.
I'm not sure that I've stated it officially here, but I will be leaving at the end of the year.
I will remain in NYC, and I will be teaching kids of the same socioeconomic population....but I will be joining a staff at a school that does it the right way. It will mean moving to Brooklyn, and working long hours (it's a charter school), and not belonging to the UFT anymore....and I'm so ready.
The only hard part is leaving my kids. With under 2 months left, it doesn't seem real.
"They'll write....you'll always be in touch....they're your babies," assure other teachers at my school.
"You'll always know them. You're a family," one said to me the other day.
"But what if they don't?" I asked.
"They will," she said.
But what if they don't.......
And I realize that I need them probably more than they need me. They have been my life for 2 years. The reason I gave up a world I had built somewhere else to move to a city where I knew no one. The reason I went in to work sick, exhausted, and stressed beyond comprehension. The reason I can't imagine doing anything else for the rest of my life.
They are not just my students.
They were the first....and goodbye is not an option.

Power

The "N" Word

In this modern day world
We seem to consume
The "N" word of hate
The slave word for doom

This word has been drenched
In red from our blood
It enslaved us like swine
Chain dragged through the mud

How fast we forget
Those lynch mobs and scars
The burnings and beatings
Those hot branding bars

Our freedom was taken
Our humanity stole
We were just that "N" word
No body no soul

Our women were raped
Some men were castrated
Black children were sold
Our race was degraded

With the crack of a whip
This word was yelled out
With each break in our necks
The rope showed no doubt

We were hunted like prey
Then put on the block
We were branded as slaves
With a chain brace and lock

This "N" word was use
To take guilt out of blame
Because it made us inhuman
To be killed with no shame

Yet after all of those years
Of that suffering pain
The use of this word
Has weaken our brain

We throw it around
Like a word with no past
But history lives on
From the shadow it cast

It's now part of our language
In every sentence we say
It shows off our ignorance
In a sorry sad way

There's no other culture
And no other race
That would embrace such a slur
Or welcome disgrace

Yet we as Black people
Have done so for years
Our dignity lost
Without feelings or tears

It's part of the reason
We will never excel
Or out-live our slums
And Ghetto-ish hell

I read this with my kids today. I can't even describe the conversation we had.
None of my kids use the word in my classroom, but many do in the yard and the street, and it is still very much a part of their culture.
"There's a lot of blood behind that word," said Yahkemp at the end.
"I'm gonna tell people not to say it anymore," said Chris.
"Yeah, me too," added Jose.
Knowledge is power.

Quality Review

She said it well here.

http://teachinginnyc.blogspot.com/2008/03/our-quality-has-been-reviewed.html

Quality reviews are a big show. Want to know how schools really are? Show up randomly. Talk to random kids, go in to random classrooms, and pick the parents you want to speak to. A great school would be okay with that.

The old Jose is back.
His journey complicated to say the least...he came in 20 minutes early today so we could go over his individual behavior plan. "Do you think I'm a trouble maker?" he asked me.
I paused.
I remembered his actions in all the time I had known him, nearly 2 years now.
Forgive....forgive....forgive....
"I think you are a very good kid who sometimes makes bad choices," I said. "But we all make bad choices sometimes. But smart people learn from their bad choices and don't make them again," I said. "They also never hurt others on purpose."
"Sometimes I do that," he said in a way that made him seem so small and me so big.
"I know," I replied. "But today is a new day, and I believe that you can change."
We went on to have a conversation about the 4 schools he has been to this year, how none wanted him, and how he eventually ended up back at ours.
"We want you here," I said. "This is your classroom now," I said.
This child, who caused such havoc in my room last year, is now back, and it is now my job to make him feel more welcome than he has felt since September.
Forgive....forgive....forgive....

From the Mouths of Others

"At the end of the day, our story is just about kids. Real living, breathing, eating, drinking, sometimes loud, sometimes annoying, sometimes funny, always beautiful, always amazing kids."
-An excerpt from a letter we received from our SpEd Program Directors

Brief Update

The Old New One is still in the psych ward/mental institution...it's been over 2 weeks now.
Oy.
My New New One is such a character and a good influence on my room.
My second long term sub just got another job, so we go back to the 'different para every day' routine tomorrow. Time, once again, to band together.
3 months left.
To educate. Inspire. Teach. Learn.
Some days it still feels like just surviving.

The New One is no longer the New One, for I got a new student on Monday. Jose, not to be confused with my old Jose, came to us with a smile and a stern warning from mom about not being on meds.
By the end of day 1 I was in love. Yeah, he's ADHD. It took me about 30 minutes to figure that out. But I've never had an ADHD kid who wasn't angry. Jose tells laffy taffy jokes. He says 'psych' about 50 times a day. And he asks 'trick questions', to which there are no answers. "That was a trick question," he says, "which means there isn't an answer, cause it's a trick, get it?"
I love him. He's little, genuine, and lightens the mood of my 13 year old, angry at the world because they're still in 4th grade classroom.
"Hey, this class is fun. We never did anything fun in my other class," he said today.
It's nice to have a kid appreciate differentiation :)

Meanwhile, the Old New One is in a psych ward, where he has been since Friday. He was taken away from his legal guardian by ACS. Keep him in your thoughts. He needs intense counseling, but we all know how those places can be. We're just hoping doesn't come back worse....

#2

The New One, who is not so new any more, but his placement so complicated that I will never use his name on this blog, received his second superintendent's suspension of the month today.
This is the most severe kind of suspension you can receive in NYC, and it involves being sent to another school.
This incident is for throwing a large rock at a class that was lined up to go to an assembly, then cursing out the teacher....but his rap sheet is such that any thing that goes in the system warrants a suspension.
Today he tore things off the door, banged on our windows, and screamed at us while kids were working in small groups. I told that principal, who replied, "that's him,".
I'm again left with the sacrificing one for 11 dilemma....but somewhere inside of me is a voice that knows that 1 is somebody's baby and a child that will someday grow up to become an adult who will remember everything we said and did to him.

Today is March 1st

Which means that in 4 months, school will be over.
I am tired.
A kind of tired that sleep, or even a week off, does not fix.

In the past year and a half my kids have made incredible growth in reading. Some grew over 2 and a half years in 10 months.
We met grade level math standards with 87% mastery even though some didn't know the addition and subtraction sign when we started.
We took field trips to places my students had never seen and proved so many people wrong over...and over....and over again.
And Mario incited a riot and assaulted the principal of the other school in our building.
And Elvis's mom died.
And some of my kids went to more restrictive settings.
And at the end of the day I walk away heavier. Sometimes I carry books, sometimes their work to grade, other times just the weight of their lives, and my own, that was relocated half way across the country for this experience and most days still doesn't really fit here.

Nevertheless, a year and a half later, it has been a long journey, and I need to wake up and do something else in the morning. It's not even about leaving them anymore. I will never leave them, I just won't be their teacher anymore.