First off, apologies for the delay in updating things. I'm sure you were all concerned for my safety. I appreciate your concern. You'll be glad to hear that I am alive.
Today was what you might call Day 1. That title seems appropriate since it was, in fact, the first day that I was teaching in front of students. It's important to note that this is the first day with actual students, as opposed to the two weeks I've spent teaching seventh grade reading to college graduates. I know practice is supposed to make perfect, but seriously, the most creative minds could only do so much to transform a group of 23 year-olds in suits into seventh grade summer school students. And for most of my TFA colleagues, their imaginations could only go so far in making them into seventh graders. Even when the TFA-ers were piling it on, I had to coax them into throwing a spitball my way. The same was not true for the students in my classroom.
To prepare us for entering the fray of summer school, the TFA training corps (must things in TFA are divided into Corps. Given the other Corps I know--Marine, end list--this seems like an overstep) gave us a series of lessons on classroom management and student investment. For those of you not yet indoctrinated in the Teach For America vernacular, classroom management refers to the series of non-corporal measures taken by a teacher to maintain law and order in the classroom. It's apparently important to specify corporal versus non-corporal because its still legal to beat kids in school in both Georgia and Louisiana. Yep. Why old-style Catholic schools haven't made a surge down here is beyond me. Seems like their cup of tea.
Anyway, classroom management stands in contrast to student investment, which refers to the series of positive reinforcement techniques employed by teachers to encourage students to take more agency in their education. At first, much of the suggested techniques for both management and investment seemed fairly juvenile to me, and I tried like hell to avoid exposing these seventh graders to kindergarten tactics.
I, along with some others in my cohort, expressed this theme of concern to our group advisor (who, incidentally, won the national award for teaching excellence from TFA last year. Casual. And studied at Oxford. Or Cambridge? Either way, she's a year older than me...). In order to highlight the importance of tight classroom management techniques, she recounted a story of bad classroom management which I am obliged to share with anyone and everyone. So tell your friends.
It went like this:
[Student texting]
Teacher: Now, you know we can't have cell phones in school. Put it away now or I'll take it.
[Crickets. Student presumably is exceeding her 160 character maximum.]
Teacher: Ok, I warned you. Give me your phone. You can have it at the end of the day.
[Student does not glance up, let alone hand over the contraband]
Teacher: (Student's name omitted), give me that phone or I'll have to send you to the Principal's office
[Students replies with incomprehensible syllables]
Teacher (in raised voice, approaching student): Ok get out. I'll let the office know you're coming.
Student (as if returning to consciousness all of a sudden): Man, you can't take my phone!
Situation escalates
Student: Man, fuck you, man.
Teacher: Fuck me? Fuck you!
Student: You can't talk to me like that. I'm calling my mom (presumably on the contraband cell phone).
Teacher: CALL DA BITCH!
This is, I've learned, a poor example of how to manage the classroom. For those of you taking notes, never call da bitch. Always don't call da bitch. Got it? Good.
In addition to management, we've talked extensively about lesson planning. I wish I could tell you what I've learned, but the feedback I've gotten on my submitted plans so far has put me in the Novice to Pre-Novice grouping. So I don't feel too comfortable propagating that wisdom yet.
One things that's become increasingly apparent is the number of gulfs between myself (and TFA at large) and the population we're serving. Some aren't too surprising: We, by and large, come from stable, supporting households. They do not. We, by and large, we're raised with college as a eventual educational terminus. These kids were not. We are nerds, almost exclusively. The kids we're teaching are not. Many of us are white, and therefore cannot speak firsthand to how racism feels or manifests itself. These kids can.
Other divides were less obvious: We were motivated by good grades and exciting teachers. Many of these kids are still waiting for an exciting teacher. We had to have our egos reeled in. You could tell these kids how brilliant they are for months, and they'd still laugh at you. Geographically and socioeconomically, TFA members are largely Northeastern, with all the connotations that brings along. These kids are black and from southern cities.
And maybe its not the nature of the divides, but more how obvious they are in watching some new teachers interact with students. For example, I heard some co-teachers debriefing about a "Getting to Know You" survey, during which several kids were confused by a question which asked who they would have lunch with if they could choose any historical figure. A fellow TFA member, in an effort to clear up questions, suggested several figures: "What about Malcolm X or Martin Luther King?" Now don't get me wrong, clearly those are two incredibly monumental figures in American history, and would make for great lunch dates. But when you individually suggest only those to options to each of the 14 students in the room, that becomes a red flag.
Another example: Having come from Georgetown, a place which is bad at diversity and where powerful student voices worked to begin diversity dialogues, I've had the opportunity to be a part of several diversity conversations. These are often uncomfortable, particularly when 11 white kids are staring one person of color in the face. TFA, however, facilitated a really impressive conversation about diversity, which began on a high note when one white, Corps members who was placed in Memphis opened up about his initial hesitations in accepting a placement in Memphis. What began as a soliliquoy about embracing his own ignorance and dismissing his embedded prejudices took a hard turn right and ended soundly in a ditch. One excerpt, which may be paraphrased, but I'm pretty sure is verbatim: "I just have never had a meaningful relationship with a black person. (Later, in a smaller group):I've played basketball with black people. But aside from that, I thought I could only talk to black people about kool-aid, watermelon and fried chicken."
Tactful right. Let's go party like its 1959..wait a second.
But as much as I want to totally divorce myself from statements and people like that, I'm acutely aware that we all, regardless of race, have some learning to do. More importantly, we're all acutely aware that as long as time is of the essence, as it is now, we don't have time to allow mindsets to subvert what we're after here. It's not secret that the achievement gap exists along racial and economic lines. Kids who need the most help are going to be poor minorities, especially poor minority males. And I'll never know even what it's kind of like to live in that skin. But I have learned that half the battle is realizing what you don't know.
I'm just going to go ahead and warn you henceforth: the more you learn about educational disparity in the U.S. the more it sucks. I'm no expert by any stretch. But a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, apparently, because I find it hard to resist indignance. Hence the paragraphs-long diatribes with no levity whatsoever. My bad!
Anyway, so my classroom. First off, I know good things would come since the room number is 412. And I was mostly right. I'm lucky enough to have kids who, by and large, want to be there. Or, at least show up most days, which is a huge plus compared to most classrooms. These kids, also, are by and large reading between 4th and 6th levels, so only 2-3 years behind where they ought to be. Which sounds terrible, until you hear about the 7th grader who's reading at a first grade level. Which is what we teachers call "perspective".
I walked in this morning a little nervous, which I cannot deny, but I had a couple things going for me. First, I chose this awesome sauce book that I read in seventh grade to use for my lesson. And the kids ate it up. Just like I did in seventh grade. Getting to revisit the Outsiders and Monster and Captain Underpants [deep sigh] glory days.
Anyway, probably the most noteworthy that occurred whilst I pedagoged (yep, I'm a reading teacher) was that nothing happened. Kids followed along. And answered questions. And it was awesome. One thing I forgot: Lunch is a huge deal when you're in school for hours upon hours. These guys were like Pavlov's dogs as soon as they heard a brown paper bag krinkle.
As a reward for listening to my co-teacher and I talk for hours and hours (seemingly), we played a game called hot seat, during which students got 3 minutes to ask each of us anything they wanted. I was concerned when the game started off slow.
This concern was erroneous.
One bold little feller started asking if I went on dates. If so, where? If there, with whom? (I actually wasn't too mad at that one since the student used the objective preposition. Big win.) If I'm dating why don't I have kids? Do I want to have kids? How long was I going to wait to have kids? Did I shower? Do I wear normal clothes on weekends? How old was I (they would have bet millions on >30 given the millions to bet)?
Questions went on in this vein for a while until the buzzer finally rang. But even after this period of full disclosure from me, you wouldn't believe how many kids refused to give us real phone numbers for their parents.
I also learned that getting along well with kids is not always a good thing. I'm really inclined to be all buddy with them, talk about their hopes and dreams, build them up, buy them things, hear about their lives, etc. But sometimes, especially inthese early days, they will take that slack and run with. Literally. One kid ran up to give me a high five, as I instructed, then pulled a spin move, ducked under my arm, and ran down the hall. But I felt pretty legit when I wrote him up. Who's laughing now, you crazy fast super human?
So, thus began the career and the series of adorable and infuriating anecdotes that will characterize my next two years. In sum, I don't have it yet. not by a long shot. But I'm feeling like it's attainable now, which is certainly progress. And I'm really rocking the teacher bag with some swagger. Probably the most important progress to date.
In TFA, they talk about setting big goals that challenge students without frustrating them. Talk about big goals: taking the 700 english and polisci majors here assembled and making us good at (at least faking) teaching. But somehow, they're doing it.
Finally, I have to say that I knock TFA for the Kool-Aid drinking a lot. And it is excessive at times. But when we got back to Georgia Tech, there were signs posted all over campus congratulating us "teachers", I couldn't help but get goosebumps. I just hope some kids get as much out of this experience as I am.
That does it for now. More to come tomorrow (now that's kids involved, and we all know they say the darndest things, I'm expecting plenty of fodder).
Monday, June 13, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Please Keep Your Shirt On for the Daily Dose of Political Griping
I think I actually have to make this disclaimer: The views contained in this blog are solely those of the author. Teach for America and Americorps do not endorse the content or political inclinations of the author.
Now before I get into this, I want the record to show that I really, really intended to leave Anthony Weiner conspicuously out of this post. The puns are pretty low-hanging fruit ("Weiner lets it all hang out", "What a Weiner", and "Weiner Dogged"), shirtless New York reps are pretty old news, and, frankly, it's just too friggin' weird to give a fair assessment of it. While I can't say for sure whether it was Monday's non-apology that pushed him back above the fold or today's speculation that his wife of ten months is pregnant, something seemed to compel me to give my two cents.
Here goes:
UGH.
Seriously, Tony? You're wife is gorgeous. You represent one of the safest Democratic districts in your state, if not the country. You had ambitions of going places, man! And worst of all, you literally just campaigned, weeks ago, for Kathy Hochul to take Chris Lee's seat (you'll remember that Chris Lee was the other guy who put himself on Craigslist and immediately fell from grace). How did you not see this coming? But even pretending for a second that you actually thought you could get away with it, why make up the whole hacker story and get indignant on national television...several times? I'm not mad, A$, I'm just disappointed.
That's a lie. I'm kind of mad. But as speculation swirls about where Weiner is sleeping, couch or bed, why he wears boxer briefs instead of boxers, and why his junk lists to the port side, I can't help but wonder how Chris Lee feels about all of this. Poor Rep. Lee was a freshman Congressman from New York's very conservative 26th district. As such, he didn't get a whole lot of air time. That is until he went all Oprah on us and bought EVERYBODY tickets to the gun show. I suppose no politican wants to become infamous, but I would further suppose that most politicians would choose infamous over nameless. And now Anthony Weiner has robbed Chris Lee of his niche, his thing, his pizzazz. No longer can Lee proudly boast to be the sole bearer of the Shirtless Ego Maniac Elected Official from New York Award, presented annually by Eliot Spitzer. But even worse, Weiner's copycat antics have invited a number of side-by-side comparisons of the next-to-nude duo aboutwhich Chris Lee just can't be happy. I'll save you the link, but suffice it to say that Chris Lee looked more like a scrawnier Ahnold of 2011, while Weiner was solidly a scrawnier Ahnold from the early 1980s, back in his hay day.
But honestly, let's have a round of applause for the great voters of New York. Without you, we'd only know our politicians as the dudes in suits and ties. And what kind of democracy are we then?
If there is an upside to this debauchery, it might be that Jack Donaghy (or Alec Baldwin as he calls himself) is now floating some test balloons for a mayoral run in NYC in 2013. According to a friend or maybe brother of Baldwin's, Weiner was seen as a big hurdle and likely contendah in the '13 race. With his panties now all in a bunch, Alec's feeling a little encouraged. I'd rather vote for Tracy Morgan, but I'll take whatever 30 Rock will give me.
Speaking of people who once had the support of an electorate but likely won't ever again, remember Rick Santorum? He's running for President! Huzzah!! If you haven't already played this game, take a second to see what happens when you Google "Santorum". It's not for the weak of heart, but the results should give you a clue as to why no one seems to take his candidacy seriously. In a letter to supporters this week, Santorum encouraged them to tune in on Monday as he began a new kind of presidential campaign rhetoric. Alas, zero, nada, zilch camera crews were present to allow us to tune in. He also hasn't been mentioned in a Reuters, Quinnipiac, or CNN poll in Iowa, South Carolina, or New Hampshire since his announcement early last month. And yet, he keeps on keeping on. If you have a spare fiver this week, send it on to him. He's got like 18 really adorable (and potentially Amish?) kids to feed.
With the Santorums, Pauls, Gingrichs of the Republican world leaving hardliners disappointed, several right wingers are now the subject of lobbying efforts. Last week, a group of Iowa business men met with New Jersey Governor Chris Christie to beg him to run for president. He said no. Apparently he didn't know that the White House comes with a plane, which is much cooler than a helicopter. Also under pressure from the right is Texas Governor Rick Perry. Who once, in an official capacity, mentioned that Texas would consider secession. It begs the question: if these are the guys being begged to run, who are they begging not to run?
But conservative Republicans aren't the only ones who are choosing between lotsa crappy choices. Late last week, Moody's announced that it would downgrade America's debt if we did not successfully raise the debt ceiling. The Senate, where this bill would have to originate, has really been putting up a fight, although their House Brethren seem have caught the contrarian bug lately, too. Thanks to the likes of Rand Paul (Super R-KY) and House Majority Leader John Boehner (Great Tan-OH), this once-routine piece of legislation has become such a deeply embedded point of contention that it was very difficult to know how this dance could end. The Democrats said adopting the cuts put forth by the Republicans would make us into a gentrified, heartless oligarchy. Weirdly, the Republicans disagreed and suggested that failing to adopt those cuts would make us Greece with a pita to stand on.
And then Moody's made their announcement this week, and offered a third solution: compromise before you actually bring about our economic ruin. And this isn't like that one time when the rapture was going to come, and the sheep would be separated from the rams. I liked my odds in the rapture. But I really don't like my odds, or any of our odds, in a defaulted American economy. But no rush, Congress. We all know how hot it gets in DC in the summer, and you guys really earned some lounging time from all the governmenting you've done of late (I'm looking at you, Weiner).
Oooo! Oooo!! While we're on such a happy note, go ahead and take a look at May's jobs report. But I promise it's not as grim as it seems. The Obama campaign announced a myriad of (actually upwards of 1,000 for now) new paid positions this week, suggesting that the President may just be trying to single-handedly employ all of our unemployed himself. And why not? He's going to spend a billion dollars this cycle, so he might as well get an approval rating boost out of it.
Remember when he was going to accept public money? Oh, Glory Days.
Well that's all I've got this time. Mostly because Anthony Weiner's Hanes have the news pipeline all stopped up. But until next time, so long and may images of Michelle Bachmann as the Republican nominee dance in your dreams.
Now before I get into this, I want the record to show that I really, really intended to leave Anthony Weiner conspicuously out of this post. The puns are pretty low-hanging fruit ("Weiner lets it all hang out", "What a Weiner", and "Weiner Dogged"), shirtless New York reps are pretty old news, and, frankly, it's just too friggin' weird to give a fair assessment of it. While I can't say for sure whether it was Monday's non-apology that pushed him back above the fold or today's speculation that his wife of ten months is pregnant, something seemed to compel me to give my two cents.
Here goes:
UGH.
Seriously, Tony? You're wife is gorgeous. You represent one of the safest Democratic districts in your state, if not the country. You had ambitions of going places, man! And worst of all, you literally just campaigned, weeks ago, for Kathy Hochul to take Chris Lee's seat (you'll remember that Chris Lee was the other guy who put himself on Craigslist and immediately fell from grace). How did you not see this coming? But even pretending for a second that you actually thought you could get away with it, why make up the whole hacker story and get indignant on national television...several times? I'm not mad, A$, I'm just disappointed.
That's a lie. I'm kind of mad. But as speculation swirls about where Weiner is sleeping, couch or bed, why he wears boxer briefs instead of boxers, and why his junk lists to the port side, I can't help but wonder how Chris Lee feels about all of this. Poor Rep. Lee was a freshman Congressman from New York's very conservative 26th district. As such, he didn't get a whole lot of air time. That is until he went all Oprah on us and bought EVERYBODY tickets to the gun show. I suppose no politican wants to become infamous, but I would further suppose that most politicians would choose infamous over nameless. And now Anthony Weiner has robbed Chris Lee of his niche, his thing, his pizzazz. No longer can Lee proudly boast to be the sole bearer of the Shirtless Ego Maniac Elected Official from New York Award, presented annually by Eliot Spitzer. But even worse, Weiner's copycat antics have invited a number of side-by-side comparisons of the next-to-nude duo aboutwhich Chris Lee just can't be happy. I'll save you the link, but suffice it to say that Chris Lee looked more like a scrawnier Ahnold of 2011, while Weiner was solidly a scrawnier Ahnold from the early 1980s, back in his hay day.
But honestly, let's have a round of applause for the great voters of New York. Without you, we'd only know our politicians as the dudes in suits and ties. And what kind of democracy are we then?
If there is an upside to this debauchery, it might be that Jack Donaghy (or Alec Baldwin as he calls himself) is now floating some test balloons for a mayoral run in NYC in 2013. According to a friend or maybe brother of Baldwin's, Weiner was seen as a big hurdle and likely contendah in the '13 race. With his panties now all in a bunch, Alec's feeling a little encouraged. I'd rather vote for Tracy Morgan, but I'll take whatever 30 Rock will give me.
Speaking of people who once had the support of an electorate but likely won't ever again, remember Rick Santorum? He's running for President! Huzzah!! If you haven't already played this game, take a second to see what happens when you Google "Santorum". It's not for the weak of heart, but the results should give you a clue as to why no one seems to take his candidacy seriously. In a letter to supporters this week, Santorum encouraged them to tune in on Monday as he began a new kind of presidential campaign rhetoric. Alas, zero, nada, zilch camera crews were present to allow us to tune in. He also hasn't been mentioned in a Reuters, Quinnipiac, or CNN poll in Iowa, South Carolina, or New Hampshire since his announcement early last month. And yet, he keeps on keeping on. If you have a spare fiver this week, send it on to him. He's got like 18 really adorable (and potentially Amish?) kids to feed.
With the Santorums, Pauls, Gingrichs of the Republican world leaving hardliners disappointed, several right wingers are now the subject of lobbying efforts. Last week, a group of Iowa business men met with New Jersey Governor Chris Christie to beg him to run for president. He said no. Apparently he didn't know that the White House comes with a plane, which is much cooler than a helicopter. Also under pressure from the right is Texas Governor Rick Perry. Who once, in an official capacity, mentioned that Texas would consider secession. It begs the question: if these are the guys being begged to run, who are they begging not to run?
But conservative Republicans aren't the only ones who are choosing between lotsa crappy choices. Late last week, Moody's announced that it would downgrade America's debt if we did not successfully raise the debt ceiling. The Senate, where this bill would have to originate, has really been putting up a fight, although their House Brethren seem have caught the contrarian bug lately, too. Thanks to the likes of Rand Paul (Super R-KY) and House Majority Leader John Boehner (Great Tan-OH), this once-routine piece of legislation has become such a deeply embedded point of contention that it was very difficult to know how this dance could end. The Democrats said adopting the cuts put forth by the Republicans would make us into a gentrified, heartless oligarchy. Weirdly, the Republicans disagreed and suggested that failing to adopt those cuts would make us Greece with a pita to stand on.
And then Moody's made their announcement this week, and offered a third solution: compromise before you actually bring about our economic ruin. And this isn't like that one time when the rapture was going to come, and the sheep would be separated from the rams. I liked my odds in the rapture. But I really don't like my odds, or any of our odds, in a defaulted American economy. But no rush, Congress. We all know how hot it gets in DC in the summer, and you guys really earned some lounging time from all the governmenting you've done of late (I'm looking at you, Weiner).
Oooo! Oooo!! While we're on such a happy note, go ahead and take a look at May's jobs report. But I promise it's not as grim as it seems. The Obama campaign announced a myriad of (actually upwards of 1,000 for now) new paid positions this week, suggesting that the President may just be trying to single-handedly employ all of our unemployed himself. And why not? He's going to spend a billion dollars this cycle, so he might as well get an approval rating boost out of it.
Remember when he was going to accept public money? Oh, Glory Days.
Well that's all I've got this time. Mostly because Anthony Weiner's Hanes have the news pipeline all stopped up. But until next time, so long and may images of Michelle Bachmann as the Republican nominee dance in your dreams.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
A-T-L-A-N-T-A I Could Do This All Day
Well, I'm in my third week since graduation (NB: My nose still hasn't stopped peeling) and now, my third city. Although I've taken to calling this booming metropolis Hotlanta, the truth is that I just can't complain about it after the brutality of the Nawlins ray. At least not yet.
Sunday began the five week program known as the TFA Institute, during which we are slated to be transformed from students to teacher, grasshoppers to sensai, apprentice to master, Wolverine to Professor X, Cartman to Mr(s). Garrison. There are six regional Institutes around the country, and Atlanta serves as the home base for Greater New Orleans, Memphis, and, logically, the Metro Atlanta area. So, just as I finally got my below sea level legs in Nola, we shoved off for the seven hour pilgrimage to the ATL, during which we covered about 350 miles on 3 roads.
Now I hate to stereotype, but there were a couple observations that I simply feel must be shared. First, I noticed a high correlation between people who drive Ford F-150s and people who drive downright homicidastyle. In some cases it was hard to tell whether the Confederate flag draping their rear window actually prevented them from seeing or if they were just as drunk as they appeared to be. In either case, I was judging them pretty hard core. Next, it seemed as if we drove the same 50 miles of road about six times. Turns out Mississippi and Alabama, at least from I-85 East, are pretty identical. Who knew? Finally, I knew that Coke was the official sponsor of Georgia, but I had no idea that they were so generous as to buy up most of the deep south.
So if you have any dentist friends who are looking for a new place to settle down, send them my way. From the looks of it, they'd have no trouble finding a couple hundred acres to squat upon.
But driving through Alabama especially wasn't entirely the joyride you might anticipate. Before the catastrophic tornadoes that massacred Joplin, Missouri, similar funnel clouds victimized Alabama. While the majority of the damage struck Tuscaloosa, north of our route, we had to pull over once to notice the defined path of destruction that cut across the highway. It definitely made me appreciate the lifelong refuge from these sorts of disasters which Pittsburgh's terrain has always provided.
Finally, after seven hours of basically country highway, we hit Georgia, which appropriately prompted me and my passengers to tribute the late great Ray Ray's "Georgia on My Mind". We were pretty tired of being in the car by that point, so our concern for pitch was secondary. If RC hadn't already died, I'm pretty sure the hack job we did on his classic tune would have done him in.
From my friends who preceded me in Teach For America, I heard that Institute really boils down to a lot of Kool-Aid drinking and reflecting time. They're really big on reflection. And also discussing. They really love to discuss things. thoroughly. So, honestly speaking, I can't say I was looking forward to these five weeks, mostly because 35 days just seems too long of a pep rally for a pep-less fellow like myself.
But it's amazing what an open mind will do for you. A good deal of the programming so far has not been explicitly a pep rally. In fact, I'd say there's an obvious and universal sense of urgency among the TFA staff and us young bucks alike. For the staff who's in charge of training us, there's a strong sense that time is of the essence. In five weeks, we're supposed to learn how to manage a classroom, how to write lesson plans, and how to make up years of wasted classroom time in a matter of months.
For those of us trying to become teachers, there's a sense of real terror. TFA keeps casually dropping knowledge on us, like the fact that 30 states adjust their prison capacities based on third grade literacy rates. Third grade. So we either need to teach these kids how to read, or we might as well ship them off the prison now. More shockingly, 44 million parents in the United States don't have the literacy skills to read their kids a bedtime story. Although these stats are enough to blow anyone's mind, it's still fairly easy for me to imagine these as faceless numbers. And then you meet individual students, like Scarlett, an 8th grader who reads at somewhere between a first and second grade level.
My sister once told me that it takes at least three years to become a good teacher. But kids like Scarlett don't have three years to wait while we play teacher. Seeing her stumbling over words like "always" and "lonely" is enough to make these 9-14 hour days worth it. It's also enough to make you wet the bed. But even laying in wet sheets, I know this is worth it. It's worth sitting in elementary desks, and stooping to reach the bathroom sinks, and having the lights flickered at us when we get too raucous. Which is just adorable.
I really don't feel like a teacher, even if I'll have to fake it starting next Monday. But you better believe I look like one from head to toe, complete with good hallway clunking shoes and somewhat premature (although stylish) teacher bag. I've not only gained an increased appreciation for the difficulty and importance of being a teacher, but also for the difficulty of pulling off the educator garb while standing for 8 hours. It'll take some getting used to, but I'm expecting to have some killer calves by the end of Institute.
If one thing gets old, it's that teachers can't stop being teachers. The staff members who are training us just can't shake that tone of voice and those sophomoric classroom tricks ("Clap once if you can hear my voice. Clap twice if you can hear my voice. Don't make me get to three claps..."). It's stirred up some long-forgotten images of nuns at St. Maurice elementary.
If one thing will never get old, its the confidence that the organization has in us. They truly believe that TFA, and each of us individually, can make significant gains towards closing the achievement gap.
When you hear that enough, you start to believe it, too. I don't feel like a teacher yet. But I can't wait to give it my all so that kids like Scarlett can go to high school, college, and then med school if they so desire. That's what we're here for. And that's pretty awesome.
One anecdote that all of you from the 412 might appreciate: I decided to get aggressive with housing in New Orleans and proceeded to call one real estate agent who was recommended to me by a 2010 TFA Corps member. I really wanted to call her today, but all of our training sessions were running long and I had trouble finding time. Finally, I decided to suck it up and optimize, so I called her whilst taking advantage of our infrequent and all too short restroom breaks. As a result of my multitasking ambitions, I stumbled awkwardly as I tried to describe my rent parameters and neighborhood preferences. She became understandably frustrated and told me that she'd try to find an agent to look into some properties for me. Then she asked for my phone number. (Get your mind out of the gutter.) After I gave her my area code, 412, she stopped me and asked where in Pittsburgh I was from. Turns out she graduated from Norwin in 1986. I had 15 listed and unlisted properties sent to me in 45 minutes. Along with a few Steelers Youtube videos. Seriously.
Well. That was some heavy stuff. Sorry, team--- but I did warn that it would continue to be a stream of consciousness. More to come soon.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Daily Dose of Political Griping: John Edwards' Haircuts and Herman Cain Besting Newt
I think I actually have to make this disclaimer: The views contained in this blog are solely those of the author. Teach for America and Americorps do not endorse the content or political inclinations of the author.
Those of us who are rooting for a seven game series in the NBA finals are also likely hoping beyond hope for a year-long grudge match among the field of likely GOP presidential contenders. The good news: all signs are pointing to a fight-to-the-death among the field of loud-mouthed, largely irrelevant candidates--er, excuse me, candidates and likely candidates. Mitt Romney shocked the world when he took 90 minutes to announce his candidacy this week, telling supporters and desperately bored cable news audiences that he was dismayed at President Obama's leadership. You know, the sort of leadership that ushered in a national version of Romney's baby, the Massachusetts universal healthcare law. What sort of leadership would the Mitt-en (a nickname I've suggested to his camp several times via email) bring to 1600 Pennsylvania? Based on his reportage of skewed and just blantantly wrong economic statistics, his style will be Powerpoint-based, dishonest or just plain stupid. But you know what, when you're running for President it doesn't matter if you play with the facts a bit, right? Because no one really listens to what you're saying. (Actually, each and every news station cut away from Mitt's speech before he actually announced it. Oops.)
But bad news timing wasn't the only problem for the former governor from Massachusetts. Another former governor stepped on his toes, almost definitely not by accident. Guess who?! Yep, Sal Pal (another emailed suggestion which the Palin campaign has rejected) and her magical painted not campaign bus blew through Boston just in time to criticize Romney in his own hood...by suggesting that he just wasn't crazy-right-wing enough. Sarah Palin, she graciously pointed out for the illiterate and the blind, holds much more conservative values AND beliefs. Both values and beliefs held by Sarah Palin are conservative. Seriously, she's conservative. If you made it through those sentences, you can go ahead and mute any news coverage of her not-campaign tour, because that's all you'll hear. You are welcome.
Sal also got some love earlier in the week when she stopped by New York rocking a new, big old piece of bling in her Star of David necklace. She wanted to use her bully pulpit to garner support for Israel and to honor the 44th Anniversary, or Golden Jubilee (right?), of the reunification of Jerusalem following the Six Day War. Israel, I'm not a doctor, but you need to go ahead and nip that in the bud.
In other news, the two-year long FBI investigation of fallen Democratic pretty boy and former North Carolina Senator John Edwards culminated in a pathetically weak indictment against him. Before standing in front of the courthouse and declaring that he had unquestionably done wrong, he stood inside the courthoues and pleaded not guilty. Prosecutors say that Edwards used donations from two wealthy political allies to cover up his affair and subsequent love child. The money in question, $925,000, exceeded the limit which one person can donate to a presidential campagin, and also went unreported by the Edwards camp. A couple of things that add some much-needed context to this story:
Gingrich announced early that much of his campagin staff and central campagin operation would be based in Georgia, hoping to retain his down-home, favorite son image (bear in mind that he didn't live in Georgia until he was grown). Well, that was back when only pizza enthusiasts knew who Herman Cain was. Those days are apparently long gone, according to a recent poll: Cain led the pack of candidates and likely candidates with 26% support. Where was Georgia's favorite son? A distant third, behind Michelle Bachmann, with a sickly 12% figure. While he did fare better than "Other", the "Undecided" category clearly beat the former House Speaker. Better luck next time, Tiger.
Among the candidates who might have been included in the "Other" category is former Utah Governor and, until three weeks ago, Ambassador to China (yep, during the Obama administration) Jon Huntsman. Huntsman is reportedly climbing in esteem among social conservatives. Consider that support with his fairly strong economic record in Utah and his rich international experience, and this dog just might hunt(sman). Huntsman hasn't formally entered the race, but all the tea leaves are holding their breath to see if their "going to run" predictions were right. In my opinion they probably are and he probably will run and prove to be quite a contender. Rumor has it that, should Huntsman throw his hat in the ring, he will follow the road paved by 2008 candidate Rudy Giuliani (who, you may recall, lost). For those of you who devote valuable memory real estate to esoteric trivia from previous election cycles may recall that America's Mayor cobbled together an innovative and stupid campaing strategy: Let the other guys rack up the big early wins and gain momentum and meet them in Florida. Whether Rudy thought this would work or just actually cared about his tan that much is unclear. What is clear is how much this plan did not work in 2008, and certainly won't in 2012. Still, sources close to maybe-candidate Huntsman say he will pursue a similar strategy and bypass the Iowa caucuses. Now, maybe as a Mormon candidate in the highly religious political context of Iowa, Huntsman didn't like his odds. But the huge question mark remains: how can you make it to the playoffs if your season's shorter than everybody else's? Jon, we don't really know each other that well yet, but you seem like a sharper kind of Ginsu knife (particularly in the context of your fellow contenders)--why you acting so crazy for?
And that's your daily dose of political griping.
Those of us who are rooting for a seven game series in the NBA finals are also likely hoping beyond hope for a year-long grudge match among the field of likely GOP presidential contenders. The good news: all signs are pointing to a fight-to-the-death among the field of loud-mouthed, largely irrelevant candidates--er, excuse me, candidates and likely candidates. Mitt Romney shocked the world when he took 90 minutes to announce his candidacy this week, telling supporters and desperately bored cable news audiences that he was dismayed at President Obama's leadership. You know, the sort of leadership that ushered in a national version of Romney's baby, the Massachusetts universal healthcare law. What sort of leadership would the Mitt-en (a nickname I've suggested to his camp several times via email) bring to 1600 Pennsylvania? Based on his reportage of skewed and just blantantly wrong economic statistics, his style will be Powerpoint-based, dishonest or just plain stupid. But you know what, when you're running for President it doesn't matter if you play with the facts a bit, right? Because no one really listens to what you're saying. (Actually, each and every news station cut away from Mitt's speech before he actually announced it. Oops.)
But bad news timing wasn't the only problem for the former governor from Massachusetts. Another former governor stepped on his toes, almost definitely not by accident. Guess who?! Yep, Sal Pal (another emailed suggestion which the Palin campaign has rejected) and her magical painted not campaign bus blew through Boston just in time to criticize Romney in his own hood...by suggesting that he just wasn't crazy-right-wing enough. Sarah Palin, she graciously pointed out for the illiterate and the blind, holds much more conservative values AND beliefs. Both values and beliefs held by Sarah Palin are conservative. Seriously, she's conservative. If you made it through those sentences, you can go ahead and mute any news coverage of her not-campaign tour, because that's all you'll hear. You are welcome.
Sal also got some love earlier in the week when she stopped by New York rocking a new, big old piece of bling in her Star of David necklace. She wanted to use her bully pulpit to garner support for Israel and to honor the 44th Anniversary, or Golden Jubilee (right?), of the reunification of Jerusalem following the Six Day War. Israel, I'm not a doctor, but you need to go ahead and nip that in the bud.
In other news, the two-year long FBI investigation of fallen Democratic pretty boy and former North Carolina Senator John Edwards culminated in a pathetically weak indictment against him. Before standing in front of the courthouse and declaring that he had unquestionably done wrong, he stood inside the courthoues and pleaded not guilty. Prosecutors say that Edwards used donations from two wealthy political allies to cover up his affair and subsequent love child. The money in question, $925,000, exceeded the limit which one person can donate to a presidential campagin, and also went unreported by the Edwards camp. A couple of things that add some much-needed context to this story:
- Edwards wife, Elizabeth, who succombed to breast cancer at the age of 61 last year, was terminally ill as Johnny boy was ruffling his otherwise immobile hair in the sack. He was not mentioned in her will.
- The love child is quickly approaching the period in his life when he'll remember these things, but there's no evidence that Edwards has contact with the child, although the millionaire former senator does claim to be supporting him financially.
- The donors in question initially began offering these funds to the Edwards campaign under the table after his $400 haircut became the subject of ridicule. So, if he could have just settled for Bo Rick's we might not be in this mess.
- Apparently, he still finds sleeping at night possible. Remember when he was almost Vice President? Ew.
Gingrich announced early that much of his campagin staff and central campagin operation would be based in Georgia, hoping to retain his down-home, favorite son image (bear in mind that he didn't live in Georgia until he was grown). Well, that was back when only pizza enthusiasts knew who Herman Cain was. Those days are apparently long gone, according to a recent poll: Cain led the pack of candidates and likely candidates with 26% support. Where was Georgia's favorite son? A distant third, behind Michelle Bachmann, with a sickly 12% figure. While he did fare better than "Other", the "Undecided" category clearly beat the former House Speaker. Better luck next time, Tiger.
Among the candidates who might have been included in the "Other" category is former Utah Governor and, until three weeks ago, Ambassador to China (yep, during the Obama administration) Jon Huntsman. Huntsman is reportedly climbing in esteem among social conservatives. Consider that support with his fairly strong economic record in Utah and his rich international experience, and this dog just might hunt(sman). Huntsman hasn't formally entered the race, but all the tea leaves are holding their breath to see if their "going to run" predictions were right. In my opinion they probably are and he probably will run and prove to be quite a contender. Rumor has it that, should Huntsman throw his hat in the ring, he will follow the road paved by 2008 candidate Rudy Giuliani (who, you may recall, lost). For those of you who devote valuable memory real estate to esoteric trivia from previous election cycles may recall that America's Mayor cobbled together an innovative and stupid campaing strategy: Let the other guys rack up the big early wins and gain momentum and meet them in Florida. Whether Rudy thought this would work or just actually cared about his tan that much is unclear. What is clear is how much this plan did not work in 2008, and certainly won't in 2012. Still, sources close to maybe-candidate Huntsman say he will pursue a similar strategy and bypass the Iowa caucuses. Now, maybe as a Mormon candidate in the highly religious political context of Iowa, Huntsman didn't like his odds. But the huge question mark remains: how can you make it to the playoffs if your season's shorter than everybody else's? Jon, we don't really know each other that well yet, but you seem like a sharper kind of Ginsu knife (particularly in the context of your fellow contenders)--why you acting so crazy for?
And that's your daily dose of political griping.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
A Streetcar, Not a Trolley
Today was the last day of what Teach for America (TFA) calls Induction. Essentially, its the week you spend in your placement region (in my case Greater New Orleans or GNO) before moving to the five week-long rapidfire training session known as Institute. So after this first glorious if sweaty first week in Nola, we're shipping off to Georgia Tech bright and early Sunday morning.
Remember those first days of college, when you hung out with anybody who looked like they needed a conversation buddy and you dug deep for anything you had in common with those people? I mean those super awkward first nights, when you bounce around from dorm room to dorm room, seriptitiously chugging beers and adding numbers to your phonebook which you will never use again. Well, fun fact: those nights are not limited to college. In fact, I've spent the last five nights reliving my first week at Gtown in a Tulane freshman dorm--excuse me, residence hall. Don't get me wrong, the people are all really impressive (I met experienced lawyers, people who have spent years on other continents, entrepreneurs and education majors all in one day), but I was transported back four years almost immediately as we all exchanged phone numbers and blindly ventured downtown as if we knew where we were going. Among my favorite conversations that I've seen this past week is the cookie-cutter housing conversation. Since almost all of us are new to Nawlins, and since most of us came down here with very few (or in my case, goose egg) friends, there's a scramble to find quality roommates and lock them down before somebody else scoops them up. How you can choose a roommate in the first 48 hours you've known somebody is beyond me, but apparently it is possible. Me, I'm resisting the urge to pop the question, and will continue to do so for at least another week or two, much to the chagrin of my nervous parents.
This week, God apparently needed a good laugh and cranked the local heat up to temperatures that haven't been reached in June since the Korean War. It's straight up equatorial. I've averaged three showers, four wardrobe changes, and somewhere between 10-15 lost water weight pounds each day. So the first impressions I'm making must really be stellar, perhaps the reason I haven't had too many roommate suitors of late.
Heat aside though, it's been fantastic so far. I arrived on Tuesday, and moved into my suite at Tulane. First off, hot damn, the campus is really pretty. I didn't know palm trees were a thing here, but there are millions of them. Not to dwell, but that's because New Orleans' climate is somewhere between tropical and hellacious, which is right in the comfort zone for the balmy palmies. This week is largely intended to assist with the placement of those new CMs (Corp members--sorry for the TFA vernacular, but I'm trying to get the hang of all these letters) who have not yet been hired into a particular school. The fact that I came here with a job has meant that I've largely been chilling (get it? because it's so hot?), investigating the city and getting my real person life in order. On Wednesday, for what were definitely some of the coolest hours of the week, I spent the morning on a school visit at New Orlean College Prep. I could write paragraphs about how impressive every element of the school was, but I'll sum it up with this.
I spent the better part of the afternoon painting a Katrina damaged house with a really cool organization called Phoenix NOLA. More to come on the disbelief that now, in 2011, we're still renovating Katrina houses, but go ahead and take a second to ruminate on that. Anyway, Phoenix had just about finished renovating the basement of this shotgun house so that its owner could move out of his FEMA trailer--the last thing they needed to do was paint, so we took up the brushes and got down to it. On Wednesday morning, there were 150 FEMA trailers in the parish that still acted as homes for New Orleans residents. On Thursday morning, there were 149, and to be even a tiny part of that process was really amazing.
Quickly: FEMA recently announced that they would be charging for the continued use of their trailers in New Orleans. On Tuesday, a city zoning ordinance took effect which fined any residents who still had trailers on their property. Because clearly, these are people are really thrilled to be living in their driveway in a doublewide. But since everything Katrina related was so well handled, this seems like an appropriate step in the process.
Thursday was less exciting: we had to go to a couple of info sessions for TFA (one of which was on social media--here's hoping I absorbed as much I thought I did).
Friday was the real winner. I started the day volunteering for the charter network that runs the school where I'll be working. Let's just say that, while I really enjoyed it, it's pretty clear that the organization is young. But the motivation among the teachers and students is actually (pardon the cliche) palpable. I met the director of my middle school for lunch and although the conversation and the company were both riveting, most of my attention was dedicated to the jumbalaya. Words cannot explain. I can literally still taste it. After an afternoon of real life things like opening a checking account, signing up for my insurance policies (yep, I now have a life insurance policy with a beneficiary), and botching another fingerprinting session due to my palm's constant moisture, a group of us ventured down to the Bourbon Street. For those of you who have been to the French Quarter, you know what I mean when I refer to hand grenades, huge ass beers, and strip clubs that seem to be trying to cater to every proclivity and deviance. Before I came here, someone described this city as hedonistic. I'm not sure the city at large is, but even militant hedonists might be put off by the antics and sights of the Quarter. NB: I'm not one of those people. It was amazing, from what I recall. The night out was book-ended by grabbing a roadie for the streetcar and one for the cab, mostly because the law says that's cool. I say it's pretty cool, too, frankly. When I went back there Saturday for dinner, I got a little nauseas just looking at the pre-mixed crowd favorite drinks, Hurricanes, which in my estimation consist of kool-aid mix and rum with a slice of lemon and a little ice.
So, some major takeaways from the week:
Remember those first days of college, when you hung out with anybody who looked like they needed a conversation buddy and you dug deep for anything you had in common with those people? I mean those super awkward first nights, when you bounce around from dorm room to dorm room, seriptitiously chugging beers and adding numbers to your phonebook which you will never use again. Well, fun fact: those nights are not limited to college. In fact, I've spent the last five nights reliving my first week at Gtown in a Tulane freshman dorm--excuse me, residence hall. Don't get me wrong, the people are all really impressive (I met experienced lawyers, people who have spent years on other continents, entrepreneurs and education majors all in one day), but I was transported back four years almost immediately as we all exchanged phone numbers and blindly ventured downtown as if we knew where we were going. Among my favorite conversations that I've seen this past week is the cookie-cutter housing conversation. Since almost all of us are new to Nawlins, and since most of us came down here with very few (or in my case, goose egg) friends, there's a scramble to find quality roommates and lock them down before somebody else scoops them up. How you can choose a roommate in the first 48 hours you've known somebody is beyond me, but apparently it is possible. Me, I'm resisting the urge to pop the question, and will continue to do so for at least another week or two, much to the chagrin of my nervous parents.
This week, God apparently needed a good laugh and cranked the local heat up to temperatures that haven't been reached in June since the Korean War. It's straight up equatorial. I've averaged three showers, four wardrobe changes, and somewhere between 10-15 lost water weight pounds each day. So the first impressions I'm making must really be stellar, perhaps the reason I haven't had too many roommate suitors of late.
Heat aside though, it's been fantastic so far. I arrived on Tuesday, and moved into my suite at Tulane. First off, hot damn, the campus is really pretty. I didn't know palm trees were a thing here, but there are millions of them. Not to dwell, but that's because New Orleans' climate is somewhere between tropical and hellacious, which is right in the comfort zone for the balmy palmies. This week is largely intended to assist with the placement of those new CMs (Corp members--sorry for the TFA vernacular, but I'm trying to get the hang of all these letters) who have not yet been hired into a particular school. The fact that I came here with a job has meant that I've largely been chilling (get it? because it's so hot?), investigating the city and getting my real person life in order. On Wednesday, for what were definitely some of the coolest hours of the week, I spent the morning on a school visit at New Orlean College Prep. I could write paragraphs about how impressive every element of the school was, but I'll sum it up with this.
I spent the better part of the afternoon painting a Katrina damaged house with a really cool organization called Phoenix NOLA. More to come on the disbelief that now, in 2011, we're still renovating Katrina houses, but go ahead and take a second to ruminate on that. Anyway, Phoenix had just about finished renovating the basement of this shotgun house so that its owner could move out of his FEMA trailer--the last thing they needed to do was paint, so we took up the brushes and got down to it. On Wednesday morning, there were 150 FEMA trailers in the parish that still acted as homes for New Orleans residents. On Thursday morning, there were 149, and to be even a tiny part of that process was really amazing.
Quickly: FEMA recently announced that they would be charging for the continued use of their trailers in New Orleans. On Tuesday, a city zoning ordinance took effect which fined any residents who still had trailers on their property. Because clearly, these are people are really thrilled to be living in their driveway in a doublewide. But since everything Katrina related was so well handled, this seems like an appropriate step in the process.
Thursday was less exciting: we had to go to a couple of info sessions for TFA (one of which was on social media--here's hoping I absorbed as much I thought I did).
Friday was the real winner. I started the day volunteering for the charter network that runs the school where I'll be working. Let's just say that, while I really enjoyed it, it's pretty clear that the organization is young. But the motivation among the teachers and students is actually (pardon the cliche) palpable. I met the director of my middle school for lunch and although the conversation and the company were both riveting, most of my attention was dedicated to the jumbalaya. Words cannot explain. I can literally still taste it. After an afternoon of real life things like opening a checking account, signing up for my insurance policies (yep, I now have a life insurance policy with a beneficiary), and botching another fingerprinting session due to my palm's constant moisture, a group of us ventured down to the Bourbon Street. For those of you who have been to the French Quarter, you know what I mean when I refer to hand grenades, huge ass beers, and strip clubs that seem to be trying to cater to every proclivity and deviance. Before I came here, someone described this city as hedonistic. I'm not sure the city at large is, but even militant hedonists might be put off by the antics and sights of the Quarter. NB: I'm not one of those people. It was amazing, from what I recall. The night out was book-ended by grabbing a roadie for the streetcar and one for the cab, mostly because the law says that's cool. I say it's pretty cool, too, frankly. When I went back there Saturday for dinner, I got a little nauseas just looking at the pre-mixed crowd favorite drinks, Hurricanes, which in my estimation consist of kool-aid mix and rum with a slice of lemon and a little ice.
So, some major takeaways from the week:
- My primary mode of transportation is streetcar. I don't intend to allow that to change because it's awesome and makes me think of those old school Rice-A-Roni commercials.
- A streetcar is not to be confused with a trolley. Don't ask me what the difference is.
- No one actually knows what a bayou is, although "going down to the bayou" is a frequent activity for the locals.
- Life is much cheaper here than in D.C. (2.25 draft microbrews).
- I need to think up how to decorate my classroom...because I'll have students in there one, count 'em one, week after I get back from Hotlanta.
- Weezy just isn't as popular down here as he was before jail. Personally, I think it's the sell-out factor.
- Something other than snow causes potholes and general road degradation, because they've got some winners, and they don't get too much snow as I understand it.
- This city is very difficult to navigate. Why? Because there are very few street signs. Why? Because Katrina washed them away, apparently. Which again, is mind-blowing.
- There are some really incredible teachers, and some even more incredible kids down here. I'm pretty juiced to get my hands dirty.
- I'm really going to love it here.
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