Wow. So much for my New Year's resolution to write more often. I have the most difficult time trying to pin myself down in front of my computer and sort through my scattered thoughts. You would think after years of good ol' Jesuit meditation, examens, introspective reflections and journaling I would be better prepared to processes my thoughts and experiences, but no. It is definitely a struggle. For one, here I am, halfway in, and much of what I am doing is the same. There is nothing drastically new or exciting to thrill everyone with. I still get up every morning, unlock the school, sort through my collection of lighters, jewelry, ipods, and cigarettes that students trade me to use my pens for the day. I still freak out about how on earth I am going to manage my Literature class and how I am going to get the concept of “following the prompt” through to Anthony. I still spend Spirituality Nights (Tuesdays) and Community Nights (Thursdays) every week with my beloved House. I still get stuck catching up on Glee and Modern Family every weekend instead of voraciously planning lessons and grading essays like I am certain on Friday afternoon that I will.
I am halfway in and I have learned so much but am somehow still completely unexpert. I am still a bit like a runaway train. I am propelling in a certain vague direction, but I have no clue where I will end up or how to regain control. I just have to trust that through guidance and openness I will get the best out of this already irreplaceable year.
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly is one of my boyfriend's favorite movies, so I have been obligated to watch it several times. I often feel like teaching is full of the good, the bad, and the ugly. There is THE GOOD, which is what makes me love what I am doing and picks me up like caffeine. The good is when I see Miyai begin to use internal rhyme in her poetry, when Mark actually shows up for the tutoring time we scheduled, and when I am actually somewhat organized. The good is when students stay after school to watch Remember the Titans with me; when Ryan brings in the scrapbook his girlfriend made him for Valentine's Day to class to show me (though there are some pictures I would have been okay with not seeing); when I convince Ernesia to enter an Illinois essay contest; when Derek tells me he'll miss me when I leave; when Victoria gives me a picture to remember her by; when I drive Sergio home and we chat about life. I love the interactions I get with all my students. I love that Kearron ran in at 8:30am on Monday morning to bash the Steelers in front of me. I love that TT and I talk about books we like. I love that they all laugh when a real “burner” accidentally comes onto my R&B Pandora station and I rush to change it. I love when the girls try to put my hair in braids. I have enjoyed countless after-school Scrabble games (sometimes unnecessarily competitive!), I have had the pleasure of reading some beautifully powerful poetry and I have had students open up to me about the struggles they are desperately trying to work through. I suppose I even technically love the difficult interactions because they have never failed to teach me about a weakness in myself or how I handle some things. As frustrated as I get, there is no denying that I am growing.
Spring has been showing up in St. Louis, though she can't make up her mind if she is staying or going. The sun and warm weather has made everything in my life seem more positive and less stressful, which has been particularly nice in the classroom. I'd like to have some of my class activities outside to get myself and the students out in the sun, but there is really only a dismal asphalt lot behind the school where we could do anything. May I can finagle some of my classes trips to the park...
However, while teaching so far has been fun and beautiful, there has also been THE BAD. Teaching and preparing for six different classes every single day without any teaching background has been draining some weeks. I have heard gruesome horror stories of first year teaching, and this year is no rosy exception. I have felt my share of insecurities when students refused to listen to me, complained about too much work or too many rules. I have had days where I felt so strained that all I could do was toss the Scrabble board on the table or pop in a Langston Hughes documentary. I have had days where I wrote up so many students and confiscated so many phones in my morning classes, all the while trying to keep a lighthearted and positive demeanor, that come my after-lunch classes my disciplinary energy was shot. I tried to facilitate a conversation about homosexuality, optimistic that my students would be more open to the idea if only we all talked about it, only to be confronted with the most extreme homiphobia I have ever witnessed. I have felt bitter at the lack of resources at my disposal (no field trips, extra budget money, or available activities in the area for students) and I have questioned teaching as a career. In fact, I am still questioning it. I am so thankful that I am doing it this year, but I also wonder if maybe there is a different field where I would be more at home.
Finally, there is THE UGLY. East St. Louis has some joys and some incredible people and stories, but it also has a violence and culture of revenge that is second nature to many of its inhabitants. The local East St. Louis news is guaranteed to present me with at least one story of a homicide or shooting a day. Several young people have been shot and killed in the past few months. Two cousins of some of my students were shot outside of a gas station. A Vincent Gray graduate was shot and killed. My advisee, Robert, was shot five times while at a known drug house. He is partially paralyzed, but may return to Vincent Gray next quarter. I remember once, in elementary school, while on a field trip to an indoor swimming pool, one of my classmates jumped into the deep end and almost drowned. He ended up being alright, but for days I and my fellow students were somber and spoke in reverent whispers about him. At Vincent Gray, the students almost casually informed me that Lil' Rob has been shot up. They were upset, and they missed his quiet jokiness, but his injury was seen as “one a' those things.”
East St. Louis also offers little educational or positive experiences for high school students. There are no big college campuses for them to picture themselves on. There are no safe public parks or recreational centers for them to have fun at. There are no museums or fun/educational field trip spots. Everything looms tauntingly on the other side of the river. Everything I have considered trying to convince my students to go to has been in St. Louis and not anywhere near their homes. Vincent Gray itself, while being an amazing school with an even more amazing staff, is a dingy concrete slab of a building, located on a busy street with a teeny parking lot with a basketball hoop leaning precariously in it. A mini mart is our neighbor. The crazy girl inside me wants to throw a colorful mural up on the school and buy some outdoor sports equipment for the lot, but those are pie-in-the-sky at this point.
I suppose I should have ended with THE GOOD so as not to be such a downer, but all three, THE GOOD, THE BAD, and THE UGLY are all things I have encountered this year with teaching. I have cried out of joy, frustration, and hurt. I have put more work into this than I have ever put into anything, and though I am still struggling to put together the pieces and figure out where my God is leading me in the future, I would not trade this in for anything. So keep the Lil' Boosie ringtones blaring, students! Keep the whiteboard tagging, the lap-texting, and the incessant questions about my sex-life coming, 'cause I'm here for six more months!!!!!!
