Battling Windmills and Smelly Subway Cars

As I commute around New York City, I often find myself faced with a difficult choice: whether to stay in the subway car where I have a seat but am forced to smell the homeless guy two seats away or move to the unknown, most likely a hot and crowded subway car with no empty seat in sight. Tonight was one such night, returning home from a Hunter College Open House for their MFA Writing programs. I sat briefly pondering my next move: Can I stay in my current career as a teacher, would a different school be better suited for me or should I just pursue other seemingly less-stressful interests like a MFA in writing?

It was when my thoughts were interrupted by the smell of urine that I recognized a correlation between my two dilemmas. At the root of the second dilemma is the feeling that nothing I do as a teacher really matters all that much. Despite all my efforts at guiding them in the right direction, kids will nod and smile then continue doing whatever they feel like doing. And this recurring cycle of disappointment leads me to the thought of switching to a non-transfer school. What would that mean? Kids who are motivated, perhaps. Kids who come to class regularly with their homework completed-- that would be amazing! I suppose if one can endure the stress, the aggravation of constantly trying to convince kids to stay in school, to come to class, to complete their assignments, to not smoke weed during school or chug beers during lunch, for months or years until they finally snap out of it and start earning their credits-- hopefully before they turn 21 and run out of time-- then it's rewarding. But I have to be patient and I have to remember that every kid won't make it and it's nearly impossible to know which kids are worth putting the energy into trying to "save" so I spread myself thin trying to help them all. Until one day I realize it's not sustainable. My life as a teacher is akin to Don Quixote battling windmills. My windmills are all the bad choices that my students make and as hard as I try to battle them, no matter how many Sanchos I can recruit to join my army, I can never defeat the windmills.

So, do I stay where I'm at and shield myself from burning out by doing less and less? Or do I make a move to the unknown? Maybe it will be a great school where kids always come to class on time daily with their homework completed, excited to learn and grow, maybe they never question anything. Or maybe it will be the kind of school where teachers pass the kids through just to avoid the principal's wrath. Or maybe I take a break from teaching in general and get a second Master's degree just because I can and I want to write more. But then I think: how will I have any money? It could easily be the best or worst move of my life, but it's the fear of the unknown that keeps me seated where I am, hoping I won't have to hold my breath or cover my nose for too long.

Choosing the right subway car: not that different from choosing the right public school or the right career path. Not that different from most of life's choices, I suppose.

New Student Orientation

Day 3 of New Student Orientation. How I made it through the day without crying is beyond me. It is days like this that remind me why I love my school and why I love teaching. A day filled with ice breakers and sharing personal stories and introducing the new transfer students to the culture that is our school.

Perhaps one of the best moments of the day was when I told our new high school students that we have a large LGBT community and our former principal is a trans woman and almost all the kids cheered, pumped their fists, and high-fived one another.

Another great moment was after leading a focused free writing activity, borrowed from one of my veteran colleagues, where I asked students:
As you begin the new school year, what are you leaving behind?
What are you bringing with you?
What are you expecting to be different here?
What do you hope to accomplish?

Students wrote and wrote and wrote then shared with a partner. Their partner then shared their responses with the larger group. It was amazing to see the insight of these students. One student talked about insecurities and being bullied and always worrying about what other people think of her. Another student in the room raised her hand, "Can I say something? I know exactly what you mean. I feel like that sometimes too. We all do, but you can't let it get you down. You just have to move past it and not care what other people think and just be yourself." And the room erupted into snaps.

As students spoke about wanting to leave behind their bad attitudes and not-so-great behaviors, one student told his peers, "You just have to learn to let things go. Let the past be history so you can move on to the future." Here was where I saw my opportunity. "We all have bad habits and behaviors that we're trying to leave behind and move on and be better people. We all make mistakes, but we have to get back up and keep it moving. It's so important to let the bad things go so we can move on with our lives." I spoke of the incredible amount of tolerance, acceptance, and community within the room. "No matter what you see happening around you, hold onto this moment, this feeling. Don't forget what this feels like right now."

Another student said, "You guys are sneaky. You tricked us into writing about our feelings and then tricked us again into connecting with each other over our similar high school experiences. I loved this activity." We all smiled and laughed in unison.

And before the day was over, the students concluded, "This is what I expected high school to be like, but it wasn't. This is what all of my schooling should have been like but it wasn't. Why don't you guys have a Pre-K through 12 school? Everyone would want to go there!"