Brief Moments in Time

“We are only bodies of energy

Our lives are but brief moments in time”

We hope our lives are worth living

that we’ve made some small impact on humanity

before we die

Alone, our actions are miniature

small figurines fighting against

an armored tank

protecting a history of oppression

a system that thrives on injustice

where our duty i to muster up the energy

to make the tiniest waves

to speak up for those

who have lost their voices

“We are only bodies of energy

Our lives are but brief moments in time”

We hope our lives were worth living

that we’ve lived a comfortable life

afraid to speak up for others

and lose all that comfort provides

We close our eyes,

shut our mouths,

cover our ears

ignore what’s going on outside

“We are only bodies of energy

Our lives are but brief moments in time”

Lessons from the Schoolyard

Elementary school was

me always in trouble

doing and saying the wrong things

getting blamed for some other kid’s discretions

3rd grade

in line at recess

waiting for the gymnast bars

next to the jungle gym

Raymond, the only boy

struggling to lift himself up

as the other girls

laughed, pointed, and mocked

and maybe it’s a false memory

but I’m pretty sure

I stood by silently

and when Raymond finished with those bars

he bolted towards me

and I took off

dashing across the grassy field

the sound of his grunts and footsteps

close behind me

so I gave up

covered my head in defense

and stopped

but Raymond kept running

smacked his head right into me

collapsed on the ground

his thick brown plastic glasses

lay by his side

in two pieces

When I was pulled into the Principal's’ office

I knew before I even spoke

my sentence had been determined

“Now Jamie, Raymond is going to speak first, while you listen.”

insulted by the directions

as if I didn’t know how to have a conversation

And when it was my turn to speak

no one listened

it was like my side of the story was never spoken

assumed guilty

but I knew I was innocent

“Now you’ll want to tell your parents before we call them”

And

“two days in the planning room for you to reflect on your actions”

And no one ever called my house

because they called the wrong parents

my aunt and uncle got the message

and when my uncle told my dad

he laughed and said,

“I bet that boy’s dad is real upset,

he got beat up by a girl,

how pathetic”

And in the planning room when I described what happened

I was told I couldn’t leave until I admitted

to punching that boy on purpose

so I erased my original statement

a plea of innocence

and fear and accidental violence

was rescinded

and I falsely submitted

guilty words

composed in lies

because I was too young

for adults to think this little 10 year old

was capable of being honest.

Elementary school

This young girl’s first exposure

To the unjust system

Of guilty until proven innocent.

No Teacher Left Behind

Passed two CLEP exams yesterday. They were hard and exhausting. I went to a baby shower after and was too tired to carry on a conversation. Hopefully I now have enough credits for my plus 30 pay increase. It's hard to know for sure because the DOE and the college board are so cryptic in their explanations or lack thereof. No one seems to know how many credits any of the exams are worth. Just another layer of bureaucracy in an already complicated, inefficient system.

The greater philosophical problem I have with the CLEPs is the same problem I have with all standardized high-stakes testing. You take a test, you get your score, you know you answered some questions wrong, but you have no idea which ones so you never learn the "correct" answers. You don't know for sure what you know and you don't learn anything from the test itself.

And so I wonder: how is a test educational if the person taking it never sees the breakdown of the results and therefore never learns from their mistakes?

The Paradox of Teaching

I don't know if it's that time of year or if I've just been feeling this way all year or for the last few years, but I might hate teaching and at the same time cannot imagine doing anything else that I would enjoy as much or be as good at.

New Year

Back to school today. One student lost his winter coat in school for the second time this year the day before our break started. It was a high of 32 degrees today and he came to school in a sweatshirt and a windbreaker. I gave him a winter coat.

Another student brought his christmas present to school to show me. He giggled excitedly as he pulled a swiss army knife out of his pocket completely unaware that he had just brought a weapon into school. In any other school he most likely would have been suspended. At my school we confiscated the knife until the end of the day and explained to him why he can't bring a knife to school.

I wish more schools were like this.

Year 2: Flashback.

Flashback to my second year of teaching. In the first few days of the school year I attempted to keep a teaching diary of sorts. Perhaps I knew it was about to be a hellish year. Perhaps I knew I'd need written records. Perhaps I still had hope.

---

DAY 1.

F is pregnant. R had a baby. Who knows what is actually going on with V. Disowned by his parents, homeless, and a pregnant ex-girlfriend. Is it really true? A certain special education teacher in all her tactfulness announced to half the cafeteria that A got held back. Thanks for making one student’s life better. I totally believe you when you say, “Don’t fuck with my students.” Obviously you only mean it when you don't have some kind of vendetta against them. That’s a different story. Why don’t you try being an advocate for the students not receiving their mandated services? Maybe you’re just too busy “dumbing it down” for them.

M came prepared to class and did his work and had a great day. They told me we should be worried about losing him this year, but my hopes are high. He’s gonna get his shit together this time. He has to. 

Rumors flying D might be coming back. Failed all his RCTs again. Didn’t work hard enough. I only hope he learned. Don’t waste our time or yours, just work harder, study more. Expand your vocabulary. Read something. Read anything.

DAY 2.

This school year has proven to be more difficult than expected and it’s only day two. Everything is disorganized. There is an air of miserable among teachers and students. The administration tries to hide all that is wrong, but they are unsuccessful. We all know the truth. Most upsetting to me is the blatant disregard for special education services. We are out of compliance. We are nowhere near being in compliance. An entire class of students is not receiving any special education services. They claim it’s an issue of funding, but how can that be? Special education is federally funded. Where is that money going? Why are two of the special education teachers teaching general education classes? Why am I teaching six classes? Where is the union in all this? What can we do to fight the people in charge of this fucked up education system?

I start by empowering my students and hopefully their parents catch on too. Call and complain, I am begging them telepathically. Do I dare file a grievance? And face the harsh consequences if I am found out by the higher ups. It’s risky business-- that is, being a teacher employed by the New York City Department of Education.

DAY 3.

M may have had a breakthrough. He’s coming to school prepared, completing classwork, completing homework and most importantly ignoring distractions. I observed him briefly in Earth Science and he made me so proud. I couldn’t hold back a smile even as J made inappropriate comments and attempted unsuccessfully to distract others, I had to smirk because everyone else was ignoring him and focused on learning. It was a drop of hope that even without the support and resources teachers need to succeed, we might still be effective. I have one student and he’s going to be okay.

DAY 5.

I just barely prevented a fight from breaking out in my 10th grade ICT class in which I still do not have an actual co-teacher in a class that is legally required to have two teachers. I never thought two boys could argue for so long about whether telling someone they had “nigga hair” was more offensive than telling someone they had “lesbian hair.” 

It has gotten to the point where I can no longer teach. The students just talk constantly. It’s as though they are incapable of listening. They have no self-control. 

I dread going back to school. If I didn’t have so much work to do and didn’t feel filled with guilt I would be looking for a new job. I am miserable. I need to do something beyond work so I can start to feel okay again.

I must keep reminding myself why I stayed at this school. To support my students. To support my friends and colleagues. Because I love my students. I care about my students. I am a teacher so I can be an advocate for my students. I can’t abandon my students when I know they need me. I stayed for my students. They are what matters most.

---

And then I stopped keeping a diary.

Five years later I find myself in a better environment, yet I still can't shake the feeling of misery. I love my school, my students, my colleagues. I love teaching. And yet, most days, I dread it. I want to blame someone. I want to blame the education system. I want to blame bureaucracy. I want to blame politics. I want to blame high-stakes testing. I want to blame institutional racism. I want to blame the system that creates poverty and all the social problems that are born from it. Because I know that I am meant to be a teacher. I know that I am a good teacher. But these systematic problems are slowly breaking me and slowly crushing my soul.

And I know I'm not alone.

Only in Dreams

It's summer, but still I dream of school-- constantly. Sometimes the dreams are full of stress, sometimes they make no sense. Sometimes they are about students, former students, or parents. Sometimes they are about my colleagues being mean to me. Sometimes they are nightmares about my first school. Sometimes I dream of being late to everything or not wearing enough clothing to school. Even in sleep, I cannot escape my job and the anxieties that come with it.

A few years ago, I had one of my more memorable dreams involving two rambunctious students. These two were always finding themselves in the midst of one bad decision after another-- cutting class to play dice in the park, punching their hand through a window, cursing at a teacher, or stealing a custodian's keys and exploring some locked classrooms.

In this dream, I found myself hiding out in my childhood home. Across the street was no longer the tall trees obscuring the rural family homes I grew up next to but a large apartment building representing my current urban lifestyle.

And someone was shooting at me.

Somehow I knew-- it was these two students.

The next day I said to the students, "You know you guys are really stressing me out. I'm even dreaming about you."

When I told them the details of the dream and their failed assassination attempt, they looked at me surprised. "But Jamie, dat's crazy. We would never do that to you. We don't even own AK-47s."

Well, thank goodness for that.

My Epic Summer

Today was the 33rd day of my summer vacation. To be sure that I am doing all the right things to relax and recharge for September, I decided to make a list. And then I made a second list.

What I have done so far this summer:
1. Gone to the beach 4 times.
2. Backpacked on the Appalachian trail in Maine for 5 days.
3. Attended the STEM institute and participated in a 3-day workshop called Green Design Lab Curriculum with SolarOne.
4. Completed a weeklong creative writing seminar called Deconstructing Voice with Ayana Mathis at the Cullman Center Institute for Teachers.
5. Wrote approximately 3 short stories.
6. Participated in a week long workshop with Facing History called Race and Membership in United States History.
7. Attended a private tour of the Jacob Lawrence Migration Series exhibit and reception at MoMA.
8. Drank wine.
9. Ate cheese.
10. Watched the first season of Homeland.
11. Read approximately 7 short stories.
12. Donated 2 bags of clothes to GoodWill.
13. Went to my first open house to look at an apartment for sale.
14. Ran into 1 student on the sidewalk and nodded my head in recognition.
15. Rode my bike
16. Ate an entire lobster.
17. Went to a rooftop BBQ.
18. Went to happy hour.
19. Spent quality time with my boyfriend.
20. Ate grilled corn.


What I would still like to do this summer:
1. Go to the beach at least 4 more times.
2. Go backpacking again.
3. Read more books.
4. Write more stories.
5. Go to the movies.
6. Drink more wine.
7. Eat more cheese.
8. Donate more of my belongings to GoodWill.
9. Practice my Spanish.
10. Go to more museums.
11. Watch season 2 of Homeland.
12. Think about all the workshops I've done this summer and decide what classes to teach in the Fall.
13. Begin designing class curriculum to teach in the Fall.
14. Get a massage.
15. Watch an outdoor movie in the park.
16. Eat more grilled corn.

Am I forgetting anything?

The Big Tenure Update

Today, it finally happened. After six years of teaching in the New York City Public School system, I was granted tenure.

It came as a huge surprise. During our student awards ceremony, I was called up to the front along with three of my colleagues. Then our Union Chapter Leader, the Principal and two Assistant Principals announced that we finally did it. 

And this is how we responded: