The first true confession being that I'm usually so frazzled and brain dead after the day is done that I'm in no mood to blog. I want to be oh-so-pithy and clever you see, and that's just not the headspace I'm in by the time I get (somewhat) caught up on work. But being honest is more important, right? So if this post is short on keen insight or chuckles, know that it is at least accurate.
So this week is the first in which kids referred to me as "Mrs." rather than by my first name-- I'm having a hard time adjusting to it. I straight up introduced myself to a student as "Danielle" at one point and then we both immediately burst into apologetic giggles. I figured the kids would hold it over my head for the rest of the week at least, but they were gracious about it; really my co-teacher and I just answer to "ma'am" more often than not. Yeah I know. It's pretty adorable.
We had two students on the first day, which was pretty devastating. Two wonderful, earnest, super motivated students, mind you, but the class was in danger of getting canceled (at least one of our sister programs at another school site did get the axe). Luckily the leadership at our school is super committed to bring creative writing to kids who will otherwise probably never get the chance to take it, and they pulled some strings and made some phone calls and as of today our roster boasts nine--count 'em nine-- really wonderful young human beings. I guess a best-case scenario would be me teaching 30 surly, unhappy kids, to get me good and ready to be a tough guy teacher in the fall, but really for a writing class nine is just about perfect: small enough that they'll get close and trust each other and everyone will have enough time and opportunity to get plenty of feedback, but large enough to have lots of different opinions and styles on display. So basically I get to have a wonderful summer and what will probably be a very trying fall.
The kids impress me every day. TFA (and my own experience with the students I worked with in Cal-SOAP) teaches that the kids we serve really just need someone to believe in them and hold them to high standards. But these kids don't need me to believe in them any more than a dog needs a subscription to Cat Fancy. They believe fiercely in themselves, the value of their education and the work we're doing in class. They all plan on going to college. One wants to go to law school, another wants to be a psychiatrist, and another plans on curing AIDS (you know, no big deal). All this "get the kids invested" stuff TFA has been stressing? I don't have to really do much. The kids just bring it, every day. And they're getting better, every day. And it's inspiring but it's also really intimidating when you can know exactly the sort of teacher that they need but you're very aware of how you're just not that person yet. But I'm working on it.
Time to stop writing so I can wake up at 5am and keep working on it.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Institute Is Kinda Weird
Weird, I tell you. Besides the intense, long days that you'll hear about from everyone who's every done it, what you don't hear about is the really weird developmental place you're in. The message from TFA, and it's one that I don't think they can stress too much, is "Hey, we know you just graduated from college and you're high on life and all, but you need to grow right the eff up, NOW. There are children coming on Monday and they need you and you and only you are responsible for their future, so hoist up your big boy pants." Which is exactly right, and totally scary, but it's kind of undermined by the reality of daily life at Institute.
For starters, you're living in super traditional dorms; most of us haven't done that for years (while some of us, like me, never have), so you get a lot of people running around giggling saying "aww, we're freshmen again!" It doesn't feel very adult at all. Then you get up early in the morning, grab your backpack, put a sandwich and a cookie in a lunchbox with your name written on it sharpie so it doesn't get mixed up with anyone else's, and board a bright yellow school bus. Then you get to the school where you sit in little-people chairs all day and your every minute is structured and when the teacher says "1-2-3 Eyes On Me" you shut right up and listen to whatever she has to say. I get all the rationale behind all of this, but it is impossible not to feel infantilized.
In other news, while I still have no idea what I'll actually be doing in Charlotte, for the next four weeks at least I'll be teaching creative writing to high school students, which I couldn't be more thrilled about. And that's good, maybe, because the other people I'm co-teaching with seem less than thrilled. I'll just have to be enthusiastic enough for the four of us! We had to take the pre-assessment today so we could patch up any gaps in our content mastery if need be, and I was pretty impressed both with the intensity of the exam and the quality of the texts we were asked to work with, including not just the perennial favorite "The Lottery" (which still gives me the heebie-jeebies every. time.) BUT that awesome scene from Watchmen where Rorschach has broken into Daniel's house and his eating his beans; students were asked to talk about characterization. I know, right? Totally perfect. This is the first time I've seen teens asked to study Watchmen legitimately, but I hope it's not the last. We're meeting the teacher in charge of the project tonight, and I hope to give him a high give on his excellent taste.
I can't wait to meet the students, even though I'm pretty terrified. My biggest worry, though, is that this class will be so chill that it won't prepare me for being the no-nonsense adult teacher I'm going to need to be in the fall. My adviser said this class is supposed to be kind of relaxed, which is exactly what a creative writing class should be, but that's not very helpful to me trying to develop a professional persona.
The weird thing about TFA is that no matter how well you research it before you sign up, no matter how many feel-good recruitment events you go to, you can't really get a sense for its culture until you're actually in the thick of it. I'm still trying to get a handle on it, really. When I try to succinctly describe the Teach For America approach the only word I can come up with, honestly, is "American," with all the cultural baggage both good and complicated that word implies: A worship of exceptional individuals, a hunger for biting off more than is maybe a good idea to chew, a youth-driven, DIY, haters-gonna-hate, never-tell-me-the-odds sort of mentality. It's as inspiring as it is sometimes troublesome. Sometimes I get really into it, sometimes I think it's a little short-sighted. But at the end of the day, you have a bunch of brilliant, dedicated people who are working tremendously hard in a teeny tiny swelteringly hot town to help kids, and it's exciting to be in that environment. I'm really interested to see how the next few weeks play out, and I'll try to update as often as I find time.
In the meantime, I have to go stand in a very adult line to eat my very adult dining hall dinner.
For starters, you're living in super traditional dorms; most of us haven't done that for years (while some of us, like me, never have), so you get a lot of people running around giggling saying "aww, we're freshmen again!" It doesn't feel very adult at all. Then you get up early in the morning, grab your backpack, put a sandwich and a cookie in a lunchbox with your name written on it sharpie so it doesn't get mixed up with anyone else's, and board a bright yellow school bus. Then you get to the school where you sit in little-people chairs all day and your every minute is structured and when the teacher says "1-2-3 Eyes On Me" you shut right up and listen to whatever she has to say. I get all the rationale behind all of this, but it is impossible not to feel infantilized.
In other news, while I still have no idea what I'll actually be doing in Charlotte, for the next four weeks at least I'll be teaching creative writing to high school students, which I couldn't be more thrilled about. And that's good, maybe, because the other people I'm co-teaching with seem less than thrilled. I'll just have to be enthusiastic enough for the four of us! We had to take the pre-assessment today so we could patch up any gaps in our content mastery if need be, and I was pretty impressed both with the intensity of the exam and the quality of the texts we were asked to work with, including not just the perennial favorite "The Lottery" (which still gives me the heebie-jeebies every. time.) BUT that awesome scene from Watchmen where Rorschach has broken into Daniel's house and his eating his beans; students were asked to talk about characterization. I know, right? Totally perfect. This is the first time I've seen teens asked to study Watchmen legitimately, but I hope it's not the last. We're meeting the teacher in charge of the project tonight, and I hope to give him a high give on his excellent taste.
I can't wait to meet the students, even though I'm pretty terrified. My biggest worry, though, is that this class will be so chill that it won't prepare me for being the no-nonsense adult teacher I'm going to need to be in the fall. My adviser said this class is supposed to be kind of relaxed, which is exactly what a creative writing class should be, but that's not very helpful to me trying to develop a professional persona.
The weird thing about TFA is that no matter how well you research it before you sign up, no matter how many feel-good recruitment events you go to, you can't really get a sense for its culture until you're actually in the thick of it. I'm still trying to get a handle on it, really. When I try to succinctly describe the Teach For America approach the only word I can come up with, honestly, is "American," with all the cultural baggage both good and complicated that word implies: A worship of exceptional individuals, a hunger for biting off more than is maybe a good idea to chew, a youth-driven, DIY, haters-gonna-hate, never-tell-me-the-odds sort of mentality. It's as inspiring as it is sometimes troublesome. Sometimes I get really into it, sometimes I think it's a little short-sighted. But at the end of the day, you have a bunch of brilliant, dedicated people who are working tremendously hard in a teeny tiny swelteringly hot town to help kids, and it's exciting to be in that environment. I'm really interested to see how the next few weeks play out, and I'll try to update as often as I find time.
In the meantime, I have to go stand in a very adult line to eat my very adult dining hall dinner.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
The Blog Before the Storm
Finally in the Delta, and even though I can't think of much to say it would be a shame not to post a blog on Institute Eve, when everything's been so built up. So just to take stock before I go to bed, I guess:
People in the Delta really are as sweet and gracious as I'd been told. This goes for people in the South generally (not that I think people in California, for example, are mean-- they just don't really go out of their way to engage with strangers the way that Southerners do), like the lady I spoke with briefly in an Alabama gas station this morning. As I passed her I told her in the quick, offhand way that I like to do when I see strangers with something I admire, that I liked her purse (It was zebra print with a giant blue leather bedazzled rosette in the middle. Ultimate purse). She took a second to figure out that I had been speaking to her and her "Oh, thanks" came as I had almost turned the corner. When I came BACK from the bathroom she stopped me to tell me the website it had come from and all of the different types of purses they had an oh hadn't she seen one that would look just adorable with the skirt I was wearing and I must be careful out on the roads, now, ya hear? It's that extra little bit of conversation you just wouldn't get back home. Anyway, Delta folk couldn't be sweeter or more hospitable (they had boy scouts helping us move in. BOY SCOUTS!), which I particularly appreciate when you hear about some regions where TFA's, er, controversial nature means corps members aren't really welcome at all. So I have no idea what's going to come in the weeks ahead, but at least I know that I have the full support and well-wishes of Cleveland, Mississippi, and I'm super stoked for the fish fry on Friday.
I've seen more of the United States in the past few days than I have in my entire prior life combined, which is pretty awesome, and I've met a ton of people from loads of different backgrounds and even though it's kind of the lame "what's your major" question it's been really interesting to hear what brought them all to apply for and eventually accept a commitment to TFA. The reasons are varied and mostly (but not always) noble, and no two are the same. I have something I want to say about that but I'm pretty exhausted right now and I have to get up EARLY. Checking out my summer school in the morning!
People in the Delta really are as sweet and gracious as I'd been told. This goes for people in the South generally (not that I think people in California, for example, are mean-- they just don't really go out of their way to engage with strangers the way that Southerners do), like the lady I spoke with briefly in an Alabama gas station this morning. As I passed her I told her in the quick, offhand way that I like to do when I see strangers with something I admire, that I liked her purse (It was zebra print with a giant blue leather bedazzled rosette in the middle. Ultimate purse). She took a second to figure out that I had been speaking to her and her "Oh, thanks" came as I had almost turned the corner. When I came BACK from the bathroom she stopped me to tell me the website it had come from and all of the different types of purses they had an oh hadn't she seen one that would look just adorable with the skirt I was wearing and I must be careful out on the roads, now, ya hear? It's that extra little bit of conversation you just wouldn't get back home. Anyway, Delta folk couldn't be sweeter or more hospitable (they had boy scouts helping us move in. BOY SCOUTS!), which I particularly appreciate when you hear about some regions where TFA's, er, controversial nature means corps members aren't really welcome at all. So I have no idea what's going to come in the weeks ahead, but at least I know that I have the full support and well-wishes of Cleveland, Mississippi, and I'm super stoked for the fish fry on Friday.
I've seen more of the United States in the past few days than I have in my entire prior life combined, which is pretty awesome, and I've met a ton of people from loads of different backgrounds and even though it's kind of the lame "what's your major" question it's been really interesting to hear what brought them all to apply for and eventually accept a commitment to TFA. The reasons are varied and mostly (but not always) noble, and no two are the same. I have something I want to say about that but I'm pretty exhausted right now and I have to get up EARLY. Checking out my summer school in the morning!
Friday, June 10, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Talking Resumes and Geese
Day 3 of Induction is done, and it simultaneously feels like we're just getting started and like we've been here forever. The days are long and structured and generally more useful than I initially assume they'll be, but it's hard to stay focused on what's going on with the specter of Institute looming over every workshop and lecture. Thus far, we haven't been given a lot of details on how it's going to go down; what we have gotten is a lot of "You'll see when you get there!"s along with raised eyebrows and knowing smiles. So we continue to break ice and share our feelings and keep our eyes locked on Sunday.
Despite all the icebreaking and introductions, it's hard to get to know people here-- I mean really get to know them. Every morning we file into the dining hall for breakfast in our business clothes, looking so much like walking, talking resumes. So professional, so accomplished. Even the group outings have the same toy-just-taken-out-of-the-box feel to them, despite the change of dress. We talk about where we went to school, old jobs, what we did there, what brought us to apply for and commit to TFA, how weird the interviews were, and what we do (and very occasionally someone is willing to venture what they don't) like about the program. The workshops have been asking us to talk about racial, cultural and class identity, so we'll talk about that when prompted, in the very safe and guarded way that you talk about those things in that sort of setting.
So I was really surprised at lunch today when I sat down with a few corps members, including one girl I hadn't even met yet, and the conversation quickly got real. It started with one of us sharing some pretty heavy family stress, and I was amazed when the entire table jumped in right away with support, advice and tales of their own similar personal struggles: how everyone seated there had faced substance abuse, eating disorders, self-mutilation or suicide, a host of other heartaches in themselves and/or those they cared for, and had lived to tell about it. Thrived, even. No talking resumes here. Just real people who had been through the darkness only to come out on the other side of it and decide that what they really wanted to do for at least two years of their lives is bring some light to children who desperately need it. I was floored; that whole "humility" thing TFA has been asking us to think about this week? I thought I got it, but I appreciate it even more now.
These aren't the kind of things that TFA (or any employer, obviously) is going to ask you about during your interview, but that conversation gave me so much more faith in my fellow teachers-to-be than any student leadership position on a resume ever could, and in seeing myself in our shared stories, I found a bit more faith in myself, too. Because that darkness comes for all of us at some point in our lives, and goodness knows it will come for some of our students (let's get real, it may already have done so). And they'll need structure, and engaging lessons, and lots and lots of hard work to help them grow the skills that will help them combat that darkness, but they'll also need to count on someone who's been through it before. I will probably not ever be able to completely understand what some of my future students will have to face in their lives--what form the darkness will take for them-- but I think that on some primal level we can sense that all of us as humans have that common enemy, and that we can help each other fight it.
Or, you know, maybe I'm still working Stephen King out of my system.
Anywho, here is a picture of some geese chillin hard in the park where we picnicked today:
I think it was too hot to fly so they decided to stand around and poop instead. Good plan.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Present!
Since I'm at induction and have some rare time for myself I thought I'd try and sneak in quick blog, since that's what I set out to do and all.
SO! Charlotte! TFA! This thing that's been in my future since October is now my present. Travel headaches, money worries and oh-my-god-how-am-I-going-to-find-a-place-without-a-car concerns aside, I don't have much to complain about. The city is beautiful, if intolerably hot, moist and hazy for my delicate Bay Area sensibilities. But I figure that's the beauty of Institute in the Delta: it will be so sweltering and miserable that Charlotte will seem to have a delightful climate in comparison.
Everyone is really nice, most of them are also really intense. I mean, I guess that's how you get into TFA. We've been talking a lot about the philosophical approach of the program, which is good I guess, but not very much about the practical stuff, which is what I'm much more interested in. I feel like after reading 600 pages of TFA material over the spring I GET the philosophical stuff, I really do. I appreciate that the staff here are not particularly pushy about the "party line," at least not yet, and my understanding is that not all regions are like that.
I feel MUCH better about the whole thing today, though, than I did yesterday. After two days without sleep I was nodding off towards the end of our welcoming dinner/community panel--impressive, right? I'm lucky I didn't wind up passing out into a plate full of pulled pork (which is prepared somewhat differently in North Carolina than the rest of the country apparently--the more you know!). By the time I got home I was almost hysterical-- my anxiety about the weeks ahead, figuring out how to pay for everything and just plain old homesickness was made a thousand times worse by my lack of sleep and I freaked out over the phone at Mike. Six hours of sleep and two cups of coffee in the morning helped me get some perspective. Just "first day of camp syndrome," as Mike called it. "By the time it's over you won't want to leave." I'm not as sure about that second part, but I hope he's right.
I am surprised, though, by my own homesickness after just two days. I thought I was a tough guy. Especially given the FIVE YEARS I spent lrd-ing it up with Mike. Marriage makes you soft, I guess. I also feel like kind of the odd duck out of my fellow corps members, but whatever. I'm sure the things that make me feel out of place here will help inform the kind of teach I become blah blah. I'm enjoying myself and looking forward to the weeks ahead, but I cannot wait for my husband and cat to catch up to me.
Heading out with my fellow inductees and some veteran TFA people to NoDa, Charlotte's hippie arts district, for a poetry reading tonight. Not having a car out here is pretty wretched, so I'll be glad to see more of the city. As of now I don't really have any sense of it.
I'll sign off with this little gem: I went to go get a sandwich in the dining hall yesterday and the lady behind the counter asked what kind of cheese I wanted. There was American and some sort of white cheese, so I asked what the latter was. "American." Isn't that the orange cheese? "They're both American." Ohh...
Clearly John C. Smith University's students have a pretty refined palate when it comes to varieties of American cheese.
SO! Charlotte! TFA! This thing that's been in my future since October is now my present. Travel headaches, money worries and oh-my-god-how-am-I-going-to-find-a-place-without-a-car concerns aside, I don't have much to complain about. The city is beautiful, if intolerably hot, moist and hazy for my delicate Bay Area sensibilities. But I figure that's the beauty of Institute in the Delta: it will be so sweltering and miserable that Charlotte will seem to have a delightful climate in comparison.
Everyone is really nice, most of them are also really intense. I mean, I guess that's how you get into TFA. We've been talking a lot about the philosophical approach of the program, which is good I guess, but not very much about the practical stuff, which is what I'm much more interested in. I feel like after reading 600 pages of TFA material over the spring I GET the philosophical stuff, I really do. I appreciate that the staff here are not particularly pushy about the "party line," at least not yet, and my understanding is that not all regions are like that.
I feel MUCH better about the whole thing today, though, than I did yesterday. After two days without sleep I was nodding off towards the end of our welcoming dinner/community panel--impressive, right? I'm lucky I didn't wind up passing out into a plate full of pulled pork (which is prepared somewhat differently in North Carolina than the rest of the country apparently--the more you know!). By the time I got home I was almost hysterical-- my anxiety about the weeks ahead, figuring out how to pay for everything and just plain old homesickness was made a thousand times worse by my lack of sleep and I freaked out over the phone at Mike. Six hours of sleep and two cups of coffee in the morning helped me get some perspective. Just "first day of camp syndrome," as Mike called it. "By the time it's over you won't want to leave." I'm not as sure about that second part, but I hope he's right.
I am surprised, though, by my own homesickness after just two days. I thought I was a tough guy. Especially given the FIVE YEARS I spent lrd-ing it up with Mike. Marriage makes you soft, I guess. I also feel like kind of the odd duck out of my fellow corps members, but whatever. I'm sure the things that make me feel out of place here will help inform the kind of teach I become blah blah. I'm enjoying myself and looking forward to the weeks ahead, but I cannot wait for my husband and cat to catch up to me.
Heading out with my fellow inductees and some veteran TFA people to NoDa, Charlotte's hippie arts district, for a poetry reading tonight. Not having a car out here is pretty wretched, so I'll be glad to see more of the city. As of now I don't really have any sense of it.
I'll sign off with this little gem: I went to go get a sandwich in the dining hall yesterday and the lady behind the counter asked what kind of cheese I wanted. There was American and some sort of white cheese, so I asked what the latter was. "American." Isn't that the orange cheese? "They're both American." Ohh...
Clearly John C. Smith University's students have a pretty refined palate when it comes to varieties of American cheese.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
"An Echo of the Past in the Future"
I've been up all night, unable to sleep thanks to a not-unpleasant, roaming anxiety that's felt awfully familiar. It took me awhile to recognize the feeling: it's that wide-awake anticipation I used to feel when I was a little kid the night before the first day of school.
Kinda cute, right?
My bags are mostly packed and I've said most of my goodbyes. I'm going to watch Muppet movies until a decent hour (I luxury I never had as a kid; I had to stay IN BED), and I think I'll be pretty psychologically ready to get on that plane tonight.
Kinda cute, right?
My bags are mostly packed and I've said most of my goodbyes. I'm going to watch Muppet movies until a decent hour (I luxury I never had as a kid; I had to stay IN BED), and I think I'll be pretty psychologically ready to get on that plane tonight.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Making It Real
I have planned for awhile now to start this blog. Teaching will be an adventure, and I want to document it. I want the folks back home to know what I'm up to on the other side of the continent without constant emails. Blogging is a good intellectual practice-- and after all, what is my fancy new B.A. good for if not giving me the authority to say things on the Intertubes? There are plenty of good reasons to blog, but now that I'm here blogging I kind of wish that I weren't, because that means that in a few days (count 'em three) I'll be leaving California for a very long time to go be a teacher. It's a real thing now. And I'd be lying if I said that wasn't a very very scary thing.
I have spent lots of time this week being nervous and excited, but I think most of all I've been spending time feeling a little mournful, saying goodbye to the East Bay "Goodnight Moon" style ("Goodnight People's Park" "Goodnight Bay" "Goodnight Casa Latina and the Happiness Bomb That Is Your Barbacoa Torta"). I've been sitting in the apartment that I've lived in for two years and feeling like a baby bird who desperately wants to snuggle back into their nest once they've seen how far the drop is. It's a messy, colorful hodgepodge of cheap Ikea, friends' hand-me-downs, thrift store/Urban Ore finds and a few family heirlooms, and it's very much home. I watched a lot of TV and read even more books here. Mike and I adopted our first pets together here (RIP Homer Swimpson). After we got married, this is the place we came home to. A whole lotta growing up happened here, and I'm prone to getting a little misty about it, okay? But also stoked. Totally, totally stoked.
My fear for this blog is that it will peter out in that. That seems to happen a lot with other TFA bloggers. You'll see a post about "YAAAAAY Institute!" and then "OMG First Day of Class!" and then a few weeks later "teaching is hard..." followed by radio silence. I imagine that happens because teaching is, in fact, hard. But I'm still optimistic that I'll be able to eke out some time for this. I've always admired those who blog but never had anything to write about (narcissistic high school Livejournaling aside), and I hope this will be a place where I can reflect a bit about what I've gotten myself into. And show off nifty Charlotte things. And maybe whine a little bit about how much I miss my California friends and California weather.
I'll also be blogging at Teach For Us, the site I linked to in the above paragraph (see?). It'll pretty much be reprints of what I write here, but I plan to keep that one strictly teaching, while this one will probably also include lots of pictures of my cat. But it seemed important to have a semi-official TFA blog presence as well, since I'm a team player and all that.
The name for this blog, by the way, is from The Wire, which I finished watching a few weeks ago and kind of changed my life. It comes from the vice-principal's advice to newly-minted math teacher Mr. Pryzbylewski, that he look upon his students with "soft eyes." I'm adopting the phrase here so it can serve as a sort of constant admonition that I do the same, and for me it's also about acknowledging the double-edged sword of my own "softness": the unique perspective that I know I can bring to my classroom and the larger fight for educational equity, coupled with the fact that I am utterly inexperienced and starting from square one like the dudes at the beginning of Mulan.
So tomorrow I'm going to go buy a suit for my placement interviews, go to my last day of work at YMP (and step foot on the Cal campus for what will probably be the last time until I'm a corny old alum at a homecoming game or something), and hang out with my friends who haven't left the area yet. Then on Saturday I'm going to spend the day with my parents and wish my mom a happy birthday (yay mom!). And on Sunday, after my husband makes me a steak, I'm getting on a plane and starting a new proverbial chapter of my life in North Carolina. It's really happening.
Time to get writing.
I have spent lots of time this week being nervous and excited, but I think most of all I've been spending time feeling a little mournful, saying goodbye to the East Bay "Goodnight Moon" style ("Goodnight People's Park" "Goodnight Bay" "Goodnight Casa Latina and the Happiness Bomb That Is Your Barbacoa Torta"). I've been sitting in the apartment that I've lived in for two years and feeling like a baby bird who desperately wants to snuggle back into their nest once they've seen how far the drop is. It's a messy, colorful hodgepodge of cheap Ikea, friends' hand-me-downs, thrift store/Urban Ore finds and a few family heirlooms, and it's very much home. I watched a lot of TV and read even more books here. Mike and I adopted our first pets together here (RIP Homer Swimpson). After we got married, this is the place we came home to. A whole lotta growing up happened here, and I'm prone to getting a little misty about it, okay? But also stoked. Totally, totally stoked.
My fear for this blog is that it will peter out in that. That seems to happen a lot with other TFA bloggers. You'll see a post about "YAAAAAY Institute!" and then "OMG First Day of Class!" and then a few weeks later "teaching is hard..." followed by radio silence. I imagine that happens because teaching is, in fact, hard. But I'm still optimistic that I'll be able to eke out some time for this. I've always admired those who blog but never had anything to write about (narcissistic high school Livejournaling aside), and I hope this will be a place where I can reflect a bit about what I've gotten myself into. And show off nifty Charlotte things. And maybe whine a little bit about how much I miss my California friends and California weather.
I'll also be blogging at Teach For Us, the site I linked to in the above paragraph (see?). It'll pretty much be reprints of what I write here, but I plan to keep that one strictly teaching, while this one will probably also include lots of pictures of my cat. But it seemed important to have a semi-official TFA blog presence as well, since I'm a team player and all that.
The name for this blog, by the way, is from The Wire, which I finished watching a few weeks ago and kind of changed my life. It comes from the vice-principal's advice to newly-minted math teacher Mr. Pryzbylewski, that he look upon his students with "soft eyes." I'm adopting the phrase here so it can serve as a sort of constant admonition that I do the same, and for me it's also about acknowledging the double-edged sword of my own "softness": the unique perspective that I know I can bring to my classroom and the larger fight for educational equity, coupled with the fact that I am utterly inexperienced and starting from square one like the dudes at the beginning of Mulan.
So tomorrow I'm going to go buy a suit for my placement interviews, go to my last day of work at YMP (and step foot on the Cal campus for what will probably be the last time until I'm a corny old alum at a homecoming game or something), and hang out with my friends who haven't left the area yet. Then on Saturday I'm going to spend the day with my parents and wish my mom a happy birthday (yay mom!). And on Sunday, after my husband makes me a steak, I'm getting on a plane and starting a new proverbial chapter of my life in North Carolina. It's really happening.
Time to get writing.
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