Three Weeks in N. Philly
10 days of teaching. 35 deadlines. 26 workshops. 2 whole bottles of rescue remedy. 236 pieces of paper printed to date. 438 copies made in the copy center. 4.6 hours of sleep average M-F. On average 3 cups of coffee/day. 22 sandwiches at lunch. 28 lesson plans written. 44 bus rides to Richard Wright Elementary School. And 137 hours spent at Richard Wright….and all of this just since June 26th.
Quite frankly it’s no surprise that we, the 560 corps members in Philly, are all incredibly sleep deprived. Although we are fairly sure it’s just a cheap brain washing technique employed by Teach For America, we somehow find the energy to get up each day and do it again. I have been sleeping through my alarm clock, which I find scary, but my suitemate is lovely enough to bang on my door everyday by 6:05 if she doesn’t see me moving around.
The school I teach at leaves something to be desired. The first day I was there, I encountered two rats, and a whole entourage of cockroaches. Supposedly an exterminator came to our school last week, but cockroaches still seem to tap dance in and out of my room daily. I’ve, more or less, conditioned my kids to ignore them, although we did consider naming one and having it as a class pet. You can’t drink the water from the drinking fountains: there are some toxins and chemicals in it that make the water poisonous to humans.
But my kids… oh my kids. I love them. Truly. I never guessed that I would be so attached to fifteen 2nd graders. Although Trequan falls asleep daily because his mom keeps him out late, and although Brandon has been on the lowest level of our consequence chart for 8/10 days so far, and although Raheem is 10 (the age of a 5th grader) and at a pre-K reading level, I love them. Diamond asks the most bizarre questions or will raise her hand in the middle of a reading lesson to inform us that she had broccoli with dinner last night. I thought I was being funny once in a lesson and said I went to the pet store to buy a dinosaur… Malik Palmer spoke up and said clearly I was wrong… dinosaurs were only in zoos. Shakihya comes in everyday and hugs me, and Arlethe writes about the adventures of her and ‘Ms. Meier’ on a fairly regular basis in writers’ workshop.
It’s a strange thing being here in Philly. I don’t think I really had any concept of what ‘institute’ would be when I arrived. Sure, they tell you it is going to be intense… but what they don’t tell you is that everyday will be a rollercoaster… and it will play with your emotions, and tug at your heartstrings in ways you never imagined. I never imagined that I’d believe so much in these students that the rest of society has deemed ‘unreachable’, or ‘behind’ or perhaps the far worst- a lost cause…. At 8 years old, my students have never had anyone invest in them...and unfortunately, it shows in their attitudes in school.
We are staying at Temple University in north Philly. It’s a beautiful campus, unfortunately in a not so beautiful neighborhood. Some might say worse than the south side of Chicago. We get on school busses every morning and at 7:15 am on the dot, we depart from the parking lot and disperse throughout Philadelphia. The first couple weeks of getting on those busses, I used to feel like we were little soldiers going out to save the world everyday. I can’t describe exactly why going off to my school moves me everyday. Maybe it’s seeing this world outside from the school bus window. 44 bus rides later, I still can’t help but to press my face up against the glass going to and from school. I am living in a world I never knew existed…or maybe I just wanted to think it was never there. Either way, I have no choice but to face it now. And how can I even begin to describe the things I see… the things my children tell me, with all the innocence and naivety in the world.
When I was doing my pre-institute work, I had to read the story of Ms. Aurora Lora. In one particular part, she said that when her students came to school upset or angry on any particular day, she just knew. I kind of laughed it off initially thinking ‘how could she just know?’… But it’s true.. I know...and it’s obvious. And why wouldn’t it be? My kids wear their hearts on their sleeves…they are after all, only 8.
I haven’t had a real need to write in a long time… but I feel like I do now. For my kids, for their situations…and a lot for myself. It has been a long time since something has moved me like this experience has. I have days where I am mad…and then sad…and later happy. I’ve had a lot of successes with my students so far...and it’s the greatest feeling in the world.
Quite frankly it’s no surprise that we, the 560 corps members in Philly, are all incredibly sleep deprived. Although we are fairly sure it’s just a cheap brain washing technique employed by Teach For America, we somehow find the energy to get up each day and do it again. I have been sleeping through my alarm clock, which I find scary, but my suitemate is lovely enough to bang on my door everyday by 6:05 if she doesn’t see me moving around.
The school I teach at leaves something to be desired. The first day I was there, I encountered two rats, and a whole entourage of cockroaches. Supposedly an exterminator came to our school last week, but cockroaches still seem to tap dance in and out of my room daily. I’ve, more or less, conditioned my kids to ignore them, although we did consider naming one and having it as a class pet. You can’t drink the water from the drinking fountains: there are some toxins and chemicals in it that make the water poisonous to humans.
But my kids… oh my kids. I love them. Truly. I never guessed that I would be so attached to fifteen 2nd graders. Although Trequan falls asleep daily because his mom keeps him out late, and although Brandon has been on the lowest level of our consequence chart for 8/10 days so far, and although Raheem is 10 (the age of a 5th grader) and at a pre-K reading level, I love them. Diamond asks the most bizarre questions or will raise her hand in the middle of a reading lesson to inform us that she had broccoli with dinner last night. I thought I was being funny once in a lesson and said I went to the pet store to buy a dinosaur… Malik Palmer spoke up and said clearly I was wrong… dinosaurs were only in zoos. Shakihya comes in everyday and hugs me, and Arlethe writes about the adventures of her and ‘Ms. Meier’ on a fairly regular basis in writers’ workshop.
It’s a strange thing being here in Philly. I don’t think I really had any concept of what ‘institute’ would be when I arrived. Sure, they tell you it is going to be intense… but what they don’t tell you is that everyday will be a rollercoaster… and it will play with your emotions, and tug at your heartstrings in ways you never imagined. I never imagined that I’d believe so much in these students that the rest of society has deemed ‘unreachable’, or ‘behind’ or perhaps the far worst- a lost cause…. At 8 years old, my students have never had anyone invest in them...and unfortunately, it shows in their attitudes in school.
We are staying at Temple University in north Philly. It’s a beautiful campus, unfortunately in a not so beautiful neighborhood. Some might say worse than the south side of Chicago. We get on school busses every morning and at 7:15 am on the dot, we depart from the parking lot and disperse throughout Philadelphia. The first couple weeks of getting on those busses, I used to feel like we were little soldiers going out to save the world everyday. I can’t describe exactly why going off to my school moves me everyday. Maybe it’s seeing this world outside from the school bus window. 44 bus rides later, I still can’t help but to press my face up against the glass going to and from school. I am living in a world I never knew existed…or maybe I just wanted to think it was never there. Either way, I have no choice but to face it now. And how can I even begin to describe the things I see… the things my children tell me, with all the innocence and naivety in the world.
When I was doing my pre-institute work, I had to read the story of Ms. Aurora Lora. In one particular part, she said that when her students came to school upset or angry on any particular day, she just knew. I kind of laughed it off initially thinking ‘how could she just know?’… But it’s true.. I know...and it’s obvious. And why wouldn’t it be? My kids wear their hearts on their sleeves…they are after all, only 8.
I haven’t had a real need to write in a long time… but I feel like I do now. For my kids, for their situations…and a lot for myself. It has been a long time since something has moved me like this experience has. I have days where I am mad…and then sad…and later happy. I’ve had a lot of successes with my students so far...and it’s the greatest feeling in the world.
