The idea was to reflect on what is on our minds this independence day. With so much happening in our country, the USofA, it is difficult to be in a celebratory mood on this "holiday".
Looking back into childhood, I see my country as "the greatest". It is what I was taught in school. We would pledge our allegiance, our innocent hands over our pure hearts. "With liberty, and justice, for all," our voices proudly declared, having no real understanding of what those words meant.
As white kids, we knew nothing of the deep racism that impacted our classmates and their families. We were taught "color-blindness", a fairytale idea that if you don't see color, color doesn't exist, therefore racism couldn't be real. We only knew of fireworks, bar-b-que, flags on porches, and police officers were the "nice guys". It wasn't until my teen years, when some of my best friends weren't white, that I began to see the ugly truth - america is racist.
Does that mean I don't see the good things that america has? Well, of course, but I see it through my privilege of having white skin. I can't help think that when I have a positive interaction with a police officer, my black and brown friends may not be so lucky. When I walk through my neighborhood at night, I don't wonder if someone is going to call the cops on me. I know the store security isn't going to stop my white sister and ask her if she paid for the stroller her baby is in. I do know they have stopped my brown friends.
And all this is what I am thinking about. The racist president. The institutions of racism that allows such horrific things to happen to our black and brown brothers and sisters. The asylum seeking migrant children and families who are caged on this day of independence. Today, I am somber.
But I have to hope. I want to believe that we can rise to the occasion of "land of the free, home of the brave!" I hope we are up to the challenge. It is going to require those of us privileged to have white skin to interrupt injustice. Our hands are no longer innocent. Our hearts, no longer pure. We know the harsh reality, and if we choose to ignore it, then we deserve the doom that will certainly impact us all.
Wednesday, July 4, 2018
Saturday, June 9, 2018
Teacher Thoughts June 2018
A whole costco sized bottle of advil later, the 2017-2018 school year comes to a close. I believe every school year gives teachers an opportunity to reflect, think, and hopefully, grow. Grow not only as a teacher, but as a human.
I have never been good at goodbyes. I hate the idea of never seeing someone again. Many of my students will be returning to me in late August, but I cannot help wondering what will happen in our time apart. And what about my seniors? I will not being seeing them come into my classroom, all sleepy-eyed and grumpy at 8:20am. Those are the kids I am thinking about the most.
I have one senior who has changed me in particular. When I first started at this school, I was warned about him. I was told to "be careful" and that he has "hit people in the past". The feeling I got from my colleagues was this kid was going to be my most challenging. And, holy bananas, they were right!
The first couple of weeks, this kid spent the majority of his time right outside of the classroom next to a garbage can. The garbage receptacle was large and had a flat top that you could sorta lean onto. Believe me, the metaphor here is not lost on me. He swore a lot. He barely came to class, and when he did, he'd tell me to fuck off and he'd stand in the corner until he left to go back to the garbage can in the hallway. He wandered the classroom a lot. Kids mostly avoided him. He didn't smile. This kid clearly learned a long time ago that no one would bother him if he was an asshole to everyone.
About 2 weeks in, I had finally decided this kid was going to be mine! I had to claim him as mine! I decided that he was going to know that he was mine and I was his teacher and that his bullshit wasn't going to work on me. When he told me to fuck off and he walked away, I followed him. He walked to another corner of the classroom. I wasn't intimidating or mean, I just walked with him to the corner. He looked at me, and I gently and quietly said "it's all good, we got a lot of time left together". "Fuck you" he said. My calm reply, "it's OK, I get paid to be here, and we can do this all day." He went quite, and I kept teaching from that corner of the room. He wandered around a bit, and I just stayed right next to him - it was maddening, and I am sure the other students wondered what the hell was going on. He was clearly testing me. And each and every other student was watching. The stakes were high. He walked into the hallway, and I reminded him of the classroom policy of calling security if he left the room without permission, and I followed through. Security brought him back in the room, where we continued our dance of "fuck off and wandering".
This dance lasted a few days. It was grueling. I wondered what I had set myself up for. I feared he was going to hate me more. I was terrified of not being able to convince him that I was there for him, I was there for each student that was watching. Then, the breakthrough happened. He stayed in class for 30 minutes. Then for 40 minutes, an hour... 70 minutes.... 80 minutes.... Each class a few more minutes... The kid stayed. He finally felt safe. This was March of last year (2017). We had a whole school year left together, and he was going to be a senior, and I was scared of this kid's incredible risk for drop out. His brother dropped out. His sister dropped out. He gave me a hug on the last day of school last year, and it made me cry, and his response, "stop fucking crying, Ms Angell!" of course, then I just laughed through my tears.
We began in the fall, as tradition holds. We started off as you'd imagine, testing the waters a bit. I held my ground, and he continued to blossom. I began to see and experience things with this kid that no one had before. He smiled. He fucking smiled! He said "Hello" and "good morning". He came into class right at the beginning of the day. He checked in with class during our morning check-in.
I don't want to give you the impression it was all butterflies and rainbows, because it wasn't! This kid had been practicing his fuckery for a long time, and he was damn good at it. He was hard to like, and teachers often complained to me about him. I didn't have a magic bullet, but I did learn that loving kids who are the hardest is the only thing that works, and it is the god damned hardest thing to do. I had to dig deep on some days, when he would just push, and push, and push his terrible at me. With his swearing and meanness and cruel comments spewed at me. Many days I just felt weary and depleted.
And just like when he began staying in class, he then began actively participating. This kid read out-loud for the first time. He completed independent work! He joked with the other adults. He got silly with his peers. We helped him peel away his layers of practiced avoidance and watched him begin trusting. He relaxed into being a teenager who was accepted. And while my classroom is only a pebble of space in his world, he was safe there. He was accepted. He was loved and cared for.
And last week, I got to watch him walk across that graduation stage. I saw him hold up his diploma, beaming with pride as he looked up at his parents in the audience.
And with that, this school year comes to a close. Love is the only thing that works every time.
I have never been good at goodbyes. I hate the idea of never seeing someone again. Many of my students will be returning to me in late August, but I cannot help wondering what will happen in our time apart. And what about my seniors? I will not being seeing them come into my classroom, all sleepy-eyed and grumpy at 8:20am. Those are the kids I am thinking about the most.
I have one senior who has changed me in particular. When I first started at this school, I was warned about him. I was told to "be careful" and that he has "hit people in the past". The feeling I got from my colleagues was this kid was going to be my most challenging. And, holy bananas, they were right!
The first couple of weeks, this kid spent the majority of his time right outside of the classroom next to a garbage can. The garbage receptacle was large and had a flat top that you could sorta lean onto. Believe me, the metaphor here is not lost on me. He swore a lot. He barely came to class, and when he did, he'd tell me to fuck off and he'd stand in the corner until he left to go back to the garbage can in the hallway. He wandered the classroom a lot. Kids mostly avoided him. He didn't smile. This kid clearly learned a long time ago that no one would bother him if he was an asshole to everyone.
About 2 weeks in, I had finally decided this kid was going to be mine! I had to claim him as mine! I decided that he was going to know that he was mine and I was his teacher and that his bullshit wasn't going to work on me. When he told me to fuck off and he walked away, I followed him. He walked to another corner of the classroom. I wasn't intimidating or mean, I just walked with him to the corner. He looked at me, and I gently and quietly said "it's all good, we got a lot of time left together". "Fuck you" he said. My calm reply, "it's OK, I get paid to be here, and we can do this all day." He went quite, and I kept teaching from that corner of the room. He wandered around a bit, and I just stayed right next to him - it was maddening, and I am sure the other students wondered what the hell was going on. He was clearly testing me. And each and every other student was watching. The stakes were high. He walked into the hallway, and I reminded him of the classroom policy of calling security if he left the room without permission, and I followed through. Security brought him back in the room, where we continued our dance of "fuck off and wandering".
This dance lasted a few days. It was grueling. I wondered what I had set myself up for. I feared he was going to hate me more. I was terrified of not being able to convince him that I was there for him, I was there for each student that was watching. Then, the breakthrough happened. He stayed in class for 30 minutes. Then for 40 minutes, an hour... 70 minutes.... 80 minutes.... Each class a few more minutes... The kid stayed. He finally felt safe. This was March of last year (2017). We had a whole school year left together, and he was going to be a senior, and I was scared of this kid's incredible risk for drop out. His brother dropped out. His sister dropped out. He gave me a hug on the last day of school last year, and it made me cry, and his response, "stop fucking crying, Ms Angell!" of course, then I just laughed through my tears.
We began in the fall, as tradition holds. We started off as you'd imagine, testing the waters a bit. I held my ground, and he continued to blossom. I began to see and experience things with this kid that no one had before. He smiled. He fucking smiled! He said "Hello" and "good morning". He came into class right at the beginning of the day. He checked in with class during our morning check-in.
I don't want to give you the impression it was all butterflies and rainbows, because it wasn't! This kid had been practicing his fuckery for a long time, and he was damn good at it. He was hard to like, and teachers often complained to me about him. I didn't have a magic bullet, but I did learn that loving kids who are the hardest is the only thing that works, and it is the god damned hardest thing to do. I had to dig deep on some days, when he would just push, and push, and push his terrible at me. With his swearing and meanness and cruel comments spewed at me. Many days I just felt weary and depleted.
And just like when he began staying in class, he then began actively participating. This kid read out-loud for the first time. He completed independent work! He joked with the other adults. He got silly with his peers. We helped him peel away his layers of practiced avoidance and watched him begin trusting. He relaxed into being a teenager who was accepted. And while my classroom is only a pebble of space in his world, he was safe there. He was accepted. He was loved and cared for.
And last week, I got to watch him walk across that graduation stage. I saw him hold up his diploma, beaming with pride as he looked up at his parents in the audience.
And with that, this school year comes to a close. Love is the only thing that works every time.
Sunday, January 21, 2018
Single Reflections
Fellow Human, I know what you are going to say. This time, please don't.
Being single sucks! And while I know all you partnered humans are going to tell me that partnership also has its points of sucking - I assure you, it is different.
Most days I can carry on with my life just fine. It is in the finer details of life that I get filled with sadness and frustration with a lack of a partner. And I mean, a partner in the non-intimate sense - I'll get to that later.
I have been really, really sick this last week, and when that happens, I become acutely aware of how single I am. Shall I paint you a picture, fellow human?
Picture a fever of 102, you can only think 1 thought at a time, you can barely make it into the bathroom, and on the way, you stumble into the wall, holding on and praying you don't fall and pass out. You wonder if you will make it back into bed. Of course, there's no one around to check on you. That thought alone fills you with anxiety. But, thankfully, you make it back into bed, and pass out from the exhaustion of just going to the bathroom. Well meaning, and very dear friends, text you, wishing you wellness and healing. One or two ask if I need anything, but pride always wins the day with "no, I'm fine, thank you." Besides, I would only barely make it to the door, and I certainly can't entertain guests, and I truly do not wish this illness on anyone.
I wake up a day or so later with excruciating pain in my ear. I have to go a doctor, and I am wondering how?! I argue with the receptionist, they are insisting I stay home, which I understand is protocol for the flu, but this is now a flu complication- ear infection, that I will need antibiotics for. I resign myself to going to urgent care. Keep in mind, dear reader, that I still am in fever land, and am still alone. But I have to take myself to the doctor, and likely to a pharmacy.
Long story short, I deliriously drive myself to the doctor and then to the pharmacy. The pharmacist asked "did you drive yourself? Do you live close by?" Clearly, I should not be out driving. I looked in the mirror - I was grey.
So, besides the obvious - when you are single and sick, you're on your own. Those finer details I mentioned? You've had a long day, week, month, year, and it would be really great if someone else got dinner started and made. Or, could someone else please take the trash to the curb tonight? No? OK, well, I'll get it next week, I'm just too tired. Can't someone else go to the grocery store? Sure would be nice if someone else were here to help pay all these bills and the rent.
And those intimate parts? Having someone to talk to at the end of the day? Having another human touch you, you getting to touch another human being? Yeah, I don't have that. You partnered people need to not take these things for granted. I am touch starved. Aching to connect mentally and physically to another human being. You have no idea how this feels. The loneliness of singlehood is painful. It aches deep inside my bones. The longing is unending.
But I can't stay too long in that place of longing, so I push it aside, and go on with the day to day. Though, it seeps itself into my waking thoughts more often than I'd like. But alas, what choice do I have? Carry on.
Being single sucks! And while I know all you partnered humans are going to tell me that partnership also has its points of sucking - I assure you, it is different.
Most days I can carry on with my life just fine. It is in the finer details of life that I get filled with sadness and frustration with a lack of a partner. And I mean, a partner in the non-intimate sense - I'll get to that later.
I have been really, really sick this last week, and when that happens, I become acutely aware of how single I am. Shall I paint you a picture, fellow human?
Picture a fever of 102, you can only think 1 thought at a time, you can barely make it into the bathroom, and on the way, you stumble into the wall, holding on and praying you don't fall and pass out. You wonder if you will make it back into bed. Of course, there's no one around to check on you. That thought alone fills you with anxiety. But, thankfully, you make it back into bed, and pass out from the exhaustion of just going to the bathroom. Well meaning, and very dear friends, text you, wishing you wellness and healing. One or two ask if I need anything, but pride always wins the day with "no, I'm fine, thank you." Besides, I would only barely make it to the door, and I certainly can't entertain guests, and I truly do not wish this illness on anyone.
I wake up a day or so later with excruciating pain in my ear. I have to go a doctor, and I am wondering how?! I argue with the receptionist, they are insisting I stay home, which I understand is protocol for the flu, but this is now a flu complication- ear infection, that I will need antibiotics for. I resign myself to going to urgent care. Keep in mind, dear reader, that I still am in fever land, and am still alone. But I have to take myself to the doctor, and likely to a pharmacy.
Long story short, I deliriously drive myself to the doctor and then to the pharmacy. The pharmacist asked "did you drive yourself? Do you live close by?" Clearly, I should not be out driving. I looked in the mirror - I was grey.
So, besides the obvious - when you are single and sick, you're on your own. Those finer details I mentioned? You've had a long day, week, month, year, and it would be really great if someone else got dinner started and made. Or, could someone else please take the trash to the curb tonight? No? OK, well, I'll get it next week, I'm just too tired. Can't someone else go to the grocery store? Sure would be nice if someone else were here to help pay all these bills and the rent.
And those intimate parts? Having someone to talk to at the end of the day? Having another human touch you, you getting to touch another human being? Yeah, I don't have that. You partnered people need to not take these things for granted. I am touch starved. Aching to connect mentally and physically to another human being. You have no idea how this feels. The loneliness of singlehood is painful. It aches deep inside my bones. The longing is unending.
But I can't stay too long in that place of longing, so I push it aside, and go on with the day to day. Though, it seeps itself into my waking thoughts more often than I'd like. But alas, what choice do I have? Carry on.
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