You can love something that frustrates you

Last Monday was my first day of teaching 7th grade math. My class is from 8-9:30 right at the beginning of the day. I had 17 students on my roster and I was trying not to think about how intimidated I felt.

The first day was an overwhelming whirlwind. As I stood at my door with one hand stretched out to shake hands and and one hand white-knuckling my clipboard and seating chart, I welcomed each student with a "good morning," hoping they wouldn't recognize me for the pushover that I am. (Luckily, 7th graders are smaller than I imagined - so I've got size. Add that to beard and bachelors degree and I had all the confidence I needed.) Honestly, I didn't know how I was going to respond to being in front of a room of people looking at me to give them direction and instruction and encouragement and consequence and assessment. But I just kind of started talking, sticking to my plan, and rolling with it. It even felt a little out-of-body. Man, it was weird.

The first day was filled with just enough moments for me to constantly replay in my mind, rendering me useless during my sessions for the rest of the day (sweet fake names to follow):

• Several students wandered in late and I awkwardly did not respond whatsoever
• After explaining that I've been frustrated by math at times before, Marki-Mark - the self-proclaimed "bad girl" shouted, "I thought you said you loved math." "I do. You can love something that frustrates you."
• Richard Marx asked me "can I take a 5 minute nap" right after I described my class expectation to be focused. "No."
• The air conditioner spontaneously flooded out onto Immanuel's desk during the start-of-the-summer diagnostic.

After I walked out of class, I felt like I was getting off a rollercoaster. I had a faint idea of what had just happened, was a little sick to my stomach, and instantly had to start preparing to get in line again.

(Since day one, I've actually been teaching math content, and I've gotten to know my kids. So do not fear, it has been absolutely amazing. More stories to come...)

Middle School

I walked through the halls of a middle school today for the first time since I had braces and was (even more) awkward. In addition to the urinals seeming smaller, the pending differences between my experiences at Shattuck Middle School in Neenah, WI and my upcoming experiences at F.M. Black Middle School in Houston, TX were not lost on me.

Summer school started last week for the students of "Black," and 48 of us will be responsible for their instruction starting next Monday and running until mid-July. This week will consist of an information frenzy, during which my fellow corps members and I will learn about the ins and outs of lesson planning, content material, literacy, and the benefits of air conditioning (a watermain burst today, which left the school without A/C in the afternoon).

As I passed by summer school classrooms between sessions today, there were a couple moments when I locked eyes with a student inside. Maybe I've already seen some of the students that I will be teaching this summer. Some may need a push from me in order to recognize their own ability to do what it takes to move on to the next grade. Some may challenge me in ways that I can't imagine or prepare for. Some moments may make me want to laugh out loud, while others may make me want to sob like Dave Groshek. Maybe 19 instructional days will feel like an eternity, or maybe they will seem tragically inadequate. My only hope is that I will provide each student with the opportunity and desire to reach the ambitious goals I will set for him or her.

I'm meeting some amazing people down here and making the kinds of connections that are only possible in such a high-intensity, high-stress, high-humidity environment. I'm surrounded by passionate and motivated leaders, which is two parts inspiring and one part overwhelming. The Type-A meter is through the roof. Still, I've enjoyed conversations about sports, math, music, faith, and future with people from LA, Philly, Michigan, Houston, Kansas City, New York, Georgia, and even Madison, WI itself - sooooo relieving to find a Brewer fan. It's hard to believe it's only been 4 days, but it's still just as hard to believe that I'm not on some kind of extended vacation.

After a weekend in a posh hotel with all the Houston corps members for "Induction", we moved onto the University of Houston campus yesterday to join the future teachers of the Rio Grande Valley, Mississippi Delta, Dallas, and Hawaii for "Institute." We're set up in the Moody Towers - the kind of dorm whose drab walls, water stains, and bouches (a strange bed/couch hybrid) seem quaint and full of possibility when you first move in - but will be left in a month with no hesitation or regret.

It's feeling more and more like go-time, and I'm feeling less and less anxiety. I know that the challenges of leading a classroom next week will likely dwarf any I've known - but at this point I understand that it needs to happen and it will happen, which is more than I could have honestly said a week ago.

Go Panthers!

Shift in Focus

I should clarify a little: I'm moving to Houston on Thursday to join Teach for America in closing the achievement gap. I'll spend the summer teaching summer school and receiving training, and by the time fall rolls around I'll be hired by an elementary or middle school to be a real live teacher.

The interviewing process hasn't started for me yet, so I don't know for sure whether I'll be standing in front of a room of fourth graders all day or giving geometry classes to eight graders (or anything in between). Obviously I've got a faint idea of which roles will be a better fit for me than others, but I trust that when I'm interviewing with principals, we'll be able to work together to determine where I'll best be utilized. I'm excited to dive into whatever opportunity is presented.

The last month has been a whirlwind - but I've gotten the chance in the last few days to start really digging into some of the preparatory reading materials that Teach For America provides. I've been reading and thinking about classroom management, elements of learning theory, instructional planning and delivery, and the like. I'm relishing the shift in focus from "saying goodbye" and "getting all my things to Texas" to "inspiring a classroom" and "preparing lessons."

Another shift in focus has been from the role of a tutor to the role of a teacher. This will undoubtedly be one of the biggest and most immediate challenges for me, since I've enjoyed the advantages of the one-on-one interactions I've had in music lessons and tutoring. I've also been able to mix a lot of the elements of friendship into those one-on-one situations - the types of elements that simply won't translate into an effective and successful classroom.

I'm not so delusional as to believe that I'll be met with immediate personal success and unbounded happiness in Houston. I have high expectations for myself (and even higher for my future students), but if there's anything that working in occupational therapy for the last few months has taught me (and there is a lot), it's that some success is unrecognizable and not even necessarily enjoyable while it's happening. Most successes for me have seemed small - and much less tangible than a percentage scrawled on the top of a test. But I can't describe the joys I've experienced in the relationships that were formed through those minute-to-minute successes (and failures). Rather than continuing this abstract rambling, it's story time.

(NOTE: I was excited to start doing the trendy teacher thing where I use initials when I talk about students. But instead I think I'm going to take the opportunity to come up with aliases like Max Power or Funky Buttlovin' or even Mark Texiera or The Puma...)

Jay Greenbag (pronounced Green-bahg) had been one of my piano students since I started last November. When he started, he had just turned seven and had the attention-span you would expect many seven-year-olds to have. Jay had been struggling at times in school with receiving instruction, so his parents simply wanted him to be introduced to music in such a way that he could enjoy something and work at his own pace. Of course, I had additional goals for Jay: I wanted him to find a way to express himself through music, and I wanted to impress on him that his choice to continually work hard and challenge himself will lead to tangible improvement.

Looking back now - over the span of several months - he did improve a lot. He went from not being able to pick out a note to being able to read from the staff, form major and minor chords, talk about the differences between two songs, and plunk out melodies of his own. This improvement was only an indirect result of anything I did - it all came from his own hard work.

But seldom did I have the opportunity to look back over my time with Jay using the lens of hindsight. Much more often, I sat in front of a microscopic view of our interactions: the weeks I failed to find a way to inspire him to practice at home, the seconds that ticked by while I failed to help him connect the dots in his mind and slowly lost his attention, the minutes that we talked through musical ideas but I failed to provide an immediate and practical way for Jay to apply them. The many moments that worked lit up my days, but at first the many moments that didn't really took their toll.

What did and didn't work with Jay Greenbag reminded me about the importance of setting big goals and investing students in working hard to reach them. It also reminded me that there is only so much that I have control of - namely the 30 minutes a week that I was with him - and that it is crucial that I plan purposefully and execute effectively. He also reminded me that seven-year-olds have little concept of age when he legitimately guessed that I was 90-years-old during our last lesson. (After I told him he was wrong, he adjusted his guess to 102, so we just settled on that.)

I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't think I could provide a classroom right now with the tools, guidance, and motivation to succeed. Still, there are people I know - current great teachers - who will read this blog in the coming months and shake their head at the naive observations and experiences of a new teacher. Just as I've gone into my previous jobs knowing I had a lot to learn, I'll fly into Houston knowing that there will be plenty of room for personal growth as a teacher. Thankfully, I know I'll be blessed with plenty of opportunity to learn this summer and in the years to come.