New Beginnings

"It's hard to think about your life when one life is made up of so many lifetimes."

Or something like that. I remember a friend of mine said this once. It made a lot of sense when I was 25. I was on life #3 or 4 by then, and I thought that was a lot!

Anyway, I just wanted to tell you all that I have decided to change my life. I am leaving teaching (for now? for good?). I am a good teacher, but it has been very stressful. To be a good teacher you need to invest a lot of yourself, heart and soul, into your lessons, school, and students. After my year off and my year back in the classroom, I've discovered that I don't have much to give anymore. Even less to bring to my relationship with Froody. He's the main reason I've chosen to change careers. For 9.5 months I'm too tired to go camping, hiking, even out to dinner with family and friends. It would be so nice to be able to do all those things I like doing- alone and with Froody- for more than just 2.5 months out of the year.

Now is a good time to leave. Teachers seem to be coming under fire in this country. Even my current good and supportive district is planning on increasing class-size to 34 (hell, who wants to be locked in a room full of 13 year olds all day everyday for 9 months!?), not give us the next step in pay, and add more "furlough" days (no school = no work = no pay). Not only that, but did you hear about the school that fired all their teachers because the kids aren't scoring well?? True, I think teachers do need to be accountable, but so do the students, parents, and school district. How can the government expect me to teach these kids when they keep giving me less and less $$ and resources to do my job??? How can I teach these kids when their parents are unable or do not want to be positive contributors to their students' education?

bleh. I'd rather be an animal nurse.

End chapter 8. Start chapter 9.

So Out of IT

OK-being an adult in a teenage environment, you get used to the fact that "they" will always see you as grown up and uncool. I'm used to it and can handle it.

But yesterday one of my students said that his absent partner had their assignment (the downside to assigning group-work) so he couldn't turn it in. I said, "That's OK, just email him and remind him to bring it tomorrow."

The kid kinda half-laughed and said he wouldn't email him, but would most likely text him. A text!

Sheesh, I didn't think I was that out of it.

What Are You?

So, all month-long NPR's weekend edition has had this series called "Beyond Black and White" about people and race and ethnicity in America. I've actually enjoyed listening to it, as it features people who have been dealing with a lot of the same questions I've been trying to answer for years. As a kid growing up in America (well, in Southern California) you do get asked the question, "What are you?" fairly regularly: signing up for anything, going to school, meeting new people, etc. I've tried answering this question several different ways.

Racially, I'm brown. I know, I know, that's a color not a race, but I can't hide it, not even if I wanted to. OK- racially I'm mixed, but it's pretty complicated. According to the information I've gathered from my grandmothers, I'm: Spanish, French, Afro-Cuban, (probably also Mexican-Indian but grandma wouldn't admit it), Iranian, Italian, Jewish, and Japanese. So, racially, I look like anyone and everyone. If you've been following this blog (bless you!), then you know that in the Middle East and India people thought I was a local, until I opened my mouth.

Ethnically, I'm American-Mexican. I totally identify with being American. In fact, when I was a teenager/early twenties and people would ask, "What are you?" my answer was, "I'm American." *sigh* Sadly, this made things more unclear because then they'd ask me what tribe I belonged to or how many hundreds of years my family has been in California. So, I quickly gave that up.

Culturally, I'm Mexican-American, but I don't speak Spanish so for some this doesn't make me "Mexican" enough. When my family emigrated to the US, the attitude back then was, "We're in America now, so let's be American," and they embraced the language and a lot of traditions like Independence Day and Thanksgiving. They still kept some bits of Mexican culture like the food and music, piñatas on your birthday, and they all speak Spanish. But my cousins, siblings, and I didn't grow up bilingual.

Anyway, part of me thought that being back in America would make this question moot, 'cuz I'm back home. But, I got hired at a school where I am one of two brown people. Now, that doesn't mean that the other teachers aren't culturally mixed (which they are) but they have asked, "What are you?"

My answer? I figure if they ask, then they are going to get my big, ol' list of races that I already gave you. To me, being mixed in any way is fairly American.

Library Marm

Today i went to the library to grade some papers. i've never been in my neighborhood library, so i was grateful to find it large and quiet. being saturday, it thought it would be full of kids doing weekend stuff- animal show, read-aloud, etc. but, it was full of adults on their laptops or doing math with their tutors. i got a table to myself and graded one class-worth of tests in record time- 1hr 15 min.

on an unrelated note, my arms are tired already from typing! yesterday we did a great/hard workout and my muscles are still recovering. i'm sure white wine is very good for tired arm muscles.

Back to School

Yup, back in the saddle again, as the song says. I feel just like a first year teacher and those of you who teach know exactly how SUCKY a feeling that is.

I feel like I have no bottom, that I'm falling and all I can do is hope to land on my feet. Over and over again.

I feel like I have no past, just newness in front of me. I don't know why all my past experience has left me. I guess taking a year off from work will do that.

I have to learn again. Where to put the projector. How to make copies. How to grade papers. How to pass papers back. How to talk to students. How to open up a can of whoop-ass. So much learning.

I don't like my kids. But, I never like them before Thanksgiving (sometimes Christmas, sometimes Spring Break).

Things keep popping up. A bunch of "oh, yeah" moments.

I keep wondering if someone's parent is going to call me out on something. I wonder if my contract will be renewed next year. Why am I thinking all these negative thoughts? I need to give myself permission to mess up and realize that when I do (no "if" about it) the world will not end.

A part of me is cringing, curled up in a ball and won't let me help myself. Won't let me be positive about teaching again, about learning how to challenge those in my classroom, won't let me enjoy the other happy staff members.

I don't know why I can't just relax and breathe. But, writing this out has made me feel a bit better.

For now, at least.