So I've become aware that I spend all my time spitting vitriolic gloom and doom so far on this blog. If things are this bad, you may ask (go ahead and ask, I'll wait), why do you go on teaching? Doesn't anything good ever happen at that school of yours?
Glad you asked. Yes. Yes, indeed. Despite all of those things that are going on outside the classroom, the stupid airheaded things being perpetrated by politicians and wannabe gurus, happily, there are a million great things going on inside my classroom. I can't count how many times a day I laugh. Today, though, I was given some background on one of my new, unfamiliar students that made me cry. I had wondered why this young person wore such overt hostility like a glove and seemed to look to manufacture earth-shaking drama at every turn. The student is doing fine in my class--well, in fact--but I wanted to understand more about the circumstances behind the demeanor (I'm trying to be careful not to betray any telling details about this person--even his/her gender). So I sought out a prominent teacher in this student's past today, and she told me stuff that made us both cry (wasn't that a sight?--the two of us sitting there together in my classroom, blubbering). It became apparent that circumstances and events from last year constituted a turning point in this person's life, and that it's a miracle that (s)he is here today, attending classes regularly and doing well in them. I wish I could be more explicit in describing all of this, but this young person's privacy deserves to be protected. Suffice it to say that after 25 years, I still hear stories that curl my ever-thinning hair, and I am humbled to be a part of these remarkable young lives who have come through such nightmarish upbringings, bearing their hurts and their tragedies and their scars, and looking to us with whatever semblance of trust they can muster to help them somehow navigate their way to the other side where maybe, just maybe, something better might await them. And I am reminded that, yes, these are my students and I am their teacher, but the only thing that really separates us is the years we've each put in, and what brings us together is the humanity we all share.
So today I taught three ninety-five minute classes; I gave one quiz in one and a full-blown high-pressure test in another. The third I gave a thorough chewing out because they needed a reminder that they were in my class, not the other way around--and everything went well after that, even though they really weren't terribly fascinated about learning the in's and out's of poetry interpretation. After my last class I filled in for the drama teacher and supervised our drama club's rehearsal of a murder mystery until about five-thirty. During the course of the day, I made seventy-three stupid jokes (give or take), commiserated with several staff and students about the end of the Rockies' ten-game winning streak last night, teased our school social worker whose fantasy football team was defeated by mine last night (by one whole point!), laughed several hundred times, and cried once. Another day surrounded by a pulsating, coursing ocean of humanity. How could anyone not love a job where you have days like that?