The Home Stretch

Caught up as I've been in the flurry of chores and activities that accumulate and rain down upon the educator as the school year winds to a close, I've neglected to share that flurry with the world. The halls have been feverishly abuzz with students already somewhat infected with the highly contagious "School's out for summer" virus, as so eloquently expounded by Alice Cooper, and contrary to popular myth, the faculty seems to have contracted a stronger strain than the students. My school has recently completed its rooftop deck and many a class have I "taught" there on a day with pleasant weather. The teachers mill about the faculty room, peering through the slats of the window shades into the warm and sunny beyond enticingly beckoning us to abandon responsibility and seize the long awaited arrival of May and June. Instead, we take inventory of textbooks, prepare our classes for final exams and stare into the glowing abyss of our computer screens as we calculate report card grades and write a short novella on the academic progress of each of our students.

Many anecdotes have come and gone without note; the fifth grade boys and girls switched classrooms on April Fools' Day only to find that their teachers had beat them to it... My casually undone hairstyle inspired a trend amongst the fifth through eighth grade girls to the point where I had to give group step by step instructions... In light of the economic crunch, the fifth grade class trip had been canceled and the fifth and sixth grade classes banded together to raise the necessary money... and many others which have escaped my immediate reach for the moment.

The summer quickly approaches and I await its arrival with mixed emotions. I welcome the break from grading papers and excruciatingly early mornings and disciplining. However, the Collective Soul and Idan Reichl guitar jam sessions and teacher practical joke wars and eye-opening earth-shattering discussions with my colleagues and chocolate/comedy clip detox between classes and the moment you witness the light bulb illuminate above a student's head and the "awww" instances in my day are all things that will sorely be missed during July and August. I'll use the time to reorganize my life and unwind the tight tension that has slowly wound its way through me since the first day of school. And you can bet, come September, I will be ready to once again teach classes on the rooftop as we savor the last warm days of the year and i will arrive armed with highly more sophistocated pranks to "share" with my coworkers.

Are you smarter than a 5th grader?

Kids. They never really get the credit they deserve. Adults fail to recognize their unbiased wisdom and often their rather surprising humor as well. We were discussing the Ten Plagues in class and why the Egyptians kept hitting the frogs even though they continued to multiply with each blow. A rather quiet student responded completely seriously, "They must have had anger management problems." The humor and wisdom in that one statement were so profound, especially in light of the fact that she nailed one of the explanations for the illogical behavior of the Egyptians- that anger causes irrational thought processes. Insightful and yet, one of the wittier lines I've collected over the years, along with the one about a pre-school teacher explaining that squirrels live in a burrow and the student asking if it was Brooklyn or Queens.

I fell into education somewhat accidentally and it is for moments like those that I remain in the profession. While working with eighth grade students on various projects, they have enhanced my proficiency in computer technology, my knowledge of teeny bopper pop culture that I wasn't interested in (ok, maybe a little), and sought my advice and opinions on their own precarious positions perched on the cloudy precipice between childhood and growing up. I often don't have answers to their questions. I admit that some of those same doubts and decisions plague me to this day but to keep seeking answers and continue thinking. When this epiphany that my actions, my opinions are contributing to shaping their futures dawns on me, I stand up a little straighter, carefully consider my words and responses, and continue my own quest for answers. When kids tells you that you are "such a good artist" , "the best storyteller", "like a walking encyclopedia" and "such a good teacher", the compliments shouldn't really have so much power to influence the way you feel about yourself, but they do, because kids are powerful people and they never really get the credit they deserve.

Secret Life of the American Teacher

As I sit before the computer that has been deemed "mine" since it is the only one in the school which responds to my username and password, I am surrounded by the unusual sights and sounds which have become part of the white noise of my life. A crowded room in Manhattan, with views of the surrounding concrete jungle and blinding sunlight filtering through the windows, filled with educators espousing wisdom and searching for answers to life's unknowns. "What exactly is for lunch today?", "Life is like a roll of toilet paper, it goes faster when you get to the end.", "How do they expect me to teach three classes at the same time?" "I'm out like a fat kid in dodgeball." All the while a guitar is being passed around the room while everyone shows off their various levels of musical skill and we discuss how men are like dolphins and why then end of June seems so far away...and the Xerox machine explodes a confetti of paper punches to celebrate the beginning of the next period.