Wednesday chaos

For those wondering where I've been: I started work on Monday. So, I've been there, or curled up inside my High Point teacher's manuals, or, excitingly, at the gym. I started going on Sunday night, and it couldn't have come at a better time. I had intended to go, cycle a bit, and use that time to think about my classes the next day, forgetting entirely the whole point of going to the gym for me: I absolutely cannot think about anything of significance while I am working out. I think my system is so out of shape that all possible energy must be devoted to making the muscles work at all, leaving nothing for the higher brain functions. In case it is not obvious, working out again has been amazing.

I realized today that I haven't worked out in almost exactly four months - not since the week I found out I was accepted to TFA. Coincidence? I think not. The preparation, the practice, the evaluation - it takes over your life. I must say, too, that I feel like years have gone by since that day in April when Amelie and I found out we were accepted, when we talked for hours on the phone - about what? what did we know, then, really? - and I tore so eagerly into the FedEx envelope, reading and re-reading my acceptance letter in case it was some kind of terrible mistake. But, yes, it has been four months, three since I took my CSET, two since I showed up at regional induction. In all honesty it feels at least a year since I left my summer placement school, though it's been only three weeks. These life-chapters have been brief but intense lately. I'm hoping for things to mellow out a bit, though I know that's folly.

This latest chapter, this Permanent Job thing - it's interesting. I'm thrust into the middle of the school year and this massive bureaucracy in the middle of a major restructuring as we shift to the small-school format, and no one really seems to know what any other department is doing (and neither do I,) or what my sub has been doing (my impression: nothing,) or what I should do all week (consensus: nothing, which I am violently resisting,) or who I should get the key to my classroom from (I found her today, day three, but there was no key to be had.) I'm meeting about a million people a day, all of whom want something from me - Did you fill out that sub form for the intersession? Can we meet about your retirement fund? When can I get a draft of your long-term plans? Are you aware of the meeting tomorrow after school? - and none of whose names I remember. Meanwhile, I have three classes and they are all trying to figure me out - What can they get away with? What's my class going to be like? Am I really going to stay? That, incidentally, was a drawn-out conversation that broke my heart for what it told me about their prior experiences. The short version:

Me: I'm Ms. L. I'll be your permanent teacher. So, I will be here for the rest of the year.
Classes: Until the break?
Me: Yes, until the break. And then I will be a substitute for another track. And then when you come back in October, I will be teaching this class again.
Classes: This class?
Me: Yes. I am your teacher now.
Classes: And you're staying all year?
Me: Yes. All this year, and the year after that, and the year after that.
Classes: So you are staying?

As for my kids: they are all amazing. My seniors are just rolling with the punches - I walked in and said "Hi, I'm your new teacher and we're doing a unit on tone and style using Neruda's Elementary Odes" and they are like "We like Ode to a Large Tuna in the Market better than Ode to Wine because it is more serious and sorrowful." No BS, no "testing period," nothing. My ESL classes, mostly because they are younger (mostly freshmen and sophomores) and more numerous (hard not to be, as only about 10 show up to senior English on a given day), are more of a mixed bag. Most of them are fiercely devoted to learning English, and even though it is incredibly obvious that I am as yet untrained in the program and I have not quite figured out how to convey difficult concepts at their understanding level, they are willing to do bookwork and silent reading about very boring concepts for two hours at a stretch. When they get the teenage giggles, to which both classes are prone, all it takes to get them back on task is a gentle reminder that we are here to learn English, and that we cannot do this if we are not doing the work. Notice, however, that I say most. The others are most definitely testing me.

Today was the roughest day I've had this week, much moreso than my first; it was the first day when I started to feel mental and physical exhaustion setting in while I was still in the classroom. Usually being around the kids energizes me, no matter how little food or sleep I've had access to, but today was particularly trying. I showed up early to get my key, and there was no key to be had. No problem, I thought, the sub next door always lets me in. On my way to the room, I stopped by my mailbox and discovered that it was ID Photo day for classes with 9th and 10th graders - no prior warning whatsoever. As I approached the room, congratulating myself on not having planned anything major for today (yes...a brilliant strategic move...) I noticed that my neighbor, Mr. Wulf, was trying to open my door - Great, I thought, he sees me coming. How thoughtful of him. But alas, the lock on his door was jammed with some bits of toothpick, and he was trying to get in through my room, which is connected to his by an interior door. My lock, as it turned out, was jammed worse than his. After some unsuccessful toothpick-manuevering, he went to the office to get a custodian, while I watched both classes and attempted to prevent them from disturbing the classes below us with their noise, projectiles, and/or saliva, all of which had been a problem under the reign of my sub. When he returned, we took our classes to take photos, which went fine but took half an hour, at the end of which time our locks were as jammed as ever. By the time campus security had arrived, assessed the situation, and sent for the custodian, and the custodian had made a diagnostic trip, wandered off to get the WD-40, returned, and unjammed the locks, we had lost over an hour of instructional time and my kids were riled up beyond all calming. Fifth and sixth period, the locks were clear, but the photo ID trip alone took a full hour, and my kids were all over the place, pushing and punching each other, calling names, attempting to prevent one of my best (and smallest) students from breathing by crowding around him and pressing him bodly against the wall, and producing a guitar, which they variously wrestled over, strummed atonally, and abandoned entirely in favor of the guitar strap, which they used to beat each other over the head. Again, attempts to get back on track when we returned to class were mostly futile, despite the ratio of calm and focused to riled-up students being about 7-1. It only takes a few.

Tomorrow, we are spending the entire first hour reviewing respect. I told 5-6 today, "We will talk about respect every day until I see it every day." One of my most thoughtful students looked up at me balefully and said, "We will never stop talking about it."