One day at a time (cont)...

Anyway, after sending off that email I was so upset and angry I felt physically ill - this has not been an easy year for many reasons and there are arguably plenty of reasons why I do not need to be doing this (everything of course being compounded by the fact that I am far away from home in a very foreign country).

And then I was very lucky. While I was home over the holidays, and browsing through books at the bookstore with unmitigated glee (books in English!!!), I caught sight of a recent book by Jonathan Kozol called Letters to a Young Teacher. I picked it up, thumbed through, and was immediately caught up in the world of "Francesca's" first grade classroom and Kozol's wonderful descriptions of his own experiences teaching. I figured, I am a young teacher, and here is a renowned educationalist (is that a word? regardless, check out Kozol's partial hunger strike and impassioned indictment of the No Child Left Behind Act) talking about teaching with a young teacher. I could use the help.

And little did I know how true that would be. Last night, I grabbed the book off my shelf and started reading. I made it through six chapters before I realized I was smiling and the tears in my eyes were no longer tears of anger, but tears of joy, of amazement. Leading me to send this to M:

And I'm heading to bed - I feel a lot better. After my rant to you, I picked up Jonathan Kozol's book on my shelf. Good thing I bought it before I left! It's amazing. Really. He's a wonderful writer with really meaningful experiences that he shares eloquently and passionately. And the first couple chapters helped me refocus on why I get up every morning to go to school - my kids. My amazing, crazy, wonderful blossoming kids. They are such a miracle, kids in general. And my duty, the job I took on, my responsibility to them (not to my contract) needs to be the most important thing in my life.

I think part of the frustration and hurt and anger I feel comes from how upset I am about education in general AND the fact that anyone would put me in a situation where I can't do the best job I can to teach these kids. I arrived here five months ago, eager, open, excited and instead of having access to things I could really get my kids excited about I feel like I have nothing, leaving me both feeling cheated out of that experience and like I'm cheating them out of it at the same time. But I took on this job. I made a promise to these kids whether I realized it or not, to be here for a year and to teach, excite, challenge, nurture them. And if no one is going to help me do that or make it easy by giving me flashy TV screens and animated shorts or computers with storytelling programs on them, I am still obligated to find a way to do it for them. That's what education is about. I may get frustrated about the structure of education and what I'm expected to teach. And I may get angry at the administration of this school for all the things they do that seem to make my job harder, but at least until the end of this year I am in a relationship with these kids. And somehow I will figure out how to do all those things. How to make them feel confident, curious, excited, and self reflective. How to not squash them into the confines of a textbook and a set of standards and objectives. How to encourage them to think abut and question the things around them. How to let them know they are each special. Because that's why this job is so important and that's what makes me want to fix education generally. This time is a gift - it is so short, soon they'll stop asking about anything that comes into their head, soon they'll stop loving recess simply for the sake of running and screaming as loud as they can. Soon they won't want to share their absurd stories. Soon they'll be afraid to raise their hands in class. Soon they'll be afraid of being embarrassed. Soon they'll be worrying about grades and competition. Right now is when I can teach them to love themselves and others before all the rest sets in, and if any of it sticks it will be a foundation for the rest of their lives. I can fix education next year; right now I need to be here for my kids.

Speaking of self reflection, I guess I've been doing some tonight. I really do think a lot of the frustration and the gut wrenching pain I've been feeling is anger - not necessarily at anyone, even the owners or this school, but just general anger. Anger that I think what teachers are being asked to teach in textbooks isn't relevant anymore. Anger that I came here to teach and don't really know how to and don't have abundant resources to do so. Anger that not everyone is taught that they are special, or to love reading, or to help each other. Just blind rage. It makes me want to scream; it's like the debunking of education for me. My mom did such a good job of educating us, of helping us to be curious, passionate, wide-eyed people. And I see this stifling system of education and I want to yell at someone. I want to shake someone. I want to know why more people aren't yelling and screaming. Don't they know what's going on? Don't they understand how precious the years before 6th grade are? And the ones after? Don't they understand that children going to school in a leaky trailer learning about things that don't interest them are growing up disenchanted and emotionally crippled? How can we be letting this happen?

And how can I, knowing all this, get frustrated with my kids? What do I do when I need a few minutes of down time to clear my mind, to focus on that specialness again? If I, who love my kids, who see the specialness, who want to encourage them, have off days, down days, distracted days, days when I just need them to be quiet, what do I do? How can anyone do this? How can anyone raise not just one or two children, but 9 (or even 20 or 30 in a public school)?

So I downloaded some Red Grammer - do you remember him from the car in Maine? (I also wanted some Tom Chapin but iTunes doesn't have the ones I want - although I am amazed they had Red Grammer!) I don't know how I'm going to do it. But I'm going to start by finding the things I love and sharing them with them. We read Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs the other day and they loved it. We're going to read even more - not just them reading to themselves or to each other, but me reading to one or two of them. There has to be a way to encourage each of them and build on their specialness.