Back to the... Past.

One week in, I feel like a first year again.

Thanks? Irene.

School was supposed to start on Monday, but the hurricane knocked out the power and we haven't been able to go in for the last three days. So, tomorrow is officially my first day.

So nervous!

It Begins Again.

After a fun and relaxing summer back in California, I am back in Baltimore.

Already the anxiety and nervousness has returned. But, I'm at a new school, with new kids. I get my own classroom, and the opportunity to really make this year what I want. That being said, my classroom is still a mess, I'm racing to get long-term plans ready, and counting down the days and hours before it all starts.

Whoo boy.

Also, since I screwed up my class sequence at Hopkins last year, I will be taking FOUR classes this semester... which makes me a full-time student again! I believe this makes me eligible for the good student discount, though.

11 days and counting. Here we go.

"What I Learned at School" by Marie Myung-Ok Lee.

Link to the original article on NYTimes.com.

I emailed this to myself a long time ago, but never actually sat down to read it until today. Thought it was nice.

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THE tumult over state budgets and collective bargaining rights for public employees has spilled over into resentment toward public school teachers, who are increasingly derided as “glorified baby sitters” whose pay exceeds the value of the work they do.

But how exactly do we measure the value of a teacher?

As a writer, I often receive feedback from readers I have never met. But the other day, I received a most unexpected message in response to one of my essays:

“I am so proud of you and all you have accomplished. I shared your opinion from The L.A. Times with my family and reminisced about you as my student at Hibbing High School.”

It was signed Margaret Leibfried, who was my English teacher — a teacher who appeared at a critical juncture in my life and helped me believe that I could become a writer.

Thirty years ago, in Hibbing, a town in northern Minnesota that is home to the world’s largest open-pit iron mine, I entered high school as a bookish introvert made all the more shy because I was the school’s only nonwhite student. I always felt in danger of being swept away by a sea of statuesque blond athletes.

By 10th grade, I’d developed a Quasimodo-like posture and crabwise walk, hoping to escape being teased as a “brain” or a “chink,” and then finding being ignored almost equally painful. I spent a lot of time alone, reading and scribbling stories.

Ms. Leibfried taught American literature and composition grammar, which involved the usual — memorizing vocabulary and diagramming sentences — but also, thrillingly, reading novels.

Thrilling to me, that is. Many of my classmates expressed disdain for novels because they were “not real.” For once, I didn’t care what they thought. Ms. Leibfried seemed to notice my interest in both reading and writing, and she took the time to draw me out; she even offered reading suggestions, like one of her favorite novels, “The Bell Jar.”

That year’s big project was a book report, to be read aloud to the class. However, Ms. Leibfried took me aside and suggested I do something “a little different.” Instead of a report, I was to pick a passage from a book, memorize it and recite it in front of the class.

While I longed for the safety and routine of the report, I was curious how this new assignment might work out. By then obsessed with “The Bell Jar,” I chose a passage that I thought showed off the protagonist’s growing depression as well as Sylvia Plath’s sly humor.

The morning of the presentations, I remember my palms sweating so badly as I walked to the front of the class that I held my hands cupped in prayer formation, so I wouldn’t wipe them on my shirt.

I saw the days of the year stretching ahead like a series of bright, white boxes, and separating one box from another was sleep, like a black shade. Only for me, the long perspective of shades that set off one box from the next had suddenly snapped up, and I could see day after day glaring ahead of me like a white, broad, infinitely desolate avenue.

It seemed silly to wash one day when I would only have to wash again the next.

It made me tired just to think of it.

I wanted to do everything once and for all and be through with it.

Dr. Gordon twiddled a silver pencil. “Your mother tells me you are upset.”

I finished and, to my surprise, the class broke out in applause. “As a writer and a good reader, Marie has picked out a particularly sensitive piece of prose and delivered it beautifully,” Ms. Leibfried said, beaming. I felt, maybe for the first time, confident.

Ms. Leibfried was followed the next year by Mrs. Borman, quiet, elderly and almost as shy as I was. She surprised everyone when she excused me from her grammar class, saying my time would be spent more productively writing in the library. I took the work seriously, and on a whim submitted an essay I’d come up with to Seventeen Magazine. When they published it, it was big news for the high school — it was even announced on the P.A. system. Mrs. Borman wasn’t mentioned, nor did she ever take any credit; in her mind she was just doing her job.

I can now appreciate how much courage it must have taken for those teachers to let me deviate so broadly from the lesson plan. With today’s pressure on teachers to “teach to the test,” I wonder if any would or could take the time to coax out the potential in a single, shy student.

If we want to understand how much teachers are worth, we should remember how much we were formed by our own schooldays. Good teaching helps make productive and fully realized adults — a result that won’t show up in each semester’s test scores and statistics.

That’s easy to forget, as budget battles rage and teacher performance is viewed through the cold metrics of the balance sheet. While the love of literature and confidence I gained from Ms. Leibfried’s class shaped my career and my life, after only four short years at Hibbing High School, she was laid off because of budget cuts, and never taught again.

Marie Myung-Ok Lee, the author of the novel “Somebody’s Daughter,” teaches writing at Brown.

The Achievement Gap.

I was asked before I left Baltimore: What is the achievement gap and why does it persist in your school and community? I have a feeling that if someone asked me this at the beginning of the year, my definition of the achievement gap wouldn't be too different. It had been seeing it and hearing about it through the kids at camp that made me want to join TFA. As for the reasons, though, I might have said something like, "bad schools," or "ineffective teachers." After a year of teaching, my answer came out more like this:

The achievement gap is when you take two children of the same age from different economic backgrounds and put them next to each other. You look at them and they have the same smiles, same sense of childish wonder, same potential, and same dreams and desires. But despite this, the child growing up in poverty, through no fault of his own, cannot read or do math or have a conversation at the same level as the other child. The child growing up in poverty just never learned how to do those things.

I believe the achievement gap is a fundamental inequity in our society. To eliminate the achievement gap would be to make our society more equitable and more fair. When it comes to eliminating this gap, lot of people in big places say things like "all you need to do is..." and they fill in the blank with things like "accountability," "merit pay," "eliminate unions," and "better teachers." I'm now convinced that anyone who starts a sentence about education reform with "All you need is..." has never spent a day in an inner city public school, and does not know what he or she is talking about.

In our education classes, the emphasis is always placed on differentiation. We know that each student learns differently and at different speeds than any other student. The challenge is meeting every kid where he or she is, in a way that is best for that person. I mention this because eliminating the achievement gap would be to make an unfair situation fair. But as our education classes repeatedly remind us, fair is not everyone getting the same thing. Fair is everyone getting what he or she needs. You might need glasses to see and succeed, but I wouldn't give glasses to everyone just because you got them since it doesn't help them at all.

When I look back at my year, I believe that many of the students in my class and at our school were not getting a fair chance because they' were not getting what they needed. Unfortunately, their needs are just so great compared to kids from more affluent areas. Students at my school weren't getting the food they needed, they weren't getting the medicine they needed, they weren't getting the clothing they needed. They weren't getting the help, time, or the attention they needed. They weren't getting the respect, role models, security, stability, patience, or confidence they needed. For too many of the kids, they weren't getting the love and compassion they needed.

At the end of a rocky, but ultimately successful and rewarding year, I can still look at all these problems and undoubtedly say that I believe education is the key to upward mobility in this country. But, when I wonder why I'm killing myself staying after school, buying food, planning all hours of the day, and putting up with some of the extremely disrespectful and awful things that are said in class, I think about everything these kids need from me, their teacher. This problem is so big, and as a society we need to address those difficult underlying issues like health and poverty. Until then, though, education has to offer an open door for our kids, and when no one else is giving these students what they need, for six hours a day the teacher should. It's only fair.

Me and TFA.

It's a little strange to say this, but during the year it's very easy to forget that I'm part of Teach for America, and that I came to do my part in bringing about  educational equity. My experience in school has painted "education reform" in a thousand shades of gray instead of the old black and white. Similarly, this year has modified my understanding of TFA's and my role in "education reform."

I came in to TFA because I wanted to do more for the kids that I fell in love with at camp. I knew that I didn't want to teach forever, and that I wanted to do something positive while I figured out my next steps. A lot of people believe this is exactly what's wrong with TFA and people like myself. Teaching is difficult, and it takes one or two years just to get good at it. Then, once you actually start figuring it out, you leave the kids and waste the system's time and resources.

There is nothing I can argue with in the first part of that argument. Teaching is extremely difficult. I wonder if I'll ever get good at it... to say nothing of "getting good" two years. But I don't think TFA was meant to create a generation of excellent teachers. I've come to understand its underlying goal as exposing as many different people from different backgrounds to the inequity that permeates our society's public education system.

I'm going to leave my two-year commitment with a very different understanding of the issues. I'm going to leave with the lessons I learned, the relationships I've built with the kids and their families, and the experience burned in my memory. No matter what I do after this, there is no way that I could ever truly leave the school by cutting myself off from caring or working toward a more equitable educational system.

Teach for America does not want, I don't think, for everyone to stay in the classroom. If all the people who saw the problems stayed in the classroom, no one would listen to the teachers complain. But when thousands of people from all across the nation, from all walks of life have been exposed to and understand that there is a problem, then the case for reform is much stronger. There are many of my friends in TFA who want to stay in the classroom, and I admire them so much for their dedication. I don't think I can do that; it's not my role. But, I can take my experience and let it color whatever I do in the future. Perhaps I will also be able to share the experience so others can see the problems too.

Looking Back.

The year is over, and I've been able to take some time to unwind and think about the last 180 school days. It was a ridiculous roller coaster of emotions, it destroyed every bit of confidence I came to Baltimore with, and there were many times when my belief in the reason I came to teach was rocked to the core. Before the end of the year, TFA had us write letters about our experience to donors. Here is what I wrote:

The year is almost over. I am caught in the strange position where I need to keep my focus forward on the next month, but cannot help but keep looking backwards at all that has happened over the last nine. At least, they tell me it was nine months. I cannot decide if it felt like nine years or nine days.  

I wonder if I would recognize myself from the beginning of the year. It might be difficult – there would be no bags under the eyes, no messy facial hair, and the weight would be made up much more of muscle than whatever this is around my stomach now. I might laugh at my past self. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, I would think.  

When I signed up for Teach for America, it was because I had spent four years at UCLA working with and watching the kids of Los Angeles at their best. They were fun, they were bright, they were full of potential – they were kids. It hurt me so much to see kids that I cared so much about tell me about how they knew they were getting the short end of the stick with their education. I decided that I would dedicate two years of my life help close the achievement gap for these kids and others like them.  

I came into the year hoping that I would be a successful teacher. There was, of course, the quantitative goal that TFA drills into our head from day one – significant gains. For my students, and me, this meant 80% mastery of all learning goals for this year, and 100% of students scoring either proficient or advanced on the end-of-year state assessment. Without a doubt, I knew that I needed to push my students to leave my class ready for anything that would come their way the next year.

In my mind, though, being a successful teacher meant so much more. It meant they would leave as proud members of The LXS – The Legion of Extraordinary Scholars. As I told them, the LXS is a super-secret international organization of incredible learners. This group of students always does their best, never gives up, believes in themselves and others, does not fear failure, and loves to learn because they always ask “Why?” about the world around them. I believed then, and still do, that creating great students meant instilling this curious mindset in each child.

When I look at my class of 26 rambunctious, often-frustrating students, I realize that we have truly come a long way since the beginning of the year. Sure, we are on track to just make 80% mastery as a class. In a couple of months I’ll find out how the students did on the MSA. Still, in the torrent of numbers, percentages, and frustration, I see that this year is going to be defined by the stories of success that I’ve had the joy of witnessing. It will be defined by stories like…

… hearing a chorus of voices sing the multiplication pop songs that I rewrote, and having Trey remind me, “Mr. Lyu, you really, really don’t have a good voice.”   

… taking Ian to the public library after school, and seeing his smile after we sign up for his first library card ever. 

... giving a small bag of Skittles to Dajah, and hearing (without asking), “Mr. Lyu! 5/12 of these are red!” 

… walking through the halls with Cory, a student who has a learning disability, celebrating that he just scored his third 100% in a row on a weekly quiz, softly singing and dancing to the “Genius Song” that he made up for himself.  

…  watching Charlotte act out the subtraction story as she regroups numbers using dolls and unit cubes.   

… internally laughing when during a particularly difficult class period, Dean yells out, “Why can’t you all be quiet and listen? I want to learn something!”  

... these and countless other little moments of happiness. 

Around the classroom, I hear “please” and “thank you.” When people bump into each other, they apologize first and ask if the other is all right. They help each other, teach each other, and encourage each other. They clamor for math time. They remind me when it’s time to work on science projects. Maybe I’m delusional, but I keep telling myself that they are talkative all the time because they’re actually excited and awake during class.  

They always say that you won’t know the impact you made on a child that year, the next year, or ever. I look back on this year and there are times when all I can think about are the countless late nights, anxiety, constant self-doubt, and thoughts of quitting. I think about driving students home after school, teaching them over the phone because they were out sick, and going into their homes to review a lesson that they missed – and sometimes I wonder whether it was all worth it.  

There is no doubt in my mind that I was not a perfect teacher. I don’t even know if I would qualify as a good teacher. What I do know, though, is that I gave every ounce of myself to these students this year, and I was the best teacher I could possibly be. I am proud that we will all leave this year as members of the inaugural class of The Legion of Extraordinary Scholars.

I will be writing more about the past year later. I need to take a nap for now.

Done.

WE'RE DONE! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!

Promises.

One of the biggest problems, especially in urban areas, is summer learning loss.

I made a summer packet for all my students. Just SIX (6) questions a day and you'll be fine for next year! I forced each kid to look me in the eyes and promise they'd work on the packet this summer. We'll see... it was kind of funny, though.

In other news, we learned to make yarn necklaces today, and my kid who just moved from El Salvador was AMAZING at it. It was incredible... he just kept making more and more with different designs and color combinations. He was cutting yarn and I stopped him and said, "Wait! That's too short!" He looked right at me and responded loudly and confidently, "No, this is for the hand!" He had been participating in English during math, and I was so happy to hear him respond in English. What a great moment.

Also, one of my students friended me on Facebook.

Two half-days left.

Awards Ceremony.

Today in our classroom the kids went through an awards ceremony. They also became official members of the Legion of Extraordinary Scholars. I made each kid a little certificate with a special award, and they all got a dog tag and chain that said, "I AM THE LXS: LEGION OF EXTRAORDINARY SCHOLARS. LOVE TO LEARN."

Some of the parents were there, and I said a little something about each person. I felt like I was back at camp, because I wrote each kid a letter for them to keep and read today and in the future so they'll know (hopefully) what I was trying to teach them... we'll see.

I also broke the news to them that I can't come back next year, and one kid cried. I almost did too. Everyone was sad, and some of them begged me to stay, which was cute. Then they started asking to bring stuff home like the class rules so that they could remember me. Some told me that they'd visit me at the new school. A bunch asked if I was going to have the LXS at my new school too. It was nice... I'm going to miss them. Probably going to reflect more on the year later, but for now, I'm enjoying the end-of-year goggles.

PS. We were just watching a movie and cleaning the room, and one of my students comes up to me and asks, "Mr. Lyu, can I do some math worksheets?" I LOVE THEM. EVEN THE ONES THAT DRIVE ME BONKERS.

LXS Music Videos.

We've been making music videos for the multiplication songs from the beginning of the year. I'll post them as we make them, but here are the 3s, 4s, and 9s.

They are way better singers than I am.

Enjoy! And on the 4s, I was sort of mad that they were doing such dangerous stuff, but honestly, I had to let it go. It looked so cool.

NOTE: I guess I'm not allowed to post pictures or videos of the kids on the internet if it's not a private thing. If you want to see the videos, you can either let me know or look on Facebook. Sorry :(

Employed(!).

I interviewed today and got offered a job as a 3rd grade teacher at Bay Brook Elementary/Middle School. It's literally... seven blocks from my school now. They kept warning me that the incoming 3rd grade class is the worst at the school, but that's what they say about my students now. I get to teach everything, though!

Right after I signed the paper and shook her hand, the principal said, "Thank you, I hope I'm not disappointed by my decision."

... Encouraging!

WTF.

So as you already know, my school doesn't have money to hire me again next year as a 4th grade teacher. So, I've been trying to find a new job somewhere.

I was teaching the other day, and a lady walked in my classroom with Ms. Jackson from the office. "And this is Mr. Lyu, the other 4th grade teacher."

We all smiled and said "Hi."

Ms. Jackson continued, "This is Ms. ________. She's interviewing for the 4th grade teaching position next year!" And with that, they walked on.

Now... I didn't say much when I needed to ask my principal about what I was going to do next year before I found out I wouldn't have a job... But seriously. WTF? My grade level supervisor overheard me talking about this with another teacher, and she told me that it doesn't have anything to do with me. I guess that's OK. Still, though.

Whatever. This is going to be a good thing.

Nostalgia.

As I was cleaning I came across a stack of "happy notes" from camp. People said a lot of nice things to me in camp, and I wonder sometimes if I deserve it anymore. It was nice to read again, though. Made me... happy.

Moving.

I got antsy yesterday and wasn't in the mood to do any work. So, I started packing up all of my things and realized that over the last six years I've moved more than eight times. This either means I am going places in life, or that I am a steady paycheck away from being a transient. Maybe I'm growing up!

Science Fair.

Over the last three weeks I've been working with my kids on science fair projects. The genius in me decided to let the nine different groups work on nine different projects. Of course, I had to help them run all the experiments and collect the data and do the research and put the boards together and all of that other stuff. I thought I was going to kill myself or someone else at many points during the last few weeks.

The results came in today, and the top 3 finishers in 4th grade were all from my class. Second place for the whole school was from my class too!

The third place team was two of my most difficult boys. One of them is the kid that keeps getting suspended, that I drove home after school for months, that bit me once, hit me a few times, and learned all of the multiplication songs a week after I taught them.

The second place student was the kid that I took to the library after school and got him a library card. I've tutored him at his house when he's been sick, and I know his whole family.

The first place team was three more of my difficult boys. During the whole time we worked on their project (What type of exercise will make your heart beat fastest?) they kept complaining that their project - and science - is stupid. When they found out they won today, they were so out of control happy. When I kept the three of them after school because of other behavior issues, one told me that they couldn't have done it without me, and that they were going to give me some of their cash prize. Another said, "I told you guys that Mr. Lyu would find something that was good for us to do." I asked them if I've ever steered them wrong, and one of them told me no, that I always care about them.

It was a pretty rough day, but I'll take that.

Surplus-ed.

I basically got laid off today. School doesn't have enough money for me next year, so I'll be finding a new place of work hopefully before I go home for the summer. I thought they were supposed to give me a pink slip or something. Instead, I asked what I would be doing next year, and I got, "Oh, I meant to tell you..."

Oh well. Maybe it'll be nice to get a new start. I'm just trying to get through the day. And the week. And the year.

Back from Break.

Walked into the classroom today, and felt like I was in a different world.

Anyway, I got a lot of hugs from the kids when I got back. It was nice. And they were really excited that they are really getting how to add and subtract fractions with unlike denominators. It's cool that a lot of them are proud of what they know.

Spring is Here.

Not much positive to say about class today. But the cherry blossoms are in full bloom. So that's nice.

The Genius Dance.

One of my students is in special education for reading but is with me for math. He's a little slower, but when it comes to numbers especially, he really understands what's happening. He's allowed extra time for tests and assignments, and I'm also allowed to read things for him. I was sitting with him yesterday, reading the end-of-unit test, and watching him as he worked. We've been doing 5th grade math, and the past couple of weeks we've been working on least common multiples, equivalent fractions, and adding and subtracting unlike denominators - all of which are really tough concepts.

As he worked, I encouraged him to keep going because he was doing really well. Halfway through the test, he found an answer and said, "I got it! I am such a GENIUS!" I couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, yes you are. I tell you that every day." By the end of the test we had made up a genius song and a genius dance and we were singing and dancing through the halls on the way back to the classroom.

New Student.

We have a new student from El Salvador. He speaks no English, so in the mornings I work with him one on one to read, have conversations, and "frontload" the vocabulary for the afternoon's math and science lessons. He's a good kid. I really like spending time working with him, but it's tough communicating because I don't know any Spanish. I use my phone to translate words and phrases and have him read them.

There's a lot of research that says students who are learning English take one year to develop social vocabulary, but that they need five to develop academic vocabulary. So, it's actually much better to instruct them in their native language when it comes to subjects like math, science, and social, studies, which happen to be what I teach. I've been trying to translate as much as I can, but it's really tiring. But, seeing him succeed for part of the day is very rewarding.

On a related note, I am going to learn Spanish. For reals this time.

UPDATE: I saw this video, and it made me really want to go the extra mile for my student. I don't want someone to lose out on an opportunity to learn or feel successful because I couldn't find a way to meet his needs.

Math on the Phone.

There's a bout of pink eye going around the school. One of my students has been out all week, and so he's missed all the lessons on adding and subtracting fractions with unlike denominators (a really tricky skill). I didn't want him to come in and start from scratch, so I called the house today and gave him the lesson over the phone. He seems to understand what's going on, and tomorrow when he comes in, I'll be able to work with him some more to make sure he gets it.

The whole call, including talking to his dad, took 21 minutes. Seriously. If I could get through a lesson like this in 20 minutes with the whole class, I would be so happy. But hearing him work through the steps and talk me through his work over the phone was really great.

He's Back. Yay?

The kid that drives me insane and cusses everyone out etc. is back after a two-day suspension that no one bothered to tell me about.

I love this kid to death, but I've tried everything in the book and I'm at my wit's end trying to keep this kid on task and acting appropriately in class. I am very tired because he was back. Maybe you can guess how he decided to behave.

But, he's back in class now, so maybe that means he can actually get caught up. That's the positive from today, I suppose.

Being Positive.

Starting today, I'm going to write about one positive thing that happened each day so that I don't kill myself due to severe depression. I'll write about a couple from a week ago to catch up.

I think one of my students has oppositional defiant disorder (ODD), which basically means whatever anyone says, he refuses to do, and he will cuss, yell, insult, and basically do anything to disrupt and show that he is the more powerful person. On many occasions I've been pushed, hit, and cussed out by the kid. Yet, I drive him home sometimes and let him sit with me during resource (supposedly teachers' alone planning time) and reteach math lessons to him (he misses a lot of lessons because he will run out of class and run around the building turning lights on and off). Basically, I don't know how to deal with the kid except try to be very patient with him all the time, and believe me, I've tried everything in the book.

Anyway, one day he wrote me a "Tootle," which is something the class does to compliment other people. It said:

tottles for Msr. Lyu. Msr. Lyu is caring helpful and sweet and kind to everybody help people Learn new stuff and also He Has a girl freind and some blanket and A picture of her on the phone.

Then, he drew a picture of himself and me at the bottom. I was very happy.

I know the writing doesn't show it, but this kid is one of the top scorers in math. He just gets it. I told him that I "knew some people" at UCLA and that I would send them his name so he could get some information. He was really excited about that... I worry about him a lot, because really, no one gives him a chance at school. Maybe one day he will go to UCLA. That would be awesome.

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Ok, this is a quick story. A few students were staying with me after school today. A long time ago, at the beginning of the year, I had tried to teach the scientific method. It's been a long time since we've done any science (I'm awful, I know). Half talking to myself, I said something about how so many people were absent today (6 kids were gone), and I wondered why that was the case. One of my students who had stayed behind to work on some things says, "That's an observation. And you asked a question about your observation." Those are the first two steps of the scientific method, and she is one of the last people I would have expected to remember that (I'm awful, I know). "That's right!" Nice surprise.

A Personal Pep Talk.

We read this to a camp session and for a lot of reasons (including a "bow") I really like it. Got me thinking.

A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed that as one problem was solved, a new one arose.

Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to a boil. In the first, she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil, without saying a word.

In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She then pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl.

Turning to her daughter, she asked, "Tell me, what do you see?"

"Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied.

She brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. She then asked her to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard-boiled egg. Finally, she asked her to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma.

The daughter then asked, "What does it mean, Mother?"

Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity -- boiling water -- but each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior. But, after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.

"Which are you?" she asked her daughter. "When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?"

Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity? Do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?

Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and a hardened heart?

Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor of your life. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hours are the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate to another level?

How do you handle adversity? Are you changed by your surroundings or do you bring life, flavor, to them?

ARE YOU A CARROT, AN EGG, OR A COFFEE BEAN?

I'm not sure what I am. Right now, I feel like a carrot. Sometimes when I think about all the stuff my students are up against outside of school, I feel like an egg. I know I want to be the coffee bean, but I don’t know if I’m there.

Lull.

I have been feeling very lethargic and unmotivated lately...

While I was in camp I used to preach a lot about choice and attitude. It's really tough to actually follow through with all that stuff.

Here we go.

Smiles.

I'm going to kidnap one of my students and keep him forever.

We went to the library across the street today. I had to hold his hand because we needed to cross a busy road. Then, I helped him apply for his first ever library card. He borrowed a book on dogs and a book about leopards. He was so happy that I could have died.

Please Help.

The state tests are coming up in two weeks. We had our last round of "benchmark" tests a few weeks ago, and I found out that my students are averaging 59% as a class. I have two weeks to review everything we've learned this year. Even though I hold lunch and afterschool tutorials, I can't wrap my head around how I'm going to get them all to pass.

The teacher that some of my kids came to me from was Baltimore City's Teacher of the Year last year. He got 100% of his students to pass the MSA, and over the course of this year I've seen a number of those students fall lower and lower. Not to mention, the scores on the three benchmarks we've taken this year have steadily decreased. Apparently, the more I teach, the less they know.

I know that these tests don't mean everything. But, it's hard to not deeply question myself when these numbers are staring me in the face. I feel like I'm failing these kids.

And I thought I'd be a good teacher...

Tests!

The Maryland State Assessments are coming up in two weeks, and everyone is freaking out.

I think standardized tests are stupid (but I do believe they can be useful in some ways), but I am glad that they don't look anything like this.

"Eventually You Stop Caring."

I was in the copy room the other day with another teacher. We started making small talk, and I found out that she'd been teaching for five years. I told her about how it's tough figuring out ways to reach and teach every child. She told me that it's tough to feel that way your first year, but that I shouldn't worry. "Eventually," she said, "you'll just stop caring and it'll be a lot easier."

Slap me if I ever say that.

Thoughts on Snow.

I got my car washed today, because the salt from the roads can destroy it if I don't get it washed every couple of weeks. When I discovered this little tip, it further convinced me that I know absolutely nothing about living in cold/snowy places. (The first time it snowed here, I walked outside in my dress shoes and pants and literally struggled to figure out how to walk or where I should step and not get my clothes dirty.) Anyway, it's just so different from California, where if it looks like rain, I would decide NOT to get a car wash.

Yes, this was an absolutely pointless read for you, but I have nothing to really say about work and life at this time.

PS. I sprang for a Blu-Ray player just because I wanted to watch Planet Earth and Life in super hi-def. As I sit here in a dark room drinking a gin and tonic, I feel like I am somewhere else. My mind is completely blown. So worth it.

Facial Hair.

It started because I was too lazy to shave in the morning. It continued because I was curious what it would look like. It kept going because it was close to break and I wanted to see how accurate I could be in guessing my family's reaction.

I was dead on.

"Aaaaah! Shave it off! Shave it off!" -Mom
"HAH! What is that thing?" -Dad
"It looks like poo was rubbed on your face." -Charlene

General consensus among the other relatives present during Christmas: Get rid of it. I refused, and one day they physically wouldn't let me out of the house until I shaved. So, here are the before and after pictures. Let me say, the before picture was after a trim. It had been much thicker, and in my opinion, much manlier.

Before

After

The fuzz gave me at least four years. I'm back to looking like I'm 13.

First Half Reflections.

It's been a while since I've written here, and due to my being lazy, I didn't write the reflection I wanted to write during the winter break. So, here I am, two days back in, trying to remember my euphoria-infused holiday cheer and recall the things I thought about when there was nothing to really worry about.

My first year of teaching so far...

It's been more difficult than I could have ever imagined. I still remember my interview back in November of 2009 (wow). The interviewer asked me what I thought my experience as a teacher would be like. I told her that I knew it would be difficult and that I in no way thought it was going to be all fun and games. "Still," I added, "I think that I'm ready for the difficult parts of teaching and working with children. What might be the most difficult will be moving to a new place and trying to make friends and take care of myself."

Little did I know that I would have this much trouble with teaching AND with taking care of myself.

Anyway, although this year has been stressful, although there have been a number of times when I have considered packing it up and just going back to California, I know I'll make it. There have been so many moments this year where my heart has threatened to leap out of my ribcage because I've been so happy or proud of my students' accomplishments.

Sixty multiplication facts in less than two minutes. Subtracting across zeros. Long division. Asking for help. Telling me that they love math. Correcting their own behavior to be a better member of the LXS. Saying that they expect more of themselves so they will work harder. Apologizing (in a low voice!) for accidentally stepping on someone. Accepting that apology!

When I really think about it, there is still much to do, and I could write a book about how I am falling short. It's often difficult to shake the feeling that if I don't get this right, I'm ruining lives. But, I can't let that completely overshadow the little things that I'm getting right.

There's nothing more obvious to me after this first half year than an understanding that the learning in the classroom is a two-way process. My students are certainly teaching me just as much, if not more, than I am teaching them. Strange that this obvious fact is often the first thing to be forgotten when frustration sets in.

Before I came to Baltimore, I read every day about education reform in the news. Every article that came across me became instant reading. I thought I understood the issue, the methods, the path forward. I was going to be part of that path, I thought. This experience has shaken me to the core. Where I used to watch, from 10,000 feet in the air, I saw everything in black and white. Now that I am in the classroom every day, I look around and see much more gray.

Forget Teach for America for a minute because I am just a teacher. This experience has been so humbling.  Teaching and moving over here has shown me how little I actually KNOW and how much I need to learn. It's broken my confidence down into little pieces and now I need to figure out how to put it back together. Whatever self-confidence I have after this experience, I know it will not be the same as what I had coming to Baltimore.

For now, I will move forward with a modest, "I think I can." We'll see where it goes from here.