The job has now become keeping a job.

New year, new school.

Such has been the routine for the past three years now. I'm getting sick of it but am holding my tongue and my cynicism for the sake of being professional around colleagues and pupils. Being in a state of gratitude and positivity on a daily basis only allows my anxiety around the uncertainty of the future to multiply.

Each day I am greeted by passing students who frantically wave at me the skip along to meet friends at the library. I see fantastic artwork displayed outside of the teacher's lounge showcasing the diverse talents of students I only see for one subject four days a week. I get to talk to parents and see their children as growing people, and I get to see those people grow in 186 school days. I talk and laugh and hang out with teachers outside of school, sharing funny student quotes or anecdotes over a beer and thank them for all the little things that contribute to my feeling balanced during the week. On Wednesday I was observed by the principal and despite the fact that I committed the teacher faux pas of "trying/doing something new," I wasn't afraid or nervous because I know my classes, I know myself as a teacher, and I know what I'm doing. Although I am behind in grading of homework, tests, and projects, I will still review the homework my TA graded so I can read my student's feelings.
excited for Halloween!!
ok
stressed about so much homework
depressed (will tell you after school)
tierd <-- is now an inside joke after I made the distinction between tired and tiered. Student now writes tierd cake on every homework.

I think about the personal funds, time and energy put into making bulletin boards, posting decorations, curriculum mapping and typing electronic documents for students and stop myself from wondering if I'll be here five years from now to gain a reputation as the teacher who makes kids write feelings, the teacher who shows The Dot and The Line...

The teacher who's "married" to Fabio!

But then I start to wonder why I have to be so visceral in describing my personal struggle. Life is made up of plot twists and turns, upsets and celebrations. Right now my life is like an indie drama: you don't really know what the message is but you can look for meaning anywhere. I'm working through the depression that comes with the feeling of defeat and working on being present where there is beauty --

Love

He's much hipper than Fabio. And yes, we are both wearing KISS shirts :-)

and heart.

Professor Boogums in his study.

I might have to pick up my bags and move on come June, or I might tidy things up in preparation for a second year/"second chance," but fearlessly starting the day comes first and foremost. If someone asked me if I was afraid that they don't keep me for next year, I would say no, I'm not afraid. I'm anxious as hell, but I know what I'm doing and that's what makes me fearless.

Sentiments about job-interviewing and job-moving on (again)

The 2013-14 year teaching middle school has been an eye-opening one for me. One component resides in the block schedule, favored by electives teachers and those core-subject instructors specializing in project-based learning.

• My teaching assignment this past year: Algebra 1 every other day, and Math 8 every day.

• Never have I had to work with a 2-day block before and the structure of seeing the Algebra 1 crowd no more than three times a week. The benefits of a block schedule are that you can cover twice the amount of material, but in this group, all I found myself doing was lecturing and not giving enough time for exploration, marination, and the inevitable success I've experienced in the past. Who wants to sit and write notes for 85 minutes? This situation was remedied with exploratory, parter- and group-central activities, taking "breaks" either to get up and move around or to share student successes and discuss problem-solving strategies. Perhaps what most frustrates me about this group is the one kid who, on the first anonymous survey I ever gave, responded to a question thusly:

Q: Is there anything you wish you could have told me this year?

A: That you are a bad teacher.

Amidst all those budget cut-backs, impossibly copious amounts of grading and pulling worksheets out of . . . maybe we all need a little break.

• I'm reminded of an occasion about four years ago when I began my first year teaching and I came across one student's homework. This was the first year I implemented the same heading as my 11th grade Honors Trigonometry teacher: up at the top of the page, following name, date, and assignment, were the feelings. This particular Algebra 1 student, four years ago, wrote: "My feelings are none of your business." I might have written some sort of acknowledgement, or not written anything at all. I might have started checking in more with that student, or not said anything at all. I don't recall. What I do know is that the following year I had the same student for Algebra 2, and, implementing the same homework heading, read over some of the most eloquent and sometimes raw emotions this student had. I would like to think that I was somebody this young adult could talk to and know their feelings were safe. Or maybe they just emoted to everybody. I have no idea. My point is that I am quick to react like everyone else with comments directed towards their character -- with hurt emotions or dented self-esteem -- but I know that that student who called me a bad teacher will be just fine in their academic career, in the long run. It'll all come out in the woodwork, as they say.

The other, more significant part, resides in this revolving door I have begun to get used to in my employment status. I interview well, and multiple times throughout the year I am told that I am a great teacher (by adults and children alike, even by my boyfriend and parents who have never seen me teach). The year comes to a close, and then I find myself jobless with my previous administration team acting as cheerleaders on the sidelines rather than members of the same team on the field working together. I feel "good enough" to hire and keep on for the year, to learn those kids some 'rithmetic real good, but not "good enough" to keep for reasons of budget, or for no reason given whatsoever.

If you don't know where you're going, any road can take you there.

I am not sure if my colleagues from this past year will be passing faces or lifelong neighbors of my classroom. I'm unsure of what will become of my classroom if six full-time teachers are not required. Even though it was cockroach-ridden and always a mess in my eyes, it was like a second home and a safe haven for me to uphold for a unique group of students. Since mid-March I've passed through the various stages of figuratively mourning this job position.

Denial -- this one was probably the shortest.
Anger -- actually a lot of fun because humor is my defense mechanism for getting angry.
Bargaining -- I must have spoken with every teacher on campus about past practices, gotten my hopes up, and networked. This was probably the second most productive stage for me.
Depression -- no fun. No fun for anyone. This was probably the first time in a hear and a half that I dreaded going to work. The last time was when I worked in downtown Oakland to a screeching, uncontrollable group of high schoolers who needed help beyond my control.
Acceptance -- the most productive stage for me. I'm done feeling sorry for myself and instead I only feel sorry for others. 

This morning I had a couple of interviews within the huge district of which I am now a part. I had a decent first impression of the 9AM interview, which only scored a 3 on greatschools.org and reminded me a lot of the first school I ever worked at: what lacks in grounds appearance is made up in heart and dedication to the children attending. From the moment I stepped into the office I was greeted warmly by so many staff members that my quadriceps began to burn from standing up and sitting down again. Job Interview yoga reigns today!

We'll end the unit on applied proportional relationships in electricity with an Ohm.

As a teacher, I really value authenticity. It was one of the philosophical foundation blocks of West County Community HS and in every staff lineup I find myself with each year I can gauge whether the job will be gratifying or stressful simply based on how authentic everyone is with one another. If I made a list of important things to look for in a long-term teaching job (or ANY kind of job, for that matter), I'd list Interpersonal Relationships rather high.

My second interview threw me for a loop as it was in an area I'm not familiar with and will usually talk trash about; however, the school grounds were impeccable, the staff were pretty nice, and there are district funds to cap class sizes at a reasonable 28 bodies. On paper and to an outsider, it seems like they have really accommodated the low socioeconomic student population with enriching activities and an exemplary after-school program that serves food for the body and mind.
It would seem like the latter choice would be the best bet, but . . . 

My classroom is my second home; at times I've spent more hours there than at my actual home. No matter how many pros and cons I list of each school, taking into consideration the API, demographics, given budget, and math department dynamic, the biggest variable still remains: is this a stepping stone school or a place where I can set my bags down and get comfortable? If I can't find a permanent position and establish myself, then I won't feel as if I've learned anything about being a better teacher. Like the students I teach and have taught, if I don't get a chance to show what I know before the rules of the game change again how can I feel like a winner?

Wonders

It's no secret that teaching is very draining. There are minimal rewards to the hours outside of school that need to be put in to planning, creating assessments, grading, and revising those plans to address the needs of as many differing personalities and learning styles as you can.

And that's just what I need to do for my classroom. There's more to do for colleagues, students, and parents. I feel humbled towards those who recognize how much needs to be done and yet I am guilt-ridden when I don't accomplish it all, and with gusto, and with time leftover to craft, cook, clean, or relax at home.

Just the other day I had a great moment while talking to my mom on the phone. The conversation didn't just encompass my attitude towards work, but also towards how I communicate to others and carry myself, especially while processing a lot of stress (self-enflicted or otherwise). When I feel the push to do too much in too short a time frame, I tend to push back by getting cranky (like many) and micro-managing the actions of others. When I get anxious my eyes begin to ache, as if they have been overworked in focusing long-distance to examine if students in the back are passing notes or food or money, and zeroing in on my paper 18 inches away from my face, that is being projected for all students to see and copy down. After 8 hours of this (only 6 hours when I have my "prep" period), you can only imagine how your eyes must feel; and, on days that require school-related and home-related tasks get done, all I see when I look around are little pop-up bubbles critiquing and reminding me of everything I'm missing or not accomplishing in that moment:

sit up straight
don't bike so fast
get a haircut
grade papers
do more situps this afternoon
need to run more miles
drink less coffee 
email student's parents
create class website with multiple pages
plan out your unit of instruction
quit playing with your hair
do dishes
work on your evaluation
bike faster
don't stand pigeon-toed, you look like a little girl
say something constructive
organize craftspace
get more coffee
plan out your summer
pay off your debt
don't text so much
 you should read more
pick up after yourself
watch less tv
play more board games
take deep breaths
do more advanced math
plan for next year
do laundry
you wore that yesterday
tidy up the patio
take a nap you need it
finish that lesson plan
what's for dinner?

This all sweeps over my head like a tidal wave and I feel like I am going to lose it. I don't know what form it will come in, a teary meltdown or a vengeful screaming tantrum. When I take deep breaths and I allow myself time alone, riding home or lost in a book, I seem to always get lucky in finding the words to describe my current mental state. I am frustrated, anywhere I look I see obligations forming that I cannot control nor fulfill to the ability that I would if I had the time to focus solely on that task.

 I'd like to offer an orderly, streamlined solution to dealing with stress and anxiety in the form of a cute meme or bullet-pointed list but there are so many out there I would just be adding eyedrops to the ocean. I deal with my anxiety using the same tactics I'd use as a teacher on a student with anxiety. I break down tasks into smaller chunks, allow myself a time limit to complete a task so I don't obsess over it, and I try to keep my "to do" lists under five items. Any more than five items and my mind begins to race thinking of more (and hoping that the total will make a nice multiple of five). When I start to see similar traces of anxiety in my students, I first hear them out. Validate their feelings and worries, then offer solutions in the form of some of my own solutions (smaller tasks, not spending a lot of time on one thing, etc.)

There was a splendid moment in my high school life where I was up at 10:30pm reading for my AP US History class. My mom opened my bedroom door and saw me, still at my desk, and said, "Sweetie, put the book down and watch some tv or something. You need to unwind." Mothers can work wonders.

"Good teachers come here, and they stay here."

The title of this post is exactly what the principal of my new school told me at the time she hired me. It filled me with both pride and fear. I was identified as a good teacher, a good fit for the school, but also the hope that I would fulfill that role to everyone's satisfaction enough not to be pink-slipped in May. One becomes fairly skeptical after working three schools in a single calendar year.

In being a "half-glass full" kind of gal, I thought I'd share some of my favorite student & teacher memories:

That time in 9th grade when my English teacher referred to Ren & Stimpy's log song.

Referring to that same Log Song while teaching Algebra 2 eleven years later talking about the inverse function of exponentials.

The time in 10th grade when my Science teacher described a worm buried in sawdust as the same species from Dune. I was the only one who laughed in that class of 30.

Thirteen years later, I quote Yoda's, "Do or do not, there is no try" and one kid thinks the line was written by Shakespeare.

"Oh, wait!" he corrects himself, "It was 'To be or not to be.' Well, they're kinda related."

I love teaching. I love the part where you get to interact with the students in the classroom. I love the part where any activity can become personalized and they understand that you are trying to get who they are as a person while they are trying to get who they are in "the big picture." I love building the rapport and getting them to laugh.

On Friday I showed how 4 can be rewritten as 2-squared. "Change the base," I instructed, "just don't drop the base." A worthy chuckle came from one single student who just outed himself as a dubstep lover.

I feel so lucky to be where I am right now. Sitting at the dining room table, with papers surrounding me, on a Sunday night, updating grades.

Such stuff life is made of.

"[Untitled], oh what a cliché."

Approximately 12 days ago I started writing poetry again (thanks, Google Docs for documenting this). There is an unfathomable amount of writings and drawings I composed in middle and high school but once I assumed an authoritative role in my career they diminished to perhaps one or two obligatory sketches per year, not including sketches of graphs. Although I try to blog/journal a sufficient amount to let out my emotions and sort out my thoughts, it is no substitute nor is it anywhere near what it once was. What happened to the Dreamer? Did she get consumed by the Worrier that also lay in my soul?

My search for a work-life balance is itself a work in progress.

We call those "wip's" in the knitting and crocheting community.

A
i eat my emotions
happiness never tasted so sweet
and sadness, so salty
jealousy was bitter
i think i’ll save that for december.

B
my fingers itch
when i don’t knit
oh fiddlestitch

C
soup needs to be a year-round celebration
ladle me some love, dear
let’s baste our passion with pearl onions and emerald chard
along with carrots and stalks of celery
to become our BROTHel, at your service.

D
owch
in me
my brain
body
mind
inside my emotions
penetrating
everything
vulnerability is power
i’m tired and i don’t want to fight anymore

E
I’m just beginning to realize that the way I handle situations with people is a direct reflection of how people have handled me in the past, and how I have dealt with it. As much as I am an advocate of utilizing coping strategies, I am an advocate for change. I notice that I am a very passive-aggressive person, chill, and with that there comes a certain pride; however, I find it detrimental to some integral situations happening in the classroom or in my life, and the recognition that change needs to occur transforms me into a person that I don’t know and am not comfortable with. Knowing that situations of rudeness, cheating, and lying will sort themselves out in the future calms me, but when I stop to think that they will be stopped due to the actions of people like me, the Teacher, I know this necessitates change in my personal attitude towards my professional career.

Best o' '12 List

Do people still make New Year's Resolutions? Are they going out of fashion? I think mine is to make more lists, primarily because my boyfriend/co-habitant speaks in "Top 5" or "Top 10" lists and I am a very orderly person. While contemplating my top music lists of last year, my mind started wandering towards the good, the bad, and the ugly of this year. And even though life contains ugly moments, the fact that I'm included makes them just a bit more aesthetically appealing.

Am I right?

Trying to remember 2012 in all its splendor, from January 1 eating pupusas in El Salvador to December 31 sitting on my bum writing this blog entry in my pajamas at high noon, I want to compile some of the memories I have of this past year.

Movies: While I watched damn near 60 movies for October's Horrorthon (57 to be precise but only 50 reviewed), there are two things I can conclude from the movie-watching splendor
1) I quit my job at the right time
2) Targets, The Poughkeepsie Tapes, and Rabies were the best movies I watched this year. Here's my full Horrorthon Wrap Up 2012.

Despite all the movies I saw that were released in 2012, there's one that stands out the most to me . . . was it --
a) Jiro Dreams of Sushi, the gorgeous but slow-paced documentary that will change the way you look at sushi for the rest of your life?

b) Prometheus and its ultimate let-down of science fiction fans?

c) The Dark Knight Rises -- the final chapter in the story of my favorite but psychologically scarred superhero?

Um, you were cool 'til you spoke. Bane is NOT supposed to sound like Captain Picard!

d) Django Unchained, Quentin Tarantino's 8th feature-length revenge movie set against the backdrop of pre-Civil War slavery?

Totally worth a second viewing.

Nope. It was e) The Expendables 2, which featured Jean-Claude Van Damme as the antagonist.

This is the most significant movie of 2012 for me because it sparked a wildfire of JCVD film viewings, among them: JCVD (2008). Although Van Damme's acting career took longer to develop talent than his near-perfect kickboxing career, I've stumbled upon some gems including Double Impact and Replicant, in both of which Van Damme battles himself (no, not in a metaphorical sense). 2013 can only bring more action, more campy plots, and yes -- more Van Damme legs.

More like Van BAMM!

Hot Damme!

Van Damme, thank you, man!

TV: Admittedly I live in the past and have been religiously tuned in to The Incredible Hulk 70's show.

Last night we were watching an episode that featured midget wrestlers and I turned to declare to my boyfriend, "Next pet's name is going to be Bixby." That's right, as in Bill Bixby.

The David Banner that he portrays can do no wrong, is by definition a man's man, is unafraid to make himself open and vulnerable to act as both doctor and patient as he travels from town to town surviving on his wits, wisdom, and unexpected greenman transformations.

We are closing in on the end of the fourth season, arguably the best since season one and definitely the riskiest in Hulky goings-on. I can't deny that I won't feel emotional when it's all over because there is only one possible ending for the Hulk *cue "Sad Man" theme*.

The Walking Dead Season 2. I only just finished watching it on Netflix and I don't have cable. No, I don't want to hear what happens.

Anderson Cooper was given a daytime show that competes with Dr. Phil and Maury. Why? The only time I tuned in, Mr. Cooper and his cute co-host of the day were discussing the Boyfriend Pillow vs. the Girlfriend Pillow. What have you reduced your talents to, Mr. Cooper?!??

Knits: the addition of fingerless gloves into my repertoire. Sometimes the thumb was too big, sometimes they were too snug, but the result of frogging my projects until I got them right was always the same: "They're beautiful!" (say the recipients).

Crochets: The baby blanket and hat I crocheted for expectant friends back in July, shown off in a previous blog entry (it's listed as Project #4).

Travelin': My first trip to the east coast was noteworthy and fun! Among the hundreds of pictures of brick buildings I took, there were some special moments in Times Square:

. . . getting in touch with my spirit animal at the Natural History Mooseum:

. . . paying a visit to Paul Revere on the Freedom Trail in Boston:

. . . and enjoying a cold one at Calamari's Tavern in Connecticut!

Cry: Here I'm going to get a little serious. I definitely endorse the therapeutic benefits of a good cry. Letting oneself go and allowing emotions to embody themselves in tears, if it means feeling better afterwards, is worth it. I think many feel a huge stigma against crying because they either see it as a sign of weakness in others, don't know what to do when others cry in their presence, or both. One of the strongest things a person can do is acknowledge how something is affecting them because let's face it: we've all felt alone at some points in our lives, and if you don't know yourself to know when you're disturbed then how will you know how to get better?

Having said that, perhaps the best cry I had this year was when I spoke with a friend and previous coworker about moving on from WCCHS. I have so much respect for her and as we were exchanging words, and despite my best efforts, I cried. She started crying, too, and it wasn't because we were sad, it was because we both cherished our professional relationship, our friendship, and that the changes and decisions that were happening in our lives were for the best. It was a nostalgic cry, signifying for me the end of the beginning of my teaching career (where I was "fresh meat" for kids to test) and the start of the development of my professional persona as this great teacher I'd always dreamt I'd be. At that point, I had moved past the point of fretting over not covering all the California State Standards before May 1, or losing sleep over individuals who chose not to do their homework. I finally "got it," and moving on was going to be hard, but crying with Rosemary was like lifting a huge weight off my shoulders. I knew that the challenges and camaraderie we experienced together were special and that there would be many more moments like this to come. I no longer was afraid of the future, I was welcoming it.

Laugh: I have to list this out of obligation after Crying made it as a category, but to be honest I can't think of a single moment of my laughter or another person's laughter that takes the top spot.

Well, maaaaaaaaaaaaaaybe the time last November where I was working so infrequently that I lost track of the days and I wished my friend Sylvia a "happy Friday" on a Tuesday and she cackled at the fact that I was letting go of my orderly, organized self. Actually we both had a good laugh over that.

Board Game: Conquering my Scrabble fears and scoring several 7-letter words within one game were my best moments.

Family Time: Any time I get to spend with my mother -- cop out, right? If only you knew the vulgar things this woman expels from her mouth:
"Are you a Mexi-can or a Mexi-can't? I'm a Mexi-c*nt!"
"We've got to tell those Right-wing conservatives in Washington to get their hands out of our vaginas and their penises out of our mouths!"
"Did I like The Hobbit? Hell no! The movie ended and they barely got to the damn mountain!"

Did I mention I pull a near-perfect impression of my mother?

Like a fine wine, my mother's sound bytes get better and more memorable with age. She's always someone I can confide in about my teaching woes and relate to each phase of my life with funny and poignant anecdotes. She also has the best taste in fashion thanks to me.

Catharsis 2012

October was eye-opening for me. I learned a lot about myself, what I want for my future, and above all I've just started to sort through my confusing/unintelligible feelings. I think I finally feel comfortable addressing the majority of the thoughts, emotions, and occurrences in my life.

First of all, quit my job in downtown Oakland. I admit now I was holding on to the faith that there was a better, more well-structured charter school out there than my previous experience in Richmond. I was hoping that the crazy schedules, the overworked staff, and the underrepresented students would not be seen at this new endeavor I was pursuing, but -- I was wrong, and I'm a person who hates to be wrong! In the four short years that I was teaching at West County Community High School, I enjoyed teaching and bonding with the students and families who all shared a common goal. When I started seeing things fall apart from the inside, I responded to my instincts to flee and accepted the first job I was offered: Envision Academy, one of five Envision charter schools. I believed that my demo lesson was exceptional, my interview was concise, and I came across as a strong candidate and that I would, indeed, be successful. What I did not foresee or ask about was classroom management, the background of the student population I agreed to be teaching, or specific guidelines on how strict I would have to be in the classroom. Most of what I remember are direct quotes from EA teachers for whom I hold a high degree of respect and who did what they could to help me out during episodes of trauma I experienced while there; at least once a week I left the classroom after calling for back-up so I could compose myself, I never left work early but I cried more in those 2 1/2 months than I remember crying during some of the most difficult times in my life. At least during a death in the family, or a bad breakup, you know what has happened is for the best -- but when doing what you love is bringing more emotional damage than repair, it's heart-wrenching to acknowledge that you need to quit.

When it all boils down in my mind, the toughest thing I've had to deal with is this feeling of failure. I quit something that I know I'm good at -- teaching -- because I'd failed to control a classroom that was used to people being mean to them. I tried being mean, I tried acting like I'd seen other teachers and educators yelling and shouting and "putting them in their place," and it just didn't groove with me. What granted me solace was when I was able to peel back the layers of frustration and anger and fantasize about that magical fifth year of teaching I'd sworn I would take off to go back to school.

In the same week I quit my job, even more realizations came to surface other than returning to school: wanting to settle down with my boyfriend, save money, eventually start a family, etc. I know that I appreciate and love my family and the way they raised me, and I know that planning for one of my own would fill me to the brim with pride and happiness. The weekend before Thanksgiving my boyfriend and I were frantically getting everything together for our trip to the east coast to visit his family when I told him how I felt:
Me: "I want to have a baby."
Boyfriend: *hugs* "What, right now?"
Me: *giggles* "No, silly, we've got a cab to catch!"

Such good stuff life is made of. Nevertheless, the holidays were fun but I swear I never want to take another redeye flight again (though I probably will).

Currently I'm working part-time at a tutoring center and my worker-bee brain is taking a break, for better or for worse. I include "for worse" here because I realize I have grown accustomed to working with [un]reasonable deadlines, no budget, and high expectations from myself and my bosses. To be honest I can tutor math in my sleep and if I can make $17/hr doing it, then more power to me, right? This time in my life should just be considered my "hibernation" period because I know I'll find something and I know that a right fit will come when it's time.

I'm still waiting for a letter back from CSU Hayward to see if they've accepted me or not, and I've decided that I'm going to keep my chin up even if I need to wait to re-apply. Life goes on, I love school and learning and I don't think that will change inside of me, ever. I'm waiting to get interviewed as a substitute teacher so I can survey the student population here on the "other side of the tunnel" (as I referred to it when I lived in Berkeley/Oakland), and ensure that the next educator job I take is the right one, despite its imperfections. I feel very fortunate to have worked at WCCHS for four years -- it helped shape me as an educator, my personality as a teacher and leader, and put me in a position where I had to acknowledge my responsibility as a young adult with a college degree in a professional workplace. (I know that sounds cheesy, but when by the time I decided to move on from WCCHS I knew what I wanted out of life and love, and knew that I would get it.)