Ten Years Gone (Holding On)

I've been working at Pathways/Senderos for 10 years. Before working there, I had never been at a job for longer than 2 years. It's the best youth program I've ever come across, and I'm proud to be a part of it.

Me, 2008

This is Pathways 25th year. It's rather incredible that a small non-profit in New Britain has lasted so long, especially considering the state budget cuts over the last few years. It's a testament to the staff, the board, and the program's methodology. If our program didn't work, we would never receive the support we do from the community and from funders. Good programs lose funding and disappear all the time, though, so our board and staff deserve a lot of credit for the work they put in.

I wrote about the Founder of Pathways, my former boss Roseanne, when she passed away last year. She built the program from the ground up and received national recognition for her work. She laid the groundwork for the agency and to this day we are still benefiting from a lot of what she did.

When she left, it would have been very easy (and common) for the agency to collapse. Many folks were worried that we wouldn't survive.

Thankfully, the people who had worked so hard to get the program to its high level of success continued to do the same when she retired. Staff and volunteers provided guidance and assistance to students, and the board of directors ensured that staff members had the support needed to move forward and determine the future direction of the program. Most importantly, the two staff members (Nick and Heather) who had been at the agency the longest, and who were personally selected to secede Roseanne, worked harder than ever in their new roles of Co-Executive Directors to provide the same level of service to our boys and girls.

There were certainly difficulties. Receiving less funding every year because of state budget cuts hasn't helped, yet we have managed to find other funding by diversifying our donor base. Even though we haven't been able to take as many field trips or buy as much food for students, we are structurally and financially secure. We are collaborating with more programs and agencies throughout the city and expanding our impact even further.

When Nick and Heather took over as Directors, we had to pull off a 20th Anniversary Gala that was more than halfway through the planning stages. It could've gone horribly wrong, which would've been extremely embarrassing, since legislators, community agencies, alumni, funders, and our supporters had already RSVP'd.

However, it went incredibly well. We raised money, celebrated our successes, and reassured people that the agency was going to be just fine.

The night of the Gala, UConn was playing in the NCAA tournament, and we had the game on. This was the year Shabazz Napier was a Senior and Kevin Ollie had taken over as coach for Jim Calhoun. UConn had been suspended the year before, a lot of players left once Calhoun was out, and the future of UConn basketball was looking abysmal; yet Ollie and Napier silenced all doubters and won the title. After it happened, I was going to write a blog post about how Heather and Nick were like Ollie, successfully taking over a historic franchise from a well-known, accomplished leader. At the time it was a great metaphor; it would've been one of my best posts! But considering recent happenings with the UConn Men's basketball team and Kevin Ollie, I'm glad I didn't write it. The metaphor didn't really hold up because UConn Men's basketball is failing miserably and we've just gotten better and better.

It's safe to say that Pathways is in good hands. Since our 20th Anniversary, we have continued to see the same success; in fact, more of our graduates are going to (and completing) college. We recently held a 25th Anniversary, which was even better than the 20th.

We love what we do. More than ever, the program is a manifestation of that love. It helps that I work with one of my best friends, and I think our friendship greatly affects the program (how it is run, the atmosphere at the Center). It also helps that all of our staff members care about the program, the kids, and each other.
We call the Center a "parallel family" for a reason; we're not just a building where kids hang out after school. We are another family for these kids, sometimes the only one they have. Our family includes our staff, our kids, volunteers, board members, and graduates. It is an expansive support system for everyone involved and it goes well beyond academic assistance and sex education.

We always tout our stats (100% high school graduation, 80% go on to higher education, 94% working, etc.) because they are great, but there's much more behind the numbers. All of us, from staff to board to volunteers, have made meaningful, lifelong connections with many of our participants throughout the years. I'm a former student's Godfather! Technically, Confirmation Sponsor but still.

I have been extremely lucky to work at Pathways for so long. No matter how long I'm here, I want the program to continue on forever. I'm proud to say that we run an agency that  has been proven to help children succeed in school, careers, and life in general. The work that we have done has created a foundation that can and should be sustained and replicated for as long as children need support and guidance.

Me with my Pathways Family at our 25th Anniversary, 2018

I Love You All...Class Dismissed. 

5 More Activities That Shouldn't Exist in 2017

It's time again to look at popular activities that exist as anachronisms in a society that is finally beginning to confront the abhorrent behavior of its most powerful people. These are activities that can not and will not last in an era with access to the truth about their consequences. The list was going to simply be 5 different types of sexual assault,because apparently a whole lot of people need to learn what is and what is not acceptable, but I'll leave that discussion to HR and the court of public opinion. Let's look at some other activities that, while maybe not on the level of sexual assault, still have no place in an advanced society.

Football, Specifically the NFL

I haven't watched football at all this year. It's not because the Dolphins are garbage. It's definitely not because I oppose the players expressing their free speech and highlighting racial inequality. It's not the NFL's obsession with and glorification of the military or the fact that they serve as a propaganda tool. It's not because of the owners' bullshit showing of "unity" after Trump's comments attacking them despite the fact that most of them support him. It's not because of Papa fucking John. It's not because of their obvious blackballing of Colin Kaepernick. It's not because of their denial of CTE for years and their slow, almost non-existent approach to addressing concerns of CTE now. It's not because of their horrible policies in regards to domestic violence. It's not because players aren't guaranteed a contract if they get hurt. It's not because of how the owners treat taxpayers and cities as pawns in their efforts to build new stadiums and enrich themselves even further.  It's not because more and more youth players are getting seriously injured or dying. It's not because playing youth football guarantees later health problems.

Well, it's not any of those things individually. It's the combination. For the past few years, I've only watched RedZone because entire games are excruciating. I don't have RedZone anymore and I'm definitely not watching a long, boring game considering all the awful elements of the NFL one has to look past to enjoy it.

As a society, though, I just don't believe we will accept a sport that inflicts this level of long-term damage on its players. It makes too much money right now to really change, but that will only last for so long. When Bob Costas says the future of football is bleak, I tend to believe it.

Or not. I mean shit, we lose 30,000 people to gun violence every year and the gun lobby just gets stronger so what the hell do I know. Besides, Bob Costas's foresight might still be affected from that conjunctivitis.

Hard to see the future when you can barely see the teleprompter.

Carnivals

Has anyone over the age of 12 actually enjoyed a carnival? "Carnival" in Brazil, yes. Maybe even a Carnival cruise, when the toilets don't back up for 2 weeks. Otherwise, very doubtful. But much like Daylight Savings Time and pennies, carnivals are a relic of a foregone era that have somehow stuck around and convinced people they are part of the social fabric of America.

This one seriously mystifies me. Maybe people in towns that have carnivals are just absolutely, devastatingly bored out of their minds. And they don't have internet access. Or heroin. Nothing else explains the existence of carnivals in the age of Netflix and the Opiod Epidemic.

Or maybe everyone at carnivals is high out of their mind? That would actually explain a few things.

People can't be going for the rides. Even if they weren't rusty, dilapidated death traps, they still aren't fun. Maybe you'll find a Tilt-a-Whirl style ride that will at least evacuate all the greasy fried food you just ate, but that's the height of excitement.

Speaking of the dumpster remnants that they fry up and serve as exotic creations, I guess it's possible that some people enjoy the taste of fryer oil and despair, but the feeling that immediately follows has to make you question your life's decisions, no?

Maybe it's the rigged games that offer an opportunity to win dusty stuffed figures of children's movies from the mid 2000s. Maybe it's the knick-knacks that your great aunt Susan sells there every year. Yes, you could make gum wrapper earrings yourself, but at the carnival you get to spend $15 on a pair!

Plus, carnies! Everybody loves carnies, right?

Olympics

Ahhh, the Olympics. Every 4 years we come together as a nation and cheer on our most gifted athletes in the hopes they dominate the Russians in the javelin toss. It's a blast.

The Olympics are always presented as something more than just a collection of sports that for the most part nobody watches for 3 years and 11 months. It's about national pride! But how much pride can we take watching NBA players decimating the JV high school team of Kazakhstan? We already call our championship teams in our sporting events "World Champions," why do we even bother competing against countries that have fewer citizens than Delaware? Obviously our pool of athletes is better than most.

That "national pride" is how we convince athletes to throw their lives away to train for multiple decades just for the honor of competing for free. Sure, Michael Phelps is ballin'. Now. Sure, Simone Biles is the face of US Gymnastic and gets to meet her celebrity crushes and probably doesn't lack for sponsorship money (then again, she probably had to deal with predatory coaches and trainers). But those two athletes reached the pinnacle of their sport. They took home gold. What happens to the hundreds of athletes who don't medal? Even silver and bronze medalists are met with contempt for not coming in first. Unless they won a gold as well, they may as well have come in last in the eyes of corporate sponsors: "For every athlete that ends up on a cereal box, there are hundreds of others that do not get paid for their sport and have to struggle to make ends meet." Imagine being the 4th best in the entire world in any given sport and never receiving a dime for it or even a glowing profile in the paper.

So, good luck supporting your family while you train for 12 hours a day for 10 years in the hopes of maybe getting a sponsorship that can at least pay for your equipment and training.

Oh, but at least the city that hosts gets an economic boost that lasts for years and years and obviously I'm lying to you right now. Host cities for the Olympics end up in shambles. And it doesn't even take long. If they can even get the stadiums and everything prepared in time for the Olympics, they generally fall apart immediately after. Cities in solid economic shape before hosting tend to manage, but cities hoping to boost their economy end up further in the hole with unused facilities taking the place of historic sites or diverting major waterways that provide clean drinking water to entire countries.


Gender Reveal Parties

Through the miracle of social media, I have discovered the existence of "gender reveal parties." Not all knowledge is power.

What the hell are we doing here? Baby showers aren't enough, we need "gender reveal parties"? Is a woman's value inherently tied to her ability to pop out babies? Stationary companies certainly think so. Call me crazy, but maybe we don't need a party for everything. Or maybe we don't need to come up with all of these reasons to get together with friends and family and drink and eat cake. Just get together! I'll come over for a "listen to music/watch tv/sit by the fire and drink" party over a gender reveal party any day.

Unless you're coming out as trans, keep your damn gender reveal party. I'll support the hell out of your decision to live your truth, but when it comes to your baby, knock it the fuck off. These parties only confirm gender binarism and gender biases. But maybe you only believe biological sex matters and gender is not a different concept. You're wrong, and that's fine, but intersex humans exist. Like, that's not semantics or a liberal manifestation. Approximately .05% of all live births are intersex. That doesn't sound like a lot, but it equates to about 1 out of every 1500-2000 babies. Almost 4 million babies are born every year in the US alone. That's about 2,000 intersex babies every year. Surprise! Put those pink cigars away! Nope, put the blue ones down, too! Honestly what the hell are you doing smoking around a pregnant woman anyways?

It's bad enough that we conflate biology and gender, but we're seriously still equating "girl" with pink and "boy" with blue? Did Killa Cam really teach us nothing?

Between this and his decimation of Bill O'Reilly, we really need to be listening to Cam'Ron more. 

Maybe one day we'll be as advanced as Germany when it comes to gender. Man, "progressive Germany" is still really weird to say.


Early Start Times for School

I can't remember the beginning of high school. I don't mean the first year. I mean, the beginning of every day for four years. I know I was in school, I just don't know what was happening before 10am. My first 2 classes were inevitably my worst grades. It was a full time job just getting out of bed.

It turns out that my struggle was not unusual and it wasn't simply because I'm not a "morning person." In fact, my brain simply could not function at the time it was asked to every day for 4 years. I have called high school torture since the first time I was forced to choke down cardboard cafeteria pizza, and it seems my hyperbole was a lot closer to reality than even I realized.

So why so early? Maybe it's so parents can get their kids to school before they go to work. What about after school? If the parents job starts after school starts, it undoubtedly ends after school ends. We have created a nation of exhausted latch-key kids.

Well maybe it's so they can play sports after school? Besides the fact that connecting athletics and academics is possibly not such a good idea in the first place, they could practice before school (hockey already does, and they'd be able to push practice back a little so parents don't have to wake up at 3am to take the kids to the rink). After school sports might be pushed back a little, but is that such a problem? What are we prioritizing? Athletics or academics? At the very least, isn't school supposed to make children better people? If they can't focus half the day, what are they learning?

I'd hope there was more reason for keeping early start times other than "it's tradition," but sadly, I know that has become the main reason we keep a lot of very stupid practices. And way too many people have the mentality of, "if I had to do it, they should have to as well." That is one of the most damaging mentalities when it comes to social progress. Forcing other people to go through the same torture you did doesn't benefit you in any way. Let the kids sleep!

I Love You All...Class Dismissed. 

From the Mixed Up Files of Professor Thug

School is back in session, and that can mean only one thing: teaching related posts from Professor Thug! Rejoice.

Teaching is awesome. Mostly. Any teacher worth their paycheck is also a student, constantly striving to improve. Whether it's taking classes, reading the latest research about teaching techniques, or simply learning from your own mistakes and successes. it's important to never become stagnant. Teachers need to adapt to the times and adapt to students' learning styles.

There are moments when I've reflected on a lesson or a response to a student and realized I could've done better. There are also times I've thought that I handled something really well. I learn from both situations. Everything can be a teachable moment.

I try to apply these teachable moments to my own practices. I've had many over the years, some more influential than others. A few happened before I was even a teacher.

The earliest was as a sophomore in high school. It's an example of how the best intentions can have the worst outcomes when they are not fully thought out.

I've had many bad teachers/coaches throughout my career as a student. Fortunately, I had many great teachers, too, but I believe you can learn as much from a bad teacher as a good teacher. With a bad teacher, you might not learn what they want you to learn, and you might be learning strictly out of spite, but you can always learn something.

I was playing organized football for the first time in my life. I was stuck on offensive line, a position I hated, but I wasn't yet confident enough to talk to my coaches and ask them to let me play literally anywhere else. So I stuck it out as Tackle for the full year. I practiced hard, I played hard, and I even cheered hard when I was on the sidelines, which was the vast majority of the time.

Near the end of the season, after our first loss, our coaches gathered us around for a pep talk. Some of the "stars" of the team had been complaining about playing time or something like that. The coaches saw fit to lecture us on good sportsmanship and persistence and sacrifice and blah blah blah. One coach got into a long rant about how the best players work hard without complaining. The playing time and the kudos come naturally because of effort and perseverance. If our "stars" really wanted it, they would go out there, work their asses off and not complain.

Then he turned and pointed to me: "Like Geoff here."

Oh for fuck's sake.

It didn't stop there. "He goes out there and practices every day and busts his ass. He cheers for his teammates. He doesn't sit there and whine about not playing!"

I don't know how many of the players were actually paying attention to any of this, but I do know that I was trying to hide my face and crawl into the corner. He just used me as an example of what an athlete should aspire to be, yet this asshole never fucking puts me in the fucking game. I didn't play one second that night. Maybe I should have been complaining. Or maybe, I don't know, he could have put me in the game? Does hard work and perseverance only pay off for everybody but me? Maybe the coach was just mocking me, like, "This guy works his ass off and he still gets no playing time hahaha!"

I finished out the year and never played football again. When I quit, the head coach (different guy) said, "You can't quit. You're our starting tackle!" To which I replied, "Coach, I didn't start one game. I barely played more than 5 minutes in any game." His reply, "Oh." I could tell right then that he barely knew who I was. That didn't exactly encourage me to stay, either.

Anyways, the entire experience was important for me because it taught me how not to treat students. Firstly, it's important to actually get to know your students. Secondly, if you're going to make an example of them, make sure you don't completely contradict your point with your own actions. Maybe if I played more than 4 minutes a game his point about working hard and being rewarded would have stood up. It was a punch in the face because it seemed that he knew enough about me to use me as an example of hard work, but not enough to let me play. So either I sucked or...I sucked? What was I supposed to think?

Oh, and not to mention, his stupid-ass point had no effect on the people he was trying to reach, so it was a double fail.

I didn't think I'd be a teacher at that point, but I knew I'd never use somebody like that. In general, I never use a student as an example of anything, good or bad. I've found that with writing, and with inexperienced writers in particular, exposure or attention can actually discourage them from doing their best work. People have told me directly that they changed their writing because they thought they might have to read it out loud or even simply share it with classmates in a peer review session. I certainly encourage them to share their writing, and peer reviews are mandatory, but I don't ever put the spotlight on someone if they don't want it. I might use a student's essay as an example of good writing, but most of the time I don't use the student's name. If I do, I ask them beforehand. It's just not worth possibly making a student uncomfortable. Any point I'm trying to make can be made another way.

Like this.

I acknowledge when someone does something well, of course, but I would never point someone out and tell everyone else to be like that person. That doesn't encourage anyone involved.

When I started working with kids, I didn't have a lot of instruction or guidance, so I tried to use my experiences as a student to guide me. To this day, most of what I do is try to emulate my best teachers and avoid what the worst ones did.

My first foray into working with kids was at New Britain Parks and Rec. I worked at the after school program at Chamberlain elementary school, helping kids with their homework and coordinating various fun activities for a few hours every weekday. One day, a young girl was upset about another girl making fun of her. I tried to calm her down and assured her that whatever the other girl said wasn't true. It was something about her glasses or braces or something, and according to the crying girl, it was accurate and she wouldn't accept otherwise. So I said something like, "When you get older, you realize it doesn't matter what people think. You'll look back and laugh at it."

She replied, "But I'm still a kid. It hurts now. You already were a kid so it's no big deal to you, but we have to go through it still."

Damn.

I vowed to never use the "you're just a kid/it won't matter in the future" reasoning ever again. It minimizes their feelings. Adults have the privilege of experiencing childhood and growing out of it, so we see how things evolve. They don't have that perspective. Their present is all they have, and their feelings are no less real than adults.

A few years later I was a pre-school assistant teacher. It was great, although physically exhausting. The age range was 3-and-a-half to 5-and-a-half. It wasn't exactly mentally stimulating, but it could be if you put mental energy into it. Besides proving my long-held belief that the best kids are someone else's, it taught me a lot about teaching and interacting kids. One thing I noticed was that young kids don't hold a grudge. They might start crying if you tell them no, but 5 minutes later they'll forget why they are crying and will ask you to play dinosaurs with you. You have to keep them stimulated; hence, physically exhausting.

One of the best teachable moments occurred while finger-painting. The best experiences always occur while finger-painting. Needless to say I was a master at it, and I wasn't afraid to show off my skills. Of course, working with pre-schoolers, it's more important to show them how to do something rather than show them how good you are at doing something, but I was new. And I had some finger painting skills to show off.

A girl next to me at the easels looked at my painting and said, "That's awesome!" (She was a smart kid.) Then she looked at her painting and started to cry. "I want to make mine look like yours," she said, with a full pout now plastered on her face. "I'm no good." The tears poured down her face.

I was silent. It was another Parks and Rec situation all over again, but this time, I was the direct cause of it. She was crying because of me, and crying girls have always been my Kryptonite.

The young girl next to her, who was a damn good artist herself for a 5 year old, noticed her classmate's distress. I'm sure she also noticed my utter inability to handle the distress.

She stopped painting and looked at the girl's work. Then she said to her, "It's okay Jasmine. Everybody has their own way of making art. That's what makes it beautiful. Your drawing doesn't look like anybody else's."

Jasmine wiped her eyes with her forearm and said, "Okay." Then she went back to slapping paint onto the canvas.

Ok, well...give that girl my check for the week.

That moment taught me more about teaching than most seminars or classes. Not only dd she have a factually correct response, but her tone and poise and her delivery was the perfect way to handle a tense situation. More than what she said, it was how she said it, and even more importantly, that she said it at all. She expressed concern in a way that avoided any melodramatic scene.

Meanwhile, I'm covering my face with my red and green and blue hands so nobody notices the terror and the tears forming in my eyes.

You have to reach students on their level. Oftentimes what may feel like a catastrophe can be handled with a simple, straightforward solution. "Avoid panicking" should be the number 1 rule for all teachers.

I've had many great experiences as a teacher, too many to mention. One of the best aspects of teaching is seeing students grow and become successful.

Recently I was at the bank and I saw a former student from Tunxis. He was working as a bank teller, and he told me he was studying Accounting at Central. He got his Associate's from Tunxis and was going after his Bachelor's at Central. He told me how much he liked my class and how he appreciated my help and encouragement.

Around the same time, I received an email from a former Tunxis student. She explained in detail how I helped her envision her own future...a future that did not involve school. She was working as a personal trainer or something and she was happier than ever. She thanked me for being honest with her about her performance in school. I always tell students that they need to truly examine whether or not they are ready for the commitment, in terms of time, money, and effort. Some people are just not willing or able to make the commitment, yet they sign up for classes because they think it is the "right" thing to do. It's only the "right" thing to do if it works for you personally. She realized she needed to take a different path to happiness and success, and she wanted to thank me for helping her see that.

That may not be what every educator wants to hear, but I always appreciate making a positive impact on someone's life, no matter how big or small. Students may not ever be great at a particular subject, but teachers can still educate them and make a positive, lasting impact. College isn't the right path for everybody, and trying to force everyone down that path is counter-productive. I'm very clear about the commitment it takes to be successful in my class and in college. If someone decides to continue down the path, I certainly do my best to help them succeed, no question. But if a student is taking Comp for the third time and he can barely put a coherent sentence together, school might not be for him. And that's OK.

Finally, there are some moments that make you question your profession as a teacher and sometimes even your existence as a human.

I'll only share one of those moments, and in all honesty, they don't occur that frequently. When they do, though, it is really devastating.

I'm a firm believer in the idea that there are no stupid questions. If a student has a question about something, there's a good chance other students have the same question and are just unwilling to ask it. Sometimes, students ask questions that can be frustrating because we have gone over them a few times. I've heard"what's a thesis statement?" too many times to count. I've heard "when is the first essay due" right after I just read the schedule enough times to give me an aneurysm. But I can deal with those. They are stu--strange questions given the context, but enough students ask to make me understand that it's a common issue.

However, there is one instance of a student asking a question that still sends shivers of rage and shame up my spine when I think of it. It was a stunning combination of bad timing and a complete lack of basic knowledge. If the question was asked at the beginning of the semester, I would have completely forgotten about it. In fact, it's a common, appropriate question at the beginning of the semester.

But it's also question I answer throughout the entire semester. I make the answer readily available on literally every essay's assignment sheet. It's one of the first things I tell students and I remind them every time a paper is due. After week 4, I've never had anyone ask me this question.

Until last semester. It was the last day of class. We had completed every assignment. Basically, the class session was designed as a writing workshop for students to put final touches on their portfolios. I was answering any last minute questions about revisions. A student at the front of class raised his hand. He wasn't the best student but he did all the assignments, attended almost every class, and participated regularly.

As I called on him, I was in no way prepared for his question. I thought it was a joke at first, but when I saw the look on his face, I knew that something somewhere in the space/time continuum had been completely disrupted.

The young man looked me in the eye and in all seriousness asked, "What font should we use for our essays?"

Me.

Again, if it was the first or second or even fifth week, this would be a reasonable question. If he had missed half of the classes, it might have been a reasonable question. If I required a different font for every assignment, this might have been a reasonable question. If he had some kind of traumatic brain injury, this might have been a reasonable question.

It was none of those things, and it was not a reasonable question and I think I might have frightened his ancestors with the way I stared directly into his soul with the fires of Hades ablaze in my eyes.

I could not believe it. I could not accept it. After this entire semeseter, after trying to teach these students so many things about English Composition, about critical reading and writing, about effectively expressing ideas to better engage with the world, this clowndick didn't know the most basic information? Information that had been given on the very first day and almost every day since?

Do you understand how that affects a teacher? If a student doesn't know what font to use on the last day of the semester, a fundamental requirement that had been covered over and over again, how could that student have possibly gained anything from this class? Was it all for naught? Did I just waste 3 and a half months of my time, his time, and 23 other students' time? Had my whole teaching career been a failure?

I stared at him in a silent rage for a few seconds then replied, "I'm not telling you."

He looked confused and a little sad. "What do you mean?"

"For every assignment throughout the semester I've told you what font to use. It's the same font every time. It's on the assignment sheets I hand out for every essay."

More silence and confusion. His eyes begged, "Please?"

"I can't do it. I can't tell you."

The other students looked on in embarrassment and pity. A student in the back spoke out, "Can we tell him?"

I replied, "I'm not going to stop anybody from helping out a classmate, but I personally can not tell him. I just can't do it."

Six or seven students immediately yelled out, "Times New Roman!"

He gave one of those, "Ohhhhh, right," looks and nodded his head.

"TIMES NEW ROMAN YOU DUMB BASTARD!" I yelled, lunging for his throat and stabbing him with a dry-erase marker in the left eyeball, turning his blue eye into a mess of bright maroon.

That's what I did in my mind anyway. I would've felt a lot better if I could've at least thrown something at him though. Instead I just nodded and said, "thank you everybody." And I meant it. The pity they all had and their immediate desire to help him made me feel a little better. They seemed just as shocked as me. So maybe it was just him. But holy shit, talk about a moment that makes you question everything. If I can't successfully instill one of the most fundamental rules of my class, how good could I possibly be?

Again, I think it was mostly just him, but it does speak to one of my beliefs about teaching. The teacher is only as good as the student. There are certainly great teachers out there and there are ways of teaching that are more successful than others, but a majority of people will fail or succeed no matter who teaches them. I know many teachers don't share that view, but I firmly believe it. My three hours a night for 15 weeks isn't going to overcome the 165 other hours of the week in which you are doing anything but learning. I simply do what I can for those three hours and it's up to each student to do the hard work inside and outside of class that truly helps them learn.

That's not a condemnation of teaching. At all. Teachers are some of the most important people in any society. But as I learned with that little girl in pre-school, encouragement and making a positive connection generally has more of a long-lasting impact on students than whatever specific subject you are teaching. My favorite teachers are my favorite teachers because of how they taught, not what they taught, and that is a lesson I take with me to class every day.


I Love You All...Class Dismissed. 

A Path To Happiness, Discovered Too Late

Tonight I discovered that one of my community college students committed suicide.

I can't remember her face. I had only seen her once, but that bothers me. I'm not the greatest with names, but I always remember faces. And I can't picture hers.

As a teacher, all my students are important to me. I am a part of their educational journey, the most important journey we ever take, and I want to make sure their time with me is meaningful.

On top of that, I like to imagine myself as the metaphorical catcher in the rye; not Holden Caulfield, but the fantasy version of himself he envisions catching children before they fall off the edge of a cliff.

Basically, I want to be Sgt. Kevin Briggs.

We all want to be a hero, and as Sgt. Briggs proves, sometimes it's as simple as talking with a person. Listening. Caring.

I teach Composition 101, so I deal with a lot of young students, immigrant students, and adults coming back to school after a long absence. It can be very overwhelming, and I do my best to help students adapt. Part of my job is helping to build their confidence and self-esteem, two necessities in the writing process. It takes courage to put your thoughts on paper for the world, or even just one professor, to see.

On the first day of class, I asked students to respond to an article titled, "Writing Your Way To Happiness." The article explained how writing down our emotions and thoughts has a scientifically-proven positive effect on our mood and overall health. The article also discussed the difficulties students face in their freshman year of college and ways to overcome the common feelings of confusion and inadequacy.

I chose this article specifically because I wanted students to know that they are not alone in feeling overwhelmed. I hoped it would help them understand the difficulties of college in order that they could overcome those difficulties. In all honesty, I hoped the article could help with life in general; I always tell people that writing increases mental well-being, and this article provided empirical data to support my long held belief.

After hearing the news about my student, I pulled out her response, still in my folder.

Her words are heartbreaking.

As a person who struggles with depression and anxiety myself, this article and shown research goes to show me that my own journaling would improve my mood as it has for many people.

I found it very interesting that simply writing out my feelings could help improve my mood. I used to journal a few years back before I fell into a dark depression but I definitely feel that I could benefit from it now considering I'm working my way forward in life making many huge improvements. I definitely plan to start journaling more because I can always use an increase in my mood!

Reading it gave me chills. It still does. The fact that the last assignment she may have ever done before committing suicide was responding to an article called "Writing Your Way To Happiness" is an irony all too dark and depressing for me to completely accept at the moment.

"As a person who struggles with depression and anxiety..." "I fell into a dark depression..."

She was brave enough to give voice to her problems. She was facing her issues openly. This assignment gave her an opportunity to reach out, and she took it. I take comfort in that fact. Those are the opportunities I like to provide. What concerns me though, something I'll never know, is if she showed up the next class, would I have reached out to her? Should I have?

"I'm working my way forward in life making many huge improvements."

This line is devastating. This is all so much more heartbreaking because she saw the light ahead. A part of her felt good about the direction her life was taking. She was getting better.

"I definitely plan to start journaling more because I can always use an increase in my mood!"

This is the one that gets me. Look at the positivity! She ended the entire essay with an exclamation point! Maybe this little assignment gave her a glimmer of hope for a happier future. She desperately wants to feel better. She's making plans to improve her health.

But those demons are hard to outrun.

I'll never know if she did start "journaling" after this assignment. If she did, it was too late, her depression was too deep. Just the idea that she wanted to, that she saw it as a way to happiness, strengthens my belief in the absolute necessity of writing.

I wish I got to know her better. I wish I could have done more for her. More than anything, I wish I remembered her face.

I'll never forget her words, though, nor the cruel irony in the fact that these courageous, hopeful words were some of her last. She had not lost all hope, yet she was obviously suffering a lot more than she let on. Would I have been able to help her write her way to happiness?

I know it's silly to think that I could have done something to prevent it, but I can't shake the feeling that I could have done more.

In all actuality, all I can do is rededicate myself as an educator deeply invested in the well-being of my students and ensure that everything I do makes a positive impact on my students' lives. The same goes for people and life in general. I may not save any lives, but I can try to make someone's life more meaningful, even for a moment.  

I hope I did that for her.                  

I Love You All...Class Dismissed.

Kill Your Thoughts aka Editing

The hardest thing about writing is editing. Ok, the hardest thing is getting started. No, the hardest thing about writing is research. Actually...

You get the point. There is nothing easy about writing. There are so many facets to writing, and all of them are important in creating a satisfactory finished product. Each stage of the writing process contains a variety of difficulties; editing is just the final stage, and the most important.

Ever since I can remember, I always wanted to be a writer. What I never wanted to be was an editor, and nobody told me that all writers are editors.

All aspects of writing are frustrating, but editing is by far the most humbling. One misconception of writers is that they are "natural" and "born to be a writer." I disagree wholeheartedly; they may enjoy it more than those who don't write, but it never comes easy. It's hard work coming up with ideas and it's even harder getting those ideas down in a way that makes sense to others and expresses your true sentiments. So after all that work, the last thing you want to do is change the majority of it. You just busted your ass writing something, you don't want to reread it, you don't want to work on it anymore, and you definitely don't want to admit that it sucks.

Yet that is exactly what you need to do. When you're a professional writer, you have an editor and a lot of experience dealing with criticism and harsh revisions. As a student, you have the benefit of a teacher helping you edit, and even if the teachers' critiques are harsher than you expect, in a classroom there is an understanding that you will be judged on your work. Even in those situations, however, self-editing is still vital, and it can be an exercise in self-loathing and masochism. Sometimes you craft what you think is a perfect sentence, only to realize it doesn't fit with the rest of your paragraph, and you need the courage to get rid of that beautifully constructed combination of words. If you're honest, you will tear your own work to shreds, giving yourself even more work. It's a Sysiphean task, which is why I love it.

My first experience with the humbling editing process was my 8th grade graduation. I was tasked with making a speech by the principal of my elementary/middle school, Dr. Zoe Athanson (RIP). I spent several days and nights putting together a groundbreaking, mindblowing speech that would have my classmates and their families alternating between fits of crippling laughter and uncontrollable crying. I brought it to her office a few days before graduation with a cheesy grin, full of pride and self worth. She had me sit down in her office while she read it. She took out a pen and quietly, methodically, started scribbling, draining my self esteem with each swipe of her pen. After about 10 minutes, she gave it back to me, completely changed. The general ideas were the same, but the wording and structure were completely different. I didn't even recognize my own writing. Without telling me outright, her edits basically told me, "You don't want to embarrass yourself out there, so here's something more acceptable."

It stung a little bit. I figured she considered me a good writer since she asked me to write something, yet she clearly thought I was garbage.

After I got over my hurt feelings, the experience had a strange effect on me. I always considered myself a good writer (the qualifications included: writing on my own time) but this gave me a glimpse at reality. Just because you do a thing and you like doing that thing doesn't mean you do that thing well. I was hurt by her revisions, but the experience made me want to do better. I didn't want to be passing off her work as my own. I felt bad saying someone else's words; okay, I felt bad until the speech, then I owned it. Staring at all the people staring at me, I was just happy as hell not to be reading the crap I wrote.

In actuality, she had simply edited my paper, helping the golden nuggets that were my ideas shine through more clearly. I have since learned to do that more on my own, and I realized that my experience was something that all writers must face. At some point we have to confront the fact that we are not that good, and we need to improve. That's as hard a reality to accept in writing as it is in life.

I also learned how much editors actually do for writers. Some classic writers are rumored to have been extremely sloppy; are we really idolizing their work or the work of their editors? A lot of writers are upfront about how much their editors do for them; on the other hand, other writers are almost obsessive compulsive about editing their own work, never letting more than a few people see it until it is "perfect" in their minds.

Regardless, all writers realize the importance of editing,whether they do it themselves or with outside assistance. It is important to remember that revising is a separate mental process from creating, which is why it helps to have someone else edit your work at some point in the process. It's also why many editors are not the best writers and vice versa. Editing and creating use two completely different parts of the brain. It is impossible (well, certainly not productive, anyway) to edit while writing. Get everything out on paper, no matter how it sounds, then go back and work on it. That's the greatest part about a first draft: it can be complete trash and eventually turn into a classic.

 

First draft of George Orwell's 1984.

When you set out to write, remember James Thurber's words: "Don't get it right, get it written." You can get it right eventually, but you have to get it down, get it out there. We're all great writers in our heads, but nobody can read your mind. As Margaret Atwood said, "If I waited for perfection, I would never write a word." The greatest thing about writing is that you don't have to get it perfect the first time, or even second time, because there is the implicit agreement that you make when you start writing that you will respect the work, and yourself, enough to revise until it is right.

Or until you are absolutely sick of it and ready to set fire to your computer. That's when you know you are becoming a writer.

I Love You All...Class Dismissed.

6 Reasons Teaching is the Most Awful/Awesome Job in the World

I have worked as a teacher, in some form or another, for the past decade. I was a teacher's assistant at a preschool, and tutor for elementary school kids. I currently teach sex ed and family life (it's really just teaching life) to middle school and high school age kids at a teen pregnancy prevention program. I also teach English composition at a community college, where the students range from age 17 to 65 (or older).

I never saw this occupation for myself growing up, but I absolutely love it. However, like any profession, there are positives and negatives. Most of the time, teaching is awesome, but there are plenty of times when it's awful, just maybe not in the ways you might think...


6. Students are stupid

So, so stupid. It's a constant deluge of stupidity. No matter the age, if they are in school, they are there to learn, and before people learn something, they are dumb as hell in that area. Nobody is born with knowledge. That's why all babies are complete imbeciles: they haven't been taught shit yet, or even how to shit yet.

This stupidity...maybe that word is too harsh...this lack of knowledge in students is the most obvious example of teaching as a gift and a curse. Students can make teachers lose their minds with their seemingly endless stupidity, but they also prove every day why teachers matter: students need us. A middle school student once told me that yellow skittles work as birth control. I thought it was an isolated idiotic thought, but apparently she was not the only one with the ridiculous belief. In fact, I've heard most of the insane claims in that link. So yeah, I'm constantly reminded how important my job is.

Teaching keeps you humble (despite what this post so far might lead you to believe). You are constantly reminded how stupid you once were because sometimes the dumb shit that students say sounds a lot like some dumb shit you used to say. Plus, when students don't know something, and you don't either, you're reminded that you're still not so smart yourself, jerk.

The fact is, today's students are smarter than you and I, and definitely a lot smarter than the generations before us. But they are ignorant (or "need instruction" if you want to be nice) in whatever subject you are teaching. Sometimes, their ignorance of a subject allows them to have moments of brilliant insight. They are not bogged down by facts and traditions and the awfulness of reality quite yet, so their naivete and lack of training in a subject often lets them see that subject in a fresh, innovative light.

When I taught pre-school, we did a lot of finger painting. That was my shit. One afternoon, I was painting a picture with two 5 year old girls. Like an asshole, I did my absolute best work. It was as if the spirit of Basquiat had possessed me and decided to change the world through finger paint. When I was done, one young girl looked at it and said, "Wow, that's so good! I want to do that. Why can't I draw like that? Mine sucks!" and then proceeded to cry.

As I sat there like an idiot racking my brain for a way to make the tears stop falling from this innocent creature's eyes, the other girl said, "It's okay, everybody draws differently. Whatever you draw is beautiful because it comes from you."

Oh my god. Now I was about to cry. Thankfully, the girl wasn't anymore.

What more can you say to that? I handed the adorable genius my pay for the day and walked home with the knowledge that a 5 year old was able to create a teachable moment better than I could. Ok, I didn't do that, but maybe I should have.

It was a moment that made me question my ability, yet, it also gave me the desire to improve my abilities and made me understand that there is no profession like that of a teacher because...


5. You learn more than you teach

I was always a better student than anything else. I can take a test like a motherfucker. I can read mostly anything and understand it enough to write a whole treatise. But I was never as good as a student when I was actually a student as I am now as a teacher. That was a hell of a sentence.

There is a teaching theory/technique that presupposes that individuals learn more about a topic when teaching it to others than when simply trying to learn for one's self. In my experience, that is absolutely true. As a grad student, several assignments required us to teach the class about given topics, and I never learned more about a topic than when I had to prepare a lesson and conduct said lesson in front of the entire class.

As a teacher, you constantly learn about yourself, about others, and about whatever topics you are teaching. If you are open-minded (a good teacher should be) you will face the reality that you are frightfully incompetent in the very subject you teach. You may know a lot, but it's never enough. I learned early on to prepare more than I think I will need because anything I don't know will inevitably come up, and every student will be looking to me for the answer.

The shame you feel when you don't have a response is one hell of a motivator though. You never again want to see their expectant faces and disappoint them with your lack of knowledge, so you prepare even more.

Your own stupidity is just one type of motivation, however...


4. Its an honorable profession

No, I'm not trying to imply that the possibility of David Lee Roth singing to you in class should be motivation to teach. I'm not not saying it either.

This one gets tossed out a lot when discussing teachers. Everybody wants a job they can be proud of right? The importance of teachers is understood by society at large (mostly). We hear it all the time: teachers rock!

See? All the time.

Besides the obvious fact that honor and respect don't always manifest as financial stability, when thirty middle schoolers are all yelling at the top of their lungs and two of them have cursed you out before noon, society's respect means jack shit. A lot of kids look at their teacher as the enemy by default and stay in that mindset until they are out of school. I've heard plenty of parents talk about how they wished they treated their teachers better (I've said it myself) and it's great that they finally understand the importance of teachers later in life, but that doesn't really help when their son or daughter is calling everybody in class a fag while your trying to teach the Pythagorean theorem to twenty five 12 year olds.

If you're a real teacher, that's okay though. You'll deal with the worst and the best that kids have to offer and you'll deal with those who still disparage the teaching profession and you'll deal with the meager compensation. All of the negatives on this list barely even register on the scale compared to the positives. Teaching requires patience and empathy, but those are two things everyone should work on anyway. It really is an honorable profession, and part of having honor is accepting that you will not get rewarded for the job you do.

It's not about whether people notice you, it's about what you notice in your students...


3. You see progress. Eventually. Maybe

As opposed to a regular school teacher, at the teen pregnancy prevention program, I get to see kids mature and develop for the better part of a decade. It's amazing, and it's something I need to keep in mind on a daily basis working with the younger kids because progress isn't necessary visible day to day. It is happening, though.

Of course, when you do start noticing improvement and progress, cruel fate steps in: it's time for them to move on. Even after seeing them grow for 6-7 years, I sometimes feel like it's not enough. These kids who didn't know a damn thing about the world when they started are now bright young adults. You want to keep guiding them and helping them develop and you want to experience their lives with them as you have been doing for so long, but you have to let them go. An educator's job isn't finished until students can go out on their own, so we have to eventually let them do that. That's the goal from day one. When it happens, it's beautiful, but heartbreaking because now they have to move on with their lives without your daily guidance.

You can never get too upset, though, because there's always more...

2. The endless parade of students

This song doesn't have anything to do with this entry except that it has "Parade" in the title. I just like it.

...and more and more and more. And they all have the same issues as the last batch you taught, with slight twists that keep you on your toes.

When you are asked the same question literally a hundred times, the natural human response is to lose your shit a little bit. How many times do I have to explain what a uterus is people, jeezus!?! The thing to remember is that they haven't heard it a hundred times (unless you've told them a hundred times, which justifies shit losing). It's not their fault you have to explain the same topic to hundreds of students every year; to each new group of students, it's the first time. How are they supposed to know the topic? They came to you for that. It can be repetitive as hell, but it makes you try different methods and tactics so you don't bore yourself to death. You try to come up with the most entertaining and effective way to teach any given subject. Students need to be stimulated to learn, and everybody doesn't learn the same way. You have to use different methods to reach everybody; therefore, experimenting with different techniques to keep yourself sane is actually benefiting  the students as well.

Teaching requires a concerted effort. It requires getting out of your comfort zone, unless your comfort zone is talking to 30 strangers that hate you by default because you're giving them work. I'm not a big conversationalist, but I've learned that it's important to engage kids in conversations to get them interested in learning. I've also learned that opening up to students, showing them that you're not afraid to look foolish by telling an embarrassing story about yourself or doing something silly is the quickest way to a student's heart. They have to trust you to learn from you.

I've always believed that getting out of your comfort zone is vital to leading a rewarding life, and sometimes being forced to do so is necessary. Just because my philosophy is to get out of my comfort zone, it doesn't mean I voluntarily do it often. When it comes to teaching I do, however, because the rewards are plentiful, and the effort is well worth it.


1. They will idolize you

This mostly applies to younger students, but if you make a connection with them, students will absolutely idolize you. Awesome, right? Everyone wants to be an idol, that's the whole reason American Idol exists.

It definitely can give you confidence and self esteem to be looked at as an all-mighty bestower of knowledge: "Look at this youngster coming to me for advice...I'm the man!" you might think.

But then...

"Look at this youngster coming to me for advice about whether or not to have sex for the first time...Oh shit. Oh shiiiit." I have thought.

Why are you putting your faith and trust in me? I can't even decide what to eat for dinner every night. What I say could affect this person's entire life and possibly the life of another human being (or two if they don't use the condom I give them). What if I say the wrong thing?

You very well may say the wrong thing (when it comes to an opinion; if it's a fact-based question and you're not sure, use Google dammit!) but if you are doing your best to look out for the kids while allowing them to keep their own sovereignty, then it's all good. They barely remember what you say anyway, it's how you say it, and most importantly, that you say it at all. They remember you being there for them, not the exact words that come out of your mouth. And when they screw up, the urge is to give them a grand lecture that will make them regret their actions, but for the most part, if they messed up, they know they did; they just need to know that you will still be there for them despite their mistakes. Don't let them off the hook, but don't act like they're the first ones to ever misbehave or make a mistake.

The greatest thing about the job, though, is that you end up idolizing the students. Life is unbelievably difficult for an unacceptable amount of children in this country, and when you get to know your students and understand what so many of them have to go through just to get to school, the resiliency they show is truly inspiring.

If you teach long enough, and you get to watch wave after wave of students grow into intelligent, successful individuals, it's more rewarding than any other job in the world.

I Love You All...Class Dismissed.