Sunday, November 26, 2017

Talking to Teachers

I had the distinct pleasure last weekend of speaking to the Yuba City area chapter of Delta Kappa Gamma, a professional society for women educators. I was a little intimidated because in this group of mostly retired educators, there were literally hundreds of years of experience altogether. And here I was, only having spent eight years in the classroom, talking to them! I felt like I should have been the one seated and listening.

The experience, however, was amazing. I was so honored by the compliments on my book, because I knew that these people understood. These were not empty words of flattery from people who say, "Oh, I could never do that!" These were people who had been in the trenches themselves, who knew the exhaustion of teaching, the feeling of finally maybe not being tired on your LAST day of vacation before you go back. They understood what it's like to not be able to sleep because you're so worried about a child who's not related to you, or to dream about your students every night.

I've spoken in Yuba City twice now, once at a church and once at the Delta Kappa Gamma meeting. I knew someone who invited me to speak at the church, and I liked her, but I wasn't sure how it was going to go - if they'd be shocked at the conditions in Oakland or if they just wouldn't be able to relate. (If you don't know, Oakland is extremely urban and Yuba City is extremely NOT urban. It's in between Sacramento and Chico, surrounded by a whole lot of beauty but not many people or cities).

What I learned is that we've all taught kids in poverty, and kids dealing with urban poverty and those dealing with rural poverty have more in common than different. We've all had students who don't have enough to eat, who have been abused, who have been neglected, who don't know people love them, who think they're stupid, or who think they're bad. In this community that is so different from Oakland, the teachers are the same. We all got up every day trying to make a difference. It was such an honor to be able to talk to others who have done this.




Saturday, November 11, 2017

"Grieving Behind Bars"

A friend sent me this article called The Singular Sorrow of Grieving Behind Bars. This friend has been with me to visit my former student "Jorge" who is in prison and knows how much he can relate to this. Jorge's mother, never a stable person, died two years ago at the age of 36. He is in prison for 19 years and could not attend her funeral and could not attend the mass said for her on the one-year anniversary of her death. (I was honored to be invited to that and took pictures to send to him of the altar with flowers and her photos).

It made me think about how hard grieving is. I mean, when a person has support, community, and ceremonies for closure, grief is still really really hard. The hardest thing for humans. Now I try to imagine doing that while locked up, with no family or friends, and no freedom. No closure, no ceremonies, no ability to see the person one more time or be surrounded by others grieving.

I don't know if I could do that. I mean, I don't know if I'd *ever* get past that loss. I think it would calcify and fester and I'd be a meaner, more bitter, more dangerous person than anything that got me locked up.

What do you all think?

Thursday, November 02, 2017

Teacher in Training


My seven-year-old niece is practicing being a teacher. Many of us did this to some extent. I'm pretty sure I forced my sister and brother to sit still while I read spelling words to them that they didn't care about.

Later, when I really was a teacher, I would see fifth-grade students come into my third-grade classroom and help kids in that same way, the "I really feel special acting like a teacher," way.

It's really fun to see kids do that. It's very special to see that the relationship is so important that they imitate it and aspire to it.

My niece, S, is very committed to her teacher role, not even slowed down by the fact that she doesn't have any siblings. She has been a teacher for her stuffed monkey, my parents' dog, and lately, a collection of stuffed squashes she was given.

It's really fun to see how excited she gets about playing school. She writes out schedules that are better than any school I've ever seen: "Hello, Drawing, Snack, Recess, French, Art." She writes poems for her students that are more creative than any I ever wrote for mine. 
She writes encouraging notes to the parents of her student (my parents' Golden Retriever): 
"Your dahter is a bad student. 
A. She is stinkey.
B. She dosen't do any work.
P.S. She needs a bath.
P.S. I'll help."
And she's very patient with her youngest students, baby stuffed squashes. She even told her mom that they can't really read, you know, because they're just babies!

I wish I could be excited about S wanting to be a teacher. Clearly, she has years to change her mind, but I would love to foster this love and get her really excited about being a teacher. How do I tell her one day that being a teacher is amazing and rewarding, but she'd better marry well because she won't be able to afford to live? How do I tell her that she'll have so many ideas for how to inspire her students, only to have to spend weeks giving them standardized tests?

For now, I'll try to enjoy it.  She really is very gifted. And she loves Halloween! She's be a wonderful teacher.