I am sitting here, watching my students take their first final. Their faces are all so serious. They crammed and prepared and are ready...or are they. We reviewed, I bribed t hem with candy. Study sessions over lunch and after school...taken advantage of by 6 of my 143 history. Their values are so different than any other group I have worked with in the better part of two decades and I have absolutely no clue if they are truly prepared. Or if they care. Or if I am making the slightest bit of difference.
I struggle getting them to write a paragraph, much less an essay. They struggle expressing themselves properly verbally, much less in a written form. I feel like I am in a no win situation. I came in thinking I would have them analyzing historically significant pieces of literature and find myself dragging them through DBQs that we write together.
My usual 100 question multiple choice is whittled down to 60. My usual three full essay question exam down to five single paragraph short answer question. They are working diligently and I hoping they see a glimmer of success. This is 25% of their grade. It is HUGE! And I worry for them.
My goal is to have them taste success - PASSING A FINAL EXAM! And want more. Develop a HUNGER for it. To see that they CAN INDEED do it and want to move on from here. Not look back and focus on past failures. My goal is to make them want success and have them strive to reach it.
And I am nervous...
However, yesterday, I was graciously given a glimmer of hope.
One of my seniors came to me before class, last hour of the day and nonchalantly commented, "Don't know how you did in such a short time H, but everybody loves you. Even kids you don't know." And then he walked into my class. Yah! Uh-huh. The same kids that are in my face because I am "forcing" it. The same kid that walk by me day after day on their phones, with their hats on...uh-huh. The same kids that I am fighting with to bring their book, a binder with paper and something to write with. Uh...okay.
But, clearly he sees something that I don't. I can't even place the blame on the rose colored glasses of youth. My boy has seen more than he even knows. His PTSD has blessedly blocked most of it from being retrieved.
And I am going to go with it. I am going to accept that the change is there, even though I am not seeing it. I am going to trust that I AM making a difference somewhere along this line. Because this is the time of the year where I need that. The media is telling me I am failing my kids. The MAP scores are telling me I am failing my kids. The kids are telling me I am the worst teacher ever. Parents are telling me their child had straight As last year, so I am CLEARLY doing something wrong.
That is hard to take.
So, back I go to correcting these exams. Wish me luck.
The new semester is a fresh start for all of us!
I am truly hunbled by the fire family.
They never cease to amaze me.
The fire service tells you at orientation that it is a family, a brotherhood, that they take care of their own when the need arises. Whether it be through personal tragedies or loss in the line of duty, it makes no difference. They are there for one of their own.
I have seen this first hand - all for the need of books.
Earlier this month, I put out a plea for help. I developed a DonorsChoose.org project in order to fill the void of our over stretched budget. I simply wanted to see if they would help me spread the word that there was a need for books - written at an age appropriate level AND an appropriate reading level. That is a bit of a challenge given how many of my kids are nearing adulthood and still struggling. Graphic Novels were my answer. I was truly hoping that my social media contacts are wide reaching and I was hoping they would help me spread the word and perhaps a wealthy philanthropist - Oprah, Bill Gates, etc - would sweep in, take pity and help build my department library.
Instead it was the fire community that took the charge and was first on scene. My fire wives led the charge. They spread the word on Facebook and donated from their hearts. My first nine benefactors were firewives. I was literally moved to tears and cannot begin to put my emotions to words. Some FFWs rallied their friends and families to help out. They were there for me. Some were virtual strangers and some I have been blessed to meet in person. They are my sisters in fire and were there for me from the word GO!
A little closer to home, one of our local Lts. took it upon himself to see what he could do. At first, he thought a week should cover it, but has now found that it to be a bit more challenging than he expected. None-the-less, when I stopped at the firehouse to drop something off to my FF, I had a package waiting for me. (Poor jealous fireman - I get mail at the firehouse all the time and he does not.) I got my first two graphic biographies from my favorite Lt. - an absolutely wonderful addition to our library. My heart was humbled (there that is again - no other word really covers it) and at the same time, filled with pride. These are indeed my people. They make sure our city's kids have coats for the winter and books in their classrooms.
Donations have continued to come in from Facebook. My family, Facebook friends (even those I made through Sorority Life, who'd a thunk it!) and real life friends have made this come to life.
My heart...
I truly have no words. And I am not often speechless.
In two weeks time, my friends and family have helped my raise over $1250. I have only $157 to go and I know that will come soon enough.
With all of the bad press that comes from the fire world - foolish shenanigans of late, budget crisis issues, shopping on shift, etc - I cannot say anything other than I am truly loved and supported by, as well as blessed to be part of this world.
I am in a new school of strangers, still figuring things out and the fire world is right here with me, making sure I have the tools I need to make my crusade come to fruition. There is no line item in any budget to bring this to life and yet, here it is.
Love and gratitude to you all.
