pay -- check!

Dear sweet baby Jesus. Today was payday. I've worked my share of shit jobs that have paid measly amounts, but this is my first impossibly difficult job that pays a substantial amount.

Let's start out with the week. It was truly a week of ups and downs. A dear confidante and partner in this struggle was lost and I felt quite alone. I was determined, however, to chug along. Things alternated from suspiciously high to familiarly low. Some days it's hard to believe that I see the same group of kids. I realize that half-assing plans really doesn't pay off, but with no standards to align to, it's pretty much up to me to figure out what to do for the day. It's difficult to put myself in these kids' shoes and I find that I'm planning on what would keep me content rather than this group of rebellious ne'er-do-wells.

The days are long and the nights are short. The commute has become a routine inconvenience.

Here I am. Complaining Connie. Whining about how much things suck. It's interesting, because the lows are so incredibly low and seem to last forever and the highs are like blips on the radar. There are a few students who genuinely make me smile and show me that despite the fact that this school approaches education with a firm palm, education can exist. It's so painful because I know these kids can show me intelligence and self-control but they choose not to. Attempting to make someone change their choice is quite possibly the most difficult thing in the world. Now, take that challenge and multiply it by 200. Literally.

Everyday is a war. And in every class there are battles to be won and lost. For me, there is more defeat than victory.

Ultimately, this week fell in my favor if only because I got paid.

Two Weeks in the Trenches

Teaching is hard.

It's interesting that when people say "Teaching is going to be the hardest thing you ever do" - it's difficult to really understand. Certainly I've done difficult things -- bang out a bullshit paper about a topic I've read once. Study for finals, work 35 hours and deal with friends and family crisis.

Teaching, however, is the hardest thing I've ever done.

The best way to describe how I feel every day is defeated. This kids do not listen. They do not want to pay attention. They do not respect you. The slowly and effortlessly chip away at your soul and desire to live.

Okay -- that might sound a little overdramatic.

My days consist of waiting for a group of students. Then, they come in. I yell at them to sit down, be quiet, and stop giggling. Rarely do I even talk about anything academic related. I spend most of my time telling them that their behavior should be better or threatening them with a barrage of semi-hollow threats.

This week, I started crying. I cry because I know the want to learn, yet there are barriers obstructing the learning process. I cry because I feel thoroughly ineffective at a job I was selected to do. I cry because I don't know what to do. I've been thrown into this puddle and I have to tread water just to keep from drowning.

Teaching is hard. I cannot even convey to you the difficulty. The days get better and the days get worse. I think about giving up every single day. I will make it, though, because I know I can.

I will make it.

The Cusp

It's the day before the first day. Throughout Chicago I know thousands and thousands of kids are asleep right now, eagerly awaiting what will come of tomorrow.

Here I sit warmed by the glow of a Jon and Kate plus 8 marathon and my own thoughts of mingling incompetence. Well, maybe not incompetence, but whole unprepared-ness. I have absolutely no clue, 100% what I'm supposed to be doing tomorrow. My official job title is "Librarian" but I will, in fact, be instructing students. To what capacity, I'm not sure, but I do know that I will be providing supplemental reading instruction to all grades at the school. I'm going in tomorrow with little more than a smile and a can-do attitude.

I should offer a little more background about my school, or rather the location of my school. In order to get to my school I take the blue line downtown, transfer to the red line and then ride that train two stops from the end of the line. From there I walk 20 minutes through city and a construction zone to my school. The entire process takes between an hour and fifteen to an hour and a half.

I have a million questions buzzing in my head. I'm so unsure of myself it's bordering on psychosis. No matter what, though, time is plowing on. I remember today at noon thinking midnight will never come, but here we are, one hour before the clock strikes 12.

Tomorrow I'll official be an educator. Me. It's hard to believe. One year ago I was starting my last year in college unsure of what I would do with my life once I graduated. I flippantly toyed with the notion of Teach for America not fully aware of what it would entail or that I would actually make it this far.

I really do know that I have an opportunity to affect lives. The process of getting there -bureaucratic red tape of the Chicago Public School district as well as the hoops of alternate certification - somewhat tarnishes the idealism of many of us, but ultimately it really is about possibility.

I know that despite my fears and immaturity, the time will come when I'm on that train riding toward my school and whether I like it or not it gets one second closer.