A Tale of Two Good Mornings

At a school with a staff of nearly 50 I'll be honest -- I do not know everyone. I remember as a student in high school thinking that all teachers knew each other and were best friends. Perish the thought that Mrs. Cheney had no idea who Mr. Player is! Mr. Lim definitely does not know any of the adult denizens of the third floor (let alone the students).

Which brings me to the topic of this somewhat whistfully nostalgic post. In the mornings there are two types of "Good mornings" -- one proclaimed with an exclamation and a smile and one uttered with a period and a whiff of obligation. Of course it would be rude and awkward to slink by staff members (guilty as charged) but it's an interesting dichotomy speaking good morning to people that really have no idea who you are or what you are doing in an academic setting. I have difficulty grappling with the notion that I'm an adult (am I really?), and I feel like someone is going to figure that out. I'm going to turn the corner and someone's going to wise up and say to me, "Wait a minute, you're not supposed to be here!" and chase me out of the building.

Alas that day has not come. I've come to realize that a 24 year old moderately experienced teacher pales in comparison to some of the raucous cacophony in some of the classrooms.

Here's to hoping no one puts me as a priority.

Erratic Musings of a Semi-1st Grade Teacher

It seems like ages ago that I was lamenting over the lack of a stable position. I whistfully toyed with the idea that, somehow, things would work out and I would be in a school. Secretly, though, I was more scared than I had been a year ago when I was unplaced and a newly minted teacher. Back then, I had inexperience as my crutch.

Now, I have a resume of promises that I hope I can keep.

I admit, everyday I'm thankful. I'm thankful to be placed, thankful for where I am, thankful for all of the experiences and tribulations that have led me to the point that I am. It's a bitter pill to swallow as the medicine is going down, but like all prescriptions, they're doled out in order to produce a positive outcome.

I feel as though I'm in a position now, in a true 1st grade, where my skills will be put to the ultimate test. I've been handed a task to elevate students to the level of their peers and I pray I have the faculties to do them justice.

Another year...

I begin this post by saying that this is probably the coldest birthday I've ever had. Gone are the days of dripping sweat while blowing out candles -- hello 60 degree weather.

As the minutes tick past midnight and my birthday becomes a fleeting memory, I think it's easy for one to become somewhat pensive about the year gone by. At this very moment, lying in bed, I think it's quite interesting that I have difficulty pinning down specific horrible memories but instead am flooded with the warm thoughts and well-wishes of my closest friends and family. I think about all of those that consider me their friend and I, in turn, consider them the same. I am quite fortunate to have such a wonderful group of people that I can count on through all of the trials and tribulations that life sometimes has to offer.

As the clock continues to tick forward, my thoughts wander to birthdays' past and the hopes and fears that accompanied each mark forward.

This year, as much as any other, is full of anxiety, fear, wonder and hope -- and who knows what will befall these 365 days before me.

Summer finale!

And what a summer it was!

After watching Julie & Julia I had lofty goals of being one of those blogs that people talk about -- but unfortunately I don't have quite the same gimmick of Julie Powell. It seems that people mostly write blogs about things they know about -- their lives, and mine is no different.

So let's play catch up. What has happened since those days of late spring filled with tears and pain? Well, I've certainly lived the past three months with reckless abandon -- traveling the country and trying desperately to escape the life that I had led until this moment.

It seems as though all good things must come to an end, but not as one might expect.

At the end of the past school year, my position at my old school was not renewed. After spending 9 months cultivating a relationship with my school, I was not to return in the fall. A mixed blessing, to be sure, and one rife with a variety of emotions. I was thrust into a job market that is rapidly dwindling and my options sorely lacking.

Here we stand, 2 weeks and 3 days from the start of the school year and I still do not have a position. I'm filled with an incalculable amount of anxiety and fear coupled with a shred of hope -- hope that I can make this year better for myself and the students I will teach.

I think in writing this blog, I might not be able to cook my way through Julia Child's tome of recipes, but I've learned so much writing my thoughts here. I've learned that I'm truly a hopeful person -- and one day I may cook my way through some of those classic recipes.

Who'd Have Thought

A little bird from So Great. prompted me to look back on posts' past and reflect on where I came from and where I've been. I remember embarking on this journey so many months ago and really panicking at the precipice I stood upon. For the first time in my life I really didn't know what I was supposed to do and how I was supposed to accomplish it.

I remember thinking, in my protective bubble, that life rarely presents a truly insurmountable challenge. I've realized that people face challenges in their daily life that we cannot conceive of. An entire world has unveiled itself to me, one that I knew existed yet persisted in shrugging off.

I remember a year ago the questions that consumed my waking thoughts and here, now, I have answers to questions I never considered.

Though I have a certain amount of independence I still feel as though I'm a child, the student, a tyro at life.

Considering the gauntlet that I have been through I, still, look forward to the future. I look forward to the promise of easier times, less manic times, different times. I think one thing I've learned is the futility of fighting -- life's too short.



Oh -- and it's fucking summer. Bring it on. Bring -- it-- on.

Partly Sunny

The weather is changing and the difference is palpable. Everyday I dreaded the coming storm -- Hurricane Randall, Tropical Depression Faith, and the Tsunami that was Room 103. There seemed to be an ominous cloud that hung over the day but now, the air is clear.

I sit here and I reflect about the days gone by. The shitstorm that was teaching 1st grade. It seemed strange to walk to halls knowing the year was over. I don't think there has been a time in my life that I have ever cried more or experience such anxiety.

I'll keep this post short -- there is probably more to come. I really don't know how to articulate my thoughts and feelings at this point -- I'm just glad its nearly over.

Bring on the sun.

So Yesterday

I remember yesterday thinking to myself, "Today is a pretty good day." Looking back at my notes, however, there were fights, choas and general malaise rampant throught the day. Still, though, I considered it good. Today, things were fine. Fine in the sense that I'm not pondering defenestration and all of my limbs are intact.

After today, there are 14 days left of this school year. It's hard to conceive of, really. I feel as if I've aged 30 years within the past month and a half. I'm cranky, tired, and crave the early bird special at Golden Corral -- the latter of which has been bubbling under the surface since mid-October.

But alas, I yearn for sleep that I cannot receive. My body is in a constant state of tension and cannot relax. Thus is the life of a teacher.

I'm trying trying trying to celebrate my successes and, really, there are many. So many small moments of success seem buried under a monumental amount of shit. 14 days -- 14 days and counting.

Fun in the Sun

The countdown continues to click click click one day closer to June 12th. The days have crested and fallen as they have throughout the year.

As the school year comes to a close I reflect on what has transpired over the past 8 months -- with one still to go. I feel things have changed in my life so much -- little of which for the better. I've learned a lot about who I am and the world around me -- the limits to which humans can be pushed to but still soldier on. I've come to find that strength can take many different forms and originates from a lot of different places. For some, strength comes in the pursuit of an ideal -- for others, it comes from the fear of something else.

With a little over a month left until the final bell rings, I still face innumerable challenges. I anticipate sitting on the floor at 2:45 crying uncontrollably. It's strange thinking about what I've been through yet even stranger thinking about what's to come.

All I can do is hope for the best. All I'm left with, each and every day, is hope and when that runs out, there will be nothing left.

Allies and Enemies

Spring Break is over. Four very crushing words. Summer is almost here. Amends are made.

I'm surprised that it's mid-April and the weather still clings to the 30s. Thankfully the snow is melted (for now), but the frigid air lingers from the winter. My mind once drifts to what I have previously said about vacations and the purpose they serve: To give one time to breathe, but also to remind one to be thankful for the life they have.

Over spring break I took a much needed trip to New York. As lost and confused as I was in the city, it felt quite familiar. The sights and sounds, aromas and memories were stirred up and truly felt like I had just been there days before I had arrived. Despite the respite, I was eager to get back home to Chicago, to true familiarity.

So now I'm back. It's Sunday, which means Monday looms just around the corner. In less than 24 hours I will be surrounded by the chaos and furor as if no time has passed - ah sweet familiarity.

Time, it seems, is our closest ally and our dearest enemy. It continues to push forward, with the past in its wake and the future on its horizon. It brings us closer to relief yet further from comfort. Even now as I set my sights upon the 8 weeks until summer, I know that even that will have an expiration date, like milk sitting in the fridge, waiting to be used. But like the old adage says, when life hands you almost-expired milk, make a green-garlic and parmesan cheese souffle.

And the depths get lower

...and I thought it couldn't get worse.

I remember sitting in the library, crying over how terribly inconsequential I felt. Students would come and go, pay little to no attention to me, and I felt like I was serving no purpose.

So here I am in first grade -- the teacher. Have things gotten better? Absolutely not. It's so strange that I really thought things could not get any worse than they were -- and here we are, worse.

The most comment I get is, "But they're only first graders!" True, these students are physically about seven or eight years old, but they've been molded and disfigured by some force within their environment. They do not know social norms, mores, or basic human principles. Fighting, screaming, kicking and yelling are accepted.

And the fighting! I really do not know what to do about all the fighting. Literally (and I know a lot of people misuse the word literally, but in all honesty) I cannot get out four words without being interrupted by fighting or some sort of emotional outburst. I'm at a complete loss as to what to do.

I know that I cannot be yet another authority figure to abandon these kids, but they seriously do not know the damage they do. I can only hope that time will erode these rebellious spirits and leave me with a shred of my sanity.

Winter Passing

Today was the first day that winter truly felt over. Sure the weather has been steadily climbing, but the precipitation that fell all day today was, thankfully, not white and fluffy.

I remember about a year ago when this whole teaching thing began to become a reality, most people scoffed at a Texas boy like me surviving through a midwestern winter. To a degree, yes, it was cold. Yes the snow was a huge setback. Yes the world was a frozen tundra. But I made it. Despite the crippling temperatures there were more pressing issues at hand.

I feel spring is an appropriate time for me to be transitioning to 1st grade -- the metaphors are almost too obvious. That being said nervous is probably too reductive a word to explain what I'm feeling at this point.

I'm also thinking about all the challenges I've faced thusfar, many of which I've chronicled on this blog. I wonder what has brought me this far. I'd like to think that it's courage, bravery, or some other descriptor found on Hallmark card -- or, and this has been nagging me, is it fear. I don't think of myself as an especially courageous or brave person.

Fear aside, I look at the 1st grade class where I will be spending the last 3 months of this school year and I'm filled with something else. As cheesy as it sounds, especially in this post-Obama clime, I'm filled with hope. Hope that I really can make a difference.

Sp-R-ing

Springtime typically signifies resurgence, renewal, life beginning. Certianly there has been change. After many, many months spent in the library as a glorified babysitter, I've finally gotten word that I'm moving to First grade. Just like a primary student, I'm filled with hope, fear, and anxiety. Though I know mostly what to expect, I'm not expecting to know everything. Students that are currently difficult will most likely continue to be as such. I know that this was probably the position that I was meant to be in, a little voice continues to question my ability.

It's also the week of standarized testing here in Illinois and I've discovered that many students do not know how to bubble in testing sheets -- I've also discovered that it's a difficult thing to teach in the ten seconds before a test is slated to begin.

I feel like my life is still coasting down a hill of ambivalence. Each day is a challenge, often frought with tears and anger, but the day seems to end at 2:45. I come every day expecting trouble and am usually met with it.

Three months.

A Slice

The setting: The normal furor of the 1st grade classroom.  Amidst flying papers and heated juvenile emotions, I frantically, desperately try to gain control.  I look around and only a handful of students bother to listen.

As I clasp my hands on my head, Dwayne trots up to me and beckons.  He looks up at me with his saucer-like basset hound eyes and in a hushed tone he whispers, "Mr. Lim, you're going to have a hard time getting Sharice and Trevell to do work today because they're boyfriend and girlfriend."

I look over and Sharice is sitting quietly with her hands folded -- a smile painted on her face that would let her get away with murder.  Trevell is doing something crazy -- probably slapping the student next to him or gyrating on the dreadfully dirty floor.

Ah first grade.  Where love was just a word printed on pink cards and all it takes to start a fight is who holds possession to the book "Sinbad the Pig".  

These kids have no idea what they're in for.

My Life Would Suck Without...

Winter Weather Advisory

Back in Texas if the streets were icy, school was closed. If "snow" was anywhere mentioned in the forecast, things shut down. If the temperature dropped below 30, it was time to stay in and drink hot chocolate.

But oh, how the midwest views things differently. I suppose I'm in the dead of winter. So far, I've spent 3 hours traveling 20 miles, had to dig my car out from under 10 inches of snow and braved -10 degree temperatures. Winter has been a brutal mistress. I will no longer complain about the 3 week Austin winters but you really haven't lived until your car has slid out of your control into the stationary vehicle in front of you.

I find it interesting that I'm that guy from Texas that is so ill-prepared for cold weather. Everyone complains about the cold and the snow, but when I do it becomes, "Oh that's right you're from Texas!".

But the snow will still fall and the temperatures will still plummet and all of this will be miserable -- for a time. The misery of winter reminds me that in a few months time the snow will thaw, the mercury will steadily rise, and the world will continue to spin.

Vacation Wrap-up

While riffling through the 20 or so pictures I took during break I wondered, what is the purpose of vacation? Ostensibly, it's to provide a much needed break from -- whatever. Work, kids, responsibility, life, who knows what. But since when did vacation become an emotionally and physically taxing journey from one geographic location to another?

Disclaimer: I don't want to sound like I'm complaining about having time off. I absolutely adore it.

My vacation began with two days of doing nothing here in Chicago. The city was in a deep freeze and due to a schedule snafu I ended up being here holed up in my house trying to barricade myself from the (literal) sub-zero temperatures.

Which brings us to the actual vacation. Wikipedia defines it as a leave of absence from regular occupation for rest or recreation. I think often times it serves as a break from typical routine. It has the somewhat catch-22 effect of making you appreciate your day-to-day life while still making you desire the life you have in your off-time. Example: I could spend my days lounging about with my friends, eating a great restaurants and living in leisure, but golly, I can't wait to get back home to Chicago!

Over the break I had the opportunity to strengthen friendships that had been somewhat dormant. I also had a unique experience that left me both exhilarated and saddened. At risk of being too vague, I will simply leave it at that. Suffice to say this leave of absence has not left me quite centered. I still feel emotionally and mentally a bit disquieted, especially as I sit here in my house, once again all but abandoned, left only with my wandering thoughts.

As my bags lay at the door, still packed, jammed with a whirlwind of memories and gifts in need of exchanging, I still look forward to that tiny slice of rest and recreation.