The Spectrum of Emotions pt. 1

Buckle up ladies and gentlemen -- this is going to be a long one.

Let's start with the basics. It's the end of the year -- officially. Rooms are cleaned out, movies are shown, treats are distributed. The warm stench of humidity and rancid milk can only mean rising temperatures and lowered investment. It's easy to trick younger students into continuing, smelly stickers and math games can get you by -- it's the older kids that require more finesse.

My kids made it, even better, with significant gains! Who would have thought that after the choas of last year I'd bring students to be on-level with their peers.

The end of the year was a flurry of activity compounded with the oppressive heat and humidity. All in all, my time at my school has been both a blessing and a curse.

First, the positives. I really felt as if I had been welcomed into the community. A community that nourished good educators and was very student-centric. I felt privileged, for the most part, to work with my peers and in turn felt appreciated. It was great to see a school that was highly functioning in the Chicago Public School district despite the massive debacle that was happening several levels up (more on this in part 2).

For the negatives. It seems as though my time at my school may have ended and not by my own hands. This is one of the most infuriating developments within my short tenure as an educator. I remember a year and a half ago thinking that I could never teach and that I did not want to teach. I was exhausted and drained and felt like teaching was not for me. Fast forward to a year at a supportive school where I was able to make a difference for a handful of students. I felt and saw the difference in their lives, and with that a difference in my own. I truly felt like I could make a difference and, interestingly enough, truly wanted to continue to do so.

Now, it seems, like the choice to positively affect student achievement has been forced from my hands. As for the reasons why and my anger with these decisions, I will save that for part 2. Suffice it to say that I will most likely be evicted from teaching in a classroom.

After so thoroughly convincing myself that I am able to make a difference in students' lives, unfortunately I'm not able to do that this coming year.

It's bittersweet, after all -- these two years in Teach for America. I had anticipated growing and evolving as a human being and certainly I did, but in ways I could never expect. I have been pushed to the very limits and been rewarded beyond my imagination. I think about my students like Faith and Randall and Daeshaun that are lost and behind and, most likely, will continue to be as such. I think about students like Deondre and Duaa and Zain that have been put on a different path in life and will continue to succeed.

It's the bitter and the sweet that truly make life a decadent meal. The bitter sting of defeat and remorse offset by the sweet sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. I think about all the things I never new about children and education and about myself that I now have such a firm knowledge of.

I've discovered passion and fire that I never dreamed I'd have in me.

There is cause to celebrate, as this era comes to a close -- yet the abyss that lies before me is a grand chasm of unknown. It's somewhat exhilarating not knowing where I will be or what will happen and I hope to experience the same feelings of growth and accomplishments soon.