F-U-G

One of the interesting things about working with little kids is that though they know a lot of things they probably shouldn't, there are many things of which they still are unfamiliar with.

It's hard not to giggle when a student puts together f-u-g as a nonsense word and is blissfully unaware that in two years time they will be using that same word to refer to his or her peers. Working with the first graders is truly bipolar. Sure, when you have them one on one or even one on two or three it's fine and one's education training is being put to use. Put them together for story time and all hell breaks loose.

I've often wondered, on countless hours of frustration, why children just cannot sit still and behave for an extended period of time. When they feed off the energy of their peers, the turn into mass hysteria packed into little 12-year old bodies. I don't know if it was my parents, my school or just the way I was, but I could not fathom ever acting out. I'm wondering if I was in the minority there. Are most kids rambunctious, semi-moral beings that desire to act out? Are they merely a product of the community from which they came?

It's such a shame that at first grade, they're already on the path to becoming nightmares. I can't help but feel powerless to curb this direction, but f-u-g, at least they can insult each other with the correct short 'u' sound.

Christmastime is most definitely NOT here

WLIT the light, aka the station that usually plays Delilah, has now been transformed into the all Christmas network. Sure you have your mix of Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas and N'SYNC's Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, but also Mel Torme schmaltzfests that elicits images of an LCD fire burning through the night.

It most definitely is not Christmas. My halloween jack 'o' lantern is still freshly decaying on my stoop. My pumpkin fragranced wall-plugin is firmly jacked into the kitchen socket. Leaves still cling to the frigid limbs of trees lining my street.

What happened to fall? It seems like it was just a small pitstop from sweltering heat to holly jolly. At risk of sounding like a whiny anti-commercialist, seasons are now dictated by the biggest financial returns -- which makes sense considering our economy shares much in common with that last trembling leaf, hanging precariously, ready to plummet.

That being said, it did begin to snow here in Chicago. It caught me very much off guard. I froze in my tracks unsure if I should dash out to my car or back into the house for a jacket. I discovered, however, that it didn't really matter when making the short trip to KFC down the street.

But to the weather, the world and life, I say bring it on, bitch. I'm going to keep going, keep moving forward and nothing, not snow or a bunch of snot-nosed little brats will make me cave.

it felt okay

Today was the first day back teaching in a week.

And I guess it felt okay.

It by all means was not perfect, but I think at this point perfection is out of the question. Of course I yelled and screamed and sent kids packing, but it didn't affect me like it normally would.

To add to that, the weather is a balmy 50 degrees.

Tonight, I attended another Teach for America session to continually increase my effectiveness. Unfortunately, I didn't think the information really fit my particular situation, but the time did fly by quite quickly.

It's interesting that I'm trying to be positive in this post and all my thoughts are choppy and less than three sentences. It's tough with the days growing shorter and the nights getting colder. I find, sometimes that I'm too busy or stressed or angry to really feel lonely, but here, maybe more than ever, it would be nice to have a solid post of support. Ah, but not I'm lapsing into sentimental which is probably no better than ranting about lowered academic expectations.

Tomorrow's another day! -- that's for damn sure.

The trough of a sine wave

I meant to update with all the positive or non-school related aspects but never brought myself to do so. I sit here now, in my room at school, having 15 or so sixth graders just exit my room -- and me here, on the brink of yet another emotional breakdown.

I've come to the point where I spent the past 80 minutes yelling and screaming and doing everything in my power to get these kids to be quiet, maybe not even quiet, but just respectful. The behavior in this class is atrocious. Nothing short of feral. I'm almost at my wit's end -- one can only scream themselves into comas so many times before I really do land in the hospital.

I find myself wishing a lot. I wish these kids could be quiet. I wish these kids would stop throwing things. I wish I could jump across the table and strangle someone. Above all, I wish these kids knew the emotional and physical turmoil they put their teachers through.

Wishing, unfortunately, is not very productive. But then again, neither are my classes and I keep showing up.

I find myself so physically exhausted that I can barely stay awake past 9. I end up falling asleep with nothing accomplished, having planned next to nothing, and the next day I pay for it because the kids have nothing to do. It's a vicious cycle.

I know it's bad, but I take solace in my anger, my frustration and my desire to scream and yell at the end of the day. It's a feeling that has become so routine to me, I wouldn't know what it was like to feel content.

It's bad that I look forward to days where I don't see these kids -- but sometimes the damage they do is worse.

Country boy (sort of) in the big city

Let's all take a little break from academic mumbo-jumbo and have a little discussion of cultural differences between where I was and where I am.

Living in Texas was great for me. I think back and I really didn't notice the long, hot, humid weather and eternal summers.

And now here I am, in Chicago, the great midwest. As many of you may or may not know, I have a fascination with middle America and all things Americana. Plop me down in Branson, Missouri and I'll have conversation fodder for the rest of my life. Chicago is Americana's cousin that went to college and tries to put his family behind him, but despite best efforts, craves a deep-fried apple pie from McDonalds every now and then.

I'd like to discuss a few things that I did not expect or just didn't even think of when moving to Chicago.

1) Shit closes really early. Just take a walk down Michigan Avenue where Tiffany, Neiman and American Girl have set up shop and you'll know where all the tourists and hoity-toity upper class likes to shop. Stroll down close to dusk and you'll quickly find that the only things still open for business are the Dunkin' Donuts/Baskin Robbins and the 7-11 both run by people who can barely speak English and have blood-shot eyes from their graveyard shifts.

2) Transportation is expensive. I'm not talking about filling up my gas-guzzling car every week, but the public transportation is surprisingly expensive. Living in Texas, where everyone drives, I had these romantic notions of public trains and buses that were a dime a trip and it takes you a few blocks to the malt shop where me and Peggy would rock out to the latest Chubby Checker hit. I come to find that it's two dollars each way on a train and, though you can get pretty much anywhere, it takes a good chunk of time to get from one place to another.

3) The eternal soda vs. pop vs. Coke debate. Nothing about me screams "NOT FROM CHICAGO" louder than my use of "Coke" as a carbonated, sweet beverage usually served in cans or bottles. Here, everything is pop. Pop like popcorn. Or to pop someone in the face. Or pop in and say hello. Not only is it just a spoken colloquialism, but it's found on menus, signs and generally accepted as the term for aforementioned beverage. Some people call it soda, but I will always say Coke.

4) Sales tax is 10%. So that WiiFit I just bought for 90 bucks? Ended up costing me 100 clams. 10%. Highest in the nation. Go figure.

5) It's all about the neighborhood you live in.
Lincoln Park = recent college grad with a 9 to 5 cubicle job where everyone chortles about how The Office is just like real life.
Lakeview = YuppieGay. Well adjusted gay man who also has a 9 to 5 job and laments how J.Crew doesn't make a cotton-cashmere full-zip sweater in that new deep purple.
Logan Square = A fan of gentrification, cheap rent and a desire to live somewhere where you may have just seen a drug deal on the corner. It's okay, though, because Wicker Park is just a few streets south.

6) It's cold, like 50 degrees, which is what I define as cold. I'm laughed at and told "Just wait". I don't care, I'm still cold.

I hear McCain likes us....

Things have been up and down lately. Tuesday was disgustingly positive. I wasn't sure if it actually happened. Kids -- learning. Wednesday, not so much. Chaos reigned.

I've come to learn that it is the nature of the job. Some days are good, most are bad, but that's just how it goes.

We're half way through with October and it's hard to believe to much time has flown by. Already the leaves are changing (!) and the weather is getting cooler (cold for me, but if I say that too loudly all the Chicagoans will scoff). Soon it'll be snowing -- and then thawing and the process will repeat.

I guess I don't have anything terribly interesting today. Nothing really note-worthy has been going on. Just another day minding the gap.

Has it really been a month? (but really a year)

It's hard to believe that the entire Teach for America ball began rolling about a year ago. I remember waking up at 6 am for my 18th century British law and literature class and wondering what I was going to do at year's end. I felt TFA would be a pretty good way of spending my future - at least at the time it was a convenient answer to those who were asking, including myself.

I never imagined what it would be actually like to be a teacher. It's gotten me to thinking about my own education, my childhood, the teachers I've had. My education has been nothing but sound. My parents were always supportive. I realize now that the experience I had is not the experience had by all.

In my position I've had the opportunity to work with every age from Kindergarten to 8th grade. That's 5 year olds to teenagers. I've seen what poor discipline and bad behavior looks like and more alarmingly I see those seeds being planted in the younger ones. I know that if something isn't done or changed, these little kids will be led down a path of defiance, ignorance and just an overall sense of uncaring.

Again, I bring the story back to the journey I've been on. Starting out as a college kid, sheltered and protected where the biggest obstacle I faced was where to go for happy hour. Now, I have human beings lives in my hands. Their futures are at stake. For once, the story has been about more than just myself.