I have been deciding what to write for this blog post for several days. There are so many thoughts and stories and feelings I have about my time in TFA, even after only six months in the Corps. I finally decided that the most useful thing would be to write the blog post I wish I could have read this time last fall and talk a little bit about how I made the decision that led me to being here-- here being my classroom, in New Orleans East, staring at the tracking charts and student work on my walls.
A year ago I was exactly where I assume many of you are-- enjoying my senior year, dreading the decision about what to do with myself and feeling vaguely panicky and depressed whenever I thought about the future past May 16th. There seemed to be an infinite number of options open but none of them really spoke to me. I was having a long series of meetings with the Career Center about what I wanted to do, getting constant opinions from some people I asked for input and many that I didn't and above all, having everyone and their mother tell me, "I can't wait to see what you do, I am sure it will be amazing."
No pressure there. None at all.
Eventually, my counselor-imposed reflection led me to decide three things: I wanted a job that was not the same every day, I wanted a job that would challenge me and use my abilities to their full potential and I wanted a job that was significant, not just filling papers and getting coffee.
At the same time I was having a series of meetings with first Caroline and then Victor, hearing about their classrooms and above all being moved by the passion and conviction in their voices when they talked about the movement. This was something significant. I was also in communication with a number of friends who were in the corps, who were all, yes, exhausted and perhaps overworked, but utterly convinced of the importance of that work. I was intrigued. And by the time I went through the interview process and got my acceptance, I was hooked—I was going to be a teacher. I thought I had made the right choice.
I am happy to say that a year later and six months post-grad, I am in a job that fulfills all three of the things that were on that list, plus so much more. Of course, the things we ask for often arrive in unexpected packages, so here I am, teaching four different classes a day to a pack of very energetic high schoolers. When I was making that list a year ago, I did not include things like "waking up at 5:30 every morning" and "working harder than I ever have before," but I can recognize that everything that I wanted out of my first job is being fulfilled by my life right now. (With some extra "perks.")
Moreover, the idea of what to do after the Corps is still wide open, but much less terrifying. It is already clear to me that closing the achievement gap is: possible, difficult and a multi-level challenge. Whether I stay in the classroom, move to a non-profit or look into being an administrator, I know what my work will be focused on: creating the schools my high schoolers deserved to attend from kindergarten until now. And in the short term, I am working round the clock to be the teacher my kids deserve today, tomorrow and the next day.
And now, because no TFA Corps Member account would be complete without this, here is the student moment that is keeping me going this week. J is one of my eleventh graders, a sweet boy whose sociability and pleasantness can mask the struggles he has with his academic work. I realized that his tiny, cramped handwriting was partly a mechanism to try and disguise his lack of answers. I won't be honest-- I didn't quite know what to do and as a first year teacher I had a half dozen more pressing things in my mind than the quiet boy struggling in the corner.
J got a D in my class last quarter and it is more of a testament to his temperament and amazing attitude that he came back to class for the second quarter, gunning to improve. I will only give myself credit that he trusted that doing my work would get him where he wanted to go and I have been trying very hard not to fail him there. His hand was up frequently to answer questions; his notes and assignments were complete. We talked about how much more of this made sense to him.
J took his first quiz of the quarter last Friday and literally blew me out of the water with the improvement it showed-- he had a response for every question, he had details that had never been present before, and his confidence in his answers showed even in his handwriting, which was way more legible for once.
The problem? His grade was still a low C. I was still thrilled-- this was SO much higher than some of his quizzes had been in the last quarter, where one had been a 5 out of 20. But J, who had been waiting anxiously at my desk waiting for his score did not see exactly the same thing I did.
"It's only a C?" And I swear, I am not exaggerating even an iota, when I say his eyes watered up a little bit. Mine did too, because I cannot even explain how moved I was that he cared so much about a quiz in my class.
I very calmly put one hand on his shoulder and whispered, "J, this is so, so much better. This grade is an enormous improvement and I am so proud of you. Look at all of the things you know-- you have learned an incredible amount this week."
He paused for a second, and looked over the paper-- "But I didn't get anything wrong? I just wasn't complete in all my answers?"
I looked over the paper again to check and nodded emphatically. "I just need a little more next time. But no, there is nothing wrong on this paper."
And then he beamed at me. I don't think I completely understood-- and still don't entirely understand-- how much it meant to him that none of it was "wrong." But I do know that our hard work combined to allow J to feel like he had done something right, in school, in my class. It might sound ridiculous, but sometimes I forget how much validation I can give students from my position.
So-- that is why I am teaching this week. Next week there will probably be some other story in the forefront of my mind. But if I was talking to me, a year ago, sitting in Perkins slaving away over a list of life choices, I would tell me-- the right opportunity is coming, so recognize it and seize the day. I am never bored, I am pushed to the limits of my strengths and the depths of my weaknesses and am constantly amazed by the magnitude of the impact I can have-- on the micro scale in my classroom and on the macro scale as part of a city-wide Renaissance in New Orleans and a nation-wide movement as a Corps Member.
If your list that you are making looks like mine than know this-- TFA will really be the most challenging and most rewarding thing you ever do. And it will also be the right choice.
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