Sunday, May 18, 2014

O' The May Madness

May Madness.  In a school the madness doesn't come in March as it does the rest of the country.  It comes in May.  May is the month of sunshine, trees budding, flowers blooming, bees buzzing, and complete and utter chaos in most classrooms in the North East.  O' The May Madness.

Quickly after Spring Vacation, teachers continue the game of state testing.  The prep, or the fight to not prep, smacks every teacher in the face (repeatedly).  The redesigning of the classroom (because all posters that could pertain to any information that may or may not appear on the test need to be removed from the walls, ceilings, floor, etc.), faculty meetings with devotion to testing administration, along with frequent emails fill your mornings.  Tightening of the chest, and midnight wake ups, associated with testing spread throughout the region.  O' The May Madness. 

Once NYS testing has concluded, it is our job to remind student that teaching and learning is still important.  It is important to impress on them that "Yes, we STILL have curriculum to teach before I send you on to the next grade."  Trying to explain to the students why they are learning material AFTER the state assessments, that was ON the state assessments, is always a difficult task.  And somewhere in our mental filing cabinet we try to store the fact of which topic was tested that wasn't yet taught.  O' The May Madness.

You begin to say things like, "Next years teachers...."  or "The Junior High School...." or "There is one of your future teacher - show them your greatness."  The idle threats are always meant with good intentions:  Maybe they will appreciate how good they have it right now?  Maybe they'll walk a bit straighter, or a bit quieter, in the hallway?  Maybe they'll stop swearing at each other the minute I walk away?  Maybe they'll step it up, FINALLY?  But in the mean time, we end up TERRIFYING the kids that are ready for the next step, and the ones who aren't ready are not listening, anyway.  O' The May Madness.

It is in the month of May that life at recess begins to fall apart.  I often wonder if it is because of the seemingly endless winter - did they just FORGET how to play, NICELY, together?  Is it because they are big fish in a small pond at this point, and just beat up on each other?  (Much like siblings.)  These are the moments, each day, that every teacher hopes that when the principal wanders down the hall, that he is NOT stopping into his/her room to report the newest "incident".  Our shoulders, literally, slump over, heads dropped, and deep breaths are taken.  Not only because this generally means more work - finding work for the students to cover during in-school suspension or detention, phone calls to be made home, etc... But mostly, it is because each time a student has a problem like this, it is a reminder that they may not be ready to leave us, and still have so much left to learn.  It is a feeling of inadequacy - like if I had done my job better, this wouldn't have happened.  O' The May Madness.
 

The countdown begins - for teachers and kids - until summer vacation.  Student effort, generally, begins to decline and the occasional students says "that seemed too hard, so I didn't bother trying."  Despite the beautifully enticing weather, recess and lunch detention is on the incline.  Panic sets in for teachers- we still have 2 more math units, graduation rehearsal to prepare for, awards assemblies, student speeches to be given, graduation speeches to be written, future class lists, faculty meetings, SLO tests (which change the whole schedule), finals, the Bronx Zoo, track meet, and Spring Fling...  How is it possible that the year is coming to a close so very quickly?  Assemblies are squeezed into the schedule, fire drills (which always seem to happen in the 30 minute pee-break you get a day), and scheduling meetings to prepare for the following year.  Yet, my mind hasn't wrapped itself around this one.  O' The May Madness.

The hugs get tighter - because teachers and students don't want to let go.  The laughter gets louder, and lasts longer, because you start to appreciate each other in a manner that is different than before.  The concern grows deeper, because your time to teach them all that they need to learn for next year, and in life, has significantly reduced.  And the tears brim a bit more often, because no matter how many times I wanted to bang my head on the wall, I do love each of you and preparing to say goodbye often takes my breath away.  O' The May Madness.




Thursday, May 8, 2014

You Taught Me More Than I Taught You

(Please forgive the post about teaching and learning outside of a classroom)

I sit here overwhelmed by the stages of finality in the next few of months of my life.  Starting with this weekend I will say goodbye to 5 young women that I have had the opportunity to mentor, next month say good bye to my sixth grade family of the year, and then good bye to single-hood.  I will say hello to 5 new young women, hello to summer, and hello to a being a wife and having a husband.  While all of these welcomed "hellos" are exciting, there are moments to sit and appreciate the journey along the way.

It strikes me most now because I have been struggling with how to say goodbye to these young women who have not only impacted me, but the City of Albany, and hundreds of kids in the community (and beyond).  In 2008 I was given the opportunity to participate in the Tulip Queen and Court Selection Committee for the City of Albany.  At the time I didn't really have a true understanding of the program, but I knew it had to include great young women as a former roommate of mine had previously been crowned Queen.  When the rest of us were "living it up" at college, she was getting up early to be a Big Sister, volunteer for programs, and take care of her nieces and nephews.  I was curious, and so I accepted. 

Each year I was overwhelmed by what these young women had accomplished in their lives prior to reaching the "Tulip Family" and more overwhelmed by how to narrow the selection down to 5.  I would often sit in interviews and feel as if I was just a bump on a log in society (as an educator) because what these young ladies do is far beyond me.  As each year came to an end, and we heard about their greatness, I would cry in pride that I got to be a part of a team that selected young women that changed the world.  Despite the vast age difference, they inspired me to be a better person personally, and remind my students that they could change the world.

This year I got the honor of co-chairing this committee with a truly beautiful person.  Originally, I thought this just meant running the selection interviews (which run about 3 months per year), and a couple of meetings throughout the year.  When I realized that I had the opportunity to be a part of the year-long journey these young women would have I was eager to participate, and nervous with the anticipation of what the year would bring.  These are the moments that those closest to me think I am nuts.  They often question my sanity and how much I can handle between school, the musical, district committees, planning a wedding, family/friends, etc.  (You get the gist - we all do a lot).  But what they didn't understand was that this was less about the girls, and more about me.  I could only imagine what I was going to learn so much from these 5 young women, and be a part of a journey that was well-worth the hours volunteering.  It was time to give the City of Albany just a little bit more of myself, as these women gave so much.

These 5 young women did programs in countless schools in the City of Albany.  They worked with students to believe that they would go places beyond what they could have ever imagined (inspired by the one and only Dr. Seuss).  These young women transitioned from Mayor Jennings to Mayor Sheehan and were so eager to let her see their greatness and value to the community.  When a local family had a series of fires and lost everything, these young ladies put on a benefit concert to raise funds to help them get back on their feet.  When they came to us with a very large task of creating a video for the local Children's Hospital at Albany Medical Center, and we were concerned with the extensive undertaking this would require, they basically told us they believed in this project, and it would happen.  As a team, they pulled even closer together, and with help from many organizations- they made this happen.  Dunkin' Donuts donated $1 for every view, up to $10,000.  They reached that number before the video was even posted a month. Tulips & Albany Med Video

These young women read and chatted with seniors, greeted people at many festivals, and were amazing ambassadors for the City of Albany.  They worked with young boys at Straight Shooters and advocated for the use of technology in their program to assist in literacy development.

There were moments when I pushed these young ladies - hard.  There were times when I knew that what I would say was going to sting, and had to put my faith in them that they would learn the lesson I had intended.  Moments of frustration passed, and energy and compassion for others remained.  I watched them overcome hurt from the past, obstacles in the future, and develop an indescribable bond.  Mostly, I was enthused by their diversity and dreams.  I was inspired.   

Tomorrow I will watch as these young ladies say their final good byes to the City of Albany (at least in this role), and welcome in 5 new young women.  These 5 new women have big shoes to fill, but a lot of potential and energy.  I can't begin to thank the former Mayor Jennings, and  current Mayor Sheehan for seeing value in the program that runs with 60+ years tradition, bringing more awareness to the City of Albany, and letting these ambassadors make a difference.  Marcus Pryor brought me into the "Tulip Family" (extended family, but family) and has modeled service, awareness, and caring for others.  Amy Kaplan stood beside me as we watched these women grow, and shared laughter and tears with me during the journey.  But Kate, Meghan, Alexis, GiGi, and Fendi - you have taught me more than I ever could have hoped to have taught you.  You have changed the lives of children and our community more than you can even begin.  Despite the long year, I am not ready to say good bye quite yet.