Well, I had my first actual visitor last week and it's now official: the jig is up. Someone from the outside world has come and actually seen what my life is like down here first hand. Poor Nicole. She definitely came here thinking I was living in "southern paradise." I called her like four times before she came, trying to warn her, "Nicole, I need you to understand it is not southern paradise. I live surrounded by poverty. It's hard." Lalalala classic Nicole just kept saying "Oh, Hannie, I can't wait to see it!! I'm so excited!"
Then she came to school and saw the chaos that is bus duty at the end of the day. BAM. IN YOUR FACE. No gradual "Welcome to the Delta." BUS DUTY. If you are a teacher, especially if you are a teacher down here, you know that bus duty SUCKS. At our school it is almost always utter chaos and confusion. Some buses have to do two routes, so they aren't there and then they come late, almost every day a bus has to ride a different bus so you're shouting to other teachers "what bus is 15 on today? 49 or 61? what about bus 49? is bus 5 on 5 today or on 31?" WHY CAN'T BUS 15 JUST BE BUS 15, THAT IS THE ULTIMATE QUESTION. And if that made no sense to you, then you, like Nicole, probably still think I live in southern paradise. I'm not saying I don't like bus duty. I mean, it's not fun, but I love my kids, so it doesn't really bother me. I usually have like three to five kids pulling at my clothes or holding my hand trying to find their bus, even though I have about 0% more knowledge about their buses than they do. It's like a fun game. Kind of like a sport. And we get just as sweaty too, running around with children clinging to us, trying to find buses. If I manage to get through the day looking half-decent, these 20 minutes at the end are the death of my hair, my make up, and any chance of surviving the day without sweat stains.
Life down here is hard. Everybody told me it would be. LALALA just like Nicole I just kept saying "I'm just so excited!" I have to admit, my biggest fear about coming down here was just leaving my friends. And yes, I miss my friends, but it turns out that's not as hard as I'd expected. I talk to my best friends CONSTANTLY. I call them, text them, facebook chat, skype, and facetime. It's my "me" time. I miss being there for their dumb facebook pictures of Gustavus Alumni events or sorority events or Minneapolis but I know that I'll be home soon enough to enjoy those things with them, and I love my life in Mississippi.
ANYWAYS, it turns out this is just WAY FREAKING HARDER THAN I COULD EVER HAVE POSSIBLY IMAGINED. The issues of race and education down here are SO deeply rooted, how could someone as small as me even imagine making a difference? These people don't need HELP. They're surviving just fine. They're thriving. So what is my role? I'm not here to change anyone. I'm here to put my two cents (and two years) in to help my little first graders see the possibilities and opportunities that come from caring about your education. I'm not necessarily good at it yet. The culture is just so different down here. It's like nothing I could have possibly been prepared for. I'm still an outsider trying to figure my kids out. People are always saying "You're doing such great work! They're so lucky to have you!" but honestly about 85% of the time, I don't even feel like I'm making a difference. I guess that's teaching.
In that essence, I've always known that teaching is NOT about extrinsic rewards, instant gratification and people saying "Wow, Hannah, you sure can teach the HELL out of some kids." (That's in reference to our neighbor, Wade, who works in the cotton industry. His boss told him last week "Wade, you sure grow the hell out of some cotton." I WOULD GIVE ANYTHING FOR SOMEONE TO SAY THAT.) But that's never going to happen. So I find joy and reminders and reward in the little things. Like my student who punched me last week, falling asleep in on my lap at a football game a week later, and then taking the time to come up to me before getting on his bus at the end of the day to wave and say goodbye, even though I'd already said goodbye to the class. Or when the student with the anger management problem who normally screams "get out my face" and hits when someone does something she doesn't like, takes a deep breath and says "Excuse me, I do not like when you kick me. Please don't do that." and then says "I accept your apology" and gives a hug when the other student apologizes. These are the moments I live for.
IT IS HARD, FOLKS. IT IS SO MUCH HARDER THAN I COULD HAVE IMAGINED. I sometimes think about how much easier life would be if I'd stayed in Minnesota, and made my bosses Becky and Margaret hire me back to work at Calvary Childcare, where they would take me out for drinks after work and drive me to the teacher store to get whatever I need and I could sit in the staff lounge and chat about people magazine and picnics and going to the lake. Not that it's easy at Calvary, I KNOW those teachers work hard. They are AMAZING. But being home, at a job I'm comfortable with, near my friends and my parents sometimes sounds REAL appealing.
But our school motto centers me: Students come first, last, and ALWAYS. I didn't come here for me. I came here to teach, and I love those kids, so freaking much, even if it's hard to show it sometimes. So there we go. The jig is up.
Then she came to school and saw the chaos that is bus duty at the end of the day. BAM. IN YOUR FACE. No gradual "Welcome to the Delta." BUS DUTY. If you are a teacher, especially if you are a teacher down here, you know that bus duty SUCKS. At our school it is almost always utter chaos and confusion. Some buses have to do two routes, so they aren't there and then they come late, almost every day a bus has to ride a different bus so you're shouting to other teachers "what bus is 15 on today? 49 or 61? what about bus 49? is bus 5 on 5 today or on 31?" WHY CAN'T BUS 15 JUST BE BUS 15, THAT IS THE ULTIMATE QUESTION. And if that made no sense to you, then you, like Nicole, probably still think I live in southern paradise. I'm not saying I don't like bus duty. I mean, it's not fun, but I love my kids, so it doesn't really bother me. I usually have like three to five kids pulling at my clothes or holding my hand trying to find their bus, even though I have about 0% more knowledge about their buses than they do. It's like a fun game. Kind of like a sport. And we get just as sweaty too, running around with children clinging to us, trying to find buses. If I manage to get through the day looking half-decent, these 20 minutes at the end are the death of my hair, my make up, and any chance of surviving the day without sweat stains.
Life down here is hard. Everybody told me it would be. LALALA just like Nicole I just kept saying "I'm just so excited!" I have to admit, my biggest fear about coming down here was just leaving my friends. And yes, I miss my friends, but it turns out that's not as hard as I'd expected. I talk to my best friends CONSTANTLY. I call them, text them, facebook chat, skype, and facetime. It's my "me" time. I miss being there for their dumb facebook pictures of Gustavus Alumni events or sorority events or Minneapolis but I know that I'll be home soon enough to enjoy those things with them, and I love my life in Mississippi.
ANYWAYS, it turns out this is just WAY FREAKING HARDER THAN I COULD EVER HAVE POSSIBLY IMAGINED. The issues of race and education down here are SO deeply rooted, how could someone as small as me even imagine making a difference? These people don't need HELP. They're surviving just fine. They're thriving. So what is my role? I'm not here to change anyone. I'm here to put my two cents (and two years) in to help my little first graders see the possibilities and opportunities that come from caring about your education. I'm not necessarily good at it yet. The culture is just so different down here. It's like nothing I could have possibly been prepared for. I'm still an outsider trying to figure my kids out. People are always saying "You're doing such great work! They're so lucky to have you!" but honestly about 85% of the time, I don't even feel like I'm making a difference. I guess that's teaching.
In that essence, I've always known that teaching is NOT about extrinsic rewards, instant gratification and people saying "Wow, Hannah, you sure can teach the HELL out of some kids." (That's in reference to our neighbor, Wade, who works in the cotton industry. His boss told him last week "Wade, you sure grow the hell out of some cotton." I WOULD GIVE ANYTHING FOR SOMEONE TO SAY THAT.) But that's never going to happen. So I find joy and reminders and reward in the little things. Like my student who punched me last week, falling asleep in on my lap at a football game a week later, and then taking the time to come up to me before getting on his bus at the end of the day to wave and say goodbye, even though I'd already said goodbye to the class. Or when the student with the anger management problem who normally screams "get out my face" and hits when someone does something she doesn't like, takes a deep breath and says "Excuse me, I do not like when you kick me. Please don't do that." and then says "I accept your apology" and gives a hug when the other student apologizes. These are the moments I live for.
IT IS HARD, FOLKS. IT IS SO MUCH HARDER THAN I COULD HAVE IMAGINED. I sometimes think about how much easier life would be if I'd stayed in Minnesota, and made my bosses Becky and Margaret hire me back to work at Calvary Childcare, where they would take me out for drinks after work and drive me to the teacher store to get whatever I need and I could sit in the staff lounge and chat about people magazine and picnics and going to the lake. Not that it's easy at Calvary, I KNOW those teachers work hard. They are AMAZING. But being home, at a job I'm comfortable with, near my friends and my parents sometimes sounds REAL appealing.
But our school motto centers me: Students come first, last, and ALWAYS. I didn't come here for me. I came here to teach, and I love those kids, so freaking much, even if it's hard to show it sometimes. So there we go. The jig is up.
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