What I Meant to Say…

In the past few days, philosophical thoughts have been stewing in my head. The ingredients for such a deadly concoction have come from my master’s program as well as from one inquisitive student who always knew the right thing to ask or say.

One day, in the midst of a writing lesson, he asked, “How do you study for English?”

That is a question that has always been on my mind as I argue with students about the importance of English, the importance of reading, and the importance of understanding one's own identity. This question is always in the back of my mind because I mulled over on how to answer it appropriately. I had all the answers in my head, stockpiled like ammo, but when he put me on the spot that day, I didn’t know which one to tell him. But as a teacher, it wasn’t my job to give him the answers; it’s a student’s job to seek the answer that will best satisfy him. I gave him a response that probably only confused him more, but it totally made perfect sense to me: “You can’t study for English.” And since I said this aloud, I’m sure I confused my other students who twitched at my reply. They were probably thinking, “Then why am I taking English?”

I went home that day feeling unsatisfied. I was unsatisfied because I felt I failed at any attempt to enlighten my student, I failed to grasp a teaching moment and run with it and have a deep discussion, and most of all, I failed at getting my own meaning across. That last part was the epic fail: failure to communicate my ideas. It became the epiphany in my career because I’m finally putting down the words of what I believe. I am an English teacher, but “English” doesn’t even begin to encompass what I really teach.

How do you study for English? What I meant to say was English is beyond grammar and vocabulary. English is more than a composition of parts of speech, syntax, and sentence diagramming. Those are just rules that can be applied. They are the mechanics to help you edit your writing. You can’t memorize every single grammar rule or every vocabulary word, just as you can’t ride a bike by memorizing bike parts. You ride a bike by getting in the seat and falling a few times until you find your balance. Grammar and vocabulary are the same way. They are building blocks to help you with your writing, but if you never write and see the training wheels of my red pen, then you are not building your skills.

How do you study for English? What I meant to say was that we are studying communication skills. We are studying how to read, write, speak, and listen effectively. Just because you talk in English or read in English doesn’t mean you are fluent in English; just as healing yourself when you’re sick doesn’t make you a doctor. To help you practice all the grammar and vocabulary, we are going to practice with the English language because that is what we speak. I’m evaluating you on your effectiveness in your communication skills. It’s not about whether you got the right or wrong answer; it’s about whether or not you clearly organized your thoughts and then conveyed them clearly to me so that I understand you.

How do you study for English? What I meant to say was English is not about loving literature and books. Literature is a just a vehicle for ideas, so English class really focuses on exploring ideas, whether you agree with them or not. Literature—whether it’s nonfiction, novels, poetry, short stories, or plays—gives us something to talk about, and learn about the world, too. With books and poetry, we can sympathize with lovers of the past, we can travel to a tropical island and watch the downfall of humanity; we can read about political strategies of evil masterminds and ponder their morality. Literature is so varied, so we can talk about anything and everything. It makes you think outside of your immediate space. You can hate a book and its characters, but if you want to debate and criticize, then you’re exploring ideas that are not your own. That’s all I ask. If you love a book, it’s not because you love the characters, it’s because you agreed with an idea and you felt justified in your own thoughts. That’s what literature really is: it is a gift of perspective. You will learn of a life outside of your own. It is a gift of empathy, for you will learn how to understand people that you may meet in your real life. Literature is a dress rehearsal for reality. It can strengthen you or break you, just like life.

Dear Student, when you asked me “How do you study for English,” what I meant to say was that there is no way to study LIFE. English falls under the humanities, and humanities means exactly what it means: to study what makes us human. It is the study of music, poetry, arts, politics, philosophies, ethics, language, and cultures. In the nine months that you sit in my “English” class, I cannot give you any advice or instruction on how to understand the depth of humanity, nor do I have the time to teach all of that. To understand humanity, one must embrace and understand how we live. Simply put: we must practice at having and living a life.

I wrote this essay, dear Student, to show you that one moment in the classroom became a learning epiphany for my career. One simple question you raised inspired me to think about my life and my role as a teacher. My reflective thoughts became an essay. My essay became the literary vehicle to express myself. Now I share it with you, dear Student, and I ask you, “Was I effective in conveying my thoughts? Did I answer your question? Do you understand my values and ethics as a teacher? Do you understand where I’m coming from now?”

How do you study for English? What I meant to say was “Let’s explore ideas. Let’s express and communicate our ideas through writing and speaking. We are practicing English, not studying it.”

So don’t study this essay. I’m not going to quiz you, I’m not going to ask if you know what certain vocabulary words mean, I’m not going to ask if you recognize the rhetorical strategies I used (and I did use some), I’m not asking you to memorize this because this piece of literature will be useless to you in college; but I hope the idea will be useful for you in life.

The Mother Card

The Mother Card. Women pull this like some black people pull the "race card" when they don't get their way or don't like what they hear.

I am single. I have no children. I have dedicated myself to my career. This is the choice I have made. This is not to say that I am against marriage or against having children; it is just those options were not part of the path that I have chosen to walk. If they cross my path in the future, I certainly am open to it; but at this point in my life, I am deaf to the biological clock.

In a woman's life, there is a prominent fork in the road: career or motherhood. Men never had that choice because most men don't think the responsibility of care-taking as a career. They were taught to just succeed in their life, mostly through their profession. But women do have to make that choice. If they focus on their career, they postpone motherhood. If they choose motherhood, it's difficult to go back to the working world. If they strive for both, which is possible, neither job is perfect. In the workplace, they will get criticized for not dedicating enough time to their job; and at home, Mommy may not always have time for the family or just seem "too busy" for anything else.

I have chosen to dedicate myself to my profession. I realize the consequence of my choice: delayed marriage, delayed motherhood, or even the possibility of staying single and childless for the rest of my life. I understand the choice I made and I can certainly live with it. I have been criticized that I am a workaholic and that I need "a personal life." I'm not insulted when people say such things, but I do get insulted when another woman says to me, "What will happen when you have kids?" or when they insinuate that having a husband or having children will "cure" me of my workaholism. The women who make these kinds of comments to me are usually the women who try to have both: career and motherhood.

I give praise to the women who actually perfected their half-and-half lifestyle, but from personal observation, I have not seen one woman who has chosen both career and motherhood perfect both aspects of their lives. The women who have children leave school early so they can be with their own kids, so their work suffers. The general complaint from coworkers and students is that those women are unavailable or delay paperwork (i.e. grades and progress reports). When these same women ask for help on how to teach certain things, or ask for tips or suggestions, they also reply that my suggestions or tips are too time-consuming for their lifestyle.

I leave it at that. Like all lesson plans that I give out, teachers need to make it their own and make it fit their personality and style. When I criticize women for their lack of time or dedication to their job, I keep it to myself. I don't openly criticize their life or their children. I will never say to another woman that children got in the way of her career. I realize that if I said anything about it, I am holding them to a standard that I live by, which is not right. Career was my choice. Half-and-half was theirs (and if you ask me, half-assed). I just wish those women would have the same courtesy towards me. They should not assume that I am a workaholic just because I lack a husband or lack children of my own. I do not want their pity because they (mistakenly) think my life is empty without the joy of motherhood.

My life is defined by my choices, not societal expectations that all women should be mothers.

Idiots of Society

After seven years of teaching (God has it been that long?), I have come across all kinds of students with myriad personalities. You think I've seen it all; but in comparison to teachers who have taught for over twenty years, I think I've only seen the tip of the iceberg. In my short teaching stint, I have come across three distinct types of students that I cannot tolerate:

A) The Apathetic-Lazy Student: this student just doesn't give a shit about anything. They don't have passion for anything, so they don't care about anything. Since they don't care about anything, they won't do work. Teachers ask themselves: why do you even come to school? I can generally tolerate this type of student because they have a tendency to sleep through class. They waste their time by coming to school but do nothing, so I'm not going to waste my time by encouraging them to work. They're usually not a behavioral problem. Why fix something that isn't broke, right?

B) The Genius-Lazy Student: this student is smart and intelligent and talented, but they choose when to do work. They think their intelligence is natural that it does not need to be nurtured rigorously. Deadlines and assignments are optional to them because they think they're above such tedious things that were meant for "regular" kids. They will do work only if they feel their grade is slipping. I hope their intelligence fades like an atrophied muscle, or that their intelligence remains stagnant as they proceed through college, because then they'll compete with students who DID learn and then they'll realize they're not really geniuses.

C) The Irrational Hypocrite Student: this student is immature when it comes to arguing or defending an idea. First of all, they come up with opinions based mostly on their own observations, so they have a narrow perspective on everything. And when I try to get them to open up their mind or make them see a flaw in their argument, they don't like to be proven wrong, so they'll make up some rule that only applies to them (because it proves them right), but the teacher is always wrong (because the rule doesn't apply to grown ups).

Although I cannot tolerate any of these types of students, I have acquired enough patience to put up with them. Two things can happen to the Apathetic-Lazy Student: 1) the student will eventually leave high school and slip through the cracks of society. They'll leech off their parents and become useless couch potatoes; or 2) some of these students are late bloomers, and eventually, they'll find something to be passionate about to get them moving on with their lives.

The Genius-Lazy Student will eventually discover that they're not as smart as they thought and they'll start taking college more seriously. They'll regret that they should have done more to be as competitive as a college freshman, and they'll realize they were idiots after all. On the other hand, a rare few actually become psychopaths.

Then there is the Irrational Hypocrite Student. I despise this student the most. I hate narrow-mindedness, I hate hypocrisy, I hate immaturity, and I hate irrationality. Immaturity can be fixed with age, but narrow-mindedness and hypocrisy can't. Those two things can only be fixed with experience and education. But to the Irrational Hypocrite Student, education is only learning how to read, not learning to understand the world. Experience is limited to what the student only wants to know, not what the world can offer. The Irrational Hypocrite Student will not take the time to see what teachers or other students can offer; they only know their ideas and their opinions and everyone else is wrong. And when they can't win an argument, they'll resort to cop-out statements, like "That's just you" or "That's how I am."

The Irrational Hypocrite Students are the ones that go out into the world thinking they're smart; in reality, they are the true idiots. The rest of American society can only hope that they won't mess with the gene pool. Ignorance breeds ignorance.

The End

The school year is not officially over, but I can officially say that this has been the worst year ever. I'm ready for it to end already, and June cannot come soon enough.

As I run through the events that defined this school year from the rest, I dread that I have to be here again for the next school year. I become more desperate to leave Riverside and go back home to San Diego. Another year of ghetto fabulous students and lifestyle.

The countdown begins. I need the summer to rejuvenate... badly.

The Stripper In Me

Yesterday afternoon, a student came to ask for help on the research assignment I had given. We had a half-hour conversation to discuss her ideas and how to organize them when, all of a sudden, my cell phone blared its ring tone while receiving a call. As the phone sang to Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar on Me," my student's eyes widened and she began to laugh.

"What?" I asked.

"You like that song?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"That's a stripper song--" she began. My jaw dropped, but she quickly recovered: "No, I like that song, too!"

"Stripper song?" I gasped with shock. "Nuh-uh. What do you mean a stripper song?"

"I watched them on VH-1, and they said that they wrote that song for strippers. It's their 'stripper anthem.' Seriously! That's what they said."

"I wasn't thinking of strippers when I downloaded this song. I just like the song; it's good rock music."

"I know," she said defensively with a laugh. "I mean, I like it too."

"I was twelve when I discovered their music. The last thing on my mind at twelve years old would be strippers."

"Come on... You're an English teacher. Didn't you read the lyrics?" She proceeds to sing a few words to ruin my innocent interpretation of the song: "Do you take sugar? One lump or two?"

"Stop!" I cover my ears. "A stripper song?" I said with disappointment, and then sighed. "My gosh... how many of my friends--especially guys--have heard this song ringing from my phone and probably thinking I'm a kinky girl? Damn it."

I changed the ring tone already.

The Five-Year Cap

In the past few months, well before I resigned my position as a department chairman, I had been feeling restless and anxious. As much as I love starting a new school year, some part of me also dreaded having to face another year of nonstop grading, meetings, lesson plans, and student apathy. Every day of my job is never ever boring, but some aspects of my daily routine are mundane, and they have lost their stimulation. If I am no longer curious or intellectually stimulated, my day can be filled with ennui and frustration.

Someone told me that five years is the cap of any career before one starts to get bored. I have been teaching for six years now. I guess this explains my restlessness. Despite the economy and the job insecurity--even for teaching, I want something new. I just don't know what will bring back that stimulation.

Time

"Time is money." This is an expression we have heard many times in the past. Given that we are a society that is paid by the hour, time is measured by the money we earn. We give our time to the companies and businesses that pay us; but with the economy in such decline, and the complexity of modern life so all-consuming, time is precious commodity that should not be measured by dollar signs.

About a month ago, I resigned from my position as a department head. It was a decision I made based on very personal reasons, and I had to tell myself that this was for my own good. It was difficult, at first, to let go of something that I have gotten used to over two years; there was still this inexplicable longing to continue to fight battles and not give up. I think that was the thing that bothered me most: I felt I gave up. Disappointing myself was the worst feeling.

I openly revealed to very few colleagues about my reasons, and they supported my decision that I step away from the responsibilities I once had. In the past two years, I really felt I had given up my blood and sweat for the good of our school. At one point, I called unwanted attention to the department and almost put my head on the chopping block--all because I believed in something. I have sacrificed nearly every free moment to my work--for my students, for the department, for our school, and even for the district. My own life was on hold--relationships failed, friendships on hiatus, hobbies ignored, stories untold. I kept telling myself that I would balance things out eventually, but it never happened.

Unfortunately, it took personal problems to arise to give me that wake up call. It made me rethink about my priorities. I love my work, but devoting 110% of my time to a school that is facing budget cuts and is not paying me enough to fix their problems, made me realize that time is a precious commodity that cannot ever be regained, nor can it be paid back. After pondering this for a week or so, I am now content that I gave up being a leader; my pride will heal and the disappointment will fade. I have gained so much more in the long run: priceless minutes and hours that I finally can call my own.

Since my resignation from department chairman, I have invested more time in actual teaching and getting to know my students. I have brought less work home because I finish most of it at school. Friendships have reformed and I actually have quality time to spend with people. I have read more books in the past month than in the past two years. Now my mind is flooded with linguistic inspiration, and I do not know which story to start writing again. Maybe I will actually start an exercise routine like I had planned over two years ago. There are so many things I can do now. I feel that my life is back in my hands again, even if only a little.

I was never one to measure my job's worth in dollar signs, so I don't really care much about the money, but I do care about my time. That is worth more than money any day.

Wishful Thinking

In September of 2002, when I first started teaching, I was so stressed out that I would wish to get into a car accident while driving home, so I wouldn't have to go into work the next day. Then I did get into a car accident, and I suddenly regretted my wish because I wasn't stressed anymore.

That feeling--the one of wishing, not regretting--came back again last night while I was driving home.

As an experienced teacher, this is not a good sign.

Recently, I have found myself wishing that I could be a first year teacher again--but I quickly changed my mind. I didn't like the stress, I didn't like the ignorance, and I didn't like my newbie lesson plans. Instead, now I wish I was a second year teacher again. I'm more knowledgeable from the things I learned during my first year, and I wasn't as stressed. What I liked most about being a fledging teacher was being left alone to teach. That's what I miss: being with students.

All these leadership responsibilities get in the way of teaching. They get in the way of me and the students. They get in the way of a lot of things I would like to do. Not only that, colleagues who criticize and complain are worse than students. I feel my position as a department chair is obsolete. Basically, I'm getting paid to be the messenger who gets shot at repetitively. I'm not a leader, I'm a human shield for the department... and they're not even paying me enough for that.

Are You Kidding Me?

A prospective student who enrolled in my AP class emailed me, asking for clarification on a section of the assignment. Her email was littered with, what I call, "text message spelling"--the atrocious abbreviated spelling for very simple words. She did not bother to check her other spelling and her punctuation either. Did she text me from her phone?

I simply replied to her email with the answer, and then added that academic emails should reflect the work I am expecting her to do.

I am nipping that dirty little habit in the bud on the first day of school. Somewhere in my eleven page syllabus, I know I covered that rule about "text message spelling."

Tooting My Own Horn

Of the AP class I taught this past year--which, by the way, was the first time I ever taught that class--thirteen out of thirty-one students passed their exam. The previous teacher only had two students who passed.

I rock as a writing teacher!

Now I have set the bar for myself: about fifty kids signed up for my class this coming year. I hope to get at least a 50% pass rate next May.

Educational Experts

You've heard the phrase: "everyone's a critic." Well, when it comes to education, everyone is an expert.

In my six years teaching, I have attended quite a few professional development conferences--most of them trying to promote some new method of teaching or a new product to be tried in the classroom. Everyone wants to market to the schools and these "experts" have the panacea that will correct all the wrongs of educational mishaps.

In this recent training, professional teachers are looking over the California Frameworks, a document on what to teach at each grade level. As I look at certain reading standards and benchmarks at each grade level, it surprises me--as well as other teachers--that some skills are just not taught enough, and some just slowly fade as the grade levels go by. Teachers were appalled at what we discovered. We've been using this book for nearly a decade, but none of us actually traced a skill from the second grade. Admittedly, I only look at skills I have to teach at tenth and eleventh grade; but now I see what is missing or inconsistent in the previous nine years of education before a student comes to me.

This is a document put together by "educational experts" who want sixth graders to apply abstract interpretation in poetry and discern an author's intent in writing emotionally charged verses. If you don't know what that is, don't worry: I can't even get my sophomores to think abstractly. And these experts think that sixth graders can?

This is a document put together by "educational experts" who want sophomores to write a timed-essay within an hour, yet the skill of handwriting is lost by fourth grade. Hardly anyone teaches the physical act of writing, nor do they encourage the practice of it beyond fourth grade. And these experts wonder why so many students score so poorly on the essay portion of the High School Exit Exam and college placement exams for composition classes, two tests which require students to write an essay on-demand without a computer.

There are flaws in this document, and now I question the California Frameworks.

Yet at this training, we were forced to give positive testimonials to this federal document about why they work for us. That was difficult for me now that I saw the shortcomings of this educational manifesto. Reluctantly, I blurted out some optimistic statement about teaching forward and focusing my lessons for the future (and not looking at the ugly mess in a student's blotchy educational history).

Affirmation statements are so cheesy. It's like they want us to praise conglomerate work that is so poorly put together. I'm done with "experts." I, myself, may not be an expert when it comes to education, but I think I know what works for me and my students. If I don't know it, I will ask a teacher who does, not an expert who's trying to sell a book.

Widening My Horizons

I got an email from the Department of Defense last month, asking that I update my application if I still wanted to be on their database. As I clicked on the link, logged into my account, and reviewed the application I wrote in 2001, I thought of the possibilities that could have happened in my life.

I love teaching and traveling. Working for the Department of Defense would have merged these two things--teaching overseas in military bases. I wanted to live in Japan for a couple years and then in Germany, too. I would have lived on base, gained civilian-military status, paid off all my debt while enjoying the luxuries of diverse cultures and societes.

Although my parents and friends say that I'm at that age where I need to settle down and start establishing roots--the genealogical kind--I feel that I need to accomplish as much as I can while my roots have not yet taken root, so to speak.

With that, I updated my application. As I wrote more paragraphs to describe my skills, clicked on all the qualifications that applied, and revised my references from college professors to colleagues and supervisor bigwigs, it made me realize just how much I have grown and developed professionally in my career. I may not have established genealogical roots, but my professional roots seem to be firmly planted. Do I really want to leave all that to start over in another country and in another educational environment?

It was a question I pondered for five minutes, and my final act was clicking on the "SUBMIT" button... for the 2009-2010 school year, the school year after next. I can't leave this place just yet. There is still some major ass-kicking to do at the district.

I'm going to play this by ear. I don't count on being hired; after all, my first application was back in 2001 and they interviewed me three years later. Although I would love to have a job with the Department of Defense, I wouldn't be disappointed if they overlook my application again. But if I am hired this time around, I'm ready for a change.

To Protest or Not to Protest?

A co-worker once said, "shit floats to the top," to describe how some people are just not fit for management duties. When my students often lament that presidents or leaders are inept, in their target's defense, I often say that leaders do their best within the parameters of their job. People can promise many things, but when certain rules or limitations are difficult to overcome in order to achieve a goal, leaders will look inept because nothing has been tangibly accomplished for all to see.

I'm beginning to feel that way. As a department chair, my priority now has been to revise curriculum and defend my colleagues in the professional decisions we all make. We have many ideas and goals, and I had hoped we would accomplish them while I was department chair. But it's difficult to achieve anything when management conflicts with the ideas we want to try. In real life, I begin to see that there are situations that really demonstrate how some things are easier said than done. I feel like I hit a dead end no matter what I do.

When I took on this position, I just wanted to implement ideas and procedures that I felt would benefit my colleagues and benefit the students. While everyone in my department has been supportive of the decisions I make, there is also a division amongst us: those who want to make change, and those who just want to stay in their classrooms while change happens around them. I guess I'm a radical when it comes to my beliefs, and in the past two weeks, I've opened up my big mouth too much that my department is getting a spotlight of unwanted attention from district management. And as I step up to the plate to defend myself and my colleagues, I'm also getting a full frontal of an ugly beast called "political micromanaging." I hate being told what to do, but when I'm being told to do something just because some inept leader said, "I said so," it is even more aggravating and frustrating; they want me on a leash. I don't like being the mediator for their dirty work.

In the midst of all this, I'm teaching students of American literature--a body of work which is full of patriotism and protest and ideals of nonconformity that shaped America. I'm inspired by this and in my own small way, I want to protest against the district of how teaching to a test isn't really teaching, nor are students really learning. As I read all this protest literature, I also have to think about how much am I willing to suffer for the sake of what I beleive in. Am I ready to be hated? Am I ready to get sent to the office for constant reprimand? Am I ready for embarassment and vilification as my name gets touted as the rebel English teacher from that school? Most importantly, as a leader at my school, am I ready to bear that burden if my department falls down with me, whether they supported me or not?

Upper management is an obstacle that I have to overcome, and at this point, I'm feeling the limitations slowly surround and restrict me. That being said, I find it difficult to do my job--whether it's teaching students or defending colleagues or revising curriculum--when shit floats to the top.

Affirmation

As the semester ends, procrastinating students have been coming to me after school to ask for help on essays--college essays, final essays, writing tutorials, letters of recommendations, etc. I was feeling burnt out as students asked me to read their essays one more time.

Yesterday, while reading an essay, two students conversed about the difficulty of writing. They kept saying that my class was challenging and tiresome because I made them write too much. In a strange complementary way, they said that taking my class was like a "slap in the face" because they didn't learn much about writing essays in their previous English classes. My class was a "harsh reality," and that my Nazi-English teacher reputation was almost accurate--the fact that I'm not a Nazi makes the moniker partially true.

And here I thought I was losing my edge.

Pushed to the Limit

There's a saying that goes, "The reward for hard work is more work. "

Two years ago, I was left alone in my classroom so I could actually focus on teaching, planning, and grading. I connected so much with my students that they still come to me as seniors when they need help on essays. I can write a recommendation letter for them because I feel that I have known them solidly for two years. When I see those seniors, I feel proud that I did a good job. I get so many compliments from other teachers about how Class of '08 has a bunch of talented writers. They are living proof of my success and hard work.

That was two years ago. Hard work led up to leadership duties. I don't feel as successful teaching this year. I know this curriculum like the back of my hand; I've taught it for four years. Because I have so much on my plate this year, my focus has shifted to multi-tasking for various committees, clubs, and teaching. Some of the seniors noticed that I'm losing my "edge," and that I'm gone all the time. The juniors hate it when I have to go to a conference and leave them with a substitute. My current sophomores totally lack in writing skills--and I feel to blame for that because I'm not there to focus on teaching them.

I'm not feeling burnt out, but it's bothering me that I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed anymore either.

When Class of '09 graduates, I wonder if they'll prove to be another success story or a mediocre one.

TA

Sometimes I learn the most sensible things about life from my teacher's assistant.

A year ago, he came into my classroom after school, needing to talk to someone about his girlfriend and the complications and hassles of a relationship. Before I started to silently scoff about "teenage relationships" and drama, I listened to him and tried to understand his problems. His frustrations and opinions made me reflect about my relationship with an ex-boyfriend and the similarities of my relationship and the TA's relationship--regardless of differences in experience and age. My student did not ask for advice; he just needed to vent. But if he was seeking counsel from me, I would have to think carefully before saying anything, for I faced my own hypocrisy at that moment. In retrospect, I finally realized that letting the ex-boyfriend go was necessary, like conquering an inner demon. I have no regrets now. I learned something about relationships from my TA.

Another incident arose again. He came into my class to vent about another teacher who is screwing him over about assignments, and he's a bit stressed about his grade. We talked again for about an hour and the end of our conversation was about hobbies. He said he needed a new hobby in order to de-stress, and as he slowly observed my desk with a sarcastic eye, he flat out told me I needed to get a hobby, too.

I thought about all the hobbies I used to have: mountain-biking, reading fun books, writing fantasy stories, playing the cello... He's right: I need to get into a hobby again, maybe even a new one, like archery, knife-throwing, or shooting. I eat, breathe, sleep, and live my work, and he makes it known to me all the time. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if I had something else to occupy and cultivate my mind besides the decaying quality of my students' essays. *sigh*

My TA certainly lives up to his job description.

The End of Teaching

In the wake of the Virginia Tech massacre, apathy and inhumanity swept across our campus. I hate to generalize, but why do the few bad apples at our school ruin it for everyone else? In the past week, we've had fire alarm pulled, an object thrown at a teacher, and a lockdown because of a possible weapon-threat. When I asked my students why they don't care about taking care of their school, one student replied that it wasn't their job.

It was the most heartless and apathetic thing I have heard in my life. If there is one thing that will drive me from teaching, it's the inhumanity and immorality of the students. I feel like I bash my head against the wall trying to open their eyes about ethics, responsibility, values, and morality. I'm trying to teach them life skills about what it means to be part of a community and a larger society, but they could care less. That attitude affects me. One day, I'm going to be as numb and cold-hearted as they are, and I'll leave teaching before my work is done.

I'm still holding on for now.

Grief

When I returned to school this past Monday from Spring Break, I was excited to talk about my trip to Japan with my students. Instead, our entire school was stunned when we learned the news of a teacher's untimely death. When I read the email, I held it in and did not bother to tell my students. Part of me did not know how to process the news and my own emotions. Eventually, I broke down during second period where my entire class saw me cry openly. I was no longer in the mood to teach.

Today, there was a short memorial service at the school. So many teachers and students were out to share grief and release white balloons into the sky. Everyone was crying.

How do you continue on with the school day after such a somber and heart-wrenching event? I tried to go on with lessons, but I broke down again, this time in my fifth period class.

I hate losing control of my emotions, especially in front of my students. I don't like showing my vulnerability, I don't like revealing private thoughts and pains, especially. Not to mention that it makes everyone uncomfortable when they don't know how to comfort you or each other. What is a teacher to do when they are still expected to maintain some semblance of normality and console others' agony when they can barely ease their own?

Surreal

I broke up my first fight today: two girls pulling their hair in a deadlock embrace. When I first saw it, I asked with disbelief to a bystanding student: "Is this a fight?" The student nodded, and then I stepped in to break it up. It was awkward because I never want to grab students like I did, pushing them, and even looking dumbfounded because no one was there to help me.

I was lucky that it was a girl fight. I don't think I could step in the middle of a boys' fight while they throw punches.

The Power of Words

Words have power. Power does not always mean a good thing.

Today, in class, I had an argument with several students about the connotation of words, "gay" and "bitch." First of all, I know that words like that are not even appropriate for the classroom, but no matter how much I try, students stick to the words they know. Forget vocabulary lessons; they don't ever stick.

Anyway, the students and I got into it about the offensive connotation of those words. They defined "gay" as "stupid." That's the definition they know, and they think that's the definition that is right and acceptable now. Forget the dictionary meaning, the historical development of its slang meaning, the connotations and its offensiveness! The word "gay" is inappropriately misused constantly, and I'm sick of it, as with "bitch" and "fuck" and any other noun that's used as an adjective.

I got nit-picky about it, and they got nit-picky about how English is an evolving language. I agreed with that, but the purpose of an English class is to distinguish slang English and standardized English. To teenagers, it's all the same.

I expect too much from the immature teenage mind.