February 1, 2007

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  Helping Hands

              I’m not
  good at organizing.  My suitcase is
  still un-unpacked from a trip this summer, and I have papers and other
  belongings scattered around my bedroom. 
  My classroom doesn’t look much different.  Debbie, my 6^th grade ELA compadre, helped me daily to
  organize my desk area.  She got me
  folders, cabinets, boxes, and an extra bookcase for my belongings.  Still, she sounded like my mother,
  threatening to throw things out by weeks end.

              My new
  classroom, room 209, is in a similar state of disaster.  There are three tables littered with books,
  the locker area is full of boxes, the shelves in front of the bulletin board
  covered in old reference material. 
  There’s enough books in the room to last a lifetime, but with no order
  to them, I really haven’t a clue where to begin.

              That’s
  where the trusty students come in. 
  Starting with two of my new students, Dominsha and Ryann, and moving
  onto my 6^th grade allies, Kathy, Jalice, and Nancy, these ladies
  began boxing and moving, clearing things out so by days end the room has
  actually begun to resemble a classroom. 
  My 6^th graders really made me feel special.  Kathy comes rolling out with, “Mr. L, we got
  you covered.  This place will look like
  a classroom by the time we’re done with it. 
  That’s a promise, and I don’t break promises.”  They set out baskets with labels for books, wrote out a welcome
  sign for the front door, and wrote out the headings for my “Wall of questions.” 

              The
  experience made me feel respected.  I’ve
  been in the weird position of being in complete charge of a space, and
  responsible for directing people to make it come alive.  I’ve mostly allowed others to take charge,
  standing back and struggling to find my own vision for the place, but
  interjecting when I see something I like. 
  

              It’s been a
  strange experience being separated from the 6^th grade, but I feel
  like I’ve earned a new status.  One
  student pointed out, “Mr. L, you’re finally a teacher, like you always wanted
  to be.”  I never in my life have said to
  myself, “I want to be a teacher,” but I’m now starting to really embrace that
  identity.  As I walked by Earic, a touch
  of sadness came over me, and I challenged him to a quick game of chess.  Walking back into room 217, I felt at
  home.  While Debbie tried to settle the
  class down, I was simply enjoying the afternoon playing chess with one of my
  closest students.

              A lot of
  people have confidence in me, and are actually excited for me to have my own
  room.  My graduate professor last night
  emphasized the importance of relationships, and that’s something I have made
  central to being in my school.  I’m even
  trying to pop my head into the older classes, just to observe and to gain a
  feeling that I can lend a hand in some way to every child in the building.  All of this is making me feel like one day I
  may want to run my own school!

              And
  I’m learning so much personally.  I’ve
  just begun a book of Malcolm X by Walter Dean Myers, in an effort to celebrate
  Black History Month, and to educate myself about history and important figures
  in the civil rights struggle.  I’ve
  begun engaging people in interesting conversations about race and social
  class.  For example, I have only
  recently become exposed directly to the low-income welfare mentality, as
  exemplified by a student commenting, “I don’t need school, I’ll be getting my
  welfare check either way,” and another student who, back from suspension, is
  only staying in school till tax season so he can help his mom earn a tax
  credit.  Then there was the comment by
  Presidential candidate Joe Biden, commenting on black candidate Barak Obama as
  “the first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean
  and a nice-looking guy.”  I guess we all
  have our stereotypes…

  • 10:58 pm
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