they're talking...

... and I'm taking it as a sign of some success. I usually have a few kids hang around my room after school, whether for tutoring or just hanging out rather than going home. Today, two girls from my advisory who have the other Spanish teacher were looking at the materials I had posted from the day's lesson for Spanish I. One of them spotted the vocabulary list and declared "Man, I'm about to transfer to your class. your class actually learning something."
"No, I heard her class is hard!"
"Yeah, but at least we'd be learning. look at all the stuff they get!"
This signals two things to me: One, kids are talking about my class outside of class. This is the old "any publicity is good publicity" motto. This means the class actually means something to them. Two, it means my expectations are probably high. This is something TFA drills us on (not lowering our expectations) and it's good to have some outside reassurance that I haven't been doing that.

Also, almost half of my students' test scores improved by more than 10% since the first test. One student went from a 34 to a 96! It's good to start seeing them realize this isn't going to be an easy class and start studying for the tests. But it's also good to see that the changes I've made to my teaching seem to be working. Now if only I could get through to more of my Spanish II kids...

Failure

I pinned down today one of the most draining things about this: I'm not used to failure. I don't say this to sound cocky or boastful. I've certainly failed before. But the truth is, I was privileged enough to be set up for success for most things in my life so far. Unfortunately, I am not yet a very good teacher. In fact, I think it would be fair to say I'm a pretty bad teacher. It's not unexpected in this situation, I suppose. Five weeks of training isn't much. It's still not something I'm used to though. And it is definitely draining.

Aside from the small comfort of being able to say "hey, maybe that's why I feel like crap. ok, at least the beast has a face" it's given me a whole new appreciation for some of my students. I can't imagine the kind of strength it takes for some of them to come to school every day when all their lives they've been told they're not smart, they've scored low on tests, they've been afforded fewer opportunities just because of who they are. If you've been set up for failure, and therefore have had less success, think of the strength it takes to continue on with no reason to believe anything is going to change. So, I feel as though I might have some notion now of what it feels like to know you're not doing well but to keep trying, and perhaps this will lead me to some strategies for encouraging those students once I figure out what keeps me going.

Culture lessons

I've decided to teach my culture lessons on Wednesdays because of my school's crazy schedule. I have all 5 of my classes for half an hour each on wednesdays. This week we defined culture and identified parts of American culture. The homework assignment was to choose one element that they thought represented all of American culture. I got some good answers- the flag, fast food, etc. This one was my favorite:
The American culture has to deal with jeans and shirts. We all deal with jeans and shirts because we all where clothes like crazy. I love clothes I hope they never leave me. God Bless America.

They crack me up sometimes.

Transition and beginning

The last month has been one long transition and I'm ready for things to be routine. After Institute, I had a day at home before taking the train down to Urbana to begin packing up everything in my apartment. I was able to sleep, pack, and visit with friends one last time. On August 3, I took the train home so that I could go to the first in a series of Teach for America orientations for charter school teachers on August 4. It went from 8-4:30. While I know a lot of what they gave us was valuable, I couldn't help but reschedule all the day's events to figure out that we could have done in 2 hours what we instead took 8.5 to work through. On Sunday, Mom and I got up early and she drove the rented van down to Urbana to get my stuff. We were back in Hyde Park by 2:30, where my dad, Uncle Gerry, Brian, and David met us to unload and carry everything up to the third floor. I was not to stay in my apartment that night though, since my bed delivery was mis-scheduled. I spent the week at home before another entire Saturday of Teach for America planning time. The following Tuesday I started professional development at the other high school operated by the EMO (Educational Management Organization) that runs the school where I work. Our building wasn't ready yet. Sidenote, my "chain" of charter schools is known as Chicago International Charter School (CICS). It is actually one large school with a charter to open different campuses. There are twelve, I believe. Those are then divied up among different EMOs. Mine is called Civitas. You can read more about them at http://www.civitasschools.org/home/. My school's official name is Chicago International Charter School, Ralph Ellison Campus.

PD was roughly 8:30-3:30 everyday for two weeks. Last Thursday, we finally got to go down to our building, which meant I moved in permanently to my apartment Wednesday night. This helped with the feeling that I have just been spinning my wheels for a month since Institute, trying to start something huge but not really doing anything new. But what I'm really looking forward to is getting into a routine at my school. I met my freshmen Friday for their orientation. I have an advisory of 21 freshmen girls who are just fantastic. I see them half an hour a day. I have three sections of freshman Spanish I and two section of sophomore Spanish II. I also moderate a study hall. I'll see each of those classes 4 times a week- three one hour blocks and one half hour class each on Wednesdays when they are dismissed early. The school operates with a sort of hybrid traditional/rotating block schedule, so I won't actually have the same routine every day since the classes switch times each day. But start, lunch, and end times will be consistent and as I get to learn all 138 names I'm sure it will feel more like home.

I asked all my kids to fill out a notecard with parent contact information as well as reasons why they are at a charter school (students have to apply, though we are non-selective- if too many apply there is a lottery) and one great thing about themselves. Some of my favorites:
"I know a little Japanese."
"I can dance really good and I do hair. (I know you said 1)"
"I love to learn new things."
"I'm ambitious."
"I am ready to learn and to make it in college and in life."
"I am fully successful."
"I love to read."
"I love to participate."

The makings of a great year...

Causes

We had a session today about getting parents involved in students' school lives. It opened with a Gallup poll that said that most of the general public blames school failure on parents; they aren't doing enough, aren't encouraging enough, don't care. I never really believed that, probably as a result of my own experiences with many kinds of families. Simply put, with a few rare exceptions, parents care about their children. But I can say confidently that by the end of the first week I was absolutely convinced that it is not the parents who are to blame for student failure- it is the schools. This is not to say that schools aren't up against innumerable challenges. They have budget constraints, endless rules and regulations to follow, and other obstacles. But what I have seen so far in the school where I work this summer, and what I have heard from people working in other schools, confirms that the schools are not at all focused on how well students are doing and what they are learning, but on how well they function as bureaucracies.

An example: The principal wants every student to pass summer school. An admirable goal. Rather than running her school in such a manner as to facilitate students learning the material to earn passing grades, she "unofficially" declares that no student can fail and any student determined to be "in danger of failing" is to be given remediation work until his/her grade has been sufficiently boosted. In the rare event that a student is allowed to be marked as "fail" the grade must be at least a 60% so as not to weight down the schools average.

I was trying to play devil's advocate in this and say that maybe she does this because she doesn't want the school that allows Teach for America (read: rookie) teachers to control its classrooms to look bad. That might endanger the program. And I suppose there could be some element of that. But the truth is, our kids, the ones we teach, failed under the guidance of experienced teachers. If we can guide even a marginal percentage of them towards success, that should be evidence that we're doing something right. I'm not the only one to have heard in my classroom "man, if my regular teacher taught like this I wouldn't be in summer school."

sleep

Last week I got 13.5 hours of sleep over 5 nights. On Friday, I ate dinner with my friend Rachel, giggled through most of it because I was so loopy, came back to my room, showered, bought an episode of Law & Order SVU from iTunes, got in my bed with my laptop and was asleep before the opening credits. I slept from a little before 7 until 10 the next morning. Glorious.

William Penn

The school where I'm teaching this summer is called William Penn. There has been much talk amongst those of us working there about how poorly it is designed. There are huge open spaces, classrooms that are oddly shaped, with useless corners, dividers that don't block noise but do keep air-conditioning out, and hallways where the classrooms on one side are half a floor below the classrooms on the other side. We were speculating that since it as built in the early seventies, perhaps the designers had been under the influence of something. Last night, I found out there is a real reason.

On the bus on the way back from a night out, I pointed out my school to the corps member I was sitting with. "hey, that's my school! William Penn!" to which he responded, "Oh, you mean William Penn-etentiary?" "shhhh!" I hushed him, looking around to see if anyone else on the crowded bus might have heard him. "I can't believe you just said that!"
"Oh, wasn't that in a song you guys sang last week?"

Walking the block from the bus stop, we talked a little more, this time joined by someone else from my school. Turns out her advisor had told their group that when the school was designed, one strand of thinking (and of extra public funding) was that schools in low-income urban areas should be built as models for potential prisons. The idea was to test designs on populations that would likely be using the facilities. It floored me, but probably not as much as it would have if I hadn't already known this little tidbit: states look at 4th-8th grade literacy rates to decide how much new prison space they need to build before the kids reach 18. That one actually made me cry. The state gives up on kids when they're ten. Ten. Years. Old. Working against that kind of expectation is an absolutely monumental task, especially since that's not the only place that is making clear those expectations.

Last week someone told me that one of his students said she hated coming to school because it felt like being in prison. I don't blame her.

Staying positive

I was feeling very stressed and sad and overwhelmed today, even with my extra hour and a half of sleep and only a half day of sessions. The reality is sinking in that at this point, I'm just not a good teacher. At all. And really, I don't think it would be fair to expect that of myself. I've had ONE week of training. It was intense, but it's just not possible to be great in a week, or even average. The conflict is that I am actually in front of students. My lack of skills and knowledge is going to have a direct impact on how well they do and how much they're able to learn. That is an incredible amount of pressure and it's definitely a struggle to positively channel that pressure into working harder to improve when I am constantly feeling discouraged about how very unskilled I am.

So I took some time to be alone, bought a non-cafeteria lunch, and sat in a little park on campus. It's a few steps below street level, sheltered from the busy intersection by a subway station on one side and a brick wall on the other. I was alone for a few minutes before a couple of teenage boys, looking similar to the ones I am teaching, biked down the ramp into the park, whizzed past, and demonstrated why the tree grate had been jimmied up at an angle and propped with bricks. They sailed off the makeshift ramp on their bikes and headed back for another lap. This time, they noticed me watching them and smiling. And from then on, I could tell that each time one of them went by, he would check to make sure I was watching, concentrate very hard, and speed up. Their heads would turn just enough to see if I had seen another successful jump. After a few trips around, they started popping wheelies, always glancing to make sure their audience was still interested. They reminded me of five year olds, and made me think that maybe teaching high school isn't so different from teaching elementary. I think kids of all ages (and adults, too) want approval. They want to know that what they're doing is being recognized. Teenagers are just too cool to show it as often.

Why is it raining inside the building?

I arrived at Institute in Philadelphia on Sunday June 24. As nutty as it was, I think the first week was probably the easiest. There was no lesson planning the first week, just lots of lots of sessions. The days were intense- getting up at 5:15 and being at school 7-4:30. To be honest it's all kind of a blur right now. A hot blur. The school where I am working is not air-conditioned, and Philadelpha summers are like Chicago summers. On Friday a pipe burst, sending waterfalls through the school. Every sink in the building has a spray-painted sign above it warning that the water should not be consumed. I learned that the pipes in the building are all made with lead. I'm hoping the water fountains use different pipes.

On Monday, even thoguh it had not rained, we arrived at school as normal only ot find huge puddles and more waterfalls through the building. The water began to rise in some of the classrooms, so as the kids were arriving they began having all of us move our classroms to the other half of the huge building. This meant moving all of the posters and decorations we had hung up, rearranging all the desks and other items we had moved, basically re-doing our classrooms that had taken us a few hours on Friday to set up. Not a great start.

The kids were supposed to have a 15 minute advisory on the first day only, so they were sent to classrooms based on that arrangement. They weren't told where to go for first period until 9:40 (school starts at 8, second period starts at 10:10) in spite of the fact that we teachers had been assigned to our rooms. So the administration knew where each calss was going to be, it just took them an hour and 40 minutes to tell the kids where to go. I had a class of about 15 students plus my faculty advisor, who was in and out trying to get any info he could about where we shoudl all be. I chatted with two boys for most of the tie, finding out about their lives and what had brought them to summer school. Jadon told me about how he missed all his chemistry labs because he wasn't allowed ot sue the calculator he had already bought and didn't have money to buy the calculator his teacher was requiring. I also intercepted the beginning of an altercation ebtween a couple football players who had come straight from an early morning practice and weren't particularly keen on being in "school mode." Jadon showed me a song he wrote, and talked about how hard it was to be a smart kid in his school- once you let other people know, they want to cheat off of you, and teachers assume you cheat if you do well. He told me about being on an award winning chess team, and how he now coaches younger kids. So, while it was annoying to lose a day of teacing, it was great to get to chat with high school kids and get a feel for what I'd be doing for four weeks. It was only four years ago but I feel like i'd forgotten a lot of what it's like to be 15.

When I finally got my class, only one student showed up. We talked for a while, since we on;y had 15 minutes and there was no way I was fitting two hours of lessons into 15 minutes.

Pre-Preparation

After I matriculated, I was sent a box of books to read before the official summer training. I received this box in the midst of my hardest, most reading-intensive semester and was none to pleased, since part of the work we had to do along with the reading involved classroom observation-- I was supposed to get a large chunk of the reading done before school let out so I could go observe. I ended up counting my volunteering (bilingual first graders 9-11 every Friday) as my observation and didn't start the reading until I had graduated.

I didn't have much choice about when I interviewed and took tests though, so I did have to make a trip up to Chicago in addition to the few I took for various weddings and other celebrations. I got into Evanston on a Wednesday night and had to be at the Teach for America office at 8 am Thursday morning. We had about an hour of introduction and breakfast, and then the interviews started at nine. They had a large room set up with dozens of tables. Each school had one or two (or three) reresentatives. School sent everyone from principles to former corps members who were just regular teachers. Each interviewee was assigned to go see schools in twenty minute increments until about noon, but those assignments changed frequently as schools failed to show up or only wanted you long enough to give you a quick look and set up a follow up interview. After an interview you'd either go to the next one or back to the waiting room, sitting under a sign for your subject area so that if any school wasn'tinterviewing someone at that particular moment, someone from TFA could quickly scan the subject area to see if they could squeeze another interview in. I spoke with 6 schools total and ended up with five follow ups - one for that afternoon and four for the next day.

The interview that afternoon was at the Howard area alternative high school, a school for kids who didn't finish at a traditional high school. The person in charge seemed to like me, but they all were a bit concerned that I look so young-- many of their students are 18-20.

Friday I had to be at the office at 6:15. THe office staff had spent all afternoon coordinating where everyone was going so that we could all carpool. That meant that the first school our car of three people went to wasn't hiring Spanish teachers and I got to just hang out while the other two met people. The principal wasn't there so they couldn't actually interview, something that was surprising then but not so much so after we'd been to multiple schools. At one school I went to, I had to explain to the principal what Teach for America was, and why I didn't have an education degree but expected to be able to teach in the fall. It was also the day after the PLAN test that all juniors have to take, so many of the schools were noticeably empty. The director of the language department at one school took one look at me and said, "um, we're really looking to hire a native speaker, so...." A couple of other schools said "we were happy to interview you, but our Spanish teacher isn't here/can't meet with you right now, so we can't hire you yet." If I ever am in teh position to hire anyone, I'm remembering this experience and being upfront with people. I followed up with those that I could, but never ehard back. The TFA office said they followed up with the school I really wanted to be at and discovered that the school only had the budget to hire someone who could teach both French and Spanish.

During the day, Tricia and I ended up splitting from Carrie, whose car we were originally in, because all three of us had extra interviews scheduled last minute. Someone from the office came to drive us and we went ALL over the city, south to north to west and back. Tricia was hired on the spot as an English teacher, and Carrie was also hired that day at a second interview.

Saturday was another early morning. I had to be at 111th Street for the Basic Skills and Spanish content area tests. Dad drove me down to be there at 8. The basic skills test is a five hour test that I sent 2.5 hours on and scored a 290/300... it's pretty basic. I spent a bit longer on the Spanish test and was on the bus to the red line a little before 5. Nora met me at Howard about two hours later, having finished her Basic Skills/school psych double heeader, and we celebrated with margaritas.

The week Monday after graduation, I got an e-mal a little after noon telling me I had an interview the next day at 3 in Chicago. I hopped online and bought a bus ticket to Union station for the next morning. I made it to CICS Ellison by about 2:15 and Mr. Gordon saw me early. I was done by about 2:45, with a second interview scheduled for the following week, and headed to Midway. I had arranged with the driver of the morning bus that I could be picked up there (a 10 minute drive from 8100 s. California instead of going back to Union Station) at 7. There is NOTHING to do at Midway if you can't go past security and baggage claim doesn't thrill you. The next day I started work.

I contacted the TFA office to ask if they could get me any other interviews for the day when I was traveling back for my second Ellison interview. They set me up with Urban Prep, the only public all boys school in the city. I rented a car for the day, changed into my suit in the Subway sandwich shop where I had lunch, and got to meet the principal of Ellison. The interview was short but they seemed enthusiastic. Urban Prep was a little strange- they asked if I was married or engaged, among other things. A few days later, Ellison called and offered me a job. a BIG relief. All told, I sat down for 14 interviews, just one shy of the TFA Chicago average of 15-- a clear indicator of the fact that the shortage in Chicago is of teacher quality, not quantity.

Introduction

I'm starting a new blog to chronicle my two years with Teach for America in Chicago. I'll start at the begninning in this post. Be warned- it's a doozy.

The Decision
The whole process began last fall. The program staggers their application process to have four deadlines. I was taking the LSAT the day before the first deadline, so I applied during the second round, submitting my first application November 5, 2006. I had a phone interview about a week later, submitted my second round of paperwork December 1, and had my final interview December 4. The final interview is a day long process. You get assigned a group (there were 9 people in mine) and the day starts with each of you giving a prepared, 5-minute lesson to the group and the two interviewers. Mine was about the difference between a fact and an opinion. It went horribly, and I was fairly certain after it was over that I had botched the whole opportunity and would never be picked. After the lesson plans we had a group activity and then an individual "critical thinking" exercise. Then we signed up for individual interview times. It was about noon and mine was at 3, so I went home. I cried, felt sorry for myself, and had lunch. The interview went really well and renewed my hopes.

Less than two weeks after that, I got a phone call and an e-mail telling me the box with my materials (letter of recommendation and a few other forms I had turned in at the interview) had been lost in transit to New York. They claimed they didn't need the letter of rec. because it had already been reviewed, and the person on the phone said something like "if you want to receive your placement by the january 8 deadline, please send in your materials as soon as possible." This was reassuring, but not confirmation that I had already been picked. It was an anxious Christmas, especially because well meaning family members kept inquiring about my post-graduation plans and I hate telling people things that aren't certain. "Well, I APPLIED for Teach for America, but really who knows... that or law school?" I had been accepted to Duke at that point, and got my acceptance from GWU right around the new year. But really I spent all of winter break counting down the days until my tfa deceision.

Sure enough, on Janurary 8 I opened my e-mail to see a congratulatory message from teachforamerica.com. I squealed a bit, logged in to the site, thrilled, and found that I had been assigned to Chicago- my first choice!--to teach high school Spanish-- the LAST thing I wanted to teach. my whole body sank. I called my mom, as promised, and a few other people, trying desperately to sort through the conflict I had before me.

In spite of my now ten years of Spanish training, including a semester living in Spain, I really don't consider myself fluent at all. And I certainly did not feel comfortable enough with the language to think I could teach other people to speak it. I have lots of experience with elementary aged kids and had pictured myself all along in the 3rd-5th grade range, though I flirted with the idea of pre-k. I had preferenced accordingly, listing high school as my last choice and assuming I would get an elementary placement because I didn't major in one of teh traditional high school subjects and so didn't have the coursework necessary to teach secondary ed. That third major snuck up on me....

I talked with a lot of people over the next few days- family, friends, TFA people. Anyone who would listen, really. Just as I had convinced myself that I could be a wonderful creative, effective Spanish teacher, I got a complicating surprise. That Saturday I found a small envelope from GWU Law in my mailbox. "Dear Ms. Geraghty. We'd like to offer you full tuition for three years ($38,000 x 3), free first year housing in a swanky highrise in D.C., and a faculty mentor. Let us know by April 16." I was, quite literally, floored. I quickly stood back up from my spot on the tile to jump up and down and turn myself around aimlessly, looking for an explanation in the items in my apartment. I then had to sit back down as it dawned on me that such an offer would not likely be one that I could ask them to put on hold just for Princess Bridget. I made teh standard contacts to share the news and started what would be two weeks of not much sleep.

Teach for America had a relatively short deadline and I had 14 days to decide. I called GWU Monday just to double check that I couldn't defer the scholarship (I couldn't), but was reassured to hear the Dean's praise for Teach for America as a program. I talked to who knows how many people in Teach for America... Each person I talked with had three others who had deferred law school, or taught Spanish, or were teaching in Chicago, or were alums of U of I, or had red hair (kidding). It's a pretty amazing network of really wonderful people. That's not to say that GWU isn't- I contacted a few of their students and they were perfectly helpful and friendly. But there was really only one reason not to do TFA. Admittedly, it was large. But it was only one.

The night before the decision was due, I matriculated and submitted my "Reasons for Joining:"

"I have wanted to join Teach For America since I first heard about it several years ago. Since then, every time I've heard more information about it, my conviction has grown stronger and my affection for the program and its mission deeper. And yet I am here less than 48 hours from the decision deadline only just now submitting my acceptance.

Within a week, I received both my Teach for America placement and a non-deferrable scholarship offer from a top twenty law school worth nearly $130,000. And so I faced a moral dilemma: is it possible to place a value on the impact I could make in two years on the lives of children who have been consistently let down by the nation that promises them opportunity? Could graduating from law school debt free to enter a public interest position take the place of whatever service I could provide in the next two years as a teacher?

In the last two weeks I have slept little, thought much, and reached out to many. And my decision is ultimately based on the belief that everything else will fall into place if we follow our hearts and do the right thing. My belief in the power of education and my zeal for social justice are clear indicators to me that my decision to join is the right thing. For whatever good I may do someday as a lawyer, nothing can match the value of directly impacting, narrowing, or eliminating the achievement gap for even a single child."

I know it's cheesy. I was emotional. Give me that. But while that moment was emotional, the decision was not superficially considered. That statement is the truth, dressed in emotion and a bit of TFA lingo I picked up. I was ultimately more sure that doing Teach for America was right for me than I was sure that law school was where I wanted to be. That's not to say I don't actually want to go to law school. I may be the only person to have read One L and found myself excited rather than terrified. But those niggling doubts weren't going away. And I HAVE believed in TFA since I first heard about it. I still do. I knew I would always wonder about it later if I didn't do it now. What is it to be young if you can't take risks? While I'd like to believe this kind of idealism will last forever, there's no guarantee. Let me tell you, it's mighty powerful right now and I can do great things with so much strength. it was also nice to finaly have a definitive answer t the constant "what are you doing in May?" question.

I find it interesting that no matter what choice I had made, I would have finally lived in the same city as a sibling after 7 years of separate states. Maybe that's fate telling me either choice would have worked out. Or maybe it was just all three of us getting fed up and saying "Self, we need to get out of these backwoods and into a real city."