Let's see, where was I?

Close readers of my blog, and I know you are many, may have noticed a bit of a lull in the action. Well, I tell ya. I was coasting on fumes towards the end of Institute and, as much as I was looking forward to the final day, like Christmas, it arrived and passed so quickly I hardly noticed.

Suddenly, the collaborative I had been teaching with for five weeks were gone, off to Connecticut and Chicago, respectively. The "CMA" group, a dozen other teachers with whom I spent most of my time, scattered to the winds. Only two of us stay in Philadelphia. Poof.

So, now another chapter begins. There's really no need for me to rehash how difficult Institute was. Think boot camp. Enough said. What's next then? Well, they unceremoniously kick us off Temple's campus 24 hours after Institute ends and I had yet to find a place to live. I was waiting for the perfect situation to arrive and it just wasn't presenting itself. I'll also spare you all (and myself) those details.

The 3x5 card summary is: I moved into some friends' place for a few days until I found a place. I'll move the rest of my things tomorrow. I'm staying with four other TFA-ers, all of whom are "oh-fives," as we say. It will be great living with a group of guys who have already been in the trenches for a year (don't you just love all the military metaphores?). The house is nice enough though I really would have liked to live by myself after three years of sharing a warehouse with seven other people. Still, the rent is low and I'm only a couple miles from my school.

After two days of gluttony, I've made the most of the rest of this week, my last vestige of free time before school starts. I got my PA license and registered my car here, too. I figured I would go legit. Insurance is switched over, yadda yadda yadda. That all took an entire day of phone calls and waiting in line and running around. Tomorrow I need to pick up some stuff for my room -- I sold everything before I came out here and have been sleeping on my Therm-A-Rest (Gabe-style) in an empty room since I left Temple. Dresser by Tupperware. It's all good.

I start school at the end of August. I'm hoping to visit Mariana Bracetti Academy tomorrow or Friday to meet all the important people, get the low-down on the curriculum, and see my classroom. MY classroom. How cool is that? Between now and the start of school, I have more TFA training, a week of UPenn orientation/classes and a week of training at the school itself. I've been using as much of my time as possible lately to work on classroom management/investment strategies, parent/guardian letters (in two languages), and the myriad of other things that need to be in place by September 1.

The five weeks I spent teaching summer school were probably the most difficult five weeks of my life. Certainly in recent memory. I haven't met with a great deal of failure in my life, but I felt like I was beating my head against a wall...and even that didn't help (go figure). On our last day, I pulled one of my students aside to say goodbye. Kristy had been obstinate all summer. We were told by another teacher that she was diagnosed with something that sounds a lot like being a kid. Her reading and writing skills are far below grade level (which, sadly, doesn't put her in the minority). Still, towards the last week or so of class, she seemed to focus a little more; she called out answers that no one else was getting and was spot on in her assessment (even if she forgot to raise her hand). I told her I was proud of how hard she was working. And, when I told her she had the second highest writing score in the class, her face lit up (I've read about students' faces lighting up, but never knew what that looked like until that moment). She said, "I did!?" and I saw her eyes water up, as if no one had ever told her she did well. And, after digging as deep as I could to summon up my own motivation to get up every morning and beat my head against the wall some more, I suddenly wished Institute lasted a little longer.

It wasn't all a success. Neither Andy nor John showed up on the last day. I'm not sure I could blame them considering the fact that we already took the final test two days earlier. And, maybe they knew something I was only about to discover for myself, which is: summer school doesn't matter. Every one of my students was passed on to the fifth grade (a decision made far above my head) despite the fact that most of them had learned very little. One of the students on our roster didn't show up to a single day of class. She was graduated, too.

John and Andy were the two biggest instigators in our classroom. John joined us part way through the summer after physically threatening a student in a neighboring classroom. He had been held back twice, I'm guessing for behavior issues. He performed somewhere in the middle of the group academically-speaking. But he just couldn't pass up being the cooler, older kid in the class. The big fish in a small pond. His goal is to become a SWAT officer here in Philadelphia. I called the team and was informed that less that one percent of all PPD officers become SWAT; and, I told John he had to demonstrate positive leadership skills to even be considered. I think it was too abstract. I'm not sure I got through.

And there was Andrew who was very soft-spoken, but must have been at summer school just because. He was easily fifth grade material. Karl was doing algebra and had one of the highest writing scores, even though he's technically ESL. We lost two students part way through the summer to the ESL teacher -- they just didn't understand English well enough to learn in the standard classroom. And I suspect that at least two others should have been in ESL, too, but they didn't have any more space. You know, it's so easy to think of these kids as "not quite as smart," but when you think of it, they're becoming bilingual and I can hardly speak English without confusing the people around me, let alone converse in a second language.

Those and a hundred other successes and failures, small and large. I wonder where our 16 summer school students will wind up. I don't feel like the system was designed in a way to help us be as successful as possible with our summer school kids. They'll always be my first students, but I spent such little time with them, I wonder how long it will be before I can't quite remember Mark's name or Jane's face.

All I can do is move forward I suppose. Use those successes and failures to build my own confidence and reinforce my determination to do better.

Thanks to Holly for reminding me to write.