I applied for a job today at a school where the tuition is $25,000 a year. That means that by a time a child graduates from sixth grade at the school, if the child started in pre-k, the parents will have paid $200,000 for their child's education. And I somehow doubt that these kids will be going to public high school, or even college, for that matter. Sheesh. Still, I applied. I tell myself that these kids need good teachers too, that it may only be for the rest of this year, blah, blah, blah, but the truth is, I know that I will be selling out if I go there. When I dreamed of being a teacher, my thoughts were more Dangerous Minds than Dead Poet's Society. Unfortunately, though, I have found lately that whether it's my lack of military training or my whiteness and small build, I may not be cut out for the worst of the worst. It's a tough realization to come to, but I think it's necessary for my own sanity, and to help my avoid having to leave another job in October because I am paralyzed by anxiety.

A word about inspirational teaching movies. I love uplifting films. In fact, sports movies constitute one of my favorite genres, even though they are about as predictable as an episode of Cold Case. My friend Sarah and I, kindred spirits in many ways, not least importantly in our love of sports movies, broke these movies down into their essential components- adversity of some kind (race, age, inexperience) meets the challenge presented by the bigger (older, whiter) team with the help of a hard-boiled (idealistic, washed-out) coach through hard work, team bonding and the realization that we are more than the sum of our parts. Cue inspirational practice montage, followed by intimate look into the characters' personal drama, closing with the big game. Think about your own favorite sports movie, and I can almost guarantee that it will fit the above criteria. And yet, I can't get enough.

Teaching movies are similar to sports movies in many ways. Young, inexperience teacher, through hard work and realization that yes, these are kids, too, with limitless potential that can be unlocked through unorthodox teaching methods and a willingness to fight the existing establishment. Cue inspirational classroom montage, intimate look into the characters' personal drama and feel-good ending. However, unlike sports movies, I avoid teaching movies whenever possible, and I would advise potential teachers to do the same. I have not seen Freedom Writers, or any other movie in the genre which will inevitably be coming soon to a theater near you. You see, my problem with these movies is that they are not real. Sure, they may have happened, but that exceptional teacher is just that, exceptional. The reality is that teaching is incredibly difficult, and that half of all teachers leave within the first three years. In my experience, and that of my many teaching friends, our first years of teaching were spent struggling daily to keep our heads above water, praying that we were reaching a least of few our our 25+ students, forcing ourselves out of bed in the morning, reminding ourselves that we asked for this. It is not glamorous, and it is not fun, and most of the time, it is not redemptive.

In rereading what I just wrote, I sound horribly cynical, to the point where some people might read it and think, "Well, clearly she is just not cut out for teaching. It will be different for me." It is true that I am realizing that I may not be cut out for certain kinds of teaching, namely those that require me to hand over my whole life, all my waking hours, and a good portion of my sanity. I am not saying that there aren't people who can't be successful in a challenging urban environment. In fact, I am banking on the fact that such people exist, because I refuse to believe that my former students and those in similar situations should have to put of with an inferior education just because of where they were born. All I'm saying is that it is a lot harder than I have seen it depicted on film. I love Sister Act II, but unless you have Lauren Hill herself in your class, best of luck turning things around in six weeks.

For those wanting some inspiration that won't ruin you for life, I would recommend Mr. Holland's Opus or the memoir Educating Esmé. The former focuses on the transformation of the teacher rather than the students and strikes me, based on my experience, as the most authentic movie about teaching that I have seen. The latter is an actual true story, not a loosely-based Hollywood remake of what was once a true story, and the author has realistic first-year successes and failures.

A few weeks ago, I started substitute teaching at a charter school that I think strikes a balance between the challenges of urban teaching and the supports needed for teachers to succeed in that environment. I really like it there, and I plan on describing it in more detail in future posts. However, I have also applied to teach at the aforemention private school, and if they'll have me, and I go there, my biggest fear is not that I will be selling out. It's that I won't mind.

Bye bye babies

I've been unemployed for almost a month now, and I'm starting to get the hang of it. Today I woke up, then laid in be for awhile, enjoying the vague feeling of dizziness that comes from being almost-but-not-quite-all-the-way awake. I got up after awhile and got my book from the other room, then stayed in bed reading until a finished it. After that, I went downstairs, made some tea and found a granola bar, and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast.

I have decided that Mondays are house days, so I did many dishes, swept and picked up the clutter from the first floor and moved it to the second. By then, I was in need of some fresh air, so following a shower, I grabbed the camera and headed out of the house. For the past few weeks, there has been a traffic cone perched on the median a few blocks down that someone has painted to look like a piece of candy corn. For some reason, this brings me great joy. I took a picture of it today, and I was enjoying the fresh air and the feel of the camera so much that I took many more pictures.

My days have taken on a sort of Give-a-Mouse-a-Cookie feel. What I mean is, I start out doing one thing, which leads me to another, and before I know it, the day is nearly gone. It is a strange thing to experience for a teacher, who is used to planning out days and weeks in advance, with no free minutes in the schedule for potential down time. My past few classes of students have been the sort where any break in the action means it is time for absurdities, ranging from throwing things to thinking of the meanest possible thing to say at that moment. So this one-thing-leading-to-another schedule of late is a definite change of pace, but I like it.

All this is to say that I got back to the house and decided to upload my photos onto the computer. As I did that, I realized that we have pictures on the camera dating back to when we first bought it, in June of 2008. So, I decided to put all our pictures on the computer, but of course I wanted to do it in an organized way. So I started making folders for the pictures, then realized that I had so many folders that it still wasn't organized. Seasonal classification seemed to be the best fit, so I made those folders, with subfolders labeled with names of events. I uploaded all the pictures into the appropriate folders, then deleted the ones I had uploaded from the actual camera. It was a cleansing feeling, akin to going through a box of old papers (which, by the way, should be my next task). After cleaning off the camera, I was very hungry, so I made some lunch (at about 3:00). Then it was back to the pictures.

So, by then, they were all on the computer, but each folder had tens or even hundreds of files, many of which were duplicates or too blurry or extreme close-ups (not sure about those). So, I began happily cleaning out another junk drawer, this time trying to narrow the files down to those that we might actually want to look at again someday.

I made it through the files from last summer, which took a long time mainly because they included the pictures from our honeymoon. People tend to take too many honeymoon pictures to begin with, and we had just gotten our fancy new camera, so it was pretty out of control. Once I made it through that, I was basically in the home stretch. Granted, that didn't even bring me within a year of where we are today.

The hardest ones for me to delete were the ones of the twins. I imagine other parents (or semi-parents) share this problem. Looking at the photos of the girls from last summer filled me with some major wistfulness. I was reminded why Brianna has always been called the chubby one, but I also realized that really, that no longer fits. Brittany has finally almost caught up, and the two of them are really not babies any more. Last summer, when they were 1 1/2, you could still see the baby-ness, in the wrist-rolls, toothlessness, trails of drool, goofy-gummy expressions. Now they are almost three, and from Brittany's joyful proclamations of "I did it!" when she puts on her own socks or the way Brianna confidently turns off the sidewalk towards our house without prompting, they are kids now. The change has been so gradual that I wouldn't have given it too much thought if I hadn't digitally rifled through their old photos today. Deleting even the off-center, blurry ones seemed like another step away from babyhood. But I'm getting overly sentimental, so that's enough of that.

There are still many files to go, but I think I'm done for today. I am going to visit a new school tomorrow, one that has the potential to allow my growth as a teacher without making me feel like a complete sell-out. As much as I am beginning to get into a house-wifely groove, it's time to get back to where I belong, or at least see if there is a place for me. To be continued...