IT DIDN'T WORK OUT

I've been thinking a million thoughts every night, trying to piece together how I feel about my experiences and what I'm taking away from them. I've felt guilt, inadequacy, anger, sorrow, and nothing. Feeling nothing is pretty awful. Feeling numb is maddening (is that ironic?).

There will never be a way to describe my experiences teaching in an inner-city school, but I am going to do my best to try for 2 reasons. First, I enjoy writing and want to put this out there for my friends and family to read. Second, I want more people to know how blessed and privileged they truly are.

When I moved to Texas, I took a teaching job because of the interview I had with a promising and dedicated principal. She shared a vision that I did, her approach to standardized tests and behavior and parents was similar to mine. It seems like a wonderful fit. I spent the weeks leading up to the school year excitedly hanging bulletin boards and reading about teaching in poverty; I welcomed the new challenge and as I read about students with incarcerated parents, I felt ready and prepared to give these kiddos a safe haven from the world.

Oh how wrong I was.

By the end of the first day of school, I was holding back tears and frantically searching my mind for a solution to the challenges I was facing. These students couldn't afford a pencil or back pack, yet they were getting in fist-fights over their Jordan tennis shoes! I'll spare all the details, but you can refer to my previous blog post to understand the challenge I struggled with. I quickly reached out to my mentors, principal, friends, and family because I wanted to make this work.

On my own dime and time, I attended workshops and invested my efforts to focusing on my students interests. I tried to establish community and discuss their goals. My lessons were interactive and engaging, utilizing technology. My students were having NONE of it and I just kept thinking, stick with it, stick with it, stick with it. My students were used to screaming and yelling and fighting, so when I offered them something different, they naturally resisted. I had things stolen from my desk, arguing, cursing, and speaking to me worse than any human ever has. To say that I have been overwhelmed and depressed doesn't even come close to the emotions and frustration I have felt.

Over the last few weeks, I hate the person I have become. I am not teaching. I'm not using the skills and talents that I know will best teach children because I'm managing the behaviors and social destruction that has been instilled in these children since birth. I'm stereotyping social groups and I hate that I'm doing that. I am feeling numb toward these children and their families.

That is infuriating!

The most difficult part of the past 10 weeks has been the defiance and opposition to learning. I have given more than I ever thought I had to give and I need to remove myself from this situation. My 5th grade self would have boldly declared that Bush was the greatest president because that's what I thought my parents believed. These 5th graders believe what their parents have taught them and I don't know how to show them that there is so much more. I tell them, I show them, but they don't value it and they don't want it right now.

This is where I say that I don't have the answer. I'm not blaming anyone, but I'm saying that this current system and society is broken. The poverty I've experienced in the first-world is NOTHING like the poverty I have experienced in the third-world. I am not qualified to influence these children and that's okay. I will make a difference somewhere else. I will be a better fit in a different school, at a different time, at a different place; however, saying those things doesn't make it any easier.

Part of me feels like I'm giving up. I worry that my peers and fellow educators will view me as a failure. Ultimately, I don't need to defend my decision. I know what is best for my family, and I have to be honest and say that my leaving is best for these kids. I am not going to be the person they look up to. As much as I wanted to teach them, and as much as I wanted to inspire them to learn, they don't want it. They don't know how to want it and I don't know how to teach them to want to learn.

In the movie Freedom Writers (If I have talked to you recently, you already heard me say this), Hillary Swank's character dedicates her entire life for two years to those students in poverty. But in the process, her marriage fails and her health declines. I'm just not willing to sacrifice myself in that way. Does that make me a bad teacher?

A dear friend said to me, "This doesn't mean you're a quitter. If just means that the reasons for staying have diminished to a point that you feel you can do more with your life and goals if you leave." My actions to bring change will take place in a different way.

Now, go thank your parents and God for the privileges you have.