A Letter

To My Students:

You have no idea how proud I am of you. I know you worked so hard in this class, and your positive attitude is contagious. I will miss the smart comments you make in class everyday; I will miss your laughter; I will miss your kind hearts.

I have no doubt that you will achieve great things.

The one advice I have for you is to never give up. I know things can be really hard, and sometimes you think it’d be easier to just run away from school or work or whatever obstacle stands in your way. But trust me—don’t give up! There is no wall to high or a river too wide for you to overcome. You are smart, funny, and motivated—with those three traits, you can literally do anything you want!

I believe in you.

Keep your chin up and keep working hard. You can, and WILL, do great things. Please keep in touch and let me know about your life and your plans. I am WAY better at editing essays than teaching geometry, so please contact me anytime you need help or just want to chat. Good luck!

-Ms. Juve

An Impromtu Talent Show

My co-teacher was sick yesterday. Initially, I panicked. I didn't know how I could teach the whole two hours by myself. Usually I have her help for an hour, and just having another body in the classroom is so helpful. To top it off, the students took their final exam yesterday. I was hoping to have her help to monitor "wandering eyes" during the exam. But, when I got to the classroom, I took a deep breath. It wouldn't be so bad. Actually, it turned out to be one of my favorite days all summer.

I think the exam was really hard for most of them. They seemed anxious and frustrated after finishing, so I decided to give them free time. This quickly dissolved into chaos. In order to gain some structure to an otherwise lost class, I made a quick decision.

"Alright, everyone! We have some talent in this class. Why not have a talent show?" I announced. I knew they couldn't do any more geometry, but I also knew that I needed to divert their energy from talking about getting drunk and getting into fights to something more constructive.

The class responded. Minutes later, they were drawing beautiful posters for me, practicing beats for their freestyle raps, and practicing the jerk. We started off with a presentation of posters, which all turned out so well. One student, B, actually wrote me a poem. She is the sweetest girl--I will really miss her. Big Ant's rendition of the jerk had the whole class on their feet. They bounced their heads and swayed their bodies along with the beat as Big Ant rocked it out in front of the class. Then, the quietest kid in class got up to do a freestyle. Clearly, he's known for his mad talent: all the students were cheering so loud I could barely hear him. His words flowed perfectly and his rhythm was uncanny. The kid has serious talent. To top if off, he's an amazing artist. I really hope he pursues his passion in the arts. Last but certainly not least, the class jokester, G, decided to do his own freestyle. The whole class (myself included) crowded around him and beat boxed while G came up with a a "fresh" rhyme. The kids tell me he's also well-known for his talent--they call him "Big Lyricist." Again, the kid's got skill!

When the bell did ring at the end of class, the energy was so high I wish I could have bottled it and sprinkled it all over myself when I was feeling down. I actually heard them saying, "That was the best class ever!" It's like they forgot they'd just taken a huge test, which was the idea. These kids are so fun. I'm not ready to say goodbye.

Animo-mo-mo-mo

Since I am no longer teaching there, I feel like I can properly introduce you to the school I've been teaching at for the last five weeks. The Animo Schools are part of the Greendot Charter School System, founded by Mr. Steve Barr. Mr. Barr is a controversial and powerful leader in the educational reform here in Southern California and across the country. His takeover of some of the worst performing high schools in the area (Locke HS, to name one) has led to the ultimate success of the schools and the students.

It was truly a pleasure to work at these schools with such talented faculty and great students. I taught at the Animo Leadership Charter High School campus in Inglewood, but out program served students from Animo Venice and Animo Inglewood, too. These students are so lucky to attend a school so devoted to their success.

Our school team came up with a little cheer to represent our immense pride in our student's achievements. For those of you who know the Flo-Rida song "Low", imagine us belting this to the tune of the chorus:

Our students will achieve,
Our CMs are the bomb,
Instructional leaders, we got it goin' on!
You want to grow?
(You want to grow!)
Where should you go?
Animo-mo-mo-mo-mo-mo-mo!

A Modest Counterexample

Maybe I've been doing too much geometry lately. Or maybe I've just been so immersed in Teach for America culture that I can't tell the difference anymore. But something fired inside me yesterday when I read an article in USA Today blaming "ill prepared" TFA corps members for the loss of older, "more experienced" teachers in the lowest performing school districts across the country.

Immediately upon reading this article, I thought of a million counterexamples. In the geometry world, we use counterexamples to prove that something is untrue. For example, if I were to say that all dogs are golden retrievers, you could say that some dogs are terriers to counter my statement. By implying that all TFA corps members come into the classroom ill prepared warrants at least one counter example: me.

I started this journey not knowing a thing about education. I am the first to admit that I entered my classroom this summer completely under prepared. I didn't know what a lesson plan even looked like, I had no idea how to manage a classroom, and most importantly, I didn't know how to teach. The craziest part of all, though, is that I made it. I learned on my toes, I was supported from a million different angles (colleagues, two advisers, a director and a principal), and I had all the resources I could ever want or need at my fingertips. Sure, we learned as we went. Yes, we made mistakes. Is there any first-time teacher who doesn't? But at the end of the day, guess what? I made a difference.

That's right. My students went from scoring 22% on their diagnostic exam to scoring a 70%. They went from throwing paper planes across the room to being attentive, engaged scholars. They averaged a 32% on the diagnostic exam to a 70% on the final. More importantly, though, they went from assuming they'd wind up in prison to talking about college; they went from believing they were dumb to knowing they were smart; they went from hating school to not wanting to leave. So yes, I made a difference.

This whole "institute" thing is short. It's five weeks. We are thrown into a classroom and we have no idea what we're doing. But until you're here, and until you experience this, you have no idea the valuable knowledge that we gain from this training. No, it's not traditional teacher training. It might be out of the box. But did any great leaders ever think inside the box?

So, my counterexample is me: I am a Teach for America corps member, and I am more than prepared and supported to enter my classroom in the fall.

What Do Teachers Make?

On SPED

This weekend, I was standing in line at Universal Studios with my cousin Gideon when I felt little hands poking my back. I swirled around to see a young boy, maybe about 9, looking frazzled and distracted. His mother/guardian insisted that he stop, but the poking continued. It soon escalated to him literally hitting my purse. Instead of ignoring him, I decided to introduce myself. His name was Johnny. I could tell immediately that Johnny had some special needs. He couldn't speak, but instead used hand motions to communicate. He couldn't stand still and was easily distracted and disoriented. Was it autism? Johnny had me swinging imaginary golf clubs like Tiger Woods, peering around imaginary corners looking for incoming ships and strolling up and down the slow-moving line. His mother/guardian explained that he did indeed have autism. I said I knew, and explained that I was a SPED teacher. "OH," she replied. "So you know all about this stuff huh?"

Do I? I think I'm learning, and I'm beginning to build a love for SPED and all SPED students deep into my heart. My conversation with Johnny, though, reminded me of this important quote from an inspiring teacher and mentor:

"I can go up to Wendy Kopp and be like ‘you can’t do my job.’ And I can go up to all these powerful people or amazing teachers and be like, ‘you can’t do my job.’"
— Jose the Curriculum Specialist, on teaching SPED

My friend Katey luckily wrote down this quote from Jose, our teacher about how to teach, regarding special education teaching. I think his point was the SPED is a challenge; it's hard; nothing about it will be easy. The personal challenges that have already come into play with my students already this summer have been extremely taxing, and I know it won't get any easier.

But, on the flip side, people like Wendy Kopp (TFA founder) don't get the same rewards I do. Sure, they see the numbers and celebrate their successes in their own ways. But they don't get to dance on the schoolyard with B celebrating her assessment; they don't get to call J's mom to tell her how much of a pleasure it was to have her son in class; they don't get to see the students "get it" and they don't get to watch their faces light up when they know they got a question right. And for that, I wouldn't trade anything.

Katey's Blog

Here is the link to the blog of one of my fellow teachers:

http://kateybasye.tumblr.com/

She teaches in the same classroom as me, but she has different students. Enjoy!

A Touching Moment...

Today is my baby sister's 19th birthday.

I was really missing her a lot, so I decided to do something special. In the first few minutes of class, I told the class all about Kelsey. I told them how she inspires me, how she's a role model, and how she's my best friend. I actually got a bit choked up. Then, I told them that it was the second year in a row that I'd missed her birthday.

"Yo, Ms. Juve, that's whack!"

I agreed. We decided to fix that. I dialed Kelsey on speakerphone. When she picked up, the entire class started a singing "Happy Birthday" very loudly to my 19-year-old sister. Something about their excitement level and the way they acted just touched my heart so much. So maybe they're not always well behaved, but my first class of students will always have a place in my life.

You GO Girl!

Yesterday when I was grading, I came to the assessment I always dread: B. She is really struggling in the class, and to know that I'm not helping her always hurts. But B had been so active in class lately, and I held out hope. She is a very special girl--she's sweet and caring--but she's extremely emotional. She has very high highs and very low lows. The other students tease her, but she doesn't seem to mind most days. Other days she can't snap back at them fast enough.

She usually scores in the teens on her assessments. I can tell she gets down when I write things like "See me after class" on them, because I know she's seen it all before. Yesterday, I pulled out B's assessment, expecting the same results. Right away, though, I noticed that she had done the first two problems perfectly. She'd even shown her work! And the next two were right, too. And the next. B only missed three problems, giving her her first passing grade in the class: a 73%.

I couldn't wait to tell her today. I spotted her on the yard at nutrition break and hurried over to her. I told her about the passing grade, and she looked at me in disbelief. "Oh, SNAP!" she said. "Are you sure you got the right assessment, Miss? There's no WAY that was mine! You musta graded wrong!" No, I had not. She hugged me and insisted that I do a little dance with her right there at break with the whole student body milling around. I did, of course.

I heard B bragging about her score all through the hallway, outside the door, and even in class. But today was also the day we had to hand back grade reports. B saw the F on her report card, and I could tell she went from her high cloud all the back to rock bottom. This COULDN'T happen. Even though I'd decided to hand back assessments on Friday, I knew B needed the boost. I snuck by her desk and casually pushed the assessment into her hands. She looked peeved at first, but when she realized what it was she quickly turned it over to reveal her score. Her face immediately lit up. I've never seen someone smile quite so wide as B did today. She caused such a scene showing off her quiz to all her neighbors, in fact, that I had to ask her to put it away.

I had written words of encouragement all over B's assessment today, like "You ROCK!", but of all those B picked up on just one: "You go girl!" After class, she approached me and said, "Miss, you were right. I DO GO, GIRL!"

B is why I'm doing this. B is someone I can impact. B is the reason I set my alarm for 4:30 every morning. B, and the millions like her who have never believed in themselves, is why I'm teaching for America.

We're GROWING!

I put a quote on the white board in my classroom that says, "Like flowers in the summertime reaching up to the sun, WE ARE GROWING!"

This quote was proven true today when I got back the diagnostic information from the midterm assessment. My classroom average of mastery of the objectives was 30% on the first day of class. Today, after the midterm, it was 68%. While this still isn't out goal, we are definitely on track to making significant gains in the classroom! I couldn't be more excited. I can't believe that in two short weeks, I have helped these students grow 38%. My students ROCK!

Do the Jerk!

My students are obsessed with this dance. Apparently, it's the "stuff" in LA. Here's what the rappers have to say about it:

"Jerkin' came from L.A.," Ben explained. "It's an inner-city dance; the teenagers brought it back. They used to breakdance, the Roger Rabbit, but we swagged it out. We got involved in it because we seen it and we liked it."

"People were making jerkin' music, but nobody was like doing anything with it," Legacy said. "We wanted to make it worldwide. This dance is crazy, and it got potential, so we wanted to make it worldwide. We made a jerkin' song. We made 'You're a Jerk,' which is like a double meaning. Jerkin' is just having a good time, you just grooving. Some people ain't capable of crumping. Their body can't do all that. Everybody can jerk, my grandma be jerkin'. His 4-year-old brother be jerkin'. It's just groovin'. It's positive."

I have a date with Big Ant (my student) to learn it on Monday. Uhm...yikes?

Do the JERK!

J

This week was a rough one.

My lesson plans were flawless, I had great activities and awesome ideas for implementing them. Somehow, though, it all fell apart. I'll focus on the one particular situation that's weighing pretty heavily on my mind right now to reflect on why I'm here and what I'm doing.

J has been an interesting student from day one. Our faculty adviser told us to "watch out" for him because he's such a "trouble maker" and has "no interest in learning." That, I believe, is completely false. I knew that J wanted to learn the second he walked through the door. He slammed his books down on the desk and complained immediately about having assigned seats. He has fought me on everything from whether he turned in his homework to the average points Kobe makes per game. He has a big attitude and a major anger management problem. He's one of my students with special needs--his fine motor skills are very underdeveloped and he suffers greatly with ADD and auditory processing. He reads and writes on a fifth grade level at best. He is often distracted and has a hard time staying on task. When confronted about his behavior in any way, he tends to take the defensive immediately. His referral log is literally pages long and chalked full of everything from sexual harassment to verbal abuse. All of this, and I still want to believe in this kid. J is one of the most earnest and sincere people I've ever met in my life. I know that deep down, he's all bark and no bite. This theory (and my patience) was put to the test on Thursday.

The students had been preparing for a midterm all week. I'd been doing all I could to pump them up, from writing inspirational messages on the board to showing them their progress toward their individual growth goals. But despite all the warm-fuzzies, I could tell J was still frustrated. I tried talking to him, but he told me he was "fine." When I asked him about his low test scores, he repeatedly said, "Ah, miss, I'm just a little messed up today." I believed him. I thought he could do better and since he wasn't responsive to my offerings to help him, I left him alone.

Thursday was test day. Juan was late to class and fussed with his backpack for a good ten minutes while we handed out the test. I asked him to keep it down--I often allow him to hum quietly to himself so as to accommodate his needs, but since it was test day I though I should be a little more strict. He immediately went on the defensive. He turned his head away from me when I tried to ask if he needed help during the first few minutes of the test. He put his head down on his desk and was leaving answers blank. Finally, J resorted to his same old trick: cheating. His file is full of referrals for cheating, and even though he usually gets caught, J would rather be sent to the principal than be embarrassed by his lack of understanding for the material. After all, this guy commands an audience. Everyone loves him, and he acts like the ringleader of the circus that is my classroom. And the ringleader can never fail.

I noticed J cheating from the beginning. I decided to use proximity and stood right next to him for about three minutes before he noticed me. He looked up at me with the most fiery look in his eyes and said, "Miss, why you be starin' at me?!" I was taken aback by his language and tone. The other students noticed, too, and looked up from their tests. I told him that I could see his eyes moving and that he needed to keep them on his own paper. He let out an exasperated sigh and said something (derogatory I'm sure) in Spanish under his breathe. I let it slide--BIG MISTAKE. There were questions popping up around the room about the test, so I continued to circulate. I kept one eye on J, but he seemed to be doing OK. Actually, he was solving a lot of the problems on his own. I spent about a minute helping another student who has trouble with reading understand a word problem, and the minute I looked up again, Juan was blatantly cheating off of the paper of the girl sitting next to him. He didn't even try to hide it. I marched over to him in the most authoritative way imaginable and told him he had to move to the front row in the corner immediately. He pushed his chair out from behind him and puffed out his chest, lowering his 6-foot frame to eye-level with me. "Miss, I'm not gonna tell you again. I. AIN'T CHEATIN'". I have never felt so small. Not only was I afraid for my personal safety, but I was afraid for the safety of my class. At this point, my faculty adviser jumped in and escorted J to the principal's office where a referral was logged and J was sent home.

Obviously, I was upset. The principal, Mr. M, told me it was my call how to punish J. Either I could log a major referral and kick him out of summer school for good, or I could log a minor referral and give him a second chance. And then there was the issue of what to do with his midterm grade. Should I give him a zero, which is our policy but would guarantee that he would fail the class? Or should I allow him some sort of make-up?

I didn't sleep last night. I literally stared at my ceiling and rehearsed the ways I would talk to him, the strategies I could use, the policies I'd follow. After having my personal safety threatened, I was torn between feeling personally angry and disappointed both in him and myself. At the same time, I knew that I couldn't kick him out of class. Where would he go? This is a 15 year-old boy who has a one year-old son and has already failed geometry twice. He already thinks he's dumb, and there's a good chance that not many people have told him that they believe in him before. I played every scenario out, from him hugging me to him punching me; from a teary apology to a fight ending in tears. This morning, though, I knew what I had to do.

I went to the principal's office first thing this morning. J was given a minor referral. During the first ten minutes of class, I called J out into the hallway. He must have heard my heart beating through my chest, because he calmly stared out over the busy Inglewood streets. We had a heart-to-heart, and he apologized for disrespecting me. He promised to be on my side, and agreed that he'd work hard to make up for the ground he'd lost for messing up. I decided that I had to give him a zero on the midterm, but promised him that his final assessment grade would count both for his final AND his midterm. His hard work, then, both behaviorally and academically would save him in the end.

Today in class, J was my biggest advocate. He didn't fight me on anything. When I asked him to turn around in his seat and get busy on an assignment, he did it.

Toward the end of class, I went around and helped students who were struggling with homework. I stopped at J last. He couldn't understand how exactly to classify angles. Suddenly, as I was explaining it to him, something clicked. He started rattling off every answer to my questions exactly right. I freaked out, did a dance, gave him a high five, and made his whole group clap. And, for the first time in awhile, J cracked a huge smile.

Thank you, Mr. Falker

"Knowledge is sweet like honey. But knowledge is also like the bee that made the honey--you must chase it through the pages of a book."

This is my favorite quote about education thus far from a book we read this week during a session. I had a particular rough week this week, which you can read about in my next blog, but for now, I just wanted to share this great quote from a great story about why anybody really teaches.

I hope I can be the next Mr. Falker.

My First Week

I'm a teacher!

That exclamation has so many different connotations as my first week comes to a close and a second lies before me. It felt great to get in front of a classroom, to teach students math (!?) and have them really know that I believe in them. It's also terrifying to be in front of 35 high school students (mostly boys) and teach them about something I myself don't understand or like all that much. I constantly hear complaints of, "Ms. Juve! Why do we have to know this stuff?!" and honestly, I can't really give them a good answer. Finally, though, I decided to make the class mean something to them in a very tangible way.

Every morning, we have a warm up on the board for the students to complete in the first few minutes of the class period. We've found that it gets their minds going after a long lunch break. On Friday, the warm up read: "Write down any question about college you might have for a recent graduate." They ate it up. Every single student's pen was moving furiously across their small index card, and they kept writing even after we told them to stop (that NEVER happens). I asked how many of them wanted to go to college, and almost every single hand shot up. Granted, the school I'm teaching at is a relatively well-known school and not nearly as bad off as some of the other schools in the area. Still, I was a bit surprised but beyond elated. One student caught my attention though. G was sitting in the front row with his arms crossed. Always the joker, G shot up in his seat and said, "Yo, Ms. Juve, I'm not gonna go to college when I can get into prison for free!"

Needless to say, it took me by surprise. I was so on cloud nine seeing all those kids raising their hands in support of college, but G's single, solitary comment was enough to knock off my whole balance. Prison? Many of these kids have already been in Juvenile Detention Centers, which makes my last name the butt of many jokes ("Hey, we're going back to Juve!"). But what G said was serious. There was no denying that. The expectation he had sat for himself (and maybe others had set for him too) was that he would wind up in prison. Not trade school, where he could learn to be an electrician like he said he wanted, and not art school where he could refine his incredible gift of art. Prison.

The conversation continued, but G's voice still rang in my ears. Students asked about the parties, how to meet people, how to pay for college, how many classes you take, study abroad. But not G. He sat in his seat, totally disengaged from the conversation, until we turned it back on him. I had heard that he was a pretty talented football player, and had seen him kick the ball around at Nutrition Break (lunch). So I asked him, "Hey, G, did you know you could get a scholarship for playing sports? It's really great--they pay for your housing and tuition, they provide tutoring, the whole deal!" Someone in the back called out, "AND you get all the honeys too!" and I knew I had to agree. G's eyes lit up. "You mean, they actually pay you to play ball?" Really? Had no one ever told this kid that you could get scholarships? All of those students in my room are at a huge advantage in terms of getting into college just because of the color of their skin. And here was G, set on going to prison because he'd never known about the alternatives.

For the next 15 minutes, G was the most active I've ever seen him in class. He was asking questions, starting conversations, and bringing up some very valid points and concerns. In the end, he jumped up out of his seat once again, except this time he proclaimed, "Ah shit yea! I'm gonna graduate and I'm goin to college!" Everyone around him started clapping and cheering for their new hero, and I honestly probably cheered the loudest. I really believe that G means that, and it's just so humbling to know that a conversation in your classroom changed his mindset in that way. I had to choke back the tears.

Not everything was successful in my first week though. In fact, nothing was, really. My students actually made me cry one day, but I held my tears back until I got to the restroom. So does that mean I technically won?

Anyway, instead of focusing on those negatives, though, I'm just going to remember G and the rest of the inspirational students in my class. Because even though they think they're far too cool sometimes, they really are good kids. And if through my words and actions ONE PERSON changes his or her view on college and the future, I've done what I came to do.

Reality Check

I survived my first day.

I can officially say that I have taught a class of 30 rambunctious, hormonal teenage geometry students and surprisingly, I loved every minute of it. Class was a little hectic to start, but things straightened out and students were surprisingly on task. It could have helped that the AC appears to be on overdrive, turning our room into a large refrigerator. Nevertheless, students listened to us and the overall dynamic seems very energetic and fun. My co teacher, Ms. Martin, and I have very similar personalities but are very different in many ways, too. She is a bit more nonchalant and pals around more with the students whereas I seem to be emerging as the disciplinarian. Honestly, I think my lessons are fun but I also think that if we are going to cover a semester's worth of material in four weeks, we need to be a bit serious about things.

Speaking of serious, we administered out diagnostic exam. We positioned it to our students like this:

Imagine you're Kobe Bryant. The Lakers just won the championship and you're feeling like you're on top of the world. But what did you have to learn how to do before you could get there? You had to learn how to dribble, shoot layups, freethrows, threes, dunk...there were so many things that came before you could ever wear that championship ring. Consider what we're doing in this class a Math Tryout. We're not going to cut anyone, obviously, but we're going to figure out where you are so we, your coaches, can take the right steps to coach you to that championship ring (or high school diploma).

It worked. The students ate it up, and they took the exam seriously. They were asked to write something for every question, and they weren't allowed to say "I don't know" or "I can't". Instead, they had to write what they DID know about the problem and what they COULD do to try to solve it. Everyone did (with a little coaching) but the problem is that they honestly don't know the material. In a class of tenth and eleventh graders, less than a quarter of them could identify an acute angle. In our class, the average was a score of 4 out of 44 possible questions.

One of the big things here in TFA is the idea of malleable intelligence. There are all kinds of chants ("Your brain is like a muscle--exercise it!" "Knowledge=Power") to reinforce the idea that knowledge is something that is not necessarily inherent, but is rather created through hard work. If there's anything that my students take from this class, it'll be the idea that they CAN achieve great things if they work hard and that they ARE smart no matter what anyone else has told them. While the diagnostic results are a bit daunting right now (OK-a lot daunting), at least we know that our players are off the bench because they're here, in our classroom, ready to learn.

Work Hard, Play Hard

It's very safe to say that at this point, we're all starting to go a little crazy. From making copies of lesson plans at 2am to studying geometry, we're all stretched a little thin. But, as we know, sleep deprivation coupled with dorm life and a bunch of crazy young adults can lead to some interesting adventures.

Last night, my friend Tyson and I decided to break out of the LMU bubble and venture a few blocks away to a BBQ place we'd seen the day before. Heck, we figured, it's the 4th of July and what's more American than BBQ? Well, as it turns out, we weren't the only ones who had this genius idea. We joined a table of about 20 Bay Area corps members and soon enough, we were all holding hands and saying grace over a beautiful meal of ribs, pulled pork and cornbread. Several pitchers of beer later, a few of us broke out into musical songs (namely "La Vie Boheme" from Rent).

After our delicious dinner, we sprinted back to campus to catch the fireworks display. We found a perfect spot on a bluff overlooking the entire city. I have yet to get my directions straight, but I think we were sandwiched between the ocean and the Coliseum. Instead of having one huge display like in Wallowa County, there were multiple displays shooting off everywhere that lit up the entire city. It was actually really beautiful. Even more beautiful, though, was that it was finally a clear enough night that we could see the stars despite all the light pollution. Again, after the great display ended, the group broke out into song. This time, though, they chose "Proud to be American." I'm sure they could hear us all the way in Beverly Hills.

I'm glad I took some time for myself in the midst of all this craziness. It's back to the grind today, but at least I have the chorus from La Vie Boheme on repeat in my head.

We Will.

I guess make a euphemism of what I'm about to say. I could say that "Wow, I sure have learned a lot and this has been a growing experience" which is all true. However, that nice, flowery language just doesn't quite capture how I'm feeling at the moment. After eight hours of sleep in the last 48 hours, two completed lesson plans, a classroom management plan and an established classroom, I think it's safe to say that the last 48-hours have been the most draining of my entire life.

Sure, I jumped through the hoops and made it through college, but at least there we had freedom. Here, TFA has every single second planned for you down to bathroom breaks. Maybe I'm just not used to the structure. As much as I could complain, though, it'd all be in vain. The people who are teaching me here are truly members of the Teach for America Hall of Fame, so I should really be taking a page from their book. We even got to hear Wendy Kopp, the visionary and founder of Teach for America, speak on Tuesday night. So, even though I'm exhausted and feeling a little nervous about teaching math, I'm just trying to soak it all in and learn as much as I can.

Today, we were trained in how to use the school's grade book system. We were able to see our entire roster (complete with pictures) and view our students grade level and contact information. My heart sank when I saw that I'd have 36 students. 36?! How are these kids ever supposed to learn when they have so many students and only one teacher in their classroom? I was even more distraught when I visited my classroom. There were barely enough chairs for students, and I'll have to try to cram my students into small workspaces since the room barely holds enough tables. The walls rattle a little every few minutes when a jet passes overhead, and the light makes an annoying buzzing sound constantly. We don't have an overhead projector or any type of technology, so I'll be making a lot of posters. Good thing I brought my Sharpies! Also, there aren't enough textbooks for all the students, and they aren't allowed to take them home. How are they supposed to practice? I'm going to have to get creative.

In all seriousness, it's just not fair that these students are taught in such an unwelcoming environment. I am feeling a little downtrodden at the realities of the education inequities that divide our nation at its core, but I know as soon as I meet my students my hopes will rise again. Together, we will rally to overcome the unfair barriers that stand in front of them.

Every single one of my students will pass this class and master their objectives because failure simple isn't an option.

Work Hard, Get Smart

What a week it's been.

I've settled into my room and am slowly adjusting to dorm life. Meals in the dining halls, frisbee golf on the lawn, and best of all--a shared room and bathroom. Actually, my roommate is awesome. She's from Oregon too but unfortunately is a Beavers fan. Don't worry--I'm working on that. The food in the halls is actually pretty good, but a little bland for my taste and pretty hit-or-miss. For example, tonight we had "sweetened potatoes" which are not to be mistaken for sweet potatoes. Instead, they seemed to be reheated mashed potatoes with too much butter and possibly sugar, too. Oh, and did I mention that Subway is a major sponsor of TFA? That's right--Subway sandwiches for lunch every day for five weeks. Even the greatest Subway fan in the world might think that's a little much.

We started Teach for America training classes on Monday morning and have been going to them every day this week. I wake up at about 4:30 to shower and get dressed for the day. We're required to dress in business clothes every day, which I actually really like. We eat breakfast and board the big yellow school bus, labeled the "Cool Bus", at 6:30am with coffee in hand and our heavy bags slung over our shoulders. Every morning, we speed through the affluent neighborhood around LMU, but the landscape quickly changes as we move toward our charter high school in South Central LA. The school site is just a short drive from LMU, which is nice, but the landscape is completely different. Instead of being lined with palm trees and gated homes like the area around LMU, our neighborhood is dotted with small, dilapidated houses and illuminated by glaring police lights. The school is right next to the airport, so our classes are frequently interrupted by the loud sound of jets flying directly overhead. When we're outside, the planes are so close to us that we can almost see the passengers.

Our days here in LA are jam-packed with information from teaching literacy to writing lesson plans to building effective classroom management strategies. We are in sessions with our corps group (four TFA corps members who will be teaching in the same room but not at the same time) for 90-minute blocks with five-minute breaks between from 7:00am until 5:00pm. Needless to say, it's a little exhausting.

On Monday, I learned that I'll be teaching remedial 11th grade geometry. Seeing as how I will be teaching fourth and fifth grade in the fall, I was a bit shocked to see my placement but I'm trying to take it all in stride. I'm going to be learning right along with the students, but I don't think that's such a bad thing. They might take comfort in knowing that math wasn't my strong point but I made it through, and so can they.

As much as I try to identify with my students, though, I am also very aware that I will never be able to understand their struggles and their stories. I will have between 20-30 students, many of whom have failed more than one class in the last year. Most importantly, these students come from such diverse backgrounds. Most of their parents or guardians will speak little to no English. Some of them might be in a gang. Some of them might be addicted to one or more substances. Many of them will probably believe that they're not smart after having been broken down by the system for nearly 12 years. But the one thing all these students will have in common? They all want to learn, and I just know that they all can succeed.