Student Teaching

So I am loving this. This teaching thing is really fabulous, despite the fact that it has made the voice in my head (I pause here, hoping you all have voices in your heads, too) occasionally code-switch into a smooth-talking adolescent Latino boy. Which is, for those of you who might not remember, the demographic on which I spend about 95 % of my emotional and intellectual energy because of my student teaching placement in an urban school where my English as a Second Language class is populated by...well, the latest count was 11 boys and 2 girls, all from Puerto Rico, the Dominican Republic, Honduras, Columbia, and the one girl from Guinea). So about this voice in my head. As I finished dinner tonight, I heard it say, "I am not entirely con-bins-ed that I eshould be putting this cosa in the dishwasher." Which, a month ago, would have sounded a whole lot more like, "I'm not entirely convinced I should be putting this thing in the dishwasher." Either way it's a voice in my head...

Anyway.  I love these kids. Really really. And they're breaking my heart. Call it melodramatic, but it is absolutely true. They are amazing, wonderful kids, and they are swimming against an incredibly powerful cultural, socioeconomic, and institutional current. Two of them are parents, and another is about to join their ranks. Many of them have after-school jobs, and rumor has it that some work full time. One has an undefined disability that means he should be receiving special education support but there are no bilingual special ed teachers available for him. And the one bilingual counselor has been out sick, which is really too bad because there's a kid who's recently been sleeping through most of his classes almost every day. No one can figure out what's wrong, though informal diagnoses of depression fly through the (tiny, windowless) teachers' room. 

So I love them. The reality is that they have probably already changed me more than I will ever change them. I've never worked in an urban school. I've never felt so content in a classroom or so frustrated with administration.  I am glad that I will not work at this high school, but I would love to work more with this population.

How about a profile of one of my little darlings (most of whom are bigger than me, and whose age range is 15 to 20, but no matter).  I will change the names to protect their innocence.

Juan.  If i could use 'street-smart' as a term of endearment, I would use it on him, and liberally.  'Come here, Street-smart,' I would say as he roamed around the classroom, 'Let's try just the first part of this assignment. Just the first part."  I choose Juan because the Rumor Mill says he may no longer be my student next week. Admittedly he is so seldom present that his speculated expulsion would change the class dynamic only slightly. But without him we will be both slightly more focused, and quite a bit sadder.  Juan has a heart the size of his island of Puerto Rico, but he apparently has a temper to match.  The Rumor Mill (whose name is Esperanza and who sits on the right in fifth period ESL) says he was a leader in the clash between races that happened at the metro stop last friday.  And by races I mean ethnicities, of course, because many of my 'Latino' students are every bit as 'black' as the 'African American' students, and when you get right down to it, 'African American' fits them, too...  aren't the Carribean and Central and South America...American?  but there is of course a huge cultural and sometimes linguistic divide between them. It's a complicated social climate, but not for the students.  They know who's on what side of every line.

Anyway, I'm exhausted most of the time, but satisfied. I could get used to this whole 'work' thing...  now if only there were a paycheck attached.

Juan is the one with the yellow shirt.