Ummm, I think I'll be a Teacher

Every morning was hectic at my school. The kind of news that was necessarily passed around in the office before the kids arrived, often included FYIs such as, "The (fill in the blank) house was shot up again last night. Nobody hurt, but all the kids were home, so be looking for signs of trauma." My first few months at the alternative school were lessons in opening my eyes and ears, and keeping my mouth shut. The bad news was delivered daily, sometimes more than once. So every morning was hectic. How to be prepared for the students who had been involved in any way with the shooting. I learned fairly quickly to keep my facial features neutral during all conversations with students and their parents. The lives of my students were so far from anything I had ever experienced as child or an adult, that I was in a state of shock by the stories that were so nonchalantly shared. Shootings, physical and mental abuse, abandonment...all things that I could not relate to on a personal level. But I learned to listen, and I learned to be patient. And I was hooked. I had never experienced the energy I received from my interactions with these at-risk students. And for whatever reason, they seemed to like me. So at age 50, I became a certified English teacher for grades 5 through 12.

I began my career in Education as an aide in the Special Services classroom. This gave me the opportunity to slowly learn about this complex population of students. One young man gave me a piece of advice that I have embraced and shared many times. He had observed me in a conversation with a student who was sharing shocking details about his family life. I listened well, I thought, until the other young man said, "Man, if you're going to make it here at the Alt School, you gonna have to get rid of that scared, deer in the headlights look every time someone tells you something!" Imagine my surprise, considering I felt confident that I was exuding great listening vibes. Evidently, my face had given me away. Because of that young man's gutsy decision to call me out, I learned quickly to pay attention to the message I was sending with my face!

My second year began in the junior high classroom. Lucky for me, I was partnered with an awesome veteran teacher who was ready to show me the ropes. Every crazy morning, we met at least an hour before the bell rang to go over lesson plans and possible issues to look for. Then the kids would arrive and without fail, each morning brought new stories and drama. The first 30 minutes of class was chaos. Actually, the chaos level just went up and down as the day progressed. When the bell rang at end of day, we sat in silence for a few moments of mental decompression before we began the process of figuring out if we had successfully taught anything to anyone. It was a crap shoot.

Something I discovered early on, interestingly, was that my chaotic students absolutely loved listening to a story. The one quiet time during the day was when I would get out whatever book I was reading aloud to them. Getting the kids to read on their own was a huge challenge, but listening was something else. I soon discovered that they were not only listening, they were comprehending! It was a game changer. Read and quiz. Read and discuss. I carried this revelation with me as I moved on to to teach high school English.

After three years of teaching at the junior high level, I moved up to the high school ELA classroom. It was a very pleasant surprise to find out that chaotic at-risk junior high students, actually do mature as they move on to high school! Teaching older students was not without many challenges, but the teaching process itself was a bit easier. The older students brought with them a whole new level of drama....and trauma. Gang involvement, pregnancy, and general street violence were all part of the daily report. Suddenly, life skills became equally as important as literature or social studies. Many of my high school students had very real, very adult issues going on. It was impossible not to get involved with their lives. School was a safe place and teachers were the confidants.

But teachers can only do so much. During my tenure at the Alternative School I had to learn how to react to students being incarcerated, parents being incarcerated, families being broken up by murder and by drugs. It is a struggle to find a way to deal with all this trauma as an outsider. It doesn't matter how much support and love given to an at-risk student. At the end of the day, they leave the safety of school and reenter their worlds and there is nothing that a teacher can do to change this. This is a disheartening and frustrating reality.

After twelve years of teaching, loving, and supporting "my kids", I retired. Teaching is exhausting at any level and any school. Teaching at an alternative school is EXHAUSTING. I wouldn't change a thing, though. My post 50 year old career was the best decision I ever made. I learned more from those students than they did from me. I still watch the papers for arrests and still feel sad when I read a name that I know. I still cry when I hear about former students who have been shot, injured, or killed. It's still unbelievable to me that I am able to even write that sentence. But when I run into a former student who is doing well, going to school, working a good job, I know it was not for naught. And that makes me smile.