#teachingdiary

[cindyjane]

where my deep gladness meets the world’s deep need: a remembrance of #teachingdiary

I’ve spent the last hour or so rereading old #teachingdiary posts and remembering all those sweet little details of my short teaching career. Some of those stories have already begun to blur in my mind as I’ve begun using my brain capacity to remember my clients’ stories, but thank God I have this Tumblr page as a time capsule for all those student stories.

Back in June, I shared a brief testimony at my home church to explain to everyone why I was leaving teaching and SF. I recently found the full transcript of what I shared at church (that I apparently typed up, grammatical errors and all, in my personal blog just to remember the moment -- good call Cindy), and I’ll share a snippet below:

... I love my students, and I really enjoyed being in community with them in the classroom, but I really didn't enjoy teaching. Even though people always tell me that I am a natural up there, that I have this presence that allows people to pay attention to me, I don't feel joyful teaching. I feel anxious and stressed out that I have to put on an act when I'm teaching. It felt fake, and it didn't feel like I was really connecting with the unique individuals sitting in my classroom. What I did enjoy, though, were the brief moments either before, during, or after class when I got to check in with individual students, to ask how things have been going, how is your family, did you get to talk to your dad, were you able to figure things out with your friends? Things like that. Things that seemed way more substantial, authentic, things that allowed me to give undivided attention to each person that I was having a conversation with. Being able to help my students individually, as unique people with individual needs and areas of growth, THAT gave me joy. That gave me life.

Last summer, I had an internship at a church called Great Exchange, or GrX for short, down in Santa Clara just because I was interested in shadowing the pastor and learning about church ministry to see if it was something I might want to pursue in the future. Pastor Scott had me read books as though I was in seminary, and I was required to discuss what I read with him. One of the books was called Let Your Life Speak by Parker J. Palmer, in which he talked about vocation (a word rooted in the Latin for "voice," and defined as your calling in life) and shared that true vocation joins the self and service, where your deep gladness meets the world's deep need. I thought about how unhappy I felt whenever I had to stand up in front of a classroom and teach, but how joyful I felt connecting with individual students and talking them through their challenges and struggles (and I'm sure you all know, immigrant students in particular struggle with so much, like depression, trauma, separation from family, anxiety and stress about learning a new language, etc.). Helping students find wholeness and happiness by helping them with their mental health felt like an avenue that was closer to how I wanted to help meet the world's deep need.

In August, I will be going to Columbia University in New York to study to become a mental health counselor. I'll be getting another master's in psychological counseling along with my master's in education, and I've had mixed feelings for a long time about my decision: I'm leaving my school and students after only being there for 2 years, I had just paid off all my student debt from my undergrad and graduate years, I have so much privilege to change career paths so quickly since I'm still young and I have no family obligations necessarily, and having the option to choose a job that "gives me more joy" when my parents never had that option to choose. Who am I to make such a privileged decision when my parents were never able to as immigrants in this country?

When I think about following God's will for my life, I know that he wouldn't want me to be miserable working in a job that doesn't allow me to use my gifts to their fullest potential, especially when I have the ability and privilege to choose something else. My parents didn't have a choice when raising me; they needed to simply find a job that paid them money so that our family could SURVIVE. With my basic needs covered, I want people like my parents to not only survive; I want them to thrive. I know that pursuing mental health counseling is a greater opportunity for me to be joyful in my work while answering God's call for me to serve his people, particularly the Asian immigrant community, and I hope that my decision to change career paths is a way for me not only to honor the gifts that God has given me. I think this is also my way of honoring my parents' sacrifice and taking advantage of this opportunity, this open door, to draw closer to what I believe is my vocation and my joy in life.

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I’m writing this post mainly to 1) thank all y’all for following my posts for so long (and for encouraging me to keep writing #teachingdiaries in particular) and 2) honor my journey the last few years. Sorry that I stopped posting after year 2 teaching diary #6... I do regret not posting more about that particular group of students; they were definitely special. But, more than anything, I’m so thankful that I learned so much about myself and the beauty of community in my teaching years. God really made us all uniquely beautiful to bring a different kind of light in this world, and my students were living proof of that. I still think about and pray for them, and some of them still surprise me with sweet messages and wonderful news (one of my students got married this past year!), and I just feel so honored that I got to briefly step into their lives for a year or two and join them in their growth. 

Maybe I’ll start a #counselingdiaries soon (but probably not because of confidentiality purposes lol), but I really wouldn’t be the clinician I am today without all that I learned from my students. Learning how to be present with them in their victories and struggles, working through challenges and conflicts together, and providing a safe space of acceptance for one another in spite of differences or language barriers... these are all things that my students taught me. In the same spirit, these are all the things that I can now offer my clients in my clinical work, and for that, I am eternally grateful. That’s all! Thanks y’all for the love and support all these years :) 

[thedqessentialgoods-blog]

How to discuss Sentence structure with so much art?

Tadaaa! 

[arbaz-khan-7]

“I cannot teach anything, I can only make them Think.” P.s: third picture deserves a separate post! #hashtag #quoteoftheday #pictureoftheday #potraits #shotoniphone #trowback #teachingdiaries #teacherstuff #tadrees #tadreesschool #harhathmainhogaqalm #instaquote #instapic #instalike #instalikes #likeforlike (at Tadrees School) https://www.instagram.com/p/CBP_mBkHGtJ/?igshid=1bh12m7zd6wub

[miyentravels]

LET’S TALK ABOUT DREAMS

The fire of the torch.

I want to start with this one.

It’s more than a year and a half since I graduated. I remember that whole week of just celebrating with my classmates and professors because we made it with powerful flying colors, both as a class, and as individuals. Those weeks prior to this are full of stories reminiscing our four years of staying in Inang Pamantasan. They were right when they joked, your failures and mistakes will make for a successful Ted Talk. Also, the weeks prior to this one, are full of dreaming again. The thought that I will be free from the constraints of the university and curriculum and the liberty to pursue what I really want, to start writing my narrative on my own, excites me so much.

I want to go back to the days where my friends and I will ditch classes to get fresh air. I remember how we walked around the catwalk and staying hidden among the trees in front of the Accounting Office (I spent minutes here trying to remember the building name OMG) or crouching on the seats of Talipapa (coz it is in front of the faculty center). We talked about having dream crisis - that the fire of the torch that once burned us with passion is burning us out physically, emotionally, mentally, and even spiritually.

I remembered saying how much I wanted to graduate or leave for the US already because I don’t know if I am on the right path anymore. I wonder how something that feels so right in the beginning turned to be something that I revile the most. I remembered telling all my friends and my classmates that I don’t want to be a teacher. I wanted to be a writer and with the opportunity to go to the United States - the land of dreams, I had my resolved that I won’t involved myself in classrooms anymore. I planned on being in the office because I hate classroom routines. I thought it’s a trapped and I wanted more to be somewhere else than inside the four walls of my classroom.

Here I am, a year and a half later. Frustrated at myself for almost everything. Indeed, a small spark can cause a great forest to burn. The fire of the torch is still here.

Photo taken at Philippine Normal University, April 5, 2018, Baccalaureate Mass

[katylposts]

#stayaways Am not complaining about having two days to get on top of this marking, but praying for peace today in Zim. #shutdownzimbabwe #zimbabweincrisis #theresalwaysmarking #theresalwayshope #teachingdiaries (at Milton Park, Mashonaland East, Zimbabwe) https://www.instagram.com/p/BspUvLcnUTp/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1w2vmomaxlwz9

[brotipriya]

#halloween #office #funtime #teachingdiaries

[thelifeofamaka]

Hello! I’m guessing our week is starting off great and we’re doing awesome deeds as usual.

Guess who is the new biology teacher? Yes, you guessed right, me and I’m teaching SS1 classes (that’s the 10th grade).

For my first working day (because they resumed last week but was unable to do anything due to the absence of the Head of the Department), I went late to school (well not late but school resumes by 8 a.m and I was 20 mins late).

Wait, hollup don’t crucify me yet or bash me for my lack of been punctual, there’s a genuine reason behind the lateness, I didn’t get a cab in time.

I got to my junction by 7.30 a.m and I think I miscalculated because I have to take two cabs everyday to get to school and the distance is quite a distance (forgive my french). So getting to the junction, I had to wait for about 20-30 mins before getting a cab and then the cab I got obviously had passengers and so we had a lot of drops and picks on the way.

Please note that the cab doesn’t drop you at the school (nope) rather at the junction and then I have to walk for  another 5-7 mins as fast as my short legs can carry me into the street to where my school is and trust me with the current weather situation in Calabar, I was already sweating like a fowl -thank God for face primers and matte foundations, my makeup for just demarcate (please don’t judge me biko, I had to look good).

I went straight to sign in and see the head of the department, oh was she excited to see me (her fresh new corper teacher to relieve her of some duties) and for the record, today marks the first time I’ve blushed like a 100 times in one day.

This immediately followed with her showing me off, taking me to see the V.P Academics and putting me through on how to write a lesson note (how do teachers do it though).

In the process of me walking up and down looking for library and staff room, I got some catcalls from the SS3 boys (12th grade), I think I turned beet red and some comments were made.

My class of the day was from 1.20-2.00 pm (I feel like this is the worst class because at this point the students would have lost interest in paying attention, waiting for the closing bell to go off).

Anyways, I got introduced and yet again received catcalls and blown kisses, lol.

Teaching them wasn’t easy, at the beginning I had to wait for their noise to subside but then I realized that it was NEVER going to happen and I got interrupted several times.

  I had to keep a stern face at some point when they were getting too rowdy and my God was the class quiet (ooh it feels good to have some authority), I already have naughty students and yes I have the bright ones as well.

Well, my experience was in all good, I had established some form of authority and also gave hem the impression that class would be interesting, I even gave assignment (call me busy body all you like, its your cup of Amarula) but I know it won’t be easy, I got home and I slept like I had been losing sleep for days.

LOL, I’m really looking forward to this teaching experience, so darlings, I hope your week continues to be great and awesome and please share tips for this new teacher on how to handle students. don’t forget to share, like and post your comments, till next time.

Adios!!!

THE BIOLOGY TEACHER Hello! I'm guessing our week is starting off great and we're doing awesome deeds as usual.

[teachermonnicasdailyadventu-blog]

Discovery through Senses Today during our art class, the class decided to get dirty. Everyone enjoyed doing the hand print activity. Children laughed and giggled as they take turn imprinting their hands in the piece of cloth. I love the fact that we were able to review a lot of concept during the task. And it made it more meaningful to the pupils as they learn through their different senses. They could feel the paint in their hands, they could see how their hands magically leave a part of it in the cloth. Children should always learn by using al their senses. It is not only enough that a teacher discusses the lesson by showing pictures or writing something on the board. Children should be engage with activities that will tickles their senses. Let's make our lesson more meaningful by letting the children's different senses participate in the discussion

[cindyjane]

year 2 teaching diary #4: peace

Today during our professional development meeting, all of the staff got into smaller groups to discuss equity, race, and identity and reflect on how these things influenced us in our classroom. One of the questions was: what emotions come to mind when you think about your classroom and students this year? We all sat in a circle, and we held the space open for 2 minutes for each person to speak or remain silent for that designated time. 

As I was thinking about all the other things in my life, all the frustration and lack of stability, the loneliness, the exhaustion from feeling burdened by others’ emotions and needs above my own... I realized that I felt the most at peace in my own classroom with my students. As I shared during my 2 minutes, I talked about feeling really content and confident as a 2nd year teacher, about feeling loved just for who I am by my students, about feeling free to be exactly who I am and speaking honestly without any fear in my classroom... and it left me wondering, why didn’t I feel this way around the adults in the school building? Perhaps even worse, why didn’t I feel this way around the other people in my life? 

I’m still tired when I wake up in the mornings, and I’m still tired when I finish a day’s work, but it feels good. I feel accomplished and oddly full. Things have been going pretty smoothly in my classroom (fingers crossed that things stay that way), and my conversations with my students every day have been so fulfilling. Reading their journal entries has been so fulfilling. Working with them on their personal statements has been so fulfilling. Laughing and learning with them has been so fulfilling.

I shared with my colleagues today in my 2 minutes that I felt safe in my classroom, which felt like an odd thing for me to say because I'm so much more accustomed to thinking about whether my students felt safe and protected in my classroom. But I feel like I’m able to appreciate having my own room, my own safe space, so much more this year because last year was all about shuffling around with my bin of papers and handouts into different classrooms to teach my classes, sharing a classroom space with another (content) teacher who seemed to have more of a stake on that classroom space than I did, grading papers in my dimly lit corner of this closet space that I shared with my other colleague who also didn’t have his own classroom, etc. This year, my classroom has windows (what a difference it makes to have natural light coming into my room!) and a mobile whiteboard that acts as a makeshift SMART Board. I get to have my own phone and teacher desk and new tables and chairs... my own wall space to put up student work... the joys of being able to call this classroom my own! I love the memories created in my classroom and the positive energy that comes rolling in with my students, whether they bounce right in because they get to sit next to people they like or they saunter in slowly about 30 seconds after the bell rings because they don’t want to help their classmates put the chairs down. So many personalities, so many stories and experiences that the students come in with... and I love it all. I feel safe and confident enough to be able to hold that same space for my students, that hopefully they feel safe and confident with me in my classroom to work, laugh, and learn with me and each other.

Speaking of memories, here are some of my fondest memories from the past two weeks with my students:

Last Friday advisory, I wanted to play the game Electricity with my students. When I was first planning advisory that day, the idea of playing Electricity seemed extremely childish, but I really just wanted them to relax and let loose a bit. I separated the class into 2 teams, told them to sit on the floor in lines in their teams, and taught them how to pass down “electricity” by squeezing their classmate’s hand on one side after they feel the squeeze from their other classmate’s hand. The two people in the front eagerly watched me flip the coin, excitedly squeezing their partner’s hand when the coin showed up as heads, eyes following the “electricity” down the line until their classmates at the end felt the squeeze and fought to grab the roll of tape first as the prize for their team. It was so silly and joyful! It was my first time hearing my students laugh so much. Students almost didn’t want to leave when the bell rang. I didn’t want their laughter to end.

One of my students likes to bring a bag of chips to share with his tablemates in my class (secretly, they’re my favorite table... seeing an Arabic speaker, Chinese speaker, and Spanish speaker come up with handshakes and inside jokes all in English since that’s the only language they have in common, it’s like magic!). One day, while working on his opening, the student looked at me and said, “Miss! You want some Takis?” Although I was tempted to take some, I said, “Thanks, but I’ll take some after class!” He just nodded and went right back to his opening. I completely forgot about the Takis until at the end of class, while I was sorting all my papers, I saw the bag of Takis rolled up and held down to my desk by my tape dispenser. I couldn’t help but laugh a little -- my student remembered to leave some for me without telling me, even though I had completely forgotten about that exchange! It was such a small thing but the sweetest gesture. Two days later, the student asked me if I wanted Takis again, and I said, “After class!” He just smiled and said, “Ok Miss, I will save some for you!” And of course, at the end of that class, there was another bag of Takis placed on my desk, saved specifically for me. 

Students just took their pictures Monday morning for picture day. Of course, the late students who didn’t make it to first period missed their pictures. Towards the end of my class, admin made an announcement that students who missed their pictures that morning could go to the auditorium to take their pictures right after school. William raised his hand and asked, “Miss, what if you weren’t here today?” I smiled, knowing that his girlfriend Andrea (who was also in my class - WHO decided to put them in the same class????) was absent that day. “Why do you ask, William? Clearly you’re here right now. Is it for Andrea? How cute!” He blushed, and the whole class laughed. It was such a sweet moment. I’m glad he was a good sport about it. 

I meet regularly after school on Mondays with the leaders of the Chinese Culture Club to plan upcoming club events. Our next event would be the mid-autumn festival celebration, and students wanted to make paper lanterns. I pulled out the plastic cups, red construction paper, tape, markers, scissors, etc., all that I had in my arts and crafts storage space, and we all just sat there and experimented with making paper lanterns together. I opened Spotify and played my Chinese playlist for my students, and they were so shocked. Merry said, “Wow, Miss, you know more new songs than I do!” Hailey said, “And here are also some old songs that my mom listens to!” It was so sweet how impressed they were with my song choices. They then began asking me about majors and colleges, and as we started talking about my majoring in psychology, Merry asked me, “Miss, is it true that you can read people well if you study psychology? Like you have a gift for reading others?” I laughed and said, “I’d like to believe that I do, but I don’t know if that’s a psychology thing.” She said, “Okay read me! What do you think about me so far after only knowing me for a short period of time? Be honest, Miss!” I shared what I noticed about her: her sincere heart, her desire to work hard and seek after her goals and dreams, but also her reluctance to share with others her pain and suffering, her need to always put on a smile for other people. She seemed surprised. Hailey said, “Me too Miss! What have you gotten to know about me in such a short period of time?” Anyway, this went on for some time with the Chinese Culture Club leaders, and it felt good. I had so much grading to do but I got to try out different paper lantern styles with my students, and we all got to chat and share about our lives. It felt real. I wasn’t just talking to my students; I was talking to real people with real feelings and experiences and thoughts and dreams... 

I know I tend to get overly sentimental when thinking about teaching and my students, but it’s memories like these that remind me about the joy that comes from small, tender moments in everyday life. In everyday conversations. In everyday happenings. 

The peace that comes from knowing you have a place where people care for you and care to know you. The peace that comes from relationship building and happy moments. The peace that things will be okay here in this classroom space... even when things outside aren’t okay. 

The peace that comes from having a safe haven, for me and my students. I’m thankful for this peace that hasn’t come easily or readily to me in the last few years. I hope this peace that has covered me so far will also cover my students when they’re in my classroom. I hope this peace stays.

[cindyjane]

year 2 teaching diary #3: hope in love

My students are teaching me the quiet, barely noticeable ways that love manifests in our daily lives.

I started doing journals in advisory -- I’d type up a prompt that requires students to reflect and process things, and my students would quietly write on the prompt for 15 minutes. I remember doing journals with my 10th grade students at Oakland High School when I student taught there, loving how much I learned about them through those journals and wanting desperately to get to know my own students more this year.

The first journal prompt for my students this year was:

Sometimes we make mistakes. Write Ms. Cindy a story about a time when you failed at something. What happened? What did you do? How did you respond? How did you feel? What happened in the end? What did you learn from it?

“Do we have to answer all those questions, Miss?” No, the questions are there to guide you in your writing in case you get stuck. ”Do we have to share what we write with everyone?” Nope, it’s only between me and you. It’s a private journal, so no one else gets to read it! “How do we get started?” Why, I’m glad you asked!

I helped students start by brainstorming instances of failure in their lives. I showed them my own brainstorm: getting a D in high school calculus, falling off my bike so many times when I first learned how to ride it, messing up one of my first lessons as a new teacher, etc. Students laughed, and I think there was an ease in tension in the room when students realized that we all shared similar instances of failure. 

Just like my student teaching year, I was so excited to read my students’ journals. I told myself I wouldn’t bring work home this year, so unfortunately I can’t share my student’s story word for word, but one of my students wrote an awesome story about love.

Allen, a Mandarin speaker and the tallest student in my class, wrote his journal entry about his girlfriend Kelly, an 11th grade student at our school. He shared that when he first asked her out, he was so happy that she trusted him to take care of her. But he soon realized that he couldn’t take care of her as well as he would’ve liked. He remembered going to the pier with her early last year just to hang out, and he saw her eyeing one of the nice restaurants at the pier (he couldn’t name the restaurant or describe the type of food there). Allen remembered asking her, “Are you hungry? Do you want to eat here?” She responded, “Yeah... but it’s okay.” And she walked away because she knew she couldn’t afford to pay for the expensive meals there at the pier. Allen shared that he felt extremely sad in that moment, knowing that he also didn’t have the money to pay for food there at the pier. He felt like a failure in that sense, that even as her boyfriend, he didn’t have the means to take care of her needs and treat her to something nice. So, he used that instance as motivation and began working in the summer, taking on two jobs to make enough money to support both his family and Kelly. At the end of his journal entry, he proudly stated that recently, he was able to take Kelly back to that restaurant and pay for her meal. 

Right after I read his journal entry, I had to put my pen down and sit there at my desk for a bit. I’m a hopeless romantic, and I think my students’ stories only reinforce my belief in the power of love to heal, inspire, and make a difference. Reading his story just made my heart flutter a bit... that young high school type of love -- it still exists! Not saying that this kind of love and selflessness only exists with my students, but I think my students really know how to love and show love. They care so deeply for the people in their lives... perhaps because there are so few people in their lives in this new country. Maybe that’s why they must hold all these people so dear and close to them. 

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Sergio skipped his afternoon Independent Study class again this past Tuesday. His phone was off for some reason. I texted him asking where he was, not expecting a response. Around 5 PM, he texted back saying, “I’ll be at school tomorrow. I had to do something.” That sounded like the worst BS answer to my question, so I called him. 

Where were you today? “I didn’t feel like going today.” You didn’t have work today? “No Miss. I went home. Honest. I just felt bad.” What do you mean? Is it the Independent Study class that makes you feel bad? Do you not like the class or the students or the teacher there? “No I don’t think it’s that... I don’t feel bad in that class. Everyone is very nice to me. It’s... I don’t know how to explain it Miss. It’s something I feel inside?” Can you tell me if you feel bad about the work that you have to do? Like is it too hard? “No it’s not the work, I know I can do the work. I sometimes just feel... bad? I don’t know how to tell you.” So it’s a bad feeling that you have sometimes? “Yes Miss. It’s like, sometimes I start thinking about... like... my family. Like my grandpa, and uncle, and cousins... something happened 2-3 years ago and I can’t explain it but they’re not here anymore. They... um... they’re not living anymore? Is that how to say it?” So they passed away? “Yeah something happened and so they all passed away. And I remember and think about it sometimes, and it makes me feel bad because these are people I grew up with. When I think about this, I don’t want to be around people or at school, so I just want to go home and sleep.” Does this happen a lot? “Not sure, but when it happens, I don’t know how to stop it. I just feel bad, and then I want to go home... Miss, you’re the first person I told. The other teachers don’t know about this.” Sergio. Thanks for telling me. I’m sure it’s hard especially when you can’t control when you think about things like that. “Yeah. Sorry for not going to class.” You know, sometimes I feel bad like that too. Not in the same way, but sometimes I think about things and I feel bad like you too. And some days, I don’t want to be at school or at work because I’m thinking about things like that too.  “So what do you do Miss?” I remember that I want to show up to work because of my students like you and everyone else in my class. If every time I felt bad, if every time I felt that way, I just skipped work and chose to go home and sleep instead, what about you? What about the rest of my students? What do I do about the people I care about? Maybe some days I will take a break, but if I skip work and take a break every single time I feel a little bad, what about the people I care about? I don’t want people to think that I don’t care. When I don’t show up without telling people, that sends the message that I don’t care. “I’m sorry Miss. I wish I didn’t have to feel bad like this.” I know. I wish that too. But do you have people you care about? “Yeah. My mama. And my younger brothers. I know I need to take care of them. I know I need to graduate from high school and get a good job so none of them have to work.” How can you do all that if you just skip class, go home, and sleep whenever you feel bad? I’m not saying you can’t rest when you feel bad. But if you do this, skip class and go home to sleep, every time you feel bad, you will never learn how to be strong for yourself and the people you care about. It’s hard. Those of us who feel bad like that need to be even stronger just to get through the day. But how can you learn to be strong for yourself when you just go home and sleep all the time? How can you achieve your goal of graduating from high school to get a good job and take care of your family if you just skip class, go home, and sleep? “So what do I do?” The next time this happens, come talk to me. If I’m the only teacher who knows, then you need to be honest with me-- “Miss I’m always honest with you!” I’m not saying you’re not! I trust that you are being honest with me, but being honest also means you share when you need something or when you need help instead of holding it in. In my class or in Independent Study, if you start feeling bad like that and start thinking about your family again, talk to me and we can come up with a plan together on how you can work through your feelings that day. Do you think you can do that? “Yeah I can Miss. I’ll ask you for help.” But Sergio, I hope you understand that when you talk to me about feeling bad, it doesn’t mean I’ll let you go home, you know that right? “Yes Miss, for sure. I know you want me to stay in school, finish my work, so I can graduate. I appreciate you pushing me to do what I need to do to take care of my family.” Great. Will you go to your Independent Study classes from now on? “Yes Miss... I promise. Well, I promise only on the days that I don’t have work. If I get called in for work, I can’t go to Independent Study but I will tell you. Promise.” Okay I take promises seriously. “Me too Miss.” Great. Well I need to go home now. “Thank you for talking to me Miss. I appreciate you.” I appreciate you too for trusting me and being honest with me.

The following day, I was standing outside my classroom door, watching students walk to their 1st period class. I then saw Sergio walking down the hall towards me -- he’s NEVER on time to 1st period -- smiling and extending his hand for a hand shake. I shook his hand and said, “So glad you made it on time!” He smiled and said, “For my family. And for you.” He then turned around to go to his government class with my colleague David, who gave the best shocked face seeing Sergio, giving him a high-five for being on time. 

I totally felt the love then. Even though I knew I held a lot of responsibility and this student’s trust with being the only teacher who knew this story, I felt a sense of peace that God will do what He will with this year. Maybe I won’t be able to help Sergio as much as I think I can (because I have this overinflated confidence that I can save people even though only God can -- God humble me please), and maybe I will break down in the process of helping students with their trauma when I have my own to work through... but I felt the love. And that love reminded me that there’s always hope. And I don’t want to lose hope -- in my students, in myself, and in my Father who makes everything work for good. Teaching is hard work, but love is even harder work. And this is only the beginning.

[cindyjane]

year 2 teaching diary #2: week 2

For teaching diary #2, I wanted to write about so many different things, but here’s a story about Sergio, my 20-year-old student:

I have a huge soft spot for this gentle, old soul. Sergio’s first language is Mam, which is an indigenous language spoken by the Mayans in Guatemala. He had to learn Spanish quickly to communicate with his Spanish-speaking peers at school. I wonder if he feels lonely, knowing that he’s had to learn another language just to be able to communicate with his classmates since no one else at this school speaks Mam except his brothers. 

I’d like to believe that Sergio knows that I care for him. He was one of the 11th graders in my Immigrants’ Rights class the end of last year. On the very first day that we had a field trip for that class, on our way back to school, Sergio walked away from the group. At the time, I was in the back of the line, unaware that he had left until my colleague from the front of the line called me to tell me that Sergio was missing. I called Sergio countless times, and he didn’t pick up. I was actually nervous that my colleague and I lost a kid, an 11th grader no less, on our first field trip. After a couple minutes of walking back to school, we were crossing the street when one of my other 11th graders, Andres, suddenly turned around and laughed at someone. I turned to see where Andres was looking, and there was Sergio, who quickly hid behind a wall near a bus stop once he saw that we noticed him. I told the group to continue moving as I ran towards Sergio, who was still hiding behind the wall. I quickly approached him, and he simply laughed and said, “Oh hi Miss, good to see you.”

I was pissed because I was initially so scared that I actually lost him but so relieved that he was actually okay. 

“Sergio. I called you multiple times and you didn’t pick up. Did you know that I was worried that I actually lost you?”

“What do you mean, Miss? I needed to leave.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before you walked away from the group? I thought something happened to you. You do know I’m responsible for you right?”

“But Miss, I need to go pick up my brother from school. I can’t walk back to school when the bus stop is right here. I don’t want to waste time.”

“Sergio. If you need to go, then you need to tell me. If you have other responsibilities, don’t you think I’ll let you go? The most important thing is that you are safe. But you need to let me know where you’re going so I don’t have to worry about you.”

Sergio was quiet. 

“I’m sorry for making you worry.”

At that moment, the bus arrived.

“I need to go pick up my brother. Can I go now?”

“Yes. Thank you for asking.” 

“I apologize Miss. I don’t want you to worry about me.” And then he got on the bus.

Flash forward to this past Tuesday of week 2. 

My students had begun taking a CCSF college prep course on Tuesday and Friday afternoons – my colleagues and I made the decision for this current batch of seniors to start their senior year taking a college prep course, knowing that our seniors last year struggled a lot taking 2 CCSF college when they started in the spring. Most of my current seniors are enrolled in the CCSF class; Sergio was one of the 4 students from my class who needed to finish independent study courses in order to complete his graduation requirements, even though he was more than qualified for the CCSF class. On the afternoons that most of the seniors go to their CCSF class, Sergio and his other Independent Study classmates meet in my colleague Lindsay’s room, and I go from time to time to help support my students.

Anyway, lunch had just ended, and Sergio wasn’t in class. I called him, and he picked up.

“Hello Miss. How are you?”

“Sergio, where are you?”

“Miss I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon, I’m on my way.”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

30 minutes pass. Sergio still hadn’t shown up. 45 minutes pass, and still no Sergio.

Knowing what happened on our field trip last year, I had a feeling that he had something else to do, but I was upset that 1) he lied to me and 2) there was a possibility that he really was on his way back to school but got hurt. Highly unlikely, I know, but in the moment, I was, yet again, worried and scared for his safety. I called him again and again, and he didn’t pick up my calls. 

In my meeting with my colleague Amanda that same afternoon, I told her what happened, and she decided to try calling him anonymously. To no one’s surprise, he picked up the phone.

“Hello, who is this?”

“Sergio. This is Ms. Amanda. Where are you?”

He responded on the phone, and Amanda gave me a look.

“You’re going to work. Why did you lie to Ms. Cindy and say that you were coming back to school?”

He responded again, to which Amanda replied, “You’re telling me you didn’t lie to Ms. Cindy, when she’s right next to me? Do you want to tell her that?”

Before he could respond, I said to Amanda, “Can I talk to him?”

Amanda said on the phone, “Sergio, Ms. Cindy wants to speak with you.” She gave me the phone.

I stepped outside, took a breath, and said, “Sergio. Why did you lie to me?”

He laughed a little nervously.

“I needed to go to work.”

“Then don’t lie to me and tell me that you’re on your way. If you are going to tell me that you’re on your way to school, yet don’t show up for 45 minutes, what do you think I’m going to think? That you could’ve gotten into a car accident? That you could’ve gotten hurt? That you could’ve gotten killed? How many times do I have to tell you that I’m responsible for you? It’s not even about you lying to me or not coming back to school. It’s about you making me worry about you even though you are 20 years old, even though I know you can be responsible with taking care of your brothers and going to work, yet you can’t even be honest to me about where you are going and responsible to your teacher for your own safety.”

I was absolutely livid. Sergio paused before saying, “Miss I’m sorry.”

“You can apologize all you want, Sergio, but you need to prove to me that you don’t need me to worry about you anymore. I was actually scared that something happened to you. This happened last time during our Immigrants’ Rights class last year, and this happened yet again. Can you just not make me worry about you?”

“I’m sorry Miss. I appreciate you caring about me, and… I’m sorry. I really do appreciate you caring for me. I appreciate that.”

I took a deep breath and asked him to tell me what he would do differently next time.

“i will come talk to you if I need to go to work or leave school. I don’t want you to worry or be scared for me anymore.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

The following day, I was standing outside my room telling students to get to their next class on time (our 11th/12th grade students are on block schedule and NOT on the regular bell schedule, which means that students must get to class on time without following the bell… crazy crazy). Sergio walked by and, once he saw me, sheepishly walked back to me and said, “Hi Miss. Thank you, I appreciate you.”

“Hi Sergio.” I extended my hand for a handshake. He shook my hand, and I said, “I’m glad you’re safe.”

He smiled and said, “I appreciate you worrying about me. I’m sorry. I’ll see you later.” And then he walked away. 

I don’t know if things will change with Sergio. I wonder if he truly understands how much I, as well as other teachers, care about him. He has so many other responsibilities that it’s understandable why he would put those things first. But more so than anything else, I just hope this doesn’t happen again – the more this happens (where Sergio disappears from class or a school function to tend to his other responsibilities), I might begin to think that he’s really just lying to me and not trying to come to school, and I might just stop calling or looking for him… until one day something does happen to him, and I will absolutely regret not reaching out more or checking in on him more often. I guess I’m still figuring out how to best support my students without taking away their sense of agency… how to protect them but not baby them. I just want them to know that I care and worry about them, as though they were really my own children (even though they’re all only about 4-6 years younger than me). I don’t know. 

Still figuring things out. Still trying my best to love and care for these kiddos. Still learning how to be the best teacher I can be for my students. 

** UPDATE **

Today, students had interviews for internships this semester. Sergio had his interview at 1 PM with an organization called Friends of the Urban Forest, and the interviewer was coming to school to interview students. Students who were waiting for an interview either on site or at a later time off-site were required to stay in my colleague Lindsay’s room, which was also where I was stationed to help support her keep track of all the students in her room. At 12:55, I noticed Sergio shaking his leg in his seat, fidgeting with his hat and hoodie, repeatedly reading over his resume. He was so nervous! It was too cute. At 1:00, Sergio was looking at the clock and asking me, “Miss, are they coming?” 

“Yes, they will be here, Sergio. Just keep practicing your answers to your interview questions.” 

At 1:05, Sergio was still watching the clock. At 1:10, he gave a big sigh and asked, “Miss, are you sure they’re coming? I’m getting bored.” 

“If you’re getting bored, then it means you’re not nervous anymore. Maybe you won’t be nervous during the interview!”

Literally, I kid you not, in that exact moment, a tall white male with a bright “Friends of the Urban Forest” shirt walked into the room and asked where he could interview his potential interns. I introduced myself to the man, Andrew, and asked the 4 interviewees to follow me and Andrew to my room down the hall. Sergio waited outside as the first interviewee stepped into my room to interview with Andrew. Sergio began pacing in the hall outside my room. He unzipped his black hoodie and revealed a nice plaid polo, which I assume he was hiding from his peers. 

“How are you feeling, Sergio?”

“Nervous. I don’t know Miss, I always get nervous before I have to do stuff like interviews or presentations.”

When it was Sergio’s turn, he took off his black hoodie and his hat (which he NEVER takes off in class), took a big breath, and walked into the room. 

I swear, it was one of the most unexpected things to see coming from Sergio. He took the interview really seriously, and it was so encouraging to see. 

Who knows how else he’ll surprise me this year.

[cindyjane]

teaching diary #8: sweetness and joy

My own stories will have to wait. Stories about my students are so much better to share.

——-

1.

This semester, I’ve been helping support my colleague Heather’s 12th grade English classes (part of me misses teaching solely English curriculum versus my not-so-ordinary and rather nebulous classroom teacher / counselor / financial aid advisor / personal statement editor roles). Every Friday, students would have “literature circles”: during the week, different groups of students would read different books based on reading levels. Each week, students would have to read 50 pages on their own, and on Fridays, students would come to class ready to fill out worksheets for their assigned roles for literature circles for their groups (the roles were discussion director, summarizer, literary luminary, word searcher, and process checker). Students would then get into their literature circle groups and record their discussions of that week’s assigned readings using their discussion roles. It’s a pretty neat structure that my colleague has developed for her English classes, and it’s one of the most beautiful things, sitting in on some of the students’ discussions of characters that may or may not look like them, activities and experiences that may or may not be relevant to them. Students in their literature circle groups talk about overcoming gang life, supporting friends with mental illnesses, working through family conflicts, and articulating feelings that are more nuanced and difficult to express in English. 

“If I were him, I think I would feel…” or “This connects to my life because…” are frequent phrases heard in discussion. These students are so reflective and eager to bridge what they have read to who they are and what they know, and every Friday, students leave pieces of themselves at the table for others to examine, connect with, or even challenge. This kind of honest and genuine discussion comes naturally to these students who trust each other and know that their work in school goes beyond just getting an A for themselves; it requires teamwork and collaboration. And you, the reader, might have forgotten that my students are all newcomer immigrant students who have only been in the country for about 3 years. These same students are having literature circle discussions using only academic English, sharing about what they’ve read and actively engaging with their peers in emotional, hand-gesturing, intensive-laughing, and contemplative dialogue. It really is a beautiful thing to witness. 

One of my students has been reading All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr with his literature circle group, and whenever I would check on his table, he would turn to me and practically beg me to read parts of his book. 

“It’s really good,” he would say every time, as though I had forgotten after each week. He’d flip his book open to a page so quickly that I might have believed him if he said he had marked those pages just for me. He’d tell me to read one of the quotes on that page and look up expectantly as I would take the book from him and read the page. He would never fail to ask me, “Wasn’t that beautiful?” I don’t know if my colleague ever hears this student share his favorite quotes with me every Friday, although I’m sure she’d be jealous… it’s practically every English teacher’s dream for a student to love what he’s reading that much that he’d share so often about what he’s reading. 

Anyway, one day during lunch, this student was discussing with me the book again, and he said, “Miss, if you ever read the book, I’m sure you’d be able to catch up to where I’m at.” At that point, he was about 300 pages into his 500-page book. 

“Oh yeah, I’m sure I can,” I caught myself saying, as though I had just received a challenge.

“You should start reading it! And then we can race to the end,” he said.

“Alright, deal! Let’s shake on it,” I said, surprised by my rash decision but too prideful to take back the challenge.

“Wait, really Miss? You’ll read the book with me?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll catch up to you, but don’t rush through your book. You ready for this challenge? Are you ready for me to catch up to you?”

He smiled and extended his hand to me. “Deal.” And we shook on it. 

I’m currently on page 347, after about 2 weeks. Today, my student told me he’s on page 523, with just about 15 pages left of the book. I asked him why he stopped there.

“I don’t want to beat you,” he said. 

“I can probably catch up to you this weekend though,” I said. I planned on staying in most of this weekend to do some reading anyway.

“That’s perfect, because I have to finish the book by next Friday,” he said. “But Miss, can you email me when you’re on page 523? I want to finish it with you so we can talk about it together. That’s why I don’t want to race you anymore. I just want to finish reading it with you.”

And I swear, that was the sweetest thing. 

——-

2. 

My cohort of City College students spends Friday afternoon in the computer lab with me, where I facilitate their work session and help them catch up on their classwork from CCSF. 

I was sick today (I’m pretty sure I caught some germs from the 2,000 people at Hamilton this past Wednesday… that’s another story!), and students were very empathetic as I coughed between sentences and stopped frequently to drink water and clear my throat.

I was doing a wide range of tasks in my Friday work session class today with students: revising scholarship essays, helping students fill out forms, directing students to the proper website to sign up for college placement tests, grouping students together as a study group to work on CCSF lab assignments… while having my instructional coach in there to observe my class and two other tutors in the room to help students. I was floating around different groups, managing different people, and responding to different students calling for my attention and help. I was stressed out.

As I was sitting in the back of the room with a student to help him fill out an EOPS form for CCSF (which is an educational service that provides tutoring, scholarships, and other assistance for low-income students at CCSF), I couldn’t stop coughing. It was an ugly, throaty cough that just wouldn’t stop, catching even the attention of students who had their headphones in their ears. Students around me turned to me and asked if I was okay, and the student I was working with called his friend who was by the door, “Dale agua al maestra!” That student by the door came running to me as quickly as he could with my water bottle from the front of the room, nearly tripping over his classmates’ chairs to reach me. Students laughed, I laughed, aaaand frankly, it was quite the commotion.

“Miss, you sound like you were dying!” Diohan said.

“You need to sleep more!” Lissy said.

“Stop working so hard!” Juan said.

I had to laugh at how chaotic my classroom might’ve looked from an outsider’s perspective (I’m actually excited to debrief with my instructional coach about that class and hear what he thought about it…), but it put me at ease that my students were thinking about my wellbeing. I’m not sure all teachers can say that about their students. My class erupted in laughter for quite some time before I was able to quiet them down, but it was honestly, strangely comforting to hear their laughter. I feel like my insecurities as a first-year teacher would typically lead me to angrily shut it all down and redirect them to focus on their work, but the human side of me recognized that these students were merely trying to connect with me and show me that they were thinking of me. I couldn’t help but laugh along with them, feeling like a genuine part of their warm, supportive, and extremely energetic community. And that’s the thing with my students: just by being their true selves, they invite anyone in their general vicinity into their community, trusting others in such a pure and genuine way that others can’t help but gravitate towards that energy and join in.

All this is to say: I left work feeling pretty good. It was a rough week, but I was reminded today that my students genuinely care about me and want to invite me into their lives and their communities. The way my students treat me reminds me that I am a much bigger part of their lives than I’m willing to believe… and I shouldn’t take it lightly or for granted.

[cindyjane]

teaching diary #7

“I don’t want to tell teachers about my problems because it’s like, they’re people too. They have their own problems. And once they know that I have issues at home or anything like that, they start treating me differently, like saying that I’m tired or mad because of family stuff, or I’m not turning in things because of that, when really, it’s on me. And I don’t want teachers to... is the right word pity? To pity me. I don’t need their pity.”

-----

This past Wednesday, we had a PD section called “Student Voices,” where my colleague invited an alumnus who graduated from our school, Erick, to share with all of us what students like him may want in terms of connections with teachers. Erick shared a bit about his experience as a student at SFIHS, saying he was one of the students who always got sent to the office, and he didn’t feel connected to any teachers. There were teachers who always asked him about his immigration story, saying, “You can trust me. I want to help you.” And Erick was so turned off by that. 

“What I want to tell you teachers today,” Erick said, “is that you don’t need to connect with every student. I know you want to, but it’s okay. Connections will happen. And think of me, I was changed by my 11th grade college and career teacher. I asked him about financial aid, he gave me some information, and somehow we just started talking, and it was natural. I felt really connected to him even though he wasn’t telling me he could help me or do anything for me, because I know that most of the time, teachers can’t. Teachers always tell me, ‘You’re so strong,’ and ‘You’ve been through so much,’ and I hear that all the time, and I don’t need to hear that anymore.”

The room was quiet. I looked around and noticed some of my colleagues wiping their tears.

“Because I was connected to that one teacher, my life was changed,” Erick said. “I went to college, now I help out with students afterschool, and I’m back here to help other students who are just like me, the ones who get sent to the office, causing trouble, because they just want that connection. I want to give back because of the connection I made here. And so that’s why I say, you don’t need to connect with every student. When you make that one connection, that one student can go and make even more connections. So you’re not just helping one student. You’re helping a lot of people with that one connection.”

I was touched by Erick’s sharing, but to be quite honest, I wasn’t surprised by what he shared. I thought making connections with students wasn’t the most challenging thing to do, since I felt like my students opened up to me pretty quickly. During the Q&A session, the only teachers who asked additional questions were white teachers. 

After PD, I talked to my colleague who invited Erick to share, and she said, “Erick had to change his main message. He still got to share honestly, but what he shared wasn’t the entire message. What he really wanted to share with us was that, yes, teachers shouldn’t force students to share their story in order to build that connection and trust, but also, that our students would definitely want to share more with our teachers of color than our white teachers. That’s just how it is because of a shared experience between people of color that white teachers will never even come close to understanding. When Erick pitched that idea to admin, they said, ‘No, you shouldn’t say that because it will hurt the white teachers’ feelings. Teachers are already going through a lot, so don’t say that.’ So Erick had to change his message.”

As I’m writing this post, I’m processing the implications of that decision. Admin wanted to protect certain teachers, specifically white teachers. The message that Erick shared seemed pretty self-explanatory to me and many other colleagues of color that I checked in with later, so it seemed to me that Erick wanted to share a specific message to the white teachers who were trying so hard to build connections with our students. 

How often are people of color censored for the sake of protecting white people’s feelings?

-----

I went to visit CCSF today to check on some of my students and chat with professors about students’ progress. On the way to one of the classes, I saw Steve looking dejected, carrying his skateboard and sulking down the hall alone. I called his name and asked why he looked so sad.

“Miss, this week sucks. Like I feel like every teacher has gotten mad at me, and I don’t know why, I’m just stressed. And did you hear what happened with me and Mr. Kyle yesterday?”

I didn’t know. My colleague left early yesterday so we didn’t get to check in as usual. 

“Well, pretty much I asked Ms. Amanda to use the computer lab to record a video, and I lied to her and said that I needed to record a video for city college when it was just for fun. And then Mr. Kyle found out that I lied and told me that I had to apologize to Ms. Amanda. I was just so mad yesterday already, so when he told me that I had to apologize, I just couldn’t take it. He told me I had to apologize because of honor. I didn’t understand what he meant, and I was already mad, so I said, ‘Fuck honor.’”

Steve stopped, looked up at me, and then continued.

“I was just so mad, Miss. And the thing is, I was already planning on apologizing to Ms. Amanda, but because Mr. Kyle told me to, I got mad because I didn’t want to do it just because he told me to. And I don’t think I’m a bad student, but I was so mad that I said, ‘Fuck honor,’ and I think other students in the class heard me say that. So now I feel bad but I’m still mad about it. I just have a lot of things going on at home, and every teacher has been getting mad at me, and I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

I asked Steve if Mr. Kyle knew about his family problems.

“I don’t want to tell him about all the stuff that’s been going on. And I don’t want to tell teachers about my problems because it’s like, they’re people too. They have their own problems. And once they know that I have issues at home or anything like that, they start treating me differently, like saying that I’m tired or mad because of family stuff, or I’m not turning in things because of that, when really, it’s on me. And I don’t want teachers to... is the right word pity? To pity me. I don’t need their pity. And I’m always a happy student, I like to make jokes, and I don’t like to show people that I have a lot of things going on. So I don’t want teachers to treat me differently or ask me about my problems.”

I appreciated Steve’s honest sharing, and he was very reflective about the ways he could’ve been more respectful. We discussed his options for apologizing to both teachers, but ultimately, he knew it was his choice. 

“How old are you, Steve?” 

“Twenty,” and he laughed.

“Alright then. You’re an adult. You can decide for yourself what you think is best to do. I didn’t even hear this story from Mr. Kyle or Ms. Amanda since you’re not my student, so I probably won’t even know if you end up apologizing to either of them. But you’re an adult. You can decide for yourself and make up your mind on how you want to handle this situation. You decide if you think it’s important to talk things out with Mr. Kyle and Ms. Amanda, if those relationships are worth mending. I’m going to leave this in your hands.”

-----

These last 2 weeks have been rough. I don’t know if it’s because everyone’s desperately crawling towards spring break, so this final push seems extra strenuous. Students have been stressed out and tired, teachers (myself included) haven’t been as patient, and everyone’s feeling the need for this break. 

I’ve had so many difficult conversations with students these last two weeks alone that I wanted to document all of them in my teaching diaries to reflect on later. But I think Erick’s talk during PD and my conversation with Steve, who isn’t even my student, were the stories that stood out to me and shed some light on the importance of relationships in teaching. As teachers, we’re not working with lifeless things; we’re working with real people with real feelings and real experiences. People have opinions. People have reactions. And sometimes those reactions create ripple effects. Teachers’ moods affect student reactions and vice versa. It’s such a beautiful but messy relationship (co-dependency perhaps?) where teachers and students have to rely on each other and trust each other to make things work. 

Spring break... I’m so ready for you. Some distance from my work and my students might be necessary right about now. More reflections to come. 

[cindyjane]

teaching diary #6: student shout-out

I’ve mentioned Cristhian quite a bit in my posts. He’s a natural leader: super athletic soccer player who is well-liked by his peers but also works very hard in class and asks insightful questions... very outgoing and funny but also levelheaded and reasonable. He told me that he was forced to grow up last year when he had his child. It wasn’t until later that I found out his family also got evicted from their home last year, which I’m sure was an additional burden for Cristhian who was simultaneously handling his new responsibilities as a father.

Sometimes he’d walk by my office just to say, “Hey Miss” or sometimes the more flirtatious “Hey beautiful,” to which I’ve scolded him multiple times (Not going to get into all the ways that female teachers are treated/talked to differently by their students, especially male students... and perhaps I should mention that the 4-5 year age gap between my students and me doesn’t really help how I feel about seemingly harmless comments like his? But I guess it does help that I’ve developed a positive relationship with Cristhian so I understand that he means well... although his words may not reflect his intentions. ANYWAY. I can talk about that another day. Back to the main topic.).

Cristhian makes an effort to make me feel valued in the classroom, and sometimes I feel like because the students know I’m young, they’re more likely to want to protect me, for whatever reason. When he feels that students are disrespecting me, he takes a stand for me. 

There was this one time about a month ago when Cristhian and his best friend Franklin (also in my class) wanted to work on math homework together in the back of the room during study hall. I gave them permission, but Juan Pablo, a student who just wanted to fit in with Cristhian, got up and moved to their table in the back of the room and attempted to get Cristhian’s attention with videos about cars. Recognizing that this could become a power struggle, I went to the back and asked Juan to go back to his seat because he didn’t ask for permission. Juan simply said, “No I don’t want to go back,” and went back to talking to Cristhian in Spanish.

Cristhian then began scolding to Juan very harshly in Spanish; I was only able to catch certain words like “puta,” “maestra,” and “asiento.” There were more Spanish words exchanged between the two. Franklin just looked at me to see if I understood what was going on (which I didn’t at the time).

After he was done scolding, Cristhian looked at me and said, “I tell him to go back to his seat, and he say no, he doesn’t care.” 

I said, “Yes I can tell.” 

At that moment, Cristhian and Franklin looked at each, looked at me, and then Cristhian said, “Vamos, Franklin.” He eyed Juan and said something in Spanish under his breath before he and Franklin both grabbed their math homework and returned back to their respective seats, leaving Juan alone in the back table watching his car videos, where he stayed for the rest of the class period because he refused to go back to his seat. Even after Cristhian and Franklin left him alone there simply because he didn’t want to listen to my instructions.

Cristhian and Franklin stood up for me. 

If Cristhian and Franklin didn’t make that move, I don’t know how I would’ve responded to Juan in the moment. Juan eventually came to me to apologize for his “rude behavior” and explained that he acted that way because he was having a rough day (I had to admit, I was still butthurt about what happened, but he came around and teachers love it when their students come around to apologize... so I forgave him). I remember going home that day wondering what I did to deserve students who were willing to stand up for me in front of their peers.

Needless to say, I definitely have a soft spot for Cristhian. He jokes a lot (sometimes inappropriately) and messes around in class, but I know he needs that time and space to release his stress and cope with the crazy amount of responsibilities he has at his age. I love that when he genuinely cares for people, he shows through his actions in very admirable ways. I’ve heard from teachers that when other students would get frustrated with the classwork or walk out of classrooms, Cristhian would be the one to get up and quell the students’ fears or follow the students out of the classroom to coax them back to class. 

My students are so much better at caring for others than some adults, myself included. They know how to apologize. They know how to show appreciation. They know how to encourage and support one another. They know how to be great allies who show solidarity in times of need. They know how to share honestly and trust others openly, sometimes to the point where I fear that they are too trusting of others.

Today after school, I was working with Cristhian on his scholarship essays, which ended up with him sharing with me his story as a child growing up in Honduras and escaping gang violence, complete with diagrams and pictures drawn out to explain the different parts of his story.

I got home and received this message from him:

Ms you are the best teacher i am pretty sure of that you are the best not only for me but others too. Keep doing what u are doing u got less than a year and that was enough time to see that I can trust u. no other teacher has achieve that so be proud ;)

Can y’all see what I mean when I say he’s a funny one? Students like Cristhian are the biggest (and perhaps the only) reasons I look forward to showing up for work every day. 

** Quick plug for Cristhian - he wants to major in Mechanical Engineering and become an auto mechanic. If y’all know of any paid internships / work opportunities related to these fields (or not) that happen after school, preferably after 4 PM, hit me up! I would love for him to find work with decent work hours and pay so that he won’t have to work until 3 AM every night for $10 an hour to support his family. Let me know!

[cindyjane]

teaching diary #5: champions... of all sorts.

“Miss, this schedule doesn’t work for me anymore.”

I was confused. Just the previous Friday, all of the Senior Seminar teachers had students fill out a schedule template so they could visualize when they would have time to do their homework for both their high school and CCSF classes. I passed back students’ schedules that Monday for them to review their responsibilities for the week, and Cristhian simply handed the schedule back to me. 

“Miss, I work until 3 AM now, not 12 AM. The schedule doesn’t even go up to 3 AM.”

“I thought you only had 1 job.”

“No Miss, I work that job from after school until 12 at night. Then I’m a janitor from 12 until 3 AM.”

I went home and cried that night. It was pretty pathetic, I had to admit, but there was this heavy weight on my heart knowing that my student had to pick up another job to support his parents and his child. His father, who had just gone through a surgery, could no longer work, so Cristhian was the only one who could financially provide for his entire family. Yet he never complained about the workload. 

The next day, I asked him if he wanted to drop one of his three CCSF classes.

“Miss! I really like all my classes. I like the challenge. I want to do well.”

“If you are working until 3 AM every day, as much as I know you have the motivation and potential to do well, you will be too tired. I would rather you take fewer classes and do well in those classes than take too many classes and do poorly in all of them because you are tired.”

We discussed his options. He chose to drop the class that was the least challenging for him. 

The following week was Valentine’s Day. Cristhian came into my class and gave me a bag of Hershey’s kisses. 

“For you Miss. Because you helped me.”

“You really didn’t have to.”

“You cared for me. So this is to thank you.”

I watched as Cristhian walked back to his table. I didn’t expect him to thank me. 

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Lissy didn’t go to one of her CCSF classes on the day that I decided to pop in and observe the class. I got back to SFIHS just as the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. When I turned the corner to go up the stairs to my office, I bumped into Lissy, who was leaving school with her boyfriend.

“Hey! Where were you Lissy?”

“Class ended at 3, Miss. I just got back.”

It took me a while to understand what she had said. Before I could say anything, she quickly added, “Oh I mean I just came back. I took a walk and just came back.”

I was too flustered to respond in that moment, so I just said, “Ok let’s check in tomorrow.”

I pulled her from her Government class the next day and asked why she skipped her CCSF class. 

“The class is really hard... I don’t know if it’s because I’m a girl but the computer stuff, I just don’t understand. I really didn’t feel like going yesterday, so I just went to a coffee shop and did work. I’m sorry, Miss, for skipping the class.”

I explained to Lissy that after observing that CCSF class on Monday, I had given the professor feedback on ways to teach to help students understand the material better. Lissy said she would go to all the classes from then on. She also asked if I could offer study hall during lunch so people who wanted to learn more about computers could get more time to work through the material together. I really appreciated her honesty and feedback, and I agreed to come up with a study hall schedule so students can drop by for additional help. We shook hands, and before she went back to class, she thanked me for encouraging and supporting her even though she lied to me and skipped her class.

I watched as Lissy walked back to her classroom. I didn’t expect her to thank me.

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Weeks ago, Fai had invited me to go to the city-wide wrestling tournament, which was today. I got to the gym at Washington High School, gave Coach Jose his coffee, and saw Fai, who immediately ran over to me.

“Axel is wrestling now. Look!”

I turned around just as Axel pinned down his opponent. The bell rang, and the referee raised Axel’s arm as the audience cheered. 

“Miss, Axel just made it to the finals!”

I cheered from where I stood, and Fai ran over to congratulate his teammate.

The matches continued. During Axel’s final match, his opponent, who was much taller than him, held him down throughout the match, wearing him down and eventually pinning him to the mat. Axel looked dejected at first but immediately smiled when he noticed that we were still cheering for him. 

When it was Fai’s final match, I watched as Fai held his opponent down with ease, not once letting his opponent escape his stronghold. All my colleagues had told me that this student of mine had won first place in his weight class for the last 2 years, but I had no idea how strong and skilled he was. His opponent was clearly no match for him, and Fai gained enough points after 4 minutes to win the match. He had won first place again in his weight class, third year in a row.

After all the matches, my colleagues and I cheered as our students went up to the podium to get their first, second, and third place medals. Both Axel and Fai ran to find me after the awards ceremony to thank me for coming out to support them. I asked if I could take a picture with them.

“Here Miss, hold the sign,” said Fai. “You can be the champion.”

“No, you should hold it! It’s yours.”

“No, Miss. This is for all of us,” said Fai.

“Yeah Miss,” Axel added. “Thank you for coming. Even with a match like mine, thank you for supporting me.”

I watched as Fai and Axel walked back to the rest of their teammates, who immediately began cheering for them again. I didn’t expect them to thank me.

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When I go about my day-to-day business of being a teacher, I oftentimes forget and take for granted that I am blessed with some of the most wonderful, respectful, and resilient students. They remind me what community is. They remind me what strength is. Most importantly, they remind me what love is. 

I teach champions. I hope I never forget that.

[katylposts]

Working in my classroom post prize giving and end of term. It looks like a Christmas tree. Nearly there with prep for next term. #teachingdiaries💜 #tistheseason (at Spectrum Learning Centre) https://www.instagram.com/p/BrCZsXuH061/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=136a0chk9k0n8