reformed reflections
“I’m a teacher.”
“I teach music.”
“I teach music and art.”
“…I teach.”
These are phrases I’ve said for nearly six years, words that have more or less defined me as a person. Or at least that’s how it seems. When I first started teaching, I definitely scared away a date or two (or five) because the only thing I’d talk about was kids or school or education. When it came to my social circle, there wasn’t much diversity in our discussions, my friends were all teachers, too. I joined the Philadelphia Teaching Fellows (PTF) in 2009 and I had no idea that teaching would become a way of life — PTF was a new start, in a new city where I knew no one, and MAYBE I’d like it. I came from a family of teachers, so I wasn’t a stranger to the profession. And I did love working with kids, but was it for me? Hell, I was 22 years old, how did I know?!
As it turns out, I loved it. Not all of it — actually, the first three years pretty much sucked. I’ve probably forgotten most of the 2009–2010 school year completely, and I usually tell the newest teachers that I’m glad my first year of teaching happened and I learned a lot, but it’s a year of my life that I would NEVER want to repeat. Ever. Holy sh*t.
My career started at Alain Locke Elementary, a public school in West Philadelphia (go ahead, Fresh Prince fans). I was assigned to teach general music, grades kindergarten through eighth. Phew! Not special education, not math, not ELA. I received my degree in music, I knew music! But here are things I didn’t know about: teaching, teaching in a high-needs school, poverty, race, unethical leaders, education reform, mediocre teacher training, charter schools, unions, politics…that just scratches the surface. And if you asked me about any of those things today, I’m still in the dark about most of it.
Back to teaching music, though: I knew music! Music had shaped my life, and arts education continues to be my go-to when discussing how to develop a child’s character. From the mix tapes I’d record for hours (I had 20+ mix tapes, in case you’re curious) to my time at Merit School of Music to the treble clef tattoo to my not-so-secret desire to still pursue a DJ career, I had a very strong grasp on how the arts can shape lives. It was settled: I would be part Michelle Pfeiffer, part Richard Dreyfuss. I would defy years of racial segregation, living in poverty, and a dysfunctional public school system and get all these kids to realize and attain their dreams!
Right.
Over the next three years, this is what would happen: I would be labeled “just another white-ass teacher”, I would break up a lot of fights (sixth grade girl fights are no joke, though), I would work under a manipulative and cheating principal, I would find best friends and colleagues who saw me at my best and worst, I would discover that there is so much more to this education reform movement than just education, I would lose my voice because I, like my students, was struggling to survive in a place where survival was REALLY hard (and I could leave at the end of the day). I would know the day I finally “made it” when several middle school girls claimed I was an “inside-out Oreo.” That’s white on the outside and black on the inside, FYI. A compliment, I guess?
I’m not sharing this because I feel I deserve an award, by the way. It’s a peek into the life of what some teachers might face; unfortunately this might be all too common, given the functioning of our current American education system. I highlight these instances because it was a side of life in America to which I had little exposure, if any. Despite the harsh and adverse environment, I still came to love those students and teaching, and I continue to be passionate about education reform, as well as the other things that surround it. In her book Radical Possibilities, Jean Anyon states: “We have been counting on education to solve the problems of unemployment, joblessness, and poverty for many years. But education did not cause these problems, and education cannot solve them. An economic system that chases profits and casts people aside…is culpable.” I was never drawn to politics, nor could I complete a degree in economics, but suddenly I had an opinion on these things, because they affected the lives of my students in West Philly.
I left Alain Locke Elementary in 2012. I didn’t leave because I wanted to, really — I had to. I left because, if I didn’t, I would hate teaching and all the aforementioned stuff that goes along with it. I knew I wanted to get better at the art of the profession, because the best moments made my heart the most full. Locke wasn’t the place a place where I would feel that. I moved to Brooklyn, New York, and started working at Excellence Boys Charter School, where I currently work as a music and art teacher. I’ll finish my sixth year of teaching come June.
That’s where I’ll leave the story for now, but there’s more where that came from.
You may be wondering about the title of this first post, and what’s to come of this blog. The former: while on a run one night, my friend Alivia and I discovered we both started blogs in our first years of teaching. Mine, public (and slightly embarrassing), and hers, private. Our career paths and our motivations are similar, and we still feel as passionately about education as we did when we started in 2009. What we’ve learned in our short six years of teaching has impacted us in so many ways: some of these are describable, many of them are not. For me, the reflections I shared in my first year of teaching, specifically this post, are so idealistic that part of me wants to punch myself in the face. The other part of me still agrees wholeheartedly, and I’m so glad that part of me still exists. When I write about education now, I’m happy to say that my reflections are certainly reformed, but not altogether changed.
What is this blog, then? A public diary, I guess. After six years, I have a story, just like every other educator. Some will relate to my experiences and thoughts; if that’s you, I hope that you contribute your own perspective. Some might look to these reflections for inspiration or perspective, especially those who are new to teaching. If that’s the case, I am humbled you’re reading these words, and I’ll do my best to highlight all that is amazing, awful, and awe-inspiring about being a teacher. If you’re not a teacher, I urge you to read with an open mind and contribute your thoughts from an outsider’s perspective. Teachers need that once in a while.
Thanks for reading, and and please feel free to share any of your thoughts…And writing critiques, I was NOT an English major and could use a little guidance.
