me today

With Mark Wahlberg and the spirit of Adam Yauch, in my classroom trying to catch up + get ready for Monday. 

I love my job teaching teenagers, but 'love' is a funny word. In our Poetry class, we call it taboo; instead of telling, show what love looks like. Feels like. Smells, tastes, sounds like. 

So. 

This is what my love looks like : a bulletin board next to my desk filled with handsome men and thoughtful quotes and notes from students, and an old laundry receipt from Washy Washy in Singapore; I bring what makes me smile, sigh, wistfully remember and pin it to my periphery for inspiration and joy and relief. My love also looks like tables arranged for seeing each other, a raised eyebrow, hands in the air, faces awake with thinking or furrowed with disagreement or blank with confusion trying to be alleviated. Sometimes it looks like eyelids fighting sleep because that's how life is, for all of us. 

This is what my love feels like : the shaggy velour pillow against my back in the desk chair, the push of tacks and squeeze of binder clips, a swipe of Lip Rescue, the smooth glide of Flair pens on papers, tension fading in a student's shoulder, breath catching in my throat during a discussion, the empty-building concrete cold that settles in my fingers and under my socks on days like today.

My love smells woody like pencil shavings, floor cleaner sharp, deliciously acrid like playing school in 5th grade with markers that made me lightheaded, Tropical Sorbet spray when the paper mill stench stretches up the hill, and meadow gardeny when I slather on hand cream at the beginning and end of every day. 

Love that tastes like black tea sometimes hot and sometimes lukewarm, fast lunches, secret chocolates in my desk drawer & stale emergency crackers in another, salty smoked almonds for sharing. 

And this love sounds like my IHeartRadio New Order station (Van Halen on Fridays), the daily grind of a pencil sharpener, a whirring projector, scraping chairs and teenage voices negotiating for seats, maybe loud, maybe quiet from the edges, powerful words put into powerful sentences, "Good morning, Mrs. Spencer" and "Bye, Mrs. Spencer, have a nice day."

I love my job.

heroism

Every year, our Advocacy classes spend four days before winter break putting together creative & thoughtful & school-appropriate recycled art masterpieces on a particular theme to display for community members and district office workers to admire. This activity serves to keep our students' minds off the excitement (or unfortunate dread) of the impending holidays, give us all a sense of frantic camaraderie, and remind people outside our building, and some inside, how brilliant kids can be.

This year we decided on the theme of Famous Renegades, making sure whomever we chose represented our school motto: Be Kind, Be Proud, Be Fearless. Each class came up with a different idea - ours was Robin Hood, other classes went with classic historical figures (Sir Isaac Newton, Gandhi) and modern leaders (Steve Jobs, Mandela), one group crafted a bust of a vibrant classmate while another made a mobile characterizing our principal, who has led our school since developing it a decade ago. As always, we marveled at the clever divergences that serve to highlight our collective ingeniousness.

By lunchtime we had all heard the horrifying news of the elementary school shooting. There are no words to make sense of such actions; we quietly, gently went on.

At the end of the day, our principal forwarded this message from the deputy superintendant:

Mrs. Holmes,

I learned about the shooting this morning in Connecticut and was really struggling to make sense of this world. When I walked from my office to Hayes, I couldn't stop thinking about the heartache in that community. As I started to look at the art created in Hayes my spirit was rejuvenated by the community demonstrated in each of the advisory presentations. Each one was unique and captured the idea of heroism perfectly. I loved that they recognized heroes on a global level and also heroes within the walls of Hayes. Thanks to you and your staff for creating a community of hope and learning at Hayes.
Sincerely,
Jeff


If only we could spread this across the country.

72/365 "really"

In My Room

I got this fabulous poster from my favorite snarksters/societal vanguards at Regretsy. Please read the stories about the trials of Atlanta artist Tori LaConsay that led to her getting not only recognition and an apology from retail giant H & M but also a donation to animal rescue organizations in her city. Because her plight was publicized & promoted and eventually resolved largely through Regretsy reader support, Ms. LaConsay offered to send signed posters to those who donated to the assistance fund for her sweet rescued dog-friend Fred who needed surgery. [Fred is recovering well and enjoying celebrity on Facebook; Ms. LaConsay is no longer sending posters and I cannot for the life of me find any place online to get hold of her lovely works right now. Bummer]

So. To make a short story a tad long, I gave a bit and got a lot. When meeting with the architects of our school, we teachers specifically requested these cozy corners in each classroom where a student can go when he/she needs a quiet place not-too-far from the madding crowd, or where a small group can spread out a project, or where I can offer easily-distracted individuals a calm reprieve from my otherwise visually overstimulating classroom; in any case, I want whomever lands there to know: You look nice today.

It's something we all like to hear, no? Well, you do.

69/365 "reflection"

At our school's office
Boards await end of classes
Proper Renegades

perception versus reality

It took awhile for me to get hired at my school partly because it was intentionally small and thus had a smaller budget in the district. But it also took awhile because I was the only substitute teacher who would willingly (eagerly, lovingly) take jobs there whenever they called. When my principal pointed out this fact after I once again begged (in an entirely professional way of course) for a classroom of my own, I was taken aback. What teacher takes him or herself seriously as an educator yet refuses to work with a particular group of kids?

Intellectually, I can understand how the general public might think that an alternative high school attracts disrespectful slackers. I can even understand that some people might be concerned that the halls of such a place are filled with juvenile delinquents. It is an easy trap to fall into because why wouldn't a kid be able to just make it through regular high school? How hard can it be to just go, do, graduate? Those of us who have made it out of adolescence and are now comfortably ensconced in the routine of our Grown-Up lifestyle filled with more significant issues than who is wearing what when and ohmyGodWHY tend to forget how hard all of that feels in the grand scheme of Nothing Else to Worry About. I get it.

But TEACHERS holding these anxious attitudes? It stuns me every time. Every time I mention to another teacher in our district where I work and see tension in a jaw or a raised eyebrow or, from the bold, hear a sniff before "Really? How do you like it THERE?" as if I've been sentenced to our school as punishment. Stunned. And supremely sad. They are missing something special.

I love our school. Sometimes we do have disrespectful slackers [though most people refer to them as 'typical teenagers']; sometimes we have juveniles who qualify as delinquent. But what we have 100% of the time are young people who are trying to make their way in the world around a variety of obstacles that spring up at any given moment. They might struggle with schoolwork and they might out-genius most of the teachers; they could be stunning artists or breathtaking musicians or cunning scientists or simply open, eager minds. Perhaps they have authority issues but they might also be waiting for an adult to treat them with respect. Many have little or no support in their homes (if they have homes), but handfuls do come in with concerned and loving families who will do whatever they can to help us help them.

Regardless of their circumstances, they are children and we are teachers; our job is to show love even when it feels difficult and offer assistance even when we're not sure what they need.

I am proud of our kids - whether graduation comes after five years instead of four, whether they end up finishing with us or not, whether they go to college or enter the military or get jobs & start families; no matter in what order they decide to do any of these things. They have chosen us, our school, for awhile, and we are honored.

summer brain

To quickly dispel the nonsense that teachers get paid to do NOTHING during summer break, here is a rundown of what I've done since the end of June and what I plan to do in the next few weeks:

DONE

1. Ordered, picked up, and inventoried [might have glanced through giddily] $3K worth of books for our library
2. Cleaned my white boards
3. Put up one school motto decal
4. Read a potential title for our upcoming Everyone Reads program
5. Got new stickers for my rolling file box
6. Purchased a portable file box for indepedent contracts
7. Bought more reading material than will likely fit in my classroom

PLANNING TO DO

1. Put up decals in other classrooms
2. Create a logical, practical system for keeping track of independent contracts
3. Write letters begging community members to talk with Seniors about project ideas in September
4. Rewrite/organize lessons for English classes
5. Design Advanced Technology curriculum
6. Set up school library check-out system
7. Find a way to incorporate new reading material into classroom

So, 14 school-related tasks in essentially 7 weeks (we took a couple of weeks for our vacation and I'll spend at least seven days celebrating my birthday next month). Leaves me some time to take my kids to parks, aimlessly rearrange furniture, read some more, watch movies, celebrate my 25th reunion, and partake of Happy Hours...but NOT CAMP.

Best job ever.

in the blink of an eye

Every graduation day, I am genuinely proud of all our students; I know I will truly miss having most of those Seniors around the hallways and in the Commons every day. And though I always freak out about what to wear, how to do my makeup & hair, if I'm going to get all the names right, and whether or not I can avoid crying, it is one of my favorite series of moments as a teacher.

In less than two hours, I go from seeing these kids as children who seem to need me to remind them every hour how we use our time wisely and engage in rational discussions and stop throwing shit across classrooms to seeing them as grown-up people who really don't need me to give them directions or define respectful behavior or explain the value of education. It is moving and miraculous and marvelous.

Today there are a few students graduating whom I have known throughout their high school careers. They were in Freshman English with me during my first year at Hayes Freedom. I've seen their baby faces mature; I've watched them make friends and lose friends and make friends again; I've heard them build opinions and craft dreams and take charge of their lives. I am so proud of the young adults they have become, I look forward to witnessing their successes in the world. I just wish they didn't have to leave us.

If you have a moment at 2:00 PST today, click to watch our Renegades step out in the world. It is a magnificent transformation.

may i have this dance?

Our Renegades held their first prom last weekend, which the students planned & delivered with little intervention from us old people teachers. We were so proud of them - they were working with a shoestring budget and secondhand facility but creatively rounded up volunteers, supplies, and services, providing a memorable Night of Dreams for 70 attendees.


Everything's better with glitter

Slam dunk decor

Our resident Kurt loves all things bargain couture - he rivals me at finding amazing treasures at thrift & antique stores. He announced he would be wearing a 'vintage' tux, which my colleague & I envisioned as something out of Guys and Dolls.
He arrived instead in Miami Vice chic, circa 1989. Loved it.

The best part for us is that our kids truly reveled in putting this event together, not worrying about the fact that the "regular" high school held their prom at the Portland Art Museum and that most of those students bought high-end dresses, rented limousines, and ate extravagant dinners beforehand. We loved watching our Renegades use their resources as best they could (student & principal-shared outfits, teacher-produced tickets, parent-provided snacks & punch, counselor-donated photography + DJ, advisor-procured Farmers Market flowers), keeping the cost at $5 per person and enjoying every minute.

hopeful but helpless

Following my silly state of paralysis over nothing of substance, I am now finding myself in a constant state of Being Busy. Certainly I actually have tasks to complete, but Being Busy also keeps me from thinking too long and hard about difficult situations. Before last week I was Being Busy not worrying about the upcoming deadline for our [notveryfaralong] yearbook, an unstartedfinished online class, and renewing my teaching certificate on time. Then came Monday, with news of a student critically injured in a car accident over the weekend.

Even as my principal relayed the details I was already Being Busy, physically & mentally - furrowing my brow, clenching my jaw, nodding my head, asking about the student's brother who is in my freshman English class, and preparing what to say to that class later in the day. I could not let my mind linger over the facts that this boy is only 16; that he was alone in the wreckage for at least an hour before discovery; that no one knows what damage to his body is permanent.

A week later I have accomplished numerous little chores - sorting books in my classroom, planning a popcorn day for students, starting that online course, buying new underwear & socks for my kids, readying the house for my Oscar party. If I am not in motion or keeping my brain moving forward, I will collapse from the unbearable sadness for our boy.

upheaval

Our school will be in a different building next year [not to be confused with the new building we'll be in by 2010]. Thus the outrageous task of packing all of my books, plans, and crap treasures. And while we are not leaving behind anything close to a state-of-the-art facility, it has been our home. I've been aggravated about the boxing & sorting and such not because it's a nuisance as much as because I really will miss my rundown, no heater, broken blinds, busted light fixture, haunted by past students' complaints & jeers & chuckles & cheers old room.

Welcome to G-8.

The right side is exclusively for student works.
[I took that pic of the lightbulb at the Ace Hotel in Seattle;
the sign next to it says 'renegade brilliance']

The view out my north window

My space

Bare

Lonely

Goodbye

you might think being out of school means i have loads of free time

On the one hand, yes - I am not currently planning any lessons or otherwise concentrating on teenagers and their behavior. However, our school is moving out of the building so I am currently trying to pack the two years' worth of verycooleclecticinterestingandTERRIBLYNECESSARY crap stuff into the Proper Boxes with the Proper Labels, being sure to sort out all of the curricula & resources I'll need during the summer. But the boxes cannot weigh more than 40 pounds and considering most of my room is some sort of book [read: MONSTROUSLY HEAVY] item, this makes the job tedious & difficult. Plus the district movers will not touch any 'personal property' such as my antique shipping crate or IKEA stepstool (which made excellent bookshelves) or my handmade mosaic tables or my myriad of baskets, so I have to set those aside to bring home [to a magical as-yet-to-be-named-or-exist space].


So.


Tonight all I've got is a lovely picture of a sweet man who has hitherto starred in rather sucktacular movies but I'm sure is on the brink of greatness.

As if it matters, really.

what the world needs now

Larry at Yesterday, Today and Forever implores his readers to write love letters every Thursday. I always think it's a fine idea but have never done it until today, as I am preparing to release this year's students into the school-free paradise of summer. After a strangely difficult quarter, more sunshine in May than is legally allowed in Washington State, and 5 (FIVE) extra days tacked on because of snow, I feel the need to find some love and share it.


Dear Renegades,

Your surly teenage attitudes and disdainful eye rolls do not fool me. I know you look forward to my classes, if only to hear me pronounce 'wh' words properly or watch me straighten the books you've intentionally misaligned on the shelves.

And I look forward to your presence each day (yes, even yours). When you actually look in my general direction as I start to speak, my heart is warmed by the attention. When understanding glances across your blank stare, I shiver. When your hand goes up to volunteer, I feel weak and must sit down.

Tomorrow we part for 10 weeks [73 days to be exact]. I will be counting the hours [1752], the minutes [105,120] in anticipation of our next meeting. My hope is that your feelings for me will not change, that when we see each other again [in 73 days] you will experience the same thrill of the past year. I know I will be weeping on the eve of September 2nd.

Yours,
Mrs. S

FOUND heroes

I mentioned before that the FOUND guys were coming to my school and today they really & truly showed up! (Despite my perpetually upbeat perky attitude [shut up], I can be a closet pessimist and when I didn't hear back from them about publicity a couple of weeks ago and didn't see them anywhere near our parking lot an hour before today's scheduled show, I got a little sweaty).

me with Peter & Davy Rothbart after the show
(Davy is totally not touching me inappropriately, swear)

Why I think Peter & Davy are heroic:

• They turned this peculiar hobby of collecting 'found' items into a creative & genuinely entertaining venture
• They drive (yes, drive) around the country visiting towns large & small, venues major & minor (like us!)
• They perform at schools for free
• They're super cute & talented [fine public speakers plus Peter writes songs, sings, & plays guitar gloriously] AND extraordinarily polite to teenagers & grown-ups alike

I think of them as grown-up versions of some of our more quirky/brilliant students who are at our school because they don't fit particular checklists of What To Become. It warmed my heart to see so many of our kids enjoying the performance and believing that it's really & truly okay to follow a different path.

If you are near any of their upcoming stops, you MUST go see them. This is a Bad Mom mandate; tell them I sent you.

And none of this praise is due to the fact that Davy pretended to be singing & blowing kisses to me during "The Booty Don't Stop" song. Though it definitely made my middle-aged day and makes me want to link their site one more time...

my head has not yet actually exploded

I interrupt my regularly scheduled post [as if I'm that prepared] for this test of the Emergency Alert System. In the event of a real emergency (my head exploding, for example), you would be directed by my guest blogger/husband to direct vast amounts of good ju-ju/prayer/positive chi in my general direction.

Reasons my head might explode in the next 10 days:

• More students will get into inexplicably stupid fistfights in the hallway next to the principal
• More students will sneak into our auditorium to perform acts that give teachers headaches & nightmares thinking about
• More students will become irrationally angry about the fact that they are failing despite having turned in NO work in 8 weeks
• More students will look incredulous when told 24 absences in 45 days is unreasonable and grounds for not earning credit
• More students will talk exactly only when their teachers begin to talk

Please keep your computer tuned to this blog for further instructions. Thank you.

knowledge is power

How wonderful you are.
Here, here.

13 garage sale treasures

If you are fortunate enough to be in my vicinity this Saturday, you can fight the garage sale hordes for ownership of these unique items:

1. Vintage snowshoes
2. Four-foot purple wall shelf
3. Portable record player with Texas longhorn on the lid
4. Igloo-style dog house
5. Pink plastic lap desk
6. Inflatable raft
7. Artificial hydrangea bouquets
8. Nasal irrigation kit (brand-new!)
9. Princess dresses, girls size 6/7
10. Homemade smoker (left behind from a senior presentation)
11. Twenty-five white plastic hangers
12. Pink hand-crank AM/FM radio
13. Motorcycle helmet with cartoon bear on the back

...AND SO MUCH MORE!

I thoroughly relish seeing what kinds of things people bring in; my office is packed with crap treasures quivering with excitement about finding new owners this weekend.

Other people have interesting things to say today ~ Thursday 13

the spy who loves you

Tonight I went to a meeting with my best friend Jen who works at our kids' school as a Special Education aide. We presumed the meeting was a general 'heads-up' gathering to discuss potential budget cuts in the district. We presumed incorrectly; it was actually a classified employees' union cross-burning rally. A rally that degenerated frightfully into a teacher-bashing rant, because We think We're more important than classified staff because We have our "college educations" (their leader made air quotes when she said that - does that mean she thinks my degree is a sham? Not necessary? I was confused). I honestly started to feel like if I were identified as a teacher (and I saw a number of staff assistants & librarians there who know me; I sat very still and tried to actually become invisible), there would be gasps & shrieks & possibly a stoning.

I get very nervous when a union starts talking fast & loud. Essentially, I think the union is a positive organization for making sure people are treated fairly in their work situations; unfortunately it can easily become a hostile Us vs. Them exercise. When it comes to educational situations, my greatest concern is for the kids being served - obviously I enjoy a paycheck, and of course I realize some people rely on their paychecks to survive, but threatening to walk out of a job at the expense of children makes no sense to me. So I get wiggly & nervous about that stance, and the classified workers at tonight's meeting mentioned the possibility of striking if their positions are scheduled to be cut.

Again, I completely understand being upset about losing a job (hello!), but then their leader promised to inform the district that the classified employees "are the most important people in the district." That if they were not in the schools, children would not be getting a quality education. My heart was racing, I started sweating - partly because of the aforementioned stoning possibility, but mostly because I hate this game; it takes a village, people. Let's not argue about who is more or less necessary in our kids' lives - let's just do our best work during our time with them and discuss fair salaries at the end of the day.

I did reveal my secret identity to a few people as the meeting ended and was secretly bemused when their eyes widened and they flushed slightly. It tells me they don't really think we teachers are power hungry elitist monsters, and that's a relief. I don't like fighting.

tired but inspired

Can't write much but due to my OCD fading hope at earning some kind of prize undying devotion to readers who believe I'm fabulous [THANK YOU, LOVE YOU!], I must post for the day.

Tonight was our school's Poetry Out Loud competition. In a nutshell, a bunch of our students - most of them enthusiastic, some coerced by threat of failing my class - memorized poems and recited them to a pretty grand audience of classmates and family members. Despite nervous knees and protests of having to be on the stage and slight panic about not having a microphone, they rocked. Watching them stand up there and raise their voices erased all of my fatigue; it was a delight and a relief and a gift.

But now I must sleep and hope for more days like this one.

Poetry Fence, Victoria B.C.
photo by me, 2007

time mismanagement

Today was a 'teacher work day' at school. I had 3 neatly organized piles of work on my desk to be graded and did exactly this during the five hours I spent in my classroom:

• Tried three times to get local alt-rock station to stream
• Tuned in Pandora instead
• Rearranged tables and extra chairs to the hallway
• Hung another calendar
• Turned reeds in diffuser
• Found proper stand for new art book
• Sorted miscellaneous papers
• Ate handfuls of smoked almonds
• Got jumbo paperclips from supply room
• Made copies of Final Short Story scoring sheets
• Straightened books
• Created new piles of work
• Put six-pack of San Pellegrino water in teachers' lounge fridge
• Dumped out old orange juice
• Took bottle & aluminum can out of garbage, put in recycling
• Tacked picture of Jon Hamm onto office wall
• Re-secured Fountains of Wayne poster
• Filed records of my clock hours
• Searched online for credit or clock hour earning education classes
• Read, graded, & recorded scores for 3 (THREE) student papers
• Ate Bavarian Creme Brulee chocolate square
• Chatted with custodian

Since I've been home, I have actually used my time more wisely by hanging out with my kids, cooking ground beef & turkey for future meals, finishing two loads of laundry, having a heart-to-heart with my boy and playing Eight Letters in Search of a Word with my girl, and enjoying brie & bread & "Dexter" with my man. And getting today's post in under the wire.

The end.

snoax

Yesterday the automated call from my school district announced a 3-hour early release before calling an hour later with news of closure. There was a faint wisp of snow trailing around outside until about 10 a.m. then nothing. All day. Which meant my attitude was the same - nothing. I honestly can't remember one marginally productive thing I did yesterday during our non-snowy Snow Day.

Last night the automated caller informed me that today would be a 2-hour late start. That meant I would be teaching two classes (because I don't have a 1st period), only one hour each (we usually have 90 minutes). Plus my half-hour lunch. Luckily I don't have to drive far to my school; some of my colleagues spend at least 40 minutes driving each way. I fell into a grouchy funk not because I don't love my job and relish teaching teenagers [I DO!] but because I knew a) many of our kids wouldn't show up due to living outside the bus snow routes and/or having no reliable alternate transportation, and b) we would not be able to finish a movie or start a novel or engage in actual curriculum-advancing work due to the time & attendance constraints. You know how I love board games and I'm not afraid to inflict them on my students, but it seems like everyone's morning would be better spent not driving across town for a few hours' play.

TODAY the snow actually started to drift in with more seriousness around 7:30. Like it didn't appreciate all the hype of the past 4 days and was waiting for just the right moment to show off. The kids had me check the news website another 425 times before the bus ambled into our neighborhood [their school is on regular schedule; suckers!]. I dragged myself upstairs to prepare for a nerve-wracking drive down & up shady hills, and a few hours of visiting with students who would desperately rather be anywhere else in the world.

As I finished washing my face, the phone rang. Caller ID proclaimed NW Educational. HELLO? Lovely, calm automated voice telling my district was closed for the day. I actually danced around the bedroom. Then I took a 45 minute bath, and now? Typing & reading in my towel and slippers. Next I think I'll make some tea and watch dangerous amounts of E! While reading back issues of Entertainment Weekly. Laptop at hand.

God bless us, everyone.