The Greatest Job in the World

I was not in a good place last spring. Professionally, I was not being treated well. My co-workers and I went on strike for a week to address some major safety concerns and workers' rights issues, and we were condescended back into our jobs for a few months before we all left, got let go, or were bullied by supervisors into quitting. It really sucked. (Side note: that's the first time I've been able to talk about that situation in such a succinct way, instead of rambling on for hours about all the details of how the cards intentionally got stacked against us. I think that's progress.)

The summer was a time of relaxation and low finances. I stayed with SEA part-time, keeping an ear open for any alternative classrooms looking for Instructors.

I went in to interview with SEA's partner site at South Seattle Community College, wearing new slacks, a button up shirt, and my hair in "teacher mode", pulled back and held up in a clip, hoping to be taken seriously and look older than 15. The directors explained their program to me, I handed over a template for how I tutor math and a storytelling lesson I designed. They said they'd let me know, and did I have any questions for them. "How are the dynamics of the entire staff?" I asked, trying to sound as casual as I could.

The directors started explaining how they don't want people to sit alone in their office, the whole team really likes to know what everyone is going through and help each other. "In fact," said one director. "We don't actually want you dealing with any discipline issues. You're the teacher, your job is to teach. We're the directors, we want to handle any discipline issues you're facing." I almost started crying at the idea of a boss being so supportive, but held back and reminded myself I was in an interview and to be professional.

The second director chimed in and told me I wouldn't have many discipline problems anyway, the students were really great and really serious about their education.

I got offered the job, and I've been teaching Junior English and Pre-Algebra for several quarters. And that director is right, these are the greatest students in the world. There's hardly any apathy in the classroom, each student is incredibly engaged. I assign a persuasive essay, and I get emails asking if they can design a poster and present their essay to the class, it's an important topic that they want to share with their peers. I walk by the group of students known as the talkers sitting in the back of math, and see them explaining to each other how to divide decimals, jumping over one another to figure out these problems.

I hand out an evaluation and ask them how they feel about math. "Bittersweet," writes one student. That's one of the more positive remarks. "I don't have a problem with math," writes another student. "Math don't like me." Despite their anxiety and negative history with math, they put in 11 weeks of diligent note-taking and studying and piles of homework, and by the end they are multiplying improper fractions, then breaking them into number bonds to convert them to mixed numbers for final answers.

English is a little easier to goof off in, it's not going to help you figure out how to pay off your student loans someday. But still, the discussions students have after reading novels and plays are enthralling. My favorite question to ask them is, "How is our society different from this book?" followed by, "How is it similar?" Slowly they started to draw some similarities to The Giver, "We're told we can do what we want, but we're kind of set on certain paths in our education that lead us toward specific jobs." After we read A Raisin in the Sun, the comparisons flowed a lot faster. "People will still try to tell you where you can and can't live." The students hated Walter Lee at first, all he did was whine while the women in his family worked so hard. Then came the scene when he was finally going to invest the money, and he scooped Travis up and told him how things were going to be different. They paused. A few of them are parents themselves. "He wants his kid to be proud of him." Connections developed. Empathy was enhanced.

Their final assignment was to do a text response in class. They could write an essay on how the time period, author, genre, impacted the work. They could write a scene that wasn't in the play (What was it like when Walter borrowed his friend's car and drove and drove and drove? What was it like when Mama went around looking at houses? What happens when they move, and Bennie doesn't have money to finish school, and Mama can finally grow a whole garden, but the neighbors are threatening?). They could write a poem from the perspective of the main character. They could draw a scene that represented an important theme in the text.

One student had written his persuasive essay on climate change and greenhouse gases, which he had learned about in History that quarter. His text response was a picture of Chicago in the 1950s. The sun radiated dreams for the Younger family: school, investments, a house, a garden, a new baby, an office, travel. Then the greenhouse gases of bigotry and prejudice trapped their dreams, until they dried up like a raisin in the sun.

I pace around the classroom for hours, feeling like a hummingbird jumping to each student with a question. I run to grab lunch and pick up the copies before class starts. I stay late to get the student who missed class caught up, then finish my lesson plan and order my supplies for the next day. And I still leave more energized than when I came, feeling content and smiling to myself about something a student said.

I'm sorry to sound so sappy, but I have the greatest job in the world, and I'm so grateful to have found it.

A Morning Person's Observations #5: The summer's colors

The birds sit on top of this tree

This is one of the first times in Seattle I've been really excited when the summer was ending. The overcast sky, the slightly cooler temperatures, the shorter days. I'm loving it all. Mostly because it's all signally that it's time for the school year to start, and I'm really excited to be teaching again.

The p patch is full of dark greens. I went out this morning to sit on the bench and take in the world and it was actually wet for the first time in months. A light morning rain had made the whole garden smell earthy. There were some birds on top of the Douglas Fir, they were robin-sized but their silhouettes showed skinnier beaks.

Before I get swept away in the excitement and beauty of this fall in Seattle, I want to take a moment to reflect on my gratitude for this summer. The p patch gave some amazing colorful moments and helped me relax. I went from a stressful anxious time to a positive, relaxed attitude thanks to many things, one of them being mornings in the p patch with the plots of summer colors.

I wandered lonely as a cloud...

These remind me of the Lupine Lady

And this makes me think Tom Sawyer and friends were here

"The summer sun will set," she said, "if you leave it up there long."

Maybe someone else likes drinking coffee in the p patch :)

That floats on high o'er hill and vales

These flowers lasted through the first April rain, then turned to summer snow!

Rosemary!

David thought these were centipedes when we walked out to the p patch at night!

The squirrels love these chestnuts!

Another alleyside, same old dinosaurs :)

Can you spot the snail?

A Morning Person's Observations #4

The New Sit Spot

The first morning in my new apartment, I sat on the steps on my patio thinking this would be my new sit spot.  Goodness am I excited about that patio, but it would not be a nice place to drink coffee each morning (apparently I'm a coffee drinker now).  There is nothing but wood and concrete, and I heard some birds, but didn't see a single one fly overhead on the day I sat on the terrace.  There are some empty pots for a garden underneath the staircase, so I figured if the landlady didn't mind I could create some greenery to watch each morning.

Then I went to throw out the trash and explored a little in the alley behind my building.  To the right there was the sign of a garden plot.  As I got closer I saw it was actually a ppatch!  There was a bench leaning against the wall, with the perfect spot to sit and watch the ppatch as someone sips on their morning tea, er, coffee.

Spring sunlight in the ppatch

There's a sign with a number to call if you want a patch.  I'm sure the waiting list is enormously long, but I got on the interest list anyway.  However, if I only spending a year in this apartment, never get a ppatch, but still sit and enjoy the setting every morning with my cup of coffee, that will be enough, that will be perfect.

It's Lent and I'm feeling lost.  Since the GED changed, everything at work feels like a different moving part, moving away from the rest of the puzzle instead of coming together.  I'm trying so hard to figure it out, to give the students concrete steps forward with their education, but everything I say sounds like a broken promise.  "No we don't have the practice tests yet," "No you don't have enough credits," "No your old scores aren't saved anywhere."  All of this is out of my control, but it's so frustrating and trying to navigate the pieces has burnt me out.


So, I'm giving up doing too much work and taking on sitting in the ppatch.  I'm giving up going out and taking on cooking long, slow dinners at home.  I'm giving up spending my evenings glued to the computer screen, and taking on long, slow baths, reading more books, seeing more friends, playing more games, and longer nights of sleep.

The ppatch has already given me hopeful signs of spring, I think one bush must be the Indian plum, because it was buds when I first started sitting in February, and now its blossoms are the size of my hand.  They look like hands opening to the sky during meditation.  The chickadees and robins make frequent appearances, talking to one another as they pass through and check me out a little.  Two pigeons, darker than most, spent a flirtatious morning cooing and following each other around the adjoining balconies and gutters.  This is what I love, having a moment in the secret world that is always here, that I tune out when I'm focused on my human schedule.

This morning the crows came and sat on what Ann (a smoker and coffee drinker in the ppatch I met today) says is a chestnut tree.  One held a large twig, the other stared me down for a second, as if to challenge my place in the patch.  I didn't back down and took a sip of coffee without batting an eye.  Then the sun broke through the clouds and lit up the row patches, and the crow accepted me and took off.

The highlight was a month ago, creeping slowly and quietly into the ppatch, trying hard not to spill my tea (back when I still could get through a whole day on tea, sigh).  I looked to the top of the Doug Fir that is on the other side of the fence, but hangs generously over the ppatch.  Often on the bare branch sits a crow or sometimes a robin.  Today there was a hawk!  It had been making an alarm call that I mistook for a squirrel.  After I sat on the bench it stayed a little longer, scouting the situation.  It gave up, possibly thinking I'd scared away any prey.  As justice, it soared away calling out again, scaring away any prey for me.

My hawk identification is horrible.  It was tiny for a hawk, and almost all white on the underbelly.  My initial google research suggests it was a Short-tailed Hawk by the looks, but the International Union for Conservation of Nature says that hawk is keen to stay tropical, so back to square one.  Hope it shows up again and gives me a better look.

Why do students take the GED?

When I interviewed for my job at PSKS, one of the questions I had to answer was, "What does a GED mean to you?"

My answer was that while a GED was equivalent to a high school diploma for resume or college application purposes, to me it said more than that.  It said that the recipient chose an alternative path for their education than the conveyor belt that they started on.  When option one didn't work, they found a different way and earned it.  I tutored a high school graduate once who had special needs.  She told me that she felt pushed through classes because teachers didn't want to deal with her, and handed a diploma to get rid of her.  She felt jealous of GED students, because they had to work for their 450 passing grade.

I recently read an opinion piece by three guys from Department of Economics at the University of Chicago who very much disagree with me.

Their piece is about how the new GED is more difficult to better test the "scholastic ability" (Heckman, et al.) of students, but that both the old and new GED miss the picture by ignoring "a completely different set of skills that matter in high school and life."  As an educator who values authentic assessments, I actually agree with their main point, that the GED doesn't accurately measure a student's intelligence.  But as someone who is not in the field of Economics and actually works with GED students, I find their tactics for making their point heartless and short-sighted.

At one point they ask:

But why do GED recipients drop out of high school? The GED test — and achievement tests in general — miss skills like motivation, persistence, self-esteem, time management and self-control.

This is why they think GED students drop out?  Because they have low self-esteem?  Poor time management?  Because they are lazy?

Students who's families experience homelessness face many barriers when it comes to education.  The McKinney-Vento Act notes that homeless students are susceptible to enrollment delays (due to lack of records), likely to be segregated from non-homeless students, and struggle to find transportation to their "school of origin."  Therefore, homeless students often end up changing schools many times while their families move from shelter to shelter.  Each time a child changes schools, they fall behind as they struggle to adapt to new cultural norms combined with the stresses of living in poverty.

Other students drop out because they're running away from an abusive home life.  Some students come out to conservative parents, who then kick them out.  In these situations, the youth is usually not thinking about staying in high school at the moment, they are focused on survival.  I wouldn't say that they lack "motivation and persistence" though.

I've met a teenage mother who got kicked out when she had one credit left, the school didn't want to find a way to deal with her situation.  Another student got kicked out for the assumption that he was involved in gang activities.

And don't get me started on the amount of students I've met who dropped out because they were in Special Education classes, struggling more and more to confine themselves in a system that just doesn't fit with their learning style, until they finally get so frustrated (or break enough behavior contracts) that they leave.

Acknowledging the real reasons why students leave high school is imperative to creating a safe alternative for them.

My student Josh (student names are always changed for confidentiality purposes) has been a street youth for years.

Since the GED changed, I haven't gotten the new study guides and haven't been able to tell the students what the new test looks like, what passing grade you need, what materials you will need, etc.

Josh comes into my classroom last Friday, "Hey Teach," he says.  "I made a bet with someone that I could get my GED this week, so I've been taking the tests all week, and I should get my scores in the next 24 hours."

I didn't understand how he had even began to go about this.  The Testing Center closest to where Josh hangs out hasn't even started testing the new GED yet, so Josh had ridden the buses to three different community colleges in two opposite directions.  Once he signed up for the test online, he had to show up and take it or lose the money he had paid for that testing slot.

As a student under 19, Josh needs a form granting him permission to test from his home school district.  I start this with students the day I meet them, because it's a long, bureaucratic process.  Josh got the form filled out himself, but there was still trouble at the center with the administrators thinking it wasn't legitimate.  He asked to speak to a supervisor and advocated for himself to be able to test that day.

Then, Josh spent $120 and 7 hours labeling parts of an atom, writing an essay comparing historical articles, and doing algebra.  His scores came in that Friday, and he got his GED and passed two of his tests with honors.  Don't try to tell me this student dropped out because he lacked motivation, persistence, self-esteem, time management, or self-control.

I do still agree with the authors that students like Josh are missing out on some crucial parts of high school by getting a GED, but the experiences I value are different from the skills they advocate for.

When a student gets a GED, they might never have a chance to practice public speaking.  They might not get the holistic experience of trying out different electives: art, music, sports, and other clubs.  And they definitely miss out on the chance to maintain a few years in a more sheltered adolescence with a chance to just be a socializing teenager.

The opinion article started with:

In a 2011 study, the GED Testing Service found that within six years of earning a GED, about 40 percent of GED recipients enroll in college -- but most drop out within a year.  Only about 1 percent earns a bachelor's degree.

These numbers are interesting to me, compared to the fact that over 90% of the hundreds of College Success students with SEA (many who are GED recipients) are enrolled in higher education in good academic standing.  To me these numbers say that the GED test, like any test, can only measure a snapshot of a student.  There needs to be as much support for GED students as there are for middle class high school seniors pursuing higher education to expect both groups to be able to reach the same results.

Eventually the authors of the article finally conclude with the point that the GED needs to be supplemented.

Many GED recipients come from disadvantaged backgrounds and receive less support at early ages, but various interventions could help compensate for early disadvantage and improve life outcomes. Many have high rates of return and work primarily by building skills not captured by tests. Dropouts deserve a real second chance, something not assured by passing the GED test or any achievement test.

With this I agree, but they miss the part where this is happening.  This is exactly what my work with PSKS and SEA is about.  Which makes me sad to think that unless these Economic academics didn't do their homework, there might not be supportive programs for GED students in other cities.  That is a real problem that I'm glad the authors are aware of.  I just hope as they continue their work, they take the time to actually get to know some GED students.

Department of Education.  "McKinney-Vento Education for Homeless Children and Youths Program."  Federal Register.  Office of Elementary and Secondary Education, 8 March 2002.  Web notice.  3 Feb 2014.

Heckman, James J., John Eric Humpries, and Tim Kautz.  "New GED test fails to measure skills that matter most."  Seattle Times: Education Lab Blog.  Caitlin Moran, 23 Jan 2014.  Web.  2 Feb 2014.

A Morning Person's Observations #3

Rolling with Fluidity

I've written a couple times about my new job this year, running a GED program at a non-profit for Seattle homeless youth.  In February, Madden and I moved closer to the city, and Andy joined us.

Back patio, my spring sit spot

Through the spring and summer, I would crawl out of my window onto our back patio for my morning sit spots.  I saw a lot less from this location than my previous spots.  The only natural, permeable space back there is in the garden bed.  My main observations have been of the ants coming to and from the garden bed.

There was a board leaning up against my window, and every night at the same time I heard it rattle.  Finally I fell asleep with the blinds open, and saw a little mouse crawl up it one night!

Starting in October, there has been construction on our apartment building and we're not supposed to

use our patio until February.  I've taken to walking to work some mornings to sip my tea on the way to work and try to naturalize this way.  On several occasions back in the spring, I saw bees tumble out of cups of flowers!

Bee having a snack

We moved the center, and then the new one needed to undergo some more construction after we got all of our stuff there.  Luckily, SFBC took my classroom in for a few weeks so I didn't have to stop teaching so close to the GED's deadline.  It's still been a difficult fall, leaving a construction site at the apartment in the morning to meet with staff at another construction site at work until it was time to go to the church and teach.

I stopped seeing a lot of my regular students, the ones who can still finish before the deadline.  I've broken down from the stress a lot and found myself sleeping and watching TV more.

I've missed living in a natural setting this year.  Living close to Volunteer Park and taking walks there has helped.  I'm moving again in February, and hope to find the perfect spot this time.  Urban enough to get to work and the grocery store with no problem, and some natural gifts incorporated somehow.  Hopefully no more construction!

Art Day

I have to admit that when Teacher Appreciation Week rolled around, the ugly green-eyed monster took over me.  I kept seeing posts from my (extremely hard-working and deserving) teacher friends detailing all the wonderful presents their students and parents got for them.

Over at the RISK Learning Center, the weather was spectacular, which means attendance sunk through the floor, and I practically taught to an open house.  For Teacher Appreciation Week, my students played hooky.

So I got grumpy during Teacher Appreciation Week.  Grumpy and jealous of the flowers and gift certificates presented to public and private school teachers.

I came in the next week and sat down next to Tracy.  Tracy is also an intern, so he'll come in before class and work on math in the morning if we don't have enough tasks for him that day.  Tracy is one of the most creative, socially aware students I have ever worked with, four out of five of his test scores are the highest I've ever seen, and he hates math.  Not only that, but he has a heightened sense of oppression over your average young person.  If a math problem asks him to calculate the percentage of sale for a clothing item bought at a department sale, Tracy will argue that he doesn't need to do this problem because he'll always buy his clothes secondhand anyway, and isn't that a ridiculous amount for the retailer to charge the consumer for a piece of clothing, and why is the consumer putting their money towards that instead of something better, like local GMO-free food to support a grassroots farming group?

Tracy tugs at my heartstrings since these are all values I parrot, so I really can't just ask him to be quiet and figure out what 60% of 200 is like a good drone.

Division, fractions, and word problems have all gone very slowly, and usually include some whining and creative distracting and head banging on tables, by both student and teacher.

So when I sat down next to Tracy I was not expecting this.

"I think I figured out math..."  He moves his finger along the multiplication chart he's been creating.

Tracy would panic anytime we did Multiplication Madness.  He's been spending a lot of time studying his multiplication chart, so it doesn't catch him off guard when it comes up.  Flashcards disgust him, it feels too similar to brainwashing.  So he used his detailed artistic abilities to create the biggest handwritten multiplication chart since the invention of computers.

"There are patterns to the numbers," he says.  "The ones place for the 4s goes 4,8,2,6,0, and then it repeats.  The ones place for the 8s goes 8,6,4,2,0, and then it repeats."  He looks at me.  "Why didn't you tell me there were patterns?"

This is my favorite reaction.  The way a student assumes you held this knowledge the whole time and just wouldn't give it to them.  They never seem to get that I learn from them the best ways to teach.  It's about listening to the student to figure out their needs.  Tracy needs to create something himself, he can't do someone else's problems with an answer key.  Even if I had given him a blank multiplication chart, he would not have done as well.  He needed to actually draw his own, and as his teacher, I needed to understand that.

And that's when I let go of my Teacher Appreciation Week jealousy and started appreciating being a teacher.  I absolutely love my job.  I love watching students help one another.  Joe turns to Valerie and Sandra who are also working on reading packets.  "Are you guys reading the questions first and then doing the reading?  I just started doing that, and it really helps me focus while I'm reading."

"Oh, that's a good idea," says Sandra.  "Thanks, I'll start doing that too."  Until that interaction, I hadn't heard Sandra string together more than two words.

I've seen Tomas grow up before my eyes as he cuts the hardcore drugs out of his routine, gets a job, and comes out to the world as the beautiful person he is.  Even his peers turn to me and say, "I'm so glad Tomas is getting his life together, he was really scaring me for a while."

Pangaea, traveling would be so easy!

I've read some beautiful journal entries about hopes and dreams for the future, about the desire for bullying to end, about favorite memories.  I've also read some hilarious entries about being a transient and run ins with local sheriffs.  My favorite journal entry ever was when I questioned the students what they would change about the world if they could.  Fay writes, "I would put all the continents back together like it was Pangaea again.  That way traveling would be easy."  Yep, I can learn to humbly be inspired and appreciate being a teacher, and getting stood up when the weather is nice.

RISK Learning Center

After a month of job searching, trying to cook, learning a few yoga poses, journaling, walking around Fremont, and going out to eat grilled cheese for lunch, Polly (my mentor from SEA) helped me learn about a job opening at Peace for the Streets by Kids from the Streets (PSKS).

PSKS is a partner site of SEA, and they share similar values.  PSKS has been around Seattle for 18 years, working with homeless and at risk youth and young adults.  There are lots of different programs, community building activities, outreach, case management, the list goes on for a while.  The idea for almost every program at PSKS came from the Core, a self-governing group of active and involved PSKS members who meet once a month to discuss the fulfillment of the mission and vision of PSKS.

My program, the RISK Learning Center, is a GED program for 16-25 year olds.  RISK stands for Re-Inventing Steps to Knowledge.  It's a low barrier program, students are expected to meet a minimum 2 day a week (6 hours) attendance requirements.  The school day is planned in a student centered way, and is intentionally left flexible to meet diverse student needs.

I love all the students I've been blessed to work with already.  They are all incredible, intelligent young people who have some story of being told "no" by society in one way or another.  One of the first questions I get when people hear about my job is, what are the students like when they walk in your door?  Do they carry anger, agression, behavior problems because of the way they have been treated?  While the students definitely carry baggage, they come to RISK dedicated to learning.  I am impressed by the hard work and commitment I have seen.  So many students come to me at the end of the day and ask for homework.  One of my volunteer tutors describes homework as a chance for the student to see how much they can do without the teacher present.  The students are eager to prove their progress and accomplishments are their own.

One of my favorite times of the week is the days when Cadence shows up early so we can listen to the lastest song he's created.  He uses some free software online to mix different beats and lines.  I ask one day what the difference between electronica and techno are.  After Cadence explains, I respond, "Ok, so electronica is more melodic, and techno is all about the rhythm and tempo."  Cadence raises his eyebrows a bit, "I guess."  His reaction cracks me up.  I explain that I'm classically trained in music, but I'm intrigued by Cadence's musical creations.  This is a classic example of my relationship with these students.  I don't try to pretend I'm anyone else but who I am, but I hope I make it clear that I'm open and supportive of whoever they are or what they're interested in.

The balance of my program is perfect for someone with my teaching style.  When Olivia, the previous teacher, trained me, she set me up for success.  She left me with a structured school day full of meaningful activities.  I also get a lot of flexibility in my teaching.  One of my tutors called me a hummingbird, flying around the room and hovering with each student for as long as needed, only to be called somewhere else at a moment's notice.  She sees how helpful this can be for the students, to be able to adapt to each of their individual needs, which is important in a GED program where someone is writing essays, someone is working on fractions, and three more students are learning algebra.

I can switch up the schedule when needed or desired.  We have art on Fridays with a volunteer, and on December 21 my co-worker David told myths about the end of the world, then taught some students how to make their own planets with spray paint art.

I enjoy being open to all the different student needs, but I can also tell I'm still treading water.  I need a little more time to get my feet under me and be the most creative teacher I know I can be.  When I have more planning time (next summer?), I hope to create a few lessons that highlight the key concepts of the 5 GED tests.  One of my tutors is wearing a "Punctuation kills: Let's eat Grandma" T-shirt on Tuesday, so I'm going to use this opportunity to try structure the day with a group grammar lesson!  Let me know if any teachers reading this have some good punctuation games or activities.

Unexpected Educators

Wikimedia Commons; Atomic Taco

"Do you go close to Olive Way?"  This, or a similar question, is a common beginning to my interaction with my bus driver, as after two years, I continue to live the lifelong learner philosophy when it comes to navigating Seattle.

Today another passenger on the 30, one of the few routes I actually know extremely well, had some difficulty figuring out where he was and where the bus was going.  As the bus driver started to paint a map of the U District, Ravenna, and Sand Point for him with her words, I thought about what amazing teachers bus drivers are.

I am one of many passengers who often asks our drivers for some help getting around the city.  As the drivers navigate turns and hills with gigantic vehicles, having to keep an eye out for the plethora of Seattle bikers, they never answer questions with a simple "yes" or "no."  They really describe where they go, how close to where you're headed, where you should walk to get to the bus you need, what route that bus will take to get you where you want to go.  One driver described to her passenger how to find the bus she needed, creatively telling her to follow the electric cables suspended over the road that run the electric buses, until she reached the stop just out of sight beyond the bridge.

This morning I rode the 31 with the driver who goes above and beyond his role as an educator.  "What does the German phrase Zebrasteifen, literally translated to 'zebra stripe', describe on the road?" he asked through his microphone.  Although this seemed like a relatively easy piece of trivia, I enjoyed even more what the driver said next, "The point is not to get the right answer, but to exercise our brains, to do a push-up with our minds, in search for the answer."  An educator attempting to make his students more self-aware of their own educations!  (The answer is a crosswalk.  He explained that in Germany, the stripes are diagonal, so that it looks like a giant white line on the road until you get close enough to see the zebra pattern.)

Once I got off of a bus, and before I could walk to the front, the driver let up on the brakes a bit.  "My bike!" I yelled.  He had already slammed on the brakes, the door was still open.  He nodded at me.  "Make sure to always tell the driver you need to get your bike."  It did feel condescending, but a lesson better learned in a patronizing way than from experience of losing my bike to the King County lost and found.

My observations about the surprising teaching qualities in Seattle bus drivers are making me curious about other unexpected educators people have noticed in the world.

A Companis Journey - Connections

My Companis journey began as a series of connections.  It started with Donna Beth Blythe, of all places.  The Sunday I became a member of Seattle First Baptist Church (which houses Companis), I read a piece I wrote about my grandmother from the pulpit.  Craig Darling, the Pastor for Call and Vocation and Executive Director of Companis, approached me after the service, and I learned that he had known my grandmother.  That spurred our conversation about Companis, and me becoming a Companis worker.

When I met with Craig and Gary, we talked about my goals as an educator.  How I had learned I needed to be somewhere where I would build long-term relationships with students, the environmental piece could be put on hold for now.  I wanted to work with older students, not elementary aged anymore.  I wanted to get back to the demographics of Fraser kids, at risk youth who need the extra level of support and guidance, because for many reasons related to systematic oppression, that support is lacking elsewhere in their lives.  I mentioned Seattle Education Access (SEA), because I had learned about it from Charlie (my friend from IW), but we weren't sure if it was the right fit yet.

When we looked into it and realized it was actually the perfect fit, Craig and Gary had me come in to SEA with them for a meeting with Anthon and Sarah.  Everyone was looking at my resume when Sarah's eye caught the educational experience section, and I learned that she was also an Earlham English major.

Family, IslandWood, Earlham; I felt there were pieces of my life nudging me along this path I was leaning into curiously.  I started to sink into that feeling of being exactly where I was supposed to be.

That was the beginning of my journey, noticing and receiving the connections.  Now I'm three months in my year of service with SEA.  In my opinion, SEA is a gracious space, a term we've been talking about from Bill Graves book, Sharing the Rock.

SEA logo www.seattleeducationaccess.org

To me, SEA is a gracious place, because it is a place where we practice saying yes.  At SEA, students hear, "Yes, you can go to school.  Here's how..."  SEA is a gracious space, because it is a place of genuine checks-in and debriefs.  I hear the honest truth about others' lives, and share how I am really feeling, through the positive, and the hardships.  SEA is a place where the powers that be spend more time figuring out how to support the people under them, than how to milk them for capital value.

SEA is a place where people see the value in things that can't be measured.  I've had conversations with my bosses and co-workers about how part of our job is to show up and be present.  This means sitting at a drop-in site for weeks before the students feel used to you and ask for help with homework, this means sitting patiently through the silence with students as they work through decisions.  These moments of building something is important work.

My time at SEA is going to be split 50/50 between admin work and tutoring.  The tutoring has been a scary and exciting experience. I've spent the last two years focusing on large group management.  The curriculum I've worked with has either been for 5th grade and younger, or has been after school workshops.  Sitting down with adult students to show them how to do algebra, geometry, calculus, or write a paper was a terrifying feeling at first.

Although I don't remember calculus yet, I really love tutoring at the middle, high school, and even college levels!  So far, my tutoring experience at SEA is helping me realize I do want to be a teacher someday, and I have what it takes to teach math, science, English, maybe even history at the adolescent age level.

Chickadees in the Trees

October 8, 2011 10:00a.m. Low 60s and partially cloudy

Last night, the cloud cover in Seattle finally parted enough that the moon shown through.  Then I woke up this morning to sunlight streaming into my room for the first time in weeks!

I made some tea, bundled up, and went outside.  The only patch of sunlight I could find was across the sidewalk, under the Cedar tree by the curb.  I heard the Black-capped Chickadees first, then saw one flitting around the front door, perhaps attracted to the bird feeder Emily Jane puts out in the tree by the porch.

Until now, I've only seen and heard the chickadees by the side of the house, further away from the road.  This was the first they've appeared during my morning front porch sit spot.  From what I could tell, there were two of them.  The first one was pretty bold.  It hung upside down on one of the lowest panels of the house.  Then it flew over to the cedar tree, and perched all over the trunk, upside down, right side up, and finally settled in a branch.  I "psh psh"ed at it and it moved a branch closer.  Its friend bounced around a little further back.  Whenever a car drove by, or someone walked by with their dog, they both flew high into the Cedar where I could barely see them.

I have noticed many naturalists and environmentalists in this area are deeply curious how people got started naturalizing and building a relationship with the environment.  Some naturalists' stories start with a place-based experience, growing up in a rural area, having woods nearby to play in as a child.  Many others stem from having mentors and teachers who were enthusiastic nature lovers.  I've been thinking about my journey as an environmentalist, and am grateful to my creepy memory for the clear moments I can hold onto from when I first naturalized.

I think the Blythe Spirit, our cabin in Colorado, had a lot to do with starting me on this path.  One of the first summers in La Veta I can remember was when I was about 7.  The family was hiking to the meadow, and one cousin wanted a break before we passed the stone wall that supports the hill next to the cabin.  I wanted to keep going, probably mostly to argue with 4-year-old Jack, so Uncle David walked with me.  We walked to the meadow without stopping once, except for a moment around the bend while Uncle David explained his different questions about how the creek had once formed the cliff we were standing on and the one across from it.  At the time I did not understand the concept of rock being shaped by water, and did not immediately absorb the idea he was presenting.

When we got to the meadow, we kept going a little way through the trees at the other end.  We looked back at one moment, and Uncle David asked if I saw a bit of color.  I got excited because I did see a bit of red, it was Aunt Gretchen's shirt and the rest of the family had made it to the meadow!  Before we started back to meet them, Uncle David pointed out the color he had been referred to, which was a butterfly he had seen instead of Aunt Gretchen.  I shrugged off that moment, because again I was eager to brag to Jack and Laura Beth about how fast I had walked.

Photo by Carol Blythe

What's interesting to me about those two moments, Uncle David pointing out the ravine and the butterfly, is that although at the time I am sure I acted disinterested, those tidbits have remained with me to this day.  I vividly held on to that hike, and my perception of natural areas has probably been formed by it.  My favorite thing to do in my free time is to sit quietly in the woods, looking for butterflies or other creatures.  When I am in the woods with other naturalists, I love to talk about how features of the land came to be the way they are.

Experiences like these give me hope as an educator.  I have probably gone for hikes with hundreds of kids, ages six to sixteen.  I have heard more than my fair share of whining, complaining, seen plenty of eye rolls, had kids anxiously ask for "lodge time," to go home, to get out of the woods, to not have to stand quietly for one minute, to not have to listen for the birds, to not have to stop hiking to learn about the plant or tree.  Maybe they will never look back on those hikes again.  But maybe they will hold the full meaning of my lessons somewhere deep inside that will guide them for years to come.  Either way, my journey as an environmentalist allows me to feel blessed to share the potential of this path with others.

Inspiration and Identity

I think reading my roommate, Emily Jane's, new blog was my biggest inspiration to start one of my own.

Living on the other side of the country from where I was born and raised, working, volunteering, going to grad school, and having a social life definitely gives me lots of feelings to process. I want to honor the experiences I'm having and have a space to reflect and sort through how they are fitting into my life and helping develop my identity.

I think this first post needs to be about how all the different pieces of my teaching identity are coming together through all the different educational experiences I am creating and having.

University of Washington -- Grad School

Grad school classes on science, education, and science education at UW are shaping my teaching theories. I love, and have always loved, being in school because I love spending so much of my time actively reflecting on what I do with the rest of my time.

The most important lesson I have learned from grad school has been how to affirm myself. Although my teachers have been nurturing, I've noticed I get very little external praise. This is done in an intentional way that has helped me recognize when I need to be giving myself praise instead of relying on someone else's opinion. I am trying to affirm my students less, and instead guide them to learn how to praise themselves for a job well done.

LASER

We do not shoot the children with Laser guns, but I understand why everyone wants to ask this and/or make laser sounds when I tell them where I work.

Working at LASER has been helpful to get practice with large group management, dealing with behavior issues, and planning activities. This job has confirmed what I always expected, that working with children is more beneficial to me when I am building long-term relationships. I've been running the 4-H club every Thursday, and although that hour goes by fast, it's also nice to know there's next week to finish up the unfinished business.

Stewardship Stories

My Master's Project has been an attempt to forge all the theory and practice. The group of grads working on Stewardship Stories spent months going to meetings, writing up lesson plans, revising curriculum, creating schedules, researching theories of development, reading resources on storytelling, stewardship, digital media, media literacy, and writing our proposals (and this is not to mention months before we came onto the project when the IslandWood and Seattle Parks and Recreation staff planned goals, timelines, stipends, and more) to find ourselves scrambling every week to keep our heads above water as we lead workshops 2 hours long.

It has been amazing to finally start working with the teens. They are a great group of kids. They have so many interesting experiences that are being translated to three minute videos. It feels really good to push them to share their voices, because their stories are ones that need to be heard.

Youth Group

I've started helping with the youth group at Seattle First Baptist Church. It's a really small group of kids who grew up in the church and attend with their families, which reminds me a lot of my own experience as a youth at Calvary Baptist Church in D.C. Mostly I've just played games and hung out with the youth. This has been a good piece to include in my teaching identity, a place I go to completely as a volunteer, that's connected with my spiritual roots.

Alleyside Hotel

Living with four other educators, and having an open door to so many different friends and visitors, has been a grounding experience. It's fun to come home at the end of the day, share stories about children philosophizing about the rain, gather ideas for experiential games with balloons, get advice on dealing with children with behavior disorders, and know that I'm part of a community of creative educators.