I’ve witnessed joy in my classroom and we are only in week 4! (Sorry I haven’t written yet, but it’s been incredibly hectic. Go figure! Some things never change).
It was only the second day of school. The first day back, I wore my black dress pants, black blazer, with only the HINT of fun and exciting (in the form of a blue hot air balloon blouse) peeking out from beneath the black.
Basically, as I joked to my friends a coworkers, I wanted the first day for the new freshmen to resemble a funeral of sorts. All black everything.
I was only partially serious, of course [though as I just got finished reading a couple blog posts from last year, I see how bleak I felt about the prospects of another group of students who were, as a whole entity (thought not on an individual level) totally immature and behaviorally out of control].
Anyways, back to the joy: my seventh period decided to take liberty with my little “experiment:” students had to build a house using only marshmallows, spaghetti noodles, their left hands, and one group member voice at a time. Groans and laughs filled the air, but when I started the timer, I was surprised to see several groups get up and retrieve more noodles and marshmallows. I immediately felt myself react with “HEY, SIT DOWN!”
“You said only 2 rules,” one of the students mimed….
Hmmm….”Carry on,” I chuckled. He was right! I had only insisted that they couldn’t talk and had to use their left hands.
I kept switching the group member who was speaking. Eventually, I didn’t let any of the students speak, and was surprised to hear stifled laughter. I looked around, and saw one group building a house with a marshmallow man. All four of these students were laughing. They tried to contain it at first, but before I knew it, they were straight up cackling. Naturally, the laughter caught on like wildfire, and soon the entire class was laughing.
Isn’t it strange how joy sneaks up on you? I was reminded of the power of laughter, and felt my soul soar in that moment, surrounded by broken spaghetti noodles and marshmallow goo.
Just a few weeks ago, I was lounging on a beach in San Luis Obispo, California. The sun was guarded by a lazy fog that tends to sweep the bay during the early afternoon. Jacy assured me I would still get sun, so I lounged on the towel with only one layer of sunscreen, feeling bold and awfully pale.
The week had been a week of lazy adventure. I say lazy because we rested a lot, even though we went on hikes and went to watch elephant seals and spent (way too much) money.
Scariest moment of the vacation aside from the bumpy, turbulent flights: watching Jacy’s dad fall off a significant boulder, smashing his face on the side of a giant rock. Ouch. No, Jim, your teeth aren’t gone. Yes, Jim, you’re bleeding.
Best moment of the vacation, aside from spending time with this wonderful family and eating some great tofurkey: a tie between a hike along the coast in San Simeon, California and a visit to the mock-Denmark (Solvang, California). The eucalyptus trees were majestic; solemnly stacked towards the sky. The windmills were “Hamlet” themed, which was a WIN for this over-eager English teacher.
All in all, it was a wonderful visit to the West Coast. I got to meet some of Jacy’s work friends, and I always love spending time with my soul sister… but I felt ready to come back home. I felt ready for my third year teaching in Inez, and though I felt increasingly anxious about the upcoming school year, I’ve always been someone who was able to recognize when a good time had come and gone, and when it was time to move on.
Well..I used to be good at recognizing when I needed to move on. Until now.
Because Teach for America only makes Corps Members commit to a two year stint in a school or region, I have been getting asked a lot lately about what comes next.
I start to get hot. I feel blotchy. I look around the room. I get tears in my eyes. I do my trademark “nervous” laugh. And then, I say the only honest thing I can think of: “well, I’m not sure. But if and when I leave Inez, it won’t be easy, and I won’t be leaving because I hate it here.”
For now, this answer seems to suffice.
However, visiting the construction site for the new high school really had me emotionally conflicted. The architect (or lead constructor or whatever they call the people in charge of building big buildings) pointed to a wing deemed “the language wing.” They pointed to the English classrooms, and I heard the new principal whisper “we are trying to get you to stay. I’ve got some tricks up my sleeves.” She giggled and walked away, but I stood in that vast cavern of a room, alone, and the walls started shifting. There was a ceiling. There was light. There was a large window. There were children sitting in desks that looked like space ships. And, friends, it was good. I imagined the lessons that would be taught there, and the hearts that would be mended through knowledge. I felt the love and the sweat and the back-breaking work that went into procuring that space. I felt the hopes of a community stack up within the walls of a building that was so much more than a building. I felt it all to my core, and though the image of who would stand at the front of that English Classroom was blurred, the recognition of the innumerable lives that would be shaped for the better was as clear as the bright blue sky above.
If I am that blurred teacher standing in that brand new classroom, it will be good. If I am only one in a string of teachers that gets to experience the love and camaraderie I’ve felt these past two years (and hope to feel during this third), it will be good.
I felt conflicted that day at the future high school, but I also felt content. I opened my eyes, and the completed room was an empty canvas again. Totally ready to be molded into a space of respect and compassion, yet totally, completely unfinished.
So now, when people ask what’s next, I mention a couple opportunities and try to smile and move along in the day. You see, I still have work to do here and now. I have students to teach, but mainly to learn from. I have $10,000 to raise for 8 deserving students. I have To Kill a Mockingbird to read for the 32nd time. I have love to show and give and earn. And you know what, friends?
It is so, so good.
Halie
haliewanders 