Teach For America is not for me, it is not for any of its teachers, it is not for flashy resumes or impressive recommendations. Teach For America is completely and profoundly for the children, and even under the deepest of scrutiny or floating among the highest praise, it will always just be an effort to make the world better in some way. And all this considered, the people who actually go for it are changed and affected more on a daily basis than they or anyone they know can ever imagine.
Change often works on the lines of the butterfly effect, small changes that ripple through existence to effect in real change. If this is true as I know it is, than THIS experience has to offer a change that will, at least some day, mean something real and true for every individual involved and uninvolved directly.
Each day Teach For America has allowed me to explore the best sides of myself that I never saw before and the darkest sides that I hoped didn't exist. I've discovered patience, and what happens when it completely runs dry. I've discovered frustration and pride, angst, ineptitude (on my part and others'), misunderstandings, manipulations, passion, curiosity, pain, joy, success, failure ... everything about others and myself to the upteenth degree. And somehow, it never ceases to rock me, day in and day out as this tidal wave of emotions and struggles it is.
The past three weeks have tried me in a whole new way, and for the first time ever I found myself feeling like there is something I cannot do. I honestly cannot articulate the way this job plays on my conscience, even when I know I'm doing something for the best, or making a judgment call for the better of the whole. Yesterday I just cried in the middle of a conference over a student because of the feeling that I cannot help him. Similar to a student I had last year, I won't give up on him. Why? Because everybody else already has.
I see a student in my class who has been in trouble day in and day out since he started school. In and out of classrooms, principal offices, and schools. He's smart, too smart, and he hasn't had the precedence of change to go on. Maybe it would be easy to write him off when he makes the same mistakes in my class, but regardless of what I'm supposed to do, I just can't do it. Maybe it's a burden, but I truly feel like I am his only chance, the only teacher who will take him on. It worked last year with that little girl, it can happen again right?
I'm not saying this to act like a martyr or whatever - I just need support. I need the support of my family, my friends, my co-workers. My conscience will not allow me to watch this boy fall in the cracks set around him ... so even if it pulls me down, I know that I made a commitment and doing anything else is something I can't and won't live with.
After my third semester in this challenging experience, I am proud of where I am. I am proud of the turbulence I've endured and the struggles I continue to (stupidly so, maybe) take on. Over the holidays I plan on reflecting on where we've come, where we are going, and what I can do it control as much of it for the better as I can.
Change often works on the lines of the butterfly effect, small changes that ripple through existence to effect in real change. If this is true as I know it is, than THIS experience has to offer a change that will, at least some day, mean something real and true for every individual involved and uninvolved directly.
Each day Teach For America has allowed me to explore the best sides of myself that I never saw before and the darkest sides that I hoped didn't exist. I've discovered patience, and what happens when it completely runs dry. I've discovered frustration and pride, angst, ineptitude (on my part and others'), misunderstandings, manipulations, passion, curiosity, pain, joy, success, failure ... everything about others and myself to the upteenth degree. And somehow, it never ceases to rock me, day in and day out as this tidal wave of emotions and struggles it is.
The past three weeks have tried me in a whole new way, and for the first time ever I found myself feeling like there is something I cannot do. I honestly cannot articulate the way this job plays on my conscience, even when I know I'm doing something for the best, or making a judgment call for the better of the whole. Yesterday I just cried in the middle of a conference over a student because of the feeling that I cannot help him. Similar to a student I had last year, I won't give up on him. Why? Because everybody else already has.
I see a student in my class who has been in trouble day in and day out since he started school. In and out of classrooms, principal offices, and schools. He's smart, too smart, and he hasn't had the precedence of change to go on. Maybe it would be easy to write him off when he makes the same mistakes in my class, but regardless of what I'm supposed to do, I just can't do it. Maybe it's a burden, but I truly feel like I am his only chance, the only teacher who will take him on. It worked last year with that little girl, it can happen again right?
I'm not saying this to act like a martyr or whatever - I just need support. I need the support of my family, my friends, my co-workers. My conscience will not allow me to watch this boy fall in the cracks set around him ... so even if it pulls me down, I know that I made a commitment and doing anything else is something I can't and won't live with.
After my third semester in this challenging experience, I am proud of where I am. I am proud of the turbulence I've endured and the struggles I continue to (stupidly so, maybe) take on. Over the holidays I plan on reflecting on where we've come, where we are going, and what I can do it control as much of it for the better as I can.
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