Life unexpected

A lot of blogging in one week. But then again, a lot happens in one week, Meg- San Francisco time. Meaning that you can actually control a classroom of children, feel confident, and then lose it the next. Or your classmates in grad school think that you are a pushover, literally- and make you try and shoot someone or give someone the finger during a dramatic representation of oppression in our society. Intense, yes, but that's why it's followed by a beer or two with our professor after class at a local bar.
In the process, I'm learning more about myself than I realize- I'm actually becoming self-aware. In the moments I feel most incompetent during the day, I have to come back and realize that yes, I might be inexperienced, but it doesn't mean that I will be a terrible, no-good, very bad teacher for the rest of my life. It means that I have the enthusiasm and big eyes for teaching first grade on a daily basis, but that it might be an adjustment process at first in getting to know every ounce of curriculum necessary to teach kids how to read.
I realize that I do love it here, San Francisco, California, despite its revelation of recent imperfections. Sometimes it takes a professor asking me if I thought I would ever move home to realize how much I do. Not because I don't miss my family, I do, but because I've become accustomed to this way of life- openmindedness, bike-riding, social justice, fresh avocado and produce life, full of opportunity ripe for the picking, that I can't imagine the day-to-day of life anywhere else.

BTS Pt deux

I made it through another Back to School night, sweaty palms at all. When asked questions like, "Will my child read in French or English first?" or having moms sit on the rug like their children, or having parents speaking 2 different languages, not understanding each other, I have to think... is this really my life? I don't know if there was ever a place other than San Francisco where I would wear a dress, looking like Madeleine (minus my hat), work at a French school, talk about "auras" and positive energy with parents, walk/ride my bike home with my students while wearing my watermelon helmet, drink wine on the fire escape with my roommate Rachael, sing to every Brittany Spears song on Glee, and go to sleep feeling like it's summer at the end of September, sweating every minute of the day.

Oh, and how I survived today

with a morning of kindergarteners, who cry when you call on them. Seriously.
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=130049247&sc=nl&cc=sod-20100927

Sometimes I think...

That I'm really into metacognition. I mean, I really like to think about things- creating worries when they might not even be there. The one that's stuck with me lately is HOW AM I GOING TO DO THIS? Almost as though I'm posing as a teacher and I don't even know what I'm actually doing. I'm putting on this act and no one else knows it's a farce but me.
I sit as teachers older and wider than me tell me how I should organize my curriculum, afraid to voice my own opinion. I'm reverting back to the Meg I used to be in times of crisis- forgetful, negative, uninspired. I think so much about thinking that I can't even find joy in what I'm doing.
My pledge to myself is this: I've got to give myself grace right now, raspy throat and all. Just because I'm 26 doesn't mean that I have to save the world, rescue my friends, have every first grader reading flawlessly by the end of the year, have a boyfriend. Rather, it's as Lunden says, time for me to realize "Meg, you have an amazing life." One that is full of adventures- going to the library book sale before it closes, sitting at Revolution cafe enjoying the hottest day of the year, trying to figure out if a masters degree is in the cards for me right now, collecting as many books as I can (not knowing if that will fill a shipping container or not). Being me- welcoming, friendly, caring. Spending time with people my own age. Realizing that I'm not ready to be a mom. And trying to figure out how to emerge from this turbulence as an adult on the other side- confident, competent, connected. An adventure being survival- on my bike, on the road of life, physically and emotionally.

Waiting for Superman

Waiting for Superman

Here I am, still waiting. Waiting for my own classroom, where I hope to start educational reform.
That will start tomorrow.

Waiting for my credential, so I can at some point teach in a public school. Waiting to talk to others whose experiences in education have influenced their thoughts of the film. Waiting to see how the excitement I've seen of teachers I've been surrounded with- in BATTI, at Columbia, will infiltrate the world of education. How my vision of starting a school will one day, hopefully, materialize. Waiting for when I can create my own Harlem Children's Zone in some area of the world, where families and their basic needs, as well as their child's education, are met. Where families don't have to painstakingly wait through a lottery process so that they can find out if their child will receive a quality education. Waiting for teachers to join together in the pursuit of educating children- it being about the kids and not themselves. Waiting for when I feel as though I can affect change, the kind of change I want to see in the world (thanks, Ghandi).

TMI

Too much information- Julie and Adam thought this name might be perfect for my blog, but I guess that's what I like about it.
It's hard to believe something that you've waited for so long is actually coming true. Something you didn't actually think could ever happen... in my case, being in charge of a classroom. My head is swimming with doubts- what am I doing? how did I ever think I could do this? where do I begin? I have the high school English head of department's grandson in my class. And I'm sharing my room, trying to make it bilingually appropriate, yet welcoming at the same time. I'm running between floors, trying to make my presence known in third grade before I take over a maternity leave position in December and have input on decisions being made now.
With no bike and no car, I'm now subject to the whims of the MUNI and its erratic scheduling. Or I'm walking 2 miles to class, needing to somehow enjoy the San Francisco heatwave of summer. Trying to set boundaries so that people don't think I'm a marshmallow. Collecting books whenever I get the chance, knowing they can't all fit in my room much longer. Figuring out if I want to get my masters or even think about more school. Feeling like I'm a senior in my credential program- it's getting harder to be motivated, get to class on time, and give 110%. Wondering how I pretend to be mature but yet feel like a first grader inside most of the time.

Summer's end

I’m thankful for…
Maybe I’m filled with a sense of gratitude right now because my friend Maggie is rubbing off on me in a good way. And my mom and Shauna Niequiest, of course.

That I don’t have to know what I’m going to do tomorrow, besides go to class. I do know that I’m in the airport for the umpteenth time this summer fulfilling my reputation as the roaming gypsy, unable to get my bulging suitcases closed because I’ve filled them with books and trinkets from home. I know that I’m probably going to want to go to sleep when I get home. That traveling, being home, seeing a best friend, learning about how to teach kids for 30 hours last week, seeing friends from near and far, the past and present, was incredible, but draining. Now I’m going back to school and the whole process starts over again. I don’t feel in control of anything, but then again, I’m not sure that I’m supposed to. Quoting Maggie and my pastor from home, it’s not like you want to rewind to relive the good parts or fast-forward to skip the difficult ones. You want to live in the present and live through it.

I don’t know what the future will bring, how long San Francisco will feel like home, when/if my “old friend” running will come back to me, how I’ll get more books to Africa, where I’d get married if I do ever, if I should continue with school to get my masters.

I know that I’ve had the privilege of seeing a good friend get married this summer.
Traveled to Africa with my mom and an inspiring group of people.
Connect with troubled kids in my own city, that I might not have gotten the opportunity to otherwise.
Walked through harsh neighborhoods in NYC, only to realize I’m not as invincible and strong as I like to think that I am.
Flown more miles than ever before.
Seen friends that really know me and been surprised by new ones.
Learned that God is in the details of my life.
Been to my hometown and considered where I’ve come from and what I’ve done.
Smashed broken glass into mosaics, filled trunks with books.
Dealt with transition, grieving each loss.

As my friend Katie said yesterday, "You've had a great summer, Meg." Now it's time to have an extraordinary fall.