Say what?

Teaching in an all-male, urban high school brings a new vocabulary set.  Confused though I may be in the meantime, I am slowly but surely learning the new language. I have even had a student tell me I need to "learn how to speak black" and promised that he was going to make a test for me. This test has yet to materialize, but here is my list of new terms I have learned, and can now use in their proper context:

• Boppin: a type of dance that involves bouncing on one’s toes while moving your knees in and out.  This dance is a “West side thing”, so it’s not as common on the south side of Chicago.  One of my students is in a dance crew, and this video is his brother and a friend “boppin”.  I apologize for the language of the lyrics, but it gives you a pretty good idea of the dance: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rDWt9CyGHj0
• China: fancy jewelry. Example: "Where's your china today, Señorita?" (said while pointing to neck)
• FeFe: a large outdoor party in the ghetto that takes place in the street.  During the party, you want the “right” cars to drive through.  This is also a “West side thing”
• Females: girls. They never refer to girls as "girls". Only "females". Example: "Where them females at?"
• Finna: gonna/going to. Example: "I finna find a pen, Señorita”
• Foody: a crack addict
• Lining: hair line.  The boys are obsessed with their own and each other’s hair line.
• Loud: on weed. Example: “These guys be too loud”.
• Squares: cigarettes
• Stacking: a gangbanging sign
• Turnt up: A)crazy, B)high, C)drunk, D)any combination of the above.  Example: “How was your weekend?” "Man, I got turnt up”
• TTU: too turnt up.  See above.
• Tweakin: A) crazy, B) high/on drugs, C) nuts. Examples: "Señorita, you tweakin'" when I collect the homework I assigned the day before.

By no means is this an exhaustive list, and I am sure more will come in the weeks and months to follow.  However, hopefully this is interesting and enlightening in the meantime!

Day One. And a few that followed.

I am a teacher.  I am now regularly referred to as “Ms. S” or “Señorita”, or some other nickname depending on how creative (or frustrated) my students are.  My first two thoughts about my first week of school are: This is really hard. And I love it.

Let me set the record straight.  Teaching is REALLY hard.  Overnight, I became responsible for 136 young men.  For 8 hours a day, my job is to keep 136 people awake, safe, engaged, learning, active, excited, and participating.  My job is to hold my ground each and every day and maintain high expectations as students would prefer to talk over me or throw a paper ball at me.  I have been told a hundred times how hard this would be, but goodness gracious, it really is incredibly tiring.

Secondly, despite how much my feet hurt when I come home, how little sleep I get (and I’m only a week in!), and how crazy I think I am, I still love it.  I cannot imagine myself doing anything else in the world other than teaching.  This might be the hardest thing I have ever taken on, but I don’t regret it now, and I don’t think I ever will.  Some kids know exactly what they want to do “when they grow up”.  It may have taken me a little longer to make that decision, but I am confident that I was made to be a teacher.  I was made to teach 136 students the joy of learning another language.  I was made to see 136 faces every day, some more eager than others, some more hurt than others.  I was made to have my heart broken by 136 stories of life in this big city.  This year is certainly going to be an adventure.  And as tired as I am after week one, I am incredibly excited to see what this year will have in store for me.

Lastly, if you are interested in more about what I (and thousands of other teachers) do, take a look at this video. Please excuse the language, but I think it puts things into perspective rather nicely: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxsOVK4syxU.

Growing Up.

Growing up is inevitable. Sometimes it’s awesome, sometimes it’s a little awkward, and sometimes it hurts.  Everyone does it (although some more than others), and as far as I can tell, the secret is to ‘fake it ‘til you make it’.  These past few days and weeks have been good but quite challenging for me.  Post-grad life put me in two urban middle schools last year, and has now brought me to the Windy City.  I will be teaching at an inner-city high school this coming school year, but have already made the “big move” for courses this summer to better prepare me to teach next year.

While there are some super exciting things coming down the road for me, leaving my hometown was hard.  I left some wonderful friends who I met in college, which brought me to tears on more occasions than I would care to admit.  Although I like to claim an adventurous and care-free spirit, I have always struggled with big change.  Saying goodbyes and leaving behind good things is hard for me, as I fear the unknown.  But at the same time, I feel so incredibly foolish.  In the last 2+ years, I have gone through a number of transitions. And each time, I’ve come out okay.  Things work themselves out, and I (hopefully!) come out a little stronger. And if not, I have some great stories about it all.  Through it all, the Lord has continued to bless me time and again.  Blessing me by putting some fantastic, loving, understanding parents in my life; blessing me by providing me with a few great friends to help carry me through; and blessing by simply providing.  Time and again.

Thankful

This post may seem to be a bit random, but just go with it.  One night this past week, I was watching the evening news with my parents during my visit home.  One of the segments announced that President Obama officially won the November 2012 election (old news, right?).  Apparently, Congress met this week to officially count the Electoral Votes from November, thereby announcing Obama as the winner of the presidential election.  While this may seem unimportant (we kind of already figured out the results of the election back on election night), it reminded me of something…

The night of the election, November 6, 2012, I flipped the news on to catch the coverage as results were coming in from the polling booths.  And I was struck with a thought (bear with me, please).The entire nation was watching that night as results were coming in from each polling station.  Each polling station added up to the counties that were turned different colors indicating the victor, and then the states changed colors to reflect which candidate would be receiving that state’s electoral votes. 

But now think about it in reverse – each state is made up of counties is made up of polling stations is made up of people.  Made up of individuals who went out to cast a vote on who their next president would be.  My vote – that of a young woman who is still figuring out her place in life – became a part of history that night, regardless of who I voted for.

Now that is a kind of a neat thought.  And while it may seem so obvious, I was thankful for this realization that November night.  That night, our nation watched as each individual cast a ballot, and as each ballot added to others to declare a winner and a loser.  And I am very thankful to be part of a nation that stops everything else to watch as these individuals acted upon one of the fundamental freedoms of our country.

New Beginnings

The New Year always brings an array of cheesy wishes for a better, bigger, different year.  Frankly, New Year’s Eve is not a big deal to me (I spent the night hanging out with my family at home, crazy, I know), but I have my own new beginnings to celebrate.  And they just happen to fall around the same time as the New Year.

Last month, I (finally!) graduated from college – woo hoo! While I have been done with my coursework since August, I was unable to get my diploma until December.  I decided to spend my last term of college studying abroad in Chile and since international transcripts take about three months to transfer home, I didn’t get that coveted piece of paper proving that I was DONE until December.  After spending the past few months trying to explain the bizarre situation to employers – and anyone else who was asking – I can now officially say I am a college graduate.  What a relief.

Over the course of the few months I was in college-graduate-limbo, the Lord blessed me immensely.  About two weeks before I received my diploma, I started my first big-girl job.  I will be spending the next few months teaching middle school reading at an inner-city school in my neck of the woods.  I started at this charter school as an intern in September, and was offered this position as a result of the time and work I put in.  I am so fortunate to a.) have a job, and b.) to be doing what I love.

Throughout high school (and let’s be honest, the majority of college too), I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life.  I knew where my passions lay, but I didn’t know how or where I was going to put them into practice.  And then came along education reform.  And I knew that’s what I wanted to do.  I have been exposed to poverty in a variety of ways and in a variety of places over the past eight years, and have felt a desire to serve the underserved and to be a light of the Good News in some pretty dark places.  Comparing what I’ve seen in some rough neighborhoods to my own upbringing brought up some pretty big differences that I couldn’t ignore.  One of the biggest differences is the quality of education.  I am technically the product of public schools, but the school was phenomenal, and many outsiders assumed it was a private school.  But the public schools in inner-city areas are another story.

When I say that there are serious problems in public schools, people often ask me what I mean by that.  And I tell them about some of the students I am now working with.  I have sixth grade students who are 14 years old, and still failing.  I have sixth grade students who read at a kindergarten level.  I have students who live in shelters.  Something is wrong with that picture.  And I want to be a part of that change, no matter how small the part.

The school I am working at is a charter school, and is dedicated to changing the outcome for these students.  I am so thankful to be working with a team of passionate, hard-working, and innovative educators, and I look forward to all that I will continue to learn from them.  2013 will be bringing some big changes (read: challenges) for me, and I am anxious to see what I will be taught this year.  Stay tuned!

Taking Chances

Last night, I had the privilege to be at another high school swim meet.  For the second year in a row, I have helped coach an inner-city swim and dive team, and it has been such a joy.  Yesterday, we had a swim meet against two other inner-city teams in the city, and it gave us an opportunity to swim all of our less-experienced athletes who don’t get much swim time in the more competitive meets.  And let me tell you, they did a great job.

For many of them, this past month has been completely new to them.  Most of these less-experienced athletes had never swum a lap in their life, and now they are swimming over 4000 yards a day.  Talk about a challenge, but they have stepped up to this challenge with such a positive attitude.

And last night, during the girls JV 50 Free, I almost cried.  That’s right.  I was brought to tears during a swim meet.  Not exactly the norm.  This event was full with swimmers who struggled to make it the two laps.  Their strokes were far from perfect. Flip turns just didn’t happen. Their starts had a closer resemblance to a belly-flop.  Some of it was more splashing than swimming.  And yet, it was absolutely beautiful.

Here was a group of six girls from three different high schools who took a chance.  Humans are not made for water.  We were designed for dry land, and yet every day, they throw themselves into a pool.  They listen to feedback from their coaches.  They look up to more-experienced swimmers for tips and encouragement.  They push themselves to just keep swimming, swimming, swimming (thank you, “Finding Nemo”, for your helpful mantra), even when they are tired, even when they just want to crawl onto the deck and rest.  They have taken a chance, and are growing in leaps and bounds.

Kudos to you ladies, who make me so proud and remind me why I coach swimming.

Rainy Days.

There’s nothing like a rainy day to get the memories rolling.  Chilly, wet days like today remind me of most of my time in Chile.  While I enjoyed plenty of gorgeous, sunny days, I definitely remember being bundled up in my rain coat more often than not, especially during my last few weeks.  My transition back to life in the States, even with how unpredictable it has been, has been a relatively smooth one, which has been such a blessing.  But I definitely find myself missing Chile and the adventures I had while I was there. 

I miss sitting in our kitchen with my gringa roommate, chatting about our lives at home and getting to know each other better over mugs of hot cocoa and spoons of manjar.  I miss my walk to (and even up the giant hill from) the metro.  I miss the daily hugs from Mariela, one of my supervisors at my internship.  I miss being close to the beach all the time, even if it meant I was always smelling nasty fish.  I miss hearing my host dad sing around the house.  I miss the helado de canela that I found at a little coffee shop.  I miss the sounds of music (mostly good) on my metro rides.  I miss the laughter of the kids running around our house, playing escondido.

And now that I find myself in the US, I have noticed how much my time in Chile has changed me.  There are so many moments, every day, where I want to blurt out in the middle of a conversation, “that reminds me of ____ in Chile”.  And even though I have some great, understanding friends, I know that I can’t talk about Chile all the time, or they are just going to get sick of it.  And when that happens, I become a bit upset.  No one knows what I experienced.  None of my friends or family will ever be able to share in my memories of the things I saw, heard, did.  And that is a bit of a lonely realization.  And when those thoughts start running through my mind, I have to make a conscious decision to remember where I put my hope and faith – not in this world, but in the work done on the cross for me.  I have been told to “be strong and courageous.  Do not be afraid or terrified […], for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you” (Deuteronomy 31:6). 

I am not alone. 

“For surely I am with you always, even to the very end of the age” (Matthew 28:20).