first paragarph
second paragraph with some emphasis and style.
when i like to list stuff:
i walk down the middle of fordham road, barefoot, carrying doc martens in one hand, my two sets of keys– Fiat & airtag duo; house keys & keychains– in the other. past the berkeley practice rooms, where a young band is always loitering outside. wearing boxers as shorts, a small tank top, having felt confident in my body– open for viewing but the last thing on my mind– for hours. playing volleyball, i just feel strong, if a little naturally tired (got 4 hours of sleep last night.) was up late failing to ignore roommate’s watch of Possession (it was very good), researching flight options for Berlin in February before scrapping the whole idea entirely (Puerto Rico? Adia brings up today that it might not be, like, ethical though…), lesson planning for next week (really falls apart around Thursday/Friday), nursing a beer, talking, all after coming in from band practice ’round 8. studio’s less than a 5 minute walk from my apartment, literally around the corner. and the guys literally live one block over, not even. i’m on their cross-street. from my back alleyway, you can see it; you can see my balcony from their street. they were nice last night about my voice. drummer complimented the vocal inflections i was adding. guitarist enjoyed the high notes, texted today too about me sounding great in the recordings. bassist was missed. i just laugh, coming home last night, and that was all before today.
i step outside in the morning, conscious again, acutely, of the air. make another mental note, just like the 2 actually in my phone,* that i like it. it was misty. 6:30am. looking forward to going to work– punnett squares day. i imagined san francisco, like i always do, thought if i was there i’d be getting a whiff of ocean, too, or salt in the air. not just this plain, pleasant wet. realize im not carrying my bagel, left it on my laptop on the couch. did not turn back. ordered dunkin, the friendly one in brookline next to the auto shops and the high school that i used to frequent on the way to early bc football days. mocha syrup, new choice. same sandwich. at least this breakfast has protein. just short of $11, as usual. apple pay. drive briefly facing downtown. the computer science building, the prudential center, hidden today in fog. the other morning it was gorgeous. i took a picture. im loving this new life. im loving driving over the B line tracks in that quickly-iconic massive crossway to get home, too… next to the bu athletic center, plowing through all the college kids going to caine’s, or class, or the goodwill, dressed in sweats, or something gorgeously indie and young. so i’ve been happy.
i get in minutes before the kids head upstairs. have just enough time to send job and print release. homeroom is tame, i’ve got them in a routine. we watch CNN10 and everyone stays in their seats. they ask me to go to their lockers and i flash thumbs up. i remind the same students that its too early to be yelling, like let’s chill, you know. i write a reminder about my homework on the board and erase the one about the quiz, that’s done. a student updates me on the drama from the volleyball game. this is old lore– stories extended from last year. i love her very much, she is so small and effortlessly funny. doesn’t have the best time in school always, doing 8th grade again now. we got close without realizing the double time we’d be spending together and its a blessing for us both, i do believe. she grew a lot last year. i didnt know she was being held back and she didnt either. i was at my aunt’s funeral when the news broke. i was afraid she would be mad at me. instead she is my appointed advisee. a lovely turn of events. safe.
i collect my first class and remind them to be silent when they walk in our room. a student comes up to me to ask if i like my job? what is he getting at, i wonder. i blush, because i’ve drank half a latte now, and say yes. he studies this reaction, confusing me further about his intentions. everyone’s still sitting down, he should too. at his desk he explains: I am studying you for the homework you gave us, he says. what? consider (due tomorrow):
I wrote this because I like writing, I need to be more consistent with homework, and they deserve something meaningful. Turns out they’re all way fucking cooler than i realized. a text to my sister:
i check my email this evening. a student has sent me 3 photos, clearly taken minutes apart, of skittles releasing their colors into water. this is his choice for the homework. he says that he is finishing the journal now and “documenting what [he] watched happen.” my response to him reads: “[name]!! Fantastic images– they are a perfect representation of time passing. I am so so excited to read your journal. I will keep these photos handy when I do. Thank you for keeping me posted, I feel honored to be let in on your scientific process.” there’s another email waiting for me, from aforementioned girl. it says: “I was trying to do the homework but I’m really struggling on what to write and I’m not sure how to put it into words. So I don’t think it will be turned in by tomorrow, just a heads up.” I write back: “Thank you for letting me know. It is mature of you to reach out and communicate this concern. This skill will serve you well in college– me personally, I’ve sent many very similar emails warning my professors of late work! I will allow you the weekend to do the homework without any late penalty because you demonstrated such initiative! Let’s touch base tomorrow and I can help you make a dent in it.” and then i text my sister, saying that teaching might just be the best thing ever. and: another student who’s repeating the grade gushes to me for 10 minutes after class about all the thoughts she had a result of the assignment, imagining about air and density and suffocation, explaining her passion for csi, and psychology and therapy, as a result of her own mental health struggles. i tell her about Kris, how she is so wise and how she didn’t know she had ADHD in 8th grade but is doing amazing in college, getting her social work degree, working with kids. it’s hard for me not to tear up throughout this conversation. we weren’t always buddies last year, me and this student. now she’s apologizing for talking so much and i’m telling her no, i love it, and explaining how there are entire schools in universities dedicated to forensic science. finally: a student asks to open his laptop to find “the quote he was telling me about.” turns out he’s wondering if I’ve ever heard of Schopenhaur the World of Will and Representation– apparently this is what he thought of when he heard i was into philosophy. i say no, actually, but would you like to learn more about it? i can look into it for you. he goes well not right now. i laugh, fair, they’re supposed to be doing a silent exit ticket– but he means in life. that he’s too young. i’m too enthused. no !!! he asks what they do in these “philosophy classes,” how anything is ever “taught.” “does the professor just give you a question and you talk about it?” yes !!! i tell him about being “in the weeds” and how that’s how you know you’re having a great class. “people are going to tell you not to do it– no one would tell an 8th grader to get into philosophy– but you should!! you should!!!!!” he’s laughing at my enthusiasm. class packs up. i make a note in my phone to look into it indeed. random. there is a phrase some folks use in education, and ive come to (cornily) really respect it. “speaking life into kids” is something you can do, with a certain disciplinary strength and care…it does make me cry. they will grow as far and as fast as the the brightness of the sunlight they’re potted near. it’s a beautiful thing to speak love into them, to speak purpose. it changes their being before changing their lives.
friday now– hi from the break room. on wednesday i wrote in my new jot app after school, moments after it happened: “helping crying child today. interpreting his cries, directly communicating with him, putting a hand on his shoulder to guide him inside the building, towards our phone, towards his mom. he’s in 6th grade, coming off a school bus. his friend tells him to get it together. 8th grade is so different from that. i can’t believe we’re in the same building. so silly. still kids. still kids. all kids. you gotta like kids !” i was leaving for the day when i ran into this situation outside, just happened to be there and an administrator asked me to step in, in my obviously heading to my car. no foul, of course, i was glad to step in. just remarkable that that’s the most unremarkable aspect of my life. how did i get here? a caretaker for hundreds on the regular. a smiling face, a trusted adult. the science teacher they think they’ll have in a year or two, the one they thought about all of last year.
yesterday i ran a great class. i was 10/10 emotionally constant for an hour, against much annoyance. i was most of a bitch for 20 seconds at one point, but i never yelled, or singled anyone out, just was quite blunt about how their behavior was impacting our shared experience and making me feel. told it to them straight, yes, made them feel a little bad on purpose. i can do that now. and i end with hope. they’re lined up, silent, getting reprimanded, yeah, and i tell them that i believe in them– not at all with a wispy tone of voice, no, very serious, like a coach– and that i’m going to keep trying my best, that i’m really looking forward to– and expecting– a better day tomorrow. this is the speaking life part. kids want another chance. they love you, or at least feel attached to your approval in some way as to want to please you, to be good. they’re so good. i’m not going to sit idly by when they pretend otherwise. cut it out!– i can say that from my chest, because i believe in myself and what i’m doing. i believe in structure and tough love and a high bar. i believe in being annoying until they get it right. i believe in not giving up on them, but matching energy, to reveal to them interpersonal truths about life in a safe way. i love my job!!!!!!!
the grass at volleyball was incredibly lush yesterday. showing up to mclaughlin, things we greener, yellower. i was wearing those skinny sunglasses with the perfect orange tint. i peed in the woods, set some good balls, made some friends. i was more alone, but smiling so large, and thinking about how i could get kids to be so good at being by themselves in a crowd, because it unlocks life, because i am free, needing no one, holding myself, learn-ed at enjoying things in my body. hm. the girls volleyball team isnt doing great because of a confidence issue, a trust issue.
what’s in my bag? (Saturday contribution to this post)