Reflections from Airport Terminal A29 and Delta Flight 1678

Relief:

I sit now comfortably in an airport terminal chair, the fake leather kind in a relatively calm and sunny Memphis winter day (weather’s about in the 50s). My laptop (who I’ve affectionately dubbed “lappy” along with my 1996 Ford Taurus station wagon, who has taken on the name “Ruby,”) is sitting comfortably in my lap as I do my normal airport routine: take time to gather my thoughts, wait for the plane, unsuccessfully try not to listen to other people’s conversations, and people watch. This is a task that doesn’t require much multi-tasking on my part, but it’s fun to see that all of us are united in our destinations: most likely going somewhere for Christmas. Sitting here too makes me realize finally the reality of my situation: I’m no longer as green teacher as I was, I now have a full semester under my belt. This doesn’t make me feel completely experienced or even comfortable in my new role, but I’m definitely more adjusted to it and have some great ideas for next semester.

What are those ideas? Well number 1 I need to be more organized. A lot more. I have a good sense of what I need to be doing and how to track my students progress: I just need to do a better job in that tracking and be more methodical. The second weakness I have is still in my long-term planning. I need to have a better sense of exactly where I want my kids to be and what I ultimately want them to learn (I’ve started to formulate this “ultimate goal”…I want them to learn how to read music and understand how rhythms, notes, and line and space notes translate to being able to create music. Now the tricky part is showing them how it’s done using choral techniques). This semester was essentially a four-month long battle of me asserting myself as a teacher, not a goofy looking white guy who smiles way too much and raps in front of his kids. I’ve slowly transitioned into an educator, the kind I like to imagine myself being one day. A person I think of frequently hen I’m reflecting on my teaching is a close friend and mentor, Mr. Peterson my old English teacher. He commanded respect, and I was always nervous of not giving that respect. When my peers failed to give that respect I never understood why. When Mr. Peterson said don’t talk, we didn’t. When he said read silently, we did. These basic instructions, basic interactions are part of what makes a classroom work, and they were lacking a great deal from my room.

So what have I done? Well, after the “field trip from hell” (see previous post) I came to the conclusion with my kids that when I ask them to do something, they don’t do it. From now on, they will. Simple as that. My students now have to earn their privilege of group study, or of doing a review board game rather than a worksheet. From line up to leaving the classroom my kids know exactly what they are supposed to do and get a consequence if they fail to do it. The adjustment period of the first few months is over: they know what they are and are not supposed to do. Had I done what I’m doing now 4 months ago, I think the field trip would’ve been a completely different experience: an experience that my kids deserve. That’s really what’s at the heart of this here: by not being completely in control and disciplined with my kids I short-changed them of the opportunities and expectations they deserve, and from now on it’s not happening again. I wasn’t doing them any favors when I held back sending them to the office for not following the rules, because the expectation became that they could act anyway they wanted under my auspices. As I said earlier: that has started to change. With the new year it will change even more, and I’m pretty excited about it.

The first thing you’re probably all wondering about is how my concert went. For as any things that could’ve gone wrong, the concert went very well. Unfortunately I had about 70% of my class show up for the concert, so a fairly large portion of my class will not be getting a very good grade in choir. What impressed me the most about my kids were the positive things they did once on stage. They sang out, stayed still, and looked and sounded like a choir. I’m very proud of them. The rest of the program went very well. The art auction, while awkward (the art teacher auctioned off two of his own pieces, but the proceeds went to the PTA) netted a nice sum for the PTA, and the band put on a stellar show with a great list of Christmas music. The audience could’ve been bigger, but this is another thing I realized: I need to advertise more extensively for the next concert: The Spring Arts Festival (seasons make naming these things pretty easy).

Another lesson I learned from the concert were the exact people I need to talk to for support in running the food that we offered, donating pop, chips, etc, and a list of more people to involve/invite the next time a concert rolls around. My savior for the evening was a school board member by the name of Joyce who got the food and drinks together and then served them. She said it was nothing because I had been working so hard with my kids that it was the “least she could do.” Needless to say I now worship the ground this woman walks on.

I’m very anxious and excited to get home. It’s been about 7 months since I’ve seen my parents, my friends, my family, and my hometown. While Lake Village has certainly begun to feel like home, I still feel a connection to my old stomping grounds that will never go away. There are few things more comforting than sitting in the couch at home watching t.v. while Collin messes with our dog Ginger, or on Christmas morning when my sister Anna reverts to a six year old urging all of us to get out of bed so we can open presents at 7 in the morning when we’d rather sleep in until noon. I can’t wait.

This blog will probably be posted tomorrow from home, but it was written over the span of a Saturday. I left Lake Village on Friday and stayed the night at my fellow teacher Ms. Long’s house and her parents graciously agreed to put my eye-sore of a car in their parking lot (Ruby’s seen better days).

With that, I bid you adieu. For those of you who read this regularly in the northwest, I look forward to seeing you soon.

Cheers,

-Mr. Fitzpatrick

“They’re singing ‘Deck the Halls.’ But it’s not like Christmas at all. Cus I remember when you were here, and all the fun we had last year”- U2

Field Trips 101

Disappointment:

The title says it all. Last week a fellow teacher told me about a great opportunity to show my kids the arts in the Delta. The Greenville Community Theatre and Delta Childrens' choir were putting on a production of the Dickens' masterpiece, "A Christmas Carole" along with a few performances by some select choirs.

I announced the event to my kids last week, and my biggest fear was not getting a turnout with the required documentation (ie. permission slip and the $5 ticket fee (discounted of course)). To my amazement and surprise I received all of my permission slips, and money from the interested students and had it all set. My next step was to find some chaperones, which, in typical me fashion I waited until the last minute but got two fellow Teach for America Teachers to help out. Awesome! My vision: We would arrive at the theatre, and the kids would be amazed and take note of the behavior of those around them and act accordingly. The reality: Exactly the opposite.

First lesson: Plan leaving even earlier than you had thought would be reasonable. I should've allowed time for one bathroom pit-stop before arriving at the theatre. I also should've allowed us to get there at least 10 minutes before the actual performance started. We didn't. We arrived about 5 minutes before the first choir got up, making before-show bathroom breaks impossible, and resulting in my kids, embarassingly yelling "I gotta use it" while the first children's theatre choir sang.

Second Lesson: Hand pick who you're taking on the field trip. This one was simple idealistic naivety on my part. The most heart-breaking experience of the whole incident was coming back into the theatre after most of the kids ended up back on the bus to find three of them watching attentively, quietly, and beautifully in obvious enjoyment of what was going on in front of them and what they were hearing. Telling them they had to get back on the bus broke my heart. If I could, I would've let them stay at the theatre and driven them home myself, but that couldn't happen. Next year will be different.

Third Lesson: Know the cultural context of where you're going, and put your assumptions and cultural norms at the door. Big disconnect here. To me, and how I was raised, brought up, reared, what have you, going into a place where people are performing demands that you do not make a sound and walk on eggshells to achieve a sort of aural silence. For my kids, quite a difference, and for the majority of the audience..another big difference. Most of those in attendance were upper-class Delta whites, and I know a few of them had some choice words with some of my kids as they ran off to the bathroom or said something behind a row of a couple of them. As a result we were politely asked to leave (I wasn't personally, I was in the bathroom with two my my more obnoxious boys who chose to "act the fool." *sigh*). When I came out of the bathroom the halls were empty and one woman pointed out towards the doors that, yes, my kids were back outside. I won't say we encountered blatant racism tonight, but I got a sense for really how condescending people can be. I tried to bring 30 kids, 10 to 15 of whom had no concept of the world they were about to enter into a largely up-scale concert where different rules for decorum, behavior, and attitude reigned. The result as like pouring oil on water. My kids were the oil, and did not mix with the water of the assumptions that I, my chaperones, and the rest of the theatre had for them. Lesson learned.

My feelings at the time were utter dread and disappointment. I had done everything to that point well. I spent time in class going over expectations for inside of the theatre: how we don't talk no matter what, and how we're respectful to the performers. That didn't sink in. At all. From the lessons above I realize my failings. The bus ride back was equally epic, with three kids trying to start fights, and tomorrow I'm going to have a long talk with my principal about their behaviors and also apologize for some of my failings in the execution of this project.

Am I giving up though? Hell no. Never. I feel stronger and smarter from this experience, despite being disappointed I recognize and realize that it's not just my kids, I'm probably more responsible for this debacle and in the end I have to try again using what I know now to my advantage. I will, most definately, using lessons 1, 2, and 3 outlined above.

So what did go right with this trip? Well, lets look at it this way: My kids got a chance to at least see how a different world lives and operates, and how a concert is put on in a classy way. My kids also witnessed the behavior that keeps them out of those sorts of shows or from participating in them (hopefully). Those who were especially bad will also get a lesson in bus etiquette and how to and how not to talk to teachers (which they're still not grasping). The lessons I learned will make me four times more effective on the next trip (I did the math), and I will have at least one of my kids' momma's enlisted as a chaperone.

Writing this blog tonight was definately cathartic, and it feels good to get my thoughts out right as they happen. I also appreciated getting a voice-mail from Collin, who is right now listening to Gnarls Barkley in Seattle. Lucky dude.

Tonight was the first night in my role as a teacher that I nearly broke down in tears. Hasn't happened yet, but I now understand why Teach for America says it's the "Toughest Job you'll Ever Love." Until next time....

-Nate, "Mr. Fitzpatrick"
"Ain't nothing gonna break-a my stride. Ain't nothing gonna slow me down, oh no. I've got to keep moving."-Random 70s band (forgot the name)