Saturday, September 17, 2005
by Amanda.
When you work in an inner-city school where you thought you could make a difference, and you have many days when you feel that all of your efforts are in vain, and you and the ones you love have sacrificed so much to help you boldly go in the direction of your dreams, and your dreams turn out to be delusions or nightmares or both, and you’re so fried at the end of the week, that you have dangerously prepositional run-on sentences in your blog that someone out there is reading (knowing very well that you are an English teacher, by God), well…it helps to get emails like this:
Posted in: Lurve/Luff/Like.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
by Amanda.
So much to say…
But two martinis and many hours later, I still cannot bring myself to sit down and write. My head hurts, the humidity makes my clothes stick to my body, and really, it’s my bedtime. I’m recovering from my first full week of work. Should I feel this way?
Posted in: Teaching in Harlem, NYC.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
by Amanda.
Shut up!
I hear you bellowing every night, sometimes during the opera lessons that also come from your building. I previously enjoyed those, but I hate the dissonant hybrid that is, “O Mio Babbino fuck da po-lice.” Your attempts to rap make me proud to be a police-abiding, juice sans gin drinking honky.
Posted in: I Live NY.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
by Amanda.
After lunch today, my students evolved into completely inpenetrable walls of digression and insolence. I’m not a screamer and I’m not a tantrum thrower, so it got to the point where I angrily and silently passed out homework. I wouldn’t explain it at first, because students should have been listening in the first place if they needed instructions. I then went around different desks and explained what I had to.
Posted in: Teaching in Harlem, NYC.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
by Amanda.
You know, I meant to write about my day today. However, I stayed at school until 7 pm using the copy machine (which started acting weird, so I tried to fix it, but ended leaving after a bunch of error messages appeared - don’t tell!), rearranging desks, straightening up, unwrapping a bookcase and globe and dictionaries I don’t need. Then I headed downtown and ate a sandwich. I talked to some people I love and tried to call a parent of a student I do not love.
Posted in: Teaching in Harlem, NYC.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
by Amanda.
Oh yeah… I forgot to mention what happened the night before school started. If you’ll recall, I said that I heard sirens, etc. and saw police tape, NYPD, FDNY, and people in American Red Cross blankets the next morning. There was a four-alarm fire in an apartment building very close to where I live around 3 a.m. on September eighth. Three people died. Others were hospitalized for smoke inhalation and burns. All surviving residents are now homeless. Police suspect this fire was a case of arson. It’s truly terrible what people have been going through these last few weeks. I know that people are hurting in every city on any given day in this lifetime, but what I’ve seen recently breaks my heart.
Posted in: I Live NY, Teaching in Harlem, NYC.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
by Amanda.
Today I read What Narcissism Means to Me by Tony Hoagland. Here’s a poem called “A Color of the Sky”:
Posted in: poeTRY.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
by Amanda.
What Kelvin said: But Miss, I’m an O.G. (”Original gangsta,” for those of you who don’t know).
What I thought: More like an O.T. (”Overweight thirteen-year-old,” as made up by me. I should have plenty of occasions to use this).
Posted in: Teaching in Harlem, NYC.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
by Amanda.
I had a nice, relaxing Saturday today, so don’t worry that I’ve gone postal yet. I emphasize the “yet.”
Posted in: Teaching in Harlem, NYC, Thinking.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
by Amanda.
The second day of school, I wore flat shoes and pants. Everyone freaked out when I tried to assign seats, so that didn’t go so well. I ended up moving a few key toublemakers. The students did freewriting, we attempted an icebreaker in which shy kids forfeited candy and refused to participate, the students actually listened to me go over some procedures for my language arts class. (I forgot to mention that I found out I’m teaching my homeroom students language arts and social studies. We’ll spend most of the day together. It’s good that I already know my troublemakers and I think I now know everyone’s name).
Posted in: Teaching in Harlem, NYC.
