Thursday, November 19, 2015

Middle School Magic

It’s been a minute since I’ve written anything, so I’m just going to savor the fact that I have something real to write about this evening.

I am a teacher. And in my 7 ½ years of teaching, I’ve had handfuls of people ask me, “Why are you a teacher? You could be doing something else! You could make SO much more money! Don’t you wish you had gone to law school? It’s never too late! Yours is a thankless job!”

We sure do feel that way sometimes, so I can’t pretend that it’s always gratifying work or that I HATE the idea of summers off. Some days are really hard. REALLY HARD. I’ve been thrown into walls breaking up fights. Parents have yelled me at because I refused to change a grade when their kid failed my class and couldn’t play a sport. I’ve worked countless hours way past the end of the school day grading, calling parents, and missing out on plans with friends because I had to work. I’ve gotten rotten evaluations and had my ass handed to me by bosses. I’ve watched students get moved around, drop out, and attended some funerals. So, yeah. At the end of the day, it can really be hard to rationalize why I’m still doing this with my life.

But I’ve also had some really moving, compelling reasons to believe that I’m doing the job I was always meant to do. I’ve had former students write to me and tell me that they still use the writing methods I taught them in their college writing class. I’ve had students come back to visit me and tell me that they got into medical school and law school or that they… want to become a teacher. When a kid gets pulled aside and I’ve been able to tell them that I found a book just for them, their face lights up and they find me a week later, and we make a date to sit down and talk about the book. Once, a former class of students called me to speak at a graduation ceremony. So of course there are reasons to stay that can’t be put to a pen and paper.

But tonight I had a pretty uplifting moment that made me turn a corner in my teaching career.

Today I was at school for 12 hours. I taught for 5 periods, gave a tour to some school visitors, had a meeting after school with the other department chairs, and then went into two hours of parent-teacher conferences. Somewhere in there I think I peed, but I can’t be sure.

Parent-teacher conferences in New York City are so surreal. Think of it like (what I imagine to be) speed dating. You set a timer and have parents come through who desire to hear one of two things: 1.) Everything their kid does well. 2.) Everything their kid is failing at. I’ve seen some really hard conversations take place right in front of me, and since you never know what home is like and the pressures that exist on the other side, you have to be extremely careful with your words. Tonight I saw all of the above, so I wasn’t too surprised; it was business as usual. But then the last parent came in to talk.

This parent is extremely active in our school community, and her son is really bright, so I’m sure she’s used to having similar conversations with all of his teachers (probably since before he could talk). But the thing is, we didn’t talk about her son’s academic success or failures. I actually derailed the conversation because I thought it was important for her to know what her eleven year old has done in my class and demonstrated to his peers.

We’ll call this little boy John. John can pretty much blaze through my work. He doesn’t have a ton of friends his age, but he is getting there this year. I suppose he could be fostering those friendships and working toward teenage rebellion by making my life super tough and challenging everything I say, but he chose to go in a different direction. John is in a class that has kids with extra educational needs, and in his class is a boy named Sam. Sam has serious learning disabilities. He isn’t very verbal. He struggles with vision impairment and long-term memory retention. He even has a few anger issues in there, which makes it really challenging on some days to even get him to wear his glasses. (He hides them from me- it’s a really fun game we play… EVERY DAY. Apparently this never gets old [for one of us].)

A few weeks ago, John pulled me aside and said, “I think I’d like to work with Sam.” I told him I thought that was a really kind offer, but that I didn’t want him to feed him answers or take away instructional time from his own learning. He assured me that wouldn’t be the case and that we should just “try it out”.  John even said, “Ms. Son, I don’t even mind when Sam picks his nose or blows spit bubbles, but everyone else is going to lose it, so… how about we work together and see where it goes?”

Now, I really thought that after three or four days of this John was going to get fed up and ask to be moved back to his original group. But what I’ve seen since then has really rocked my world. Every day John and Sam walk into the classroom together. They get started on the Think and Answer and work together to come up with solutions. When the questions get harder, John tries to break them down for Sam or work on a different approach. They even started reading the mentor text together and take turns reading out loud (for a verbally-limited child this is huge). I’ve watched John share his lunch with this kid, talk about video games with Sam, and make sure to include him in as much as possible (both in and out of the classroom). Not many kids talk to Sam. He’s not an easy kid to have a conversation with, and when they do talk to him, it’s pretty limited and based around causing trouble. And John, although he is bright and VERY verbal, likes some things that his peers aren’t into. He likes magic and chess. He’s super into history. Last year he came to the library and wanted everything I had on WWII… as a 6th grader. So needless to say, they are an interesting duo.

Tonight when John’s mother came to parent-teacher conferences, she was the last parent to walk through my door. It was past our end time, and I was exhausted, but I was happy to see her. We didn’t even get to the “school” part of the conversation because I had to let her know that watching her son reach out to another human being who is so desperately lost and isolated most of the time has been one of the greatest privileges I have experienced in my time as a teacher. John gains nothing tangible from helping and befriending Sam. But to watch them together… you would think you were watching a bird and a fish forge a really magical collaboration that is SOMEHOW working. I told her that the point at which I knew I had to say something was when I noticed some magic cards that Sam had out in the hallway before school one morning. He told me that John had given them to him. Then I watched him carefully scoop them together, stack them perfectly, put them back in their case, and cling to them as if they were gold. I asked John about it. He said, “You know, Ms. Son… I just get the impression that Sam doesn’t get a lot of treats. I thought… he could use something nice.”

When I told John’s mother, she started crying. And then I started crying. Pretty soon my principal came in to kick us out of the building and quickly turned around when she saw all of the feelings that had just exploded all over my classroom.


John’s mother told me that we (his teachers) are constantly modeling compassion and empathy that is pouring onto her child, and for that she couldn’t repay us. Her kid can learn most of what I teach him one time through or read extensively about any genre I give him on his own time. But compassion and empathy are taught through demonstration, so on that front I’d like to think that she’s right; that we have played some small part in that when she leaves her child with us every day, five days a week. But it’s all of us. We all do this. Maybe as teachers it comes naturally because it’s in our job description to care and attend to 30 humans at one time…but I think it’s more than that. Giving up your lunch period to tutor or making sure a kid isn’t hungry is part of what we do when we think no one is looking, but it turns out…someone is. They just happen to be 11 years old.

Thursday, February 5, 2015

I get it New York; you want to by my boyfriend


I get it, New York; you want to be my boyfriend. 



When I first moved to New York, I really didn’t have the same dreams that most people do when they get here. I wasn’t pursuing a career in fashion (Ha ha. You should see what I’m wearing right now). I can’t dance, so we can just rule out Broadway… or even off-off Broadway. I can’t handle the amount of cologne that finance guys wear, so forget about a job on Wall Street (Do people still wear JOOP? And if so, why?). Conversely, I wasn’t scared to move to New York, either.  I didn’t really have any grand plans to avoid muggings or buy a Costco amount of pepper spray. I definitely watched Law and Order only to identify locations such as, “Hey, behind that body bag there is a great place with waffle fries.” But I say all of this to emphasize that I wasn’t crushing it but I wasn’t practicing my “SHOWTIME” performance for the subway, either.

*If you ride the trains here and you suddenly see a boom box, you’re about to see “SHOWTIME!”, which is just a performance of acrobatic stunts on moving train… no big deal (except that I can’t even walk on a moving train). Just once I would like to see a whole bunch of architect students from Pratt with their protractors in their plaid perform a “SHOWTIME!”. I imagine it would involve a lot of measurements and discussion before the performance about “how beautiful this pole is…let’s reflect”. But whatever. These are just my little dreams.


So, I say all of this to emphasize that every time I think about breaking up with New York, I stop to remember some of the wild and crazy things that have happened/ I get away with regularly:


The West Village Sample:

Picture it: Just a sweet (late twenties) girl walking down Christopher Street, window shopping at fancy places I’m not even dressed to walk into, much less shop at. As I walk down the street, a man with a PLATE (important detail) offers me a sample. I wasn’t hungry, but I didn’t want to be rude, so I took one. Now, this gentleman had a thick accent, so I heard something about salt, but that was about it. As soon as I put it into my mouth I wanted to project it into the street. “Noooooo!!! Issss’a SOAP! With salt from the Dead Sea. You so’a cute!!!”

Self, why you decided to eat a sample of something a stranger gave you that was not at the Food Court of a mall, I’ll never understand. But you did. And lucky for you it didn’t turn into a Law and Order episode where “Young Teacher Gets Drugged on The Mean Streets of The West Village and Vanishes”.  (Also, the West Village, as I previously hinted at is like, not dangerous. It’s posh and has soap from the Dead Sea. Check it out.)



Rats are people, too:

So, my friend Vincent and I have this weird little quirk about the rats. We don’t want to go anywhere near them, but we sort of feel like we’re living the New York Dream when we see them on the subway tracks. I mean, they’re the ultimate survivors (who would never eat soap from a stranger). When we spot them we feel sort of victorious and often make up interviews. “Where did you come from?! Do you have children?!! Tell us everything.”

This game only happens when we see them on the tracks. If I spot a rat running on the street right in front of me, I have been known to turn the other way and let the rat have the street. It’s totally hypocritical that I only question their ancestory.com information from afar, yet I won’t do a live interview…but there you have it.


Stop trying to make Irish happen; it’s not happening:

I have a terrible habit of trying to steal people’s accents when I hold a conversation with them. I recently met a group of Irish men and by the end of the night, it just sounded like I was trying to sell them a shillelagh stick for the bargain price of a pot’o gold! They were extremely gracious about it (since I wasn’t pulling it off and was a good sport about them asking all about Texas and guns and horses and The Alamo), but I don’t have an accent, and I’m just going to have to get right with that. (Also, I need to stop trying to make people be friends with each other in bars. Same night that I meet the Irish group I meet a bunch of Brits. “You’re from the UK?! They’re from the UK. Discuss!” And then, like the freak I am, I try and make friendships happen… because that’s TOTALLY why they came out for the evening. They wanted me to hook them up with other bros. 100 percent. Good job, self.

Besides rugby and the use of the word “bloke” several times, I can’t imagine that I did them any favors.) On the topic of accents, I just want to say that I really need to stop introducing myself in accents, because it just disappoints people when they realize that I’m not from England OR Jersey (the only two accents I can pull off reasonably well).


Oh, New York. You have managed to let me get away with such wonderful things over the past few years. I get it; you want to take things to a more serious level (and three years in New York time IS a New York minute for relationships). So, I’ll just say that yes, you can (FINALLY) be my boyfriend… just don’t be surprised when I try and hook you up with Jersey, because you’re both from the Tri-state Area! Discuss! 

Sunday, February 1, 2015

Songs You May Never Make Me Leave While in Rotation: E-signatures required.

Note to the reader: The following information is written merely to resonate with a general feeling. The list I am about to include is not exhaustive. Read it. Learn it. Adapt your own. If we are friends, please attach an electronic signature to this contract.


Songs That We Are Never Under Any Circumstance Allowed to Leave While in Rotation:

I just want to preface that I have been known to trek in snowstorms, rainstorms, hailstorms, non-storms (when a major weather alert takes us to a false sense of hope for potential school closures the following day), heat, below freezing temperatures and illnesses to make it to your parties/ a bar/ a hangout.

And while that doesn’t mean I’m going to be getting any medals (medals are encouraged), please know that if we are out and suddenly the wind gets taken out of your sails and you make an executive order on behalf of the group that we “have to get out of here right now”, I will always support that choice…UNLESS one of the following songs is playing:


“Superstition” by Stevie Wonder:

Why would anyone leave during this song? It’s totally bad juju to leave during this song… for obvious reasons. Also, in college, this was a constant song put into rotation at Piano Bar and I just can’t deal with people leaving during Stevie. I have this interpretive dance that comes out when this song comes on, and I don’t want to brag, but many friends have done well because I have taken one for the team to look like the weird friend while Stevie and I take it home.

*The dance looks like a lot of shoulder rolling my hands motioning a spell-like gesture. Kind of the way Stevie Nicks dances, but without the terrifying aspect.



“No Scrubs” by TLC

I find that it usually scares strangers when you point to them every time the ladies sing “No.” Direct eye contact is key, as well. And no, this blog is not all about my gnarly dance moves scaring/scarring strangers…entirely.




Doo Wop (That Thing) by Lauren Hill

She is my favorite female rapper of all time and we are not leaving her behind. If this song comes on and I just put my coat on, you can be sure that the coat is coming off as fast as possible. “Don’t be a hard rock when you really are a gem” is my way of telling you to pipe down and get another drink.



“Africa” by Toto

I know all of the words to this song. I know all of the harmonies. The HARMONIES, people. You can’t leave me if this song comes on, because even though it’s not the jammiest of jams, it makes me so, so happy every time it comes on…anywhere. I have been known to let people go in front of me at drugstores just so that I can hear the end of this song. Also, if you want to see me spaz out at any party you ever throw, just play this. I will (almost… haha that’s a lie. It’s every time.) shove people out of the way to get closer to the speakers.


“Ain’t Nobody” by Chaka Khan

Want to see a bunch of 30-something women and very close male friends get around in a circle and authoritatively sing/ dance at the same time? Look no further!


“Hip Hop Hurray” by Naughty by Nature

And if you don’t wave your arms, I’ll drag you dooooown to my level so fast. Mostly by dancing all around you until you give in to me… cause I’m naughty by nature, not cause I hatecha.


“Let’s Stay Together” by Al Green… and really anything Motown:

There is a bar in Williamsburg that serves the WORST drinks ever, but they have Christmas lights year round and they play Motown, which makes me want to offer free hugs and watered down beverages for everyone in the joint. The absolute second I hear “My Girl” I have committed to the entire evening at this place. And truly, I would sacrifice amazing beverages for Motown.


“Rock with You” by Michael Jackson

There are so many Michael Jackson songs that constitute hearing out until the end, but this one gets me out of my chair and I don’t think I ever get tired of it. I also sing it whenever I’m in a good mood, so if you try to take me out of the joint when this is playing, we’re parting ways.. for the night and in life. Because you really have no soul,…and I really mean that.

 Other jams that I will drop you for:

"Night and Day" by Ray Charles
"Everything She Wants" by Wham!
"Rich Girl" by Hall and Oates
"Scenario" by A Tribe Called Quest
Anything by Phil Collins or Genesis (no loop holes, people)



Wednesday, August 28, 2013

What I think Facebook does well...


Lately when I get on Facebook, I’ve encountered articles that carry the tone of “Why I Hate Facebook… and other rants”. Okay, that wasn’t the title of the article(s), but you catch my drift. The authors maintain that we’re broken into types, that we’re all guilty of bragging, and that Facebook gives a false impression of our daily life or just the best versions of ourselves. I have a friend who maintains that Facebook is designed to make you sad. All of the parties you aren’t attending, the weddings you weren’t invited to, and the friends that you no longer keep in touch with can all be boiled down to a newsfeed.

Interesting.

Don’t get me wrong; there have been many times where I have practiced my break up speech with Facebook. “It’s totally you and not me.” “We obviously want different things out of this.” “You’ve changed since 2004.”… But really, just like any bad romance, if I choose to stay, I really have no one to blame but myself. So, like many people, I just cringe in silence when I see memes about Walmart or celebrity fodder, because this is the “price of admission” to stay on an (ironically) free social media site.

But for all of the things that Facebook does not do well (and I’m sure you have counted them on your fingers and toes), there actually are some things that I do enjoy about it, and if I’m being perfectly honest with myself, many things that I enjoy sharing with people in my social network.

So here’s what I think Facebook does well:

1.)  Facebook actually does allow me to be proud/happy/excited for people I know who are doing well. For every person you know who treats Facebook like his or her diary and is constantly complaining there are ten people who are excited about something today.

I know we’re adults, and maybe shouldn’t need affirmation on such a grand level, but when I see that someone has gotten married, had a baby when they never thought they would be able to, passed the bar exam, or took an amazing trip that they worked their whole life to take, my initial reaction is, “HELL YES. Absolutely. Take your happiness and run with it.” Because network friends, this life is long, and besides the joy that you are experiencing in your life (and I am well aware you need no validation) I hope you know that there are people rooting for you, even if you don’t know or need it. And I for one wish you well upon your journey.

2.)  Facebook reminds me every now and then that I know some smart people… really, really smart people. Okay, I hate the memes about Walmart as much as the next person, and honestly, I could do without a poignant take on Taylor Swift’s song lyrics, but filtered through all of that, there are some really bright people that I have met in this life. Some of these people are professional writers, comedy teams, producers, doctors, musicians, and just all around interesting people, and I actually know them. How did I get so lucky? When I read about their latest projects (that they choose to share on social media), I am blown away by the ideas and insight that they are putting into the world. These people teach me plenty when I take the time to notice their creativity and appreciate their stamina for the rejection and beat down that life can offer at times… they’re inspiring. Whether they know it or not really isn’t the point; the point is that they are putting themselves out there and taking a risk. The success of it all is not for me or anyone else to measure.

3.)  Facebook illustrates that some people have really changed for the better. I’m not just talking about on the outside, although some of you have really blossomed into lovely adults. That person that we weren’t sure would graduate college and spent most of 2005 on a video game in the sweatpants, or the really pompous jerk who became humbled later in life, well, they grew into decent people. And change looks different for everyone. Some people made subtle shifts, and some hit rock bottom before they got their life together. Again, it doesn’t really matter than I notice it, or that anyone else does, but since I have, I rather enjoy rooting for these people now. I enjoy success stories and I realize that they come in many different packages.


I know that people can make their lives much more interesting on Facebook than in reality. I know that maybe it isn’t necessary to see ALL 108 pictures of your trip to Vegas this year (anywhere but Vegas, please, I beg you). I also know that it creates a really false sense of knowing people you really do not know. (Shameful plug: You should know that Facebook has taught me how to be a one-lined comedian and I can assure you that I am not nearly as funny in real life.)…

But for the people I spent twelve years in primary and secondary education with, for the people I lived with in college, stood in your weddings, met your children, and have sat at a table with, I tell you with absolute certainty that I do actually celebrate your victories and success, filtered through the clips of Toddlers and Tiaras and random invitations to parties 1800 miles away.

And if ever you or I reach our threshold for negativity, judgment, or jealousy; if you or I ever decide that we are no longer sifting through our newsfeed to celebrate our friends’ success, we need only to remember that at any time we can in fact, turn it off.