This might be the first post in which I do not have at least a vague idea of where it will go. It's been two weeks since you last heard from me, and to be honest not much has happened. Well, that's not entirely the case. Even as I type those words I can think of a hundred reasons why they're not true. I suppose much has happened, but very little of it seems story-worthy. Considering what I gleaned over the summer in stories from teachers who had recently completed their first year, it's no surprise to me that teaching has taken over a considerable portion of my life. It occupies not only my time but also the majority of my thoughts. On the whole, I think I've been getting better over the past few weeks. My lessons are sharper, I'm getting more people involved, and I'm becoming more efficient with my time in the classroom. I'm finding ways to reach students at different levels of learning. I'm trying my best to think about each student's individual learning experience, which is more than a lot of teachers can say.
That doesn't prevent me from having a slew of worries and concerns. Sometimes I wish I was more experienced, as if I'm letting students down because I just don't know how to do things that would be simple if had been teaching for a few years. I'm still adjusting to being a disciplinarian, and I've had several moments in which I could have made a more forceful demonstration but decided against it. My largest class has a tendency to get noisy, and I always think about the students who genuinely want to be there, who genuinely want to learn. Again, I feel like I'm letting them down by not emphasizing why it's disrespectful to talk out of turn and establishing concrete consequences for those who do.
On a related note, I'm also trying not to take things quite so seriously. I think it's great that I'm thinking about what's happening in my classes and working at things upon which I need to improve, but I don't want to get lost in my thoughts. It's interesting; I think a lot of teachers are affected by what their students do in class, and bad behavior and poor test scores are what they take home with them in terms of baggage. I leave those things behind rather easily. I give my students a clean slate every day, and it's not even a conscious effort for me to do that. I'm much harder on myself than I am on them. It's the nagging feeling that I'm not doing everything I could that gives me a heavy feeling when I fall asleep at night. On the flip side, if I feel like I gave it my all on a given day then I can rest easy regardless of what happened in class or how they did on a test. So far I've had more days like the latter than the former, so it's been a good month.
So what does it all mean? It means I'm pretty happy with how things are going considering that it's my first year teaching. It also means that I enter moods in which I'm very hard on myself, and I get lost in my head, close myself off a bit from the rest of the world. I don't like being in moods like that. I'm at my best when I open myself up to whatever the world has to offer me, when I let things flow through me. I'm just now exiting one of those closed-off places, and I think even writing down these words helps to put it behind me.
Here's another thing that oddly added to my overly-stuck-in-my-head mood. I'll be back home in Chicago in 12 days, and as the wait fell below two weeks I became increasingly nostalgic. I started listening to XRT on iTunes, in addition to my weekly Breakfast with the Beatles fix. I heard Eddie Vedder's tribute to the Cubs (it sounds a lot like an Irish drinking song, which I think is a perfect fit for this franchise). I watched the Cubs-Brewers game yesterday, which fortuitously aired on Fox when the Yankees rained out. I wish I was there for the playoff celebrations and for the first round games. I got excited for Derrick Rose's first practice as a Bull, and I thought about how cool it will be to have Neil Funk do the play-by-play on television now instead of radio. Then I remembered that I won't be watching many Bulls games this year (except for the MLK B-day game against the Knicks in the Garden--I'm totally buying tickets). Kristina told me about her run along Sheridan Road, and I missed running my favorite route during the best time of the year to run. I miss Gulliver's and Northwestern and bowling with Zev. I miss Sunday night barbecues at Mom's and Dad's cozy living room. I could go on. It's truly astonishing to think that a place can be such a part of who you are. When you open yourself up and let the world flow through you, a lot of things stick. I can't wait for those last 12 days to go by.
I've also had moments where I stop, look around, and say to myself, "I can't believe that I'm here." Sometimes it's in the middle of a class looking at the faces of students I'm only beginning to know. Sometimes it's on the corner of 5th Avenue and 59th Street and I realize I'm in New York City. I had a moment last Sunday that made me feel very lucky to be here. I ran for about 19 miles, which included two bridges, a trip past the United Nations, a spectacular view of the Brooklyn Bridge, and my first run through my favorite areas of Brooklyn. The run itself was fantastic. It was a gorgeous day, I finished and I didn't feel completely exhausted (which makes me feel good about the marathon), and I ended up in Prospect Park. Prospect Park is sort of like Central Park Lite. There's something different about it, something more intimate. I sat in a meadow resting my weary legs and watching a trio of twenty-somethings toss a ball back and forth for something like a half hour. The moment provided a calmness that can only come in contrast to the constant activity of the great metropolis.
I think I'll leave you with that thought. I'm glad that the Cubs drew the Dodgers for the first round of the playoffs. I'd rather face Manny than Johan. Eddie Vedder sang, "Someday we'll go all the way." Let's hope it's this October.
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