My Empty Classroom

I’m sitting in my empty classroom on the last day of lecture. It’s lunchtime, and I am alone with my thoughts. Alone with the memories of the quarter. An hour ago the class was full of students, who, for the first time since I’ve taught this curriculum, made one big group to do the final reflection exercise. They pulled the chairs out and formed a big group, reflecting on the quarter, writing advice to the newbies to come in the Fall.

The community these students create is amazing.

And yet…

School is a scary place. I am so tired of current events where every other week I am bringing another school shooting up. This time last week it was at Seattle Pacific University, a place I interned as a counselor a few years ago. I sit in my empty classroom thankful that I can, unlike most of the classes here, lock the door and think…what would I do if it happened here?

I work with students on the edge of society. The misfits, dropouts, recovering heroin junkies, the students that many professors see as ‘throwaways.’ I love them all dearly. On our last day of class I tell them this. I tell them that I have never lost a student to suicide and that I care deeply about them and would be sad if they were not around to complete the program. I look them in the eye and tell them they are valuable and worthy and not throwaways.

I hope that I’m not just blowing smoke at them. That my words back up the actions I take throughout the quarter. I hope they can feel the love. I hope that they all succeed in their lifetime goals.

I hope than they embrace love and not violence.

 

Endings

Well, I have successfully completed my first quarter as a real-life college professor. Okay-fine, an adjunct professor. Okay-fine, a part-time instructor. Seriously, language is a HUGE thing (apparently) and I’ve been reading a gazillion emails today from irate professors/instructurs/adjunctfaculty/yourmom about WHAT TO BE CALLED IN EMAILS, because, apparently, people get their panties in a twist about the nuances of instructor/professor/adjunctfaculty. Whatevs. A student came up to me after his final presentation and the conversation went something like this:

Student: You’re new here, right? This is your first quarter teaching.
Me: Yes, I am new here. Though I’ve taught in a lot of different capacities over the years.
Student: Yeah, well you were good. You have a good teaching style. And I think people need to know when they did a good job. So, I’m telling you, you did a good job.
Me: Wow. Thank you. I appreciate that.

So there you go, I guess I didn’t do too poorly in teaching my first college course. And I am heading out the door for ONE MONTH of freedom. Whoo boy, I’ve got plans people! Plans!

Now if only Potamus would cooperate with said plans. Instead of whining. Yeah yeah, you have a fever of 102.5 kid, but I HAVE PLANS! And those plans include a) sleeping for 100 hours and b) doing FUN THINGS WITH YOU, so get ahold of your feverish self and let’s get crackin! No, it doesn’t work that way? Well poop.

I have noticed that co-sleeping with a feverish 11 month old is much like wearing a mink or fox neck wrap. But one that’s set on fire by 1,000 suns. And dipped in sweat. Pure awesomeness, until PETA is called, because that’s gotta violate all sorts of ethical issues.

At any rate, I am SUPER STOKED to have a month of freedom from work. I have a massage lined up, a coffee date with a friend, a joint birthday partay for me and little man, but most importantly: tons of quality time with Potamus. One thing I am excited to try is a place called Little Diggers Playtime, which is an indoor beach volleyball court that they open for kiddos to play in the sand since we live in freaking Seattle and it’s ALWAYS crummy weather during the winter.

Can’t believe this little boy is almost ONE. Geez. Where has the time gone?

First Week, Fall Quarter

Whew, what a whirlwind the last two weeks have been! I am happy to report that I have successfully completed my first week of teaching at a local community-turned 4 year- college!

In a quick turn of events, I was hired, gave my notice at my crisis-counseling job, and transitioned into this position that allows me the freedom and flexibility to be both a worker and a mother. I spend four days a week at the college, two of the days as an instructor and the other two as an advisor for 16-20 year old students who have dropped out of high school. The mix of kids is delightful. There’s the run of the mill “thug life” kids that bounced from school to school because of expulsions, suspensions, and pop-off attitudes. There are the little-house-on-the-prairie homeschool types, who wouldn’t dream of who have clearly excelled academically to a degree, but the somewhat intellectual arrogance has left them socially awkward and blowing out of regular high school. There are mothers, felons, medically fragile, procrastinators, and class clowns.

Regardless of the reasons behind dropping out, they are welcome here in our program, a 4 quarter structured program (much like a very scaffolded running start) where they are introduced to college and supported as they attempt to get an AA degree, or a transfer degree, or even a certificate in an area of focus. And I get the newbies, the ones who are first stepping into a college classroom and hoping to be changed.

Okay, that’s actually optimistic and lofty. Many of my kids are simply hoping to not fail again. And many of those intellectually arrogant are actually just trying to “jump through the hoop” of my class in order to gain access to their 2nd quarter where they can take an English class, and their 3rd quarter where they can “take the fun classes” (actual quote by a student today, as she pushed her glasses back up her nose).

My curriculum is intangible in so many ways. These students have been taught subjects, but in my class, I hope to give them the experience of learning about themselves in a different way. Because that’s what I learned in college…I learned to think outside of the black/white paradigm and analyze poetry and give my opinion on things without stuttering or wavering in discussion. Of course I will teach things like study skills and learning styles, but I hope they gain a sense of community at the end of it all.

My college self, the one who thought about being an English teacher,  but didn’t have the confidence to really finish that degree, is now standing in front of a college class, with unbridled freedom in planning and executing the teaching objectives. Want to watch an episode of Dirty Jobs to illustrate Career Development? No problem! Want to give “This I Believe” speech/essay assignment? Go for it! Want to design group work or have free-writes or listen to music lyrics? All acceptable.

And the best part, perhaps, is coming home at the end of the night, happily tired with enough emotional energy to drop to the rug and play with Potamus for a few hours until bedtime. While I’m not getting much sleep at night, thanks to full-on reverse cycling and Potamus nursing at least every 2 hours (if not more), I am happy. So happy.  But like a quietly contented happy.