Teaching – Where Vivid Narratives Live

Survival School

When I exited the public school classroom several years ago, I had no idea the unforeseen bullshit I’d spare myself. There were many anti-educational evils that I grew tired of battling, yet the fucking plague wasn’t among them. Followed by the political push to force in-person education amid the rising number of COVID-19 infections and death.

Now the same illogical political bullshit reasoning that’s putting students, educators and the greater community who interacts with them at a new risk for coronavirus exposure, has used its favorite tool: threatening to withhold money. In the past, reducing school funding for so-called underperforming schools was the illogical course of political action as if providing fewer resources to address academic challenges would work.

Federal, and in some cases state, money is being threatened if schools don’t reopen as if reducing school funding will better educate students. A rational response to in-person education during a pandemic would be to increase funding in order to enhance safety and lower cluster outbreaks.

Now public schools scramble to transform themselves into environments where students can both learn and survive. There’s even talk of open classrooms. I’m guessing that’s in other places that don’t get Texan triple-degree weather nor Arctic blasts that plummet everything to below-zero temperatures.

This is one of the occasions where I’m so happy I already drink and curse. This situation isn’t forcing me to adopt two new vices.

Speaking of vices, just when kids are being forced to return to in-person education, Congress is fucking around with relief money, more children are dying from the coronavirus and the threat of evictions has resurged.

Another vice that’s coming around the corner, but hasn’t been splashed about the media yet is this: even if one survives the plague, they won’t just be a survivor, but in the eyes of health insurers, they’ll be people with pre-existing conditions.

In 2016, despite the fact that I was no longer a classroom teacher, I found myself reprising my educator role even though I was a health insurance agent. Here were some of the lesson objectives I reviewed:

Many Americans voted against their best interest because health care had become a political football: Repeal and replace Obamacare!
That was such a successful campaign until the same people discovered that “Obamacare,” which was later nicknamed “Trumpcare,” were both aliases for Affordable Care Act plans or “ACA” for short. No matter what you called it, this was major medical coverage that didn’t reject people based on preexisting conditions.
Americans who rarely saw the doctor were furious that they were either obligated to get healthcare or pay a fine to take care of “sick people.” In reality, this is the nature of ALL insurance. The people who regularly pay, but rarely use their insurance ALWAYS collectively pay for those who use it. Think about it: if everyone who had a policy needed the insurance company to pay for an event at the same time, the company would go bankrupt.
Healthcare coverage is NOT based on political affiliation. Nowhere on the health insurance application does it ask for which political party you normally vote. Therefore, there aren’t any special healthcare plans sponsored by your elected officials. It’s the same (shitty) coverage for all of us unless you are independently wealthy.

Currently, the sudden rise in “sick people” sent insurance companies scrambling. Almost like magic, free testing for COVID-19 appeared before our very eyes. Even more magical, there was no mass outcry about tax dollars being spent for testing “sick people.” That’s because those “sick people” were essential workers, the elderly, children, people with compromised immunities, people with underlying health conditions and people who originally thought this pandemic was a political hoax.

People across the political map have been infected because Rona don’t give a fuck. The triumphant who’ve battled Rona and won have now joined the millions of Americans with pre-existing conditions. Are we now going to tell them that they’re uninsurable? Will we smugly tell our fellow Americans that if they want better health insurance or even SOME health insurance then they have to get a better job?

By the way, where are those better-paying jobs? The government would like to know that as well since they are loathe to continue the extra $600 for unemployed benefits or a second round of $1200.

As a secondary math/science teacher, I encouraged my students to be lifelong learners. That’s pertinent advice for everyone these days. We’ve all been enrolled into Survival School.

Spoken Word for Insomniacs

During the first day of the 2014 Austin Feminists Poetry Festival, the rain poured down. Despite the inclement weather, I’d prepared 30 booklets for my “Spoken Word for Insomniacs” workshop just in case.

I also took the opportunity to set up a stylish display of my book and Austin Writer Roulette business-card-sized fliers.

The space was an art gallery, which displayed vibrant-colored paintings.

In addition to my book, there was a display of feminist poetry.

I left no stone unturned in order to promote the Austin Writers Roulette, which conveniently took place the day after the festival ended.

I loved that among the feminist poetry, these four kitchen magnets were all together.

As I’d suspected, the rain or the traffic kept the crowd away. Nonetheless, I enjoyed taking my participants through the steps of their insomniacs booklet.

First, they wrote a list, in words or phrases, of what kept them up at night. Then, they wrote a one-sentence “elevator pitch” of each insomnia-inducing item on their list. Next, they visualized and wrote themselves as the hero. They could have had superpowers, a sidekick, cool gadgetry, and time-travel. Lastly, they used the remaining time to develop at least one of the ideas with themselves as the hero.

I gave them the most time to work on this part since I wanted them to walk away with at least one tangible thing.(Speaking of walking away, the doorstop caught my attention, along with the persistent rain.)

When I returned to the group, I saw at least one of my participants had been cured of insomnia. More proof the process works!

AISD Superintendent Search Meeting 7/16/14

I arrived to the meeting room for the AISD superintendent search a few minutes early and found the room empty. Puzzling. Just the day before, when I’d mistakenly gone to the Carver Museum, then the Carver library, I’d checked the meeting room calendar to confirm the actual date and time.

By 11:25 am, five minutes before the meeting start time, I went to the front desk and asked if the meeting had been cancelled. They checked their copy of the calendar and confirmed that the it was due to take place in meeting room 2 at 11:30. The guy even told me that I was early! I expressed concern that I’d sat alone in the room, which showed no evidence that anyone had come to set up the place for a meeting. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I returned to meeting room 2.

Since I’d come prepared with a spiral notebook, a pen and sat in meeting room 2 alone, I wrote down some thoughts, thinking of how this experience was indicative of why things don’t improve faster for public education. If this had been a meeting concerning an educator molesting students, then parents would be here. Representatives from AISD, perhaps with their legal staff, would be here. Yet to discuss the hiring of one of the key employees of the district, no one besides me shows up. I know I’m not the only one who cares. At other meetings of concerned citizens gathered to make a difference in the pursuit of the best public education of kids, we all somehow feel like pockets of educational activists.

After 10 minutes of journaling, I whipped out my smartphone. I brought up the AISD website with the intention of getting a phone number and letting someone know exactly what I thought of their community meeting. I saw a link for “Superintendent Search.” Clicking on that, I saw another link for a schedule of meetings. I discovered that all meetings from noon to 1:30 would take place at an AISD building for all three days. The Carver Library wasn’t even listed. Fortunately, I was only 12 minutes away to the next location, according to GPS.

I arrived to the meeting location site, where several other meetings/workshops were taking place. After an Easter egg hunt with an AISD board member, we located the room. I was hot. Not the, “Woo-wee, we’re in Texas in the summertime” hot. I was angry black woman hot. Someone offered me a small bottle of water. I said the politest thing I could think of. “That is not the drink I’m in the mood for.”

As I signed in, I vented my frustration about the meeting room mix up. A woman in the know, whipped out her master schedule of all 15 superintendent community forums and assured me that the meeting was at noon at the Carver library–30 minutes later than either the library or I knew about. Much after the fact, I learned the facilitators for the Carver Library meeting had been 10 minutes late due to traffic. No one from the community had shown up. I had been the community member.

Instead, I was one of 12 people, including the school board member, a headhunter consultant and a couple of AISD central office people. The meeting was positive, even the constructive criticism never entered the angry zone I’d been so accustomed to when attended by mostly teachers and parents–those of us on the frontline of interacting with students. Those of us who could put faces to the data that drives the illogical strategies, which may work well for business, but not for the business of educating kids.

The most positive contributions I could make were 1) the district needed a superintendent who collaborated and 2) had improvement strategies for special education and English Language Learners.

Nonetheless, the meeting was beautifully conducted and the conversation flowed like warm, spiced wine with only 12 questions:

1. What do you consider as the significant strengths of the school district? (Most praised the improved attendance and graduation rates. I kept quiet since I no longer trust educational statistics because I understand math, especially math corrupted by political gain. Too much temptation to cheat or play jazz with the numbers. Improvisation is wonderful in music, acting, poetry and other forms of art, but not crunching educational data.)

2. What do you feel are the positives of the community? (We praised things like no state tax; thriving business and arts communities; diversity of culture; oasis in the middle of TX)

3. What are the issues and challenges specific to AISD? (As a group, we came up with lack of money, growing population of students, special education, and English Language Learners.)

4. What words or phrases would you use to describe the qualities you would like to see in a new superintendent? (I drove home the word “collaborative.”)

5. What is the leadership style you would like to see implemented by the new superintendent? (I stated we didn’t need a superintendent to pull the evil stepparent act of talking down to the community and trying to change everything on his/her own.)

6. Given the changing dynamics of public education, what are the critical issues the new superintendent will face? (We all agreed everything ultimately rested upon the shrinking budget.)

7. What are the necessary changes that need to be made for AISD to be more successful in student achievement? (One woman repeated the superintendent needed o get the money back for education!)

8. Are you satisfied with the direction of the district? (Why or why not?) (Can’t remember what the others said, but I voiced concern about the extreme top-down management.)

9. If you could help develop the new superintendent’s first 100 day entry plan, what would that include? (I wrote that the super’s first question at any meeting should be, “How may I best serve you?”)

10. Is there any other information you would like to share concerning the community, school or superintendent position that would impact the search process? (Several were concerned about the $300,000 salary offered and whether the super would see his/her role as long term, at least 10 years.)

11. Do you have questions regarding the search process? (At this point, I waved a piece of paper with the steps of the process outlined and asked, “Isn’t this it?” We agreed that it was clear cut.)

12. If you have any names of candidates you would like to recommend us after the meeting please…(I stopped listening after that.)

The Never-Ending List

I’ll admit it: I struggle with arrogance. After all, I’m only a perfect nine. I know I have flaws. Yet I make the most of what I have.

When revising my bucket list, I was initially stumped. Consider this: I’ve traveled around the world, driven cross-country, been published, happy, in love, thinner, younger, in good health and as far as rich is concerned, money’s what I make of it and as long as I’m making enough to pursue happiness, I’m rich.

So what drives me to write, paint, read and wake up in the morning with a sense of purpose? Since I’ve resigned from teaching, my quest is to make all of my social interactions and art teachable moments.

Given the sorry state of the world, I have a myriad of things from which to choose. The aspect I love the most about teaching is research. Whichever objectives I want to know more about, I research and transform that information into an engaging lesson. That elevates the act of teaching to the art of teaching. Unfortunately art was one of the first things sacrificed to the high-stakes testing moneymaking monster.

Yet now I’m free to teach whatever I please. To follow my passions and shed light on the darkness of misinformation and misogyny, so I’ll NEVER run out of material or motivation. Just watching twenty minutes of the news can send me into an intellectual frenzy. I do some of my best improvisational spoken word, addressing the latest stupid utterance by a republican politician, or so-called Texan educational reformist, or restrictions to women’s healthcare, or latest mass killings where apparently it was the person doing the killing, not the weapon.

Regardless of the rant, I feel obligated to come across as an educated, empowered voice. Y’know the saying about how we should know history so we won’t be doomed to repeat the past? Well, history pisses me off! History tells me that minority women have been and continue to be beasts of burden, suffering in silence. Whichever misogynistic acts are unleashed against women, at least double it for minority women.

The only way I can think to help balance out the universe is to produce a different narrative, a counter narrative, my own narrative. Through fictional characters in my novels or first person spoken word. The situation’s only going to improve if I help it along.

This isn’t some Miss America beauty pageant contestant’s fondest wish of ending world hunger. Nor is it the airing of a litany of gripes about how someone should do something about my complaints. My irritation is an accurate indicator that I need to do something with integrity about the situation.

When I resigned from teaching on Friday, March 29^th, 2014, I’d already finished teaching the entire Physics curriculum, I’d paid off all debt and I’d saved up some money. The icing on the cake was that I’d resigned on the eve of the administration of the most egregious standardized test to date: a 5-hour combined reading and writing test where students would receive a cold sack lunch delivered to their testing classroom to wolf down for 20 minutes then resume taking the test. No longer would I be obligated to assist the state of Texas in its institutionalized educational version of child abuse.

The following Monday and Tuesday, two different TV reporters interviewed me over my resignation in what they called my protest against standardized testing. I hadn’t thought of it as a protest, but I certainly do not disagree.

I told the reporters how creative teachers like me wanted to do more than use the scripted lessons and limited teaching techniques to educate students. Yet teachers who dare to be innovative get heavily biased negative evaluations, put on growth plans and then threatened to lose their jobs unless they slavishly follow the teaching-to-the test strategies.

Although many people don’t watch the 5 or 6 o’clock news or listen to news radio in the morning, my fellow teachers had heard about my actions. My former colleagues and my friends who taught at different schools all reported about the buzz I’d caused at their school. Many thought perhaps now something would change.

A month later, a third TV reporter contacted me. Again, the request was to interview me about the negative consequences of high-stakes testing. I told her that my resignation was old news. She agreed, but quickly added that I was the only teacher who would go on camera to talk about it. I declined that interview since I had nothing new to add, but I gave her a tip about another education protest scheduled for that day.

I don’t blame any of the inspired teachers who will not come forward. After all, teaching is challenging enough without the added retaliation they’d surely receive from school administrators if they spoke up. At the same time, imagine what would happen if the general public knew teachers’ narratives. Would parents allow their students to participate in those high-stakes tests? How many parents know that those high-stakes tests are NOT part of No Child Left Behind? How many parents know that this is a Texas initiative?

On April 14^th, 2014 I sat in on the Texas senate committee meeting on education. I witnessed our Texas senators grilling the test makers over the length of the infamous 5-hour reading/writing test. One senator pointed out that giving high school students a 5-hour exam was the equivalent of an academic and physical test. Another senator questioned why the test was five hours just to graduate from high school when students who wanted to go to college only took a 3-hour test.

The last expert on this panel was an education professor from Dallas who had monitored three high schools. She testified that the teachers who administered the test witnessed students losing stamina after three hours and bubbling in answers in the fifth hour without reading anything.

The results of this flawed test will reflect on the student, his/her teacher and the school. And for what? The generation of data? To close the poverty gap? To close the minority achievement gap? That data will be used against students, teachers and schools. Any school that has major academic needs will be punished for it. Can you imagine going to a hospital emergency room and not receiving medical help because you’re not already healthy?

So now that I’m no longer in the trenches, no longer financially dependent upon remaining silent out of fear of retaliation, I plan to write a fictionalized account about teaching within the toxic consequences of high-stakes testing or “the machine” as I like to call it. I’ve already started doing a little research and have conducted some interviews. Yet, I need to finish my current novel before I can give this one the time and energy it deserves.

In the meantime, class is in session. There’s a life-altering lesson waiting to be learned.

Emancipated: How I Quit My Job in 4 3/4 Years

After teaching math and science for eight years outside the US, I relocated to Austin in July 2009. For the first two months, I didn’t have an outside job. I spent my time in my small apartment, polishing up my first novel, Tribe of One and painting. Yet I was optimistic that I’d find a teaching job with my 13 years of international experience. A week after school had begun, I started teaching at a high school with the Austin Independent School District (AISD). I immediately sensed something “strange” beyond the reverse culture shock that an expat experiences when reintegrating into her home country.

I’d always prided myself for being creative, innovative and well-organized. Of those three qualities, only the last one was remotely appreciated since it best served the god of high-stakes testing. When I first started in 2009, science teachers who taught the same course were expected to have 80% of the exact same cookie cutter lessons. That made me bristle, but I still took small comfort in expressing my individuality in the remaining 20%, my classroom decorations of international cloth and dressing up on spirit days and for Halloween.

Three years later, I got in trouble for decorating my classroom with international cloth and dressing up for Halloween. Not for becoming more risqué with the decorations or costumes, but for speaking against the anti-teaching practices that we were being forced to implement. Here’s an example: in order to make the 5-question science quizzes more “rigorous”, students could only make a 100% or 0%.

When an underdog goes against the grain, she has to be subversive and endure a very short leash. I knew after the first year teaching with AISD I would not be part of the high-stakes testing machine for long. My top exit strategies were to pay off my car as quickly as possible (my only debt) and self-publish my first novel. I published Tribe in December 2010, around the same time AISD hinted about the money-saving reduction in force (RIF), which was implemented the next school year.

A lot of money pours into the city of Austin and Texas in general, but the state government taught me how little they valued public school teachers. Moreover, I learned that the Texas government cared more about making money off public school students than investing money in their education.

In January 2011, I began working on my second novel, The Adventures of Infinity and Negativa. At the same time, I excitedly brainstormed and burned through different ideas to set up readings and peddle Tribe. I’d bought a microphone, a microphone stand, portable speakers, 500 business cards with Tribe‘s cover and information, and ordered an additional 100 copies of my book on top of the 20 copies included in the self-publishing package. I made phone calls, press kits and drove around town with copies of my book in the back of my car ready to read, sell and sign. All that book-selling legwork took place during my spare time outside of being a full-time high school science teacher.

After the RIF, my classroom size doubled. Educational studies have long shown that at risk students and English as a Second Language (ESL) learners benefit from small classroom sizes. Yet, these academically vulnerable populations are precisely the students who get shortchanged. My students crammed 35 to 42 in a class where I was expected to give each a significant amount of individual attention and update their parents on their lack of progress and/or behavioral issues.

My increased workload clashed with my book selling ambitions. Besides, I discovered I didn’t like the whole PR and marketing side of being an author. For all my efforts to promote my book, the returns didn’t justify investing more time in securing venues where I could read and sell. I eventually moved most of my books from the trunk of my car to my closet, which lightened my load both physically and mentally.

During spring break 2012, I filed taxes and used part of my refund to print 72 Tribe of One T-shirts. I also sponsored my capoeira group so my brand, Mathdreads, would be on the back of their batizado T-shirts, which is a celebration ceremony where new capoeiristas receive their first corda and experienced capoeiristas get their next corda. Now, I had both books AND T-shirts in my closet!

After this experience, I came up with the radical idea I’d stop wasting my time driving around town, trying to set up readings to promote my work. Instead, I’d organize a monthly theme-based spoken word and poetry show to promote all featured artists. The Austin Writers Roulette was born.

The first season of the roulette took place in a capoeira studio. The most beautiful space I’ve ever trained capoeira, but the most challenging place to run a monthly spoken word and poetry show. First of all, hardly anyone could find the location. Secondly, once they arrived, no food or drink was available for purchase. Lastly, the room occasionally ran hot since on Sundays from 6 to 8, the automatic AC would cut off. Although I’d originally charged a $5 admission, I essentially paid people to attend. I hired a DJ, rented chairs and occasionally gave my capoeira teacher money for the space. Thankfully, the first season only ran the last six months of 2012.

For the new year, the roulette moved to a new location, which had excellent promotion, location and libations. The night before our first show, I received an email, stating “new and exciting” things were happening at the venue. Cutting to the chase, we lost our monthly slot to make way for bands. Since then, the venue has won numerous awards for bringing such a vast selection of live music to Austin. I’m proud my show had graced their stage once!

I scrambled to find another venue for the upcoming month. The theme for February 2013 was “Cupid’s Naughty Secrets.” I located another place where we could reveal those salacious secrets. We’ve performed there for over a year and counting to a growing audience.

In the meantime, the Texas legislature increased the number of standardized tests students needed to pass in order to graduate to 15. A whopping money-making scheme for those who gleefully profited from testing students that sent the educational community into a tailspin. Adding to that stress, in the spring of 2013 some students took the old test, TAKS, while other students took the new test, STAAR. In the last six weeks of school, some population of students were testing every two weeks. At my school, students who weren’t testing spent time in tutoring camps, going over the most commonly missed objectives in drill and kill format.

Thanks to community protests, the Texas legislature passed HB 5, reducing the number of standardized tests required for graduation from 15 to 5.

Over the years, I’d witnessed hordes of my colleagues leaving, most of whom were disgusted by how they were treated by the school administration. During the summer after my fourth teaching year with AISD, I optimistically joined a collaborative group of union leaders, other teachers and a teaching professor to improve the school climate. We led a day and half professional development to discuss teacher autonomy and professional communication–two big areas that recent surveys revealed were high need areas.

We agreed that teachers should have the autonomy to teach the standards, using a menu of best practices. As the year progressed, best practices were steadily crossed off that menu. Professional communication came in the form of carefully worded emails, such as the one I received after the first day of school stating that Bob Marley, who had been in my classroom the past three years, had to come down since he gave “unsavory ideas” to the students.

By spring semester 2014, “professional communication” was an oxymoron. Tense-jawed administrators whose tone of voice clearly held the teaching staff in contempt, talked down to us and ordered us to do exactly as they said.

At this time my exit plan was nearly set: I’d paid off my car, saved up six months worth of money, led the roulette into an impressive third season, and embraced my newfound career as a contract technical writer.

I looked at the calendar and chose Friday, March 28, 2014 as my last day of school, which was two weeks after spring break. The Physics curriculum had been ridiculously written so that the last six weeks of school were dedicated to “culminating projects and the final.” I’d covered all topics with my Physics students before I left and provided my long-term substitute with the first of several projects for them.

Most of my colleagues did not know that I was leaving although word had slowly spread, especially when my departure was announced at the science department meeting two days before my last day. On Friday, I told some teachers who I’d known for the five years I’d taught there. They all congratulated me for moving forward, but expressed anger at the school for motivating another good teacher out of the classroom.

I wanted the pleasure of teaching each class, business as usual; so I only said good bye to my last class of the day. When they asked why I was leaving, I told them I wanted to finish my second novel, which included painting. A true, but incomplete explanation. The dismissal bell rang. My students hugged me as they left.When I publish my third novel, a fictionalized account of teaching in AISD, perhaps they’ll understand. I scrambled downstairs to turn in my classroom keys and ID badge.

Before I could turn in my things, I spotted the principal. I’d left my “resignation letter” in his mailbox earlier that morning. I retrieved it and handed it to him in person. It featured my favorite Marley quote (Emancipate yourself from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds) and a copy of The Proclamation of Emancipation. I’d signed at the bottom, complete with the date of my employment: 8/2009–3/2014. He burst out laughing. I smiled, shook his cool clammy hand and dashed away to finish checking out.

I made it to my bikram yoga class on time and as a free woman. The stress in my muscles that had built up during the week melted away before the class had started. Just being free soothed my soul. Afterwards, I met a friend to celebrate.

As I review the week ahead of me, it’s a wonder I ever got as much done in my “spare” time outside of school. I’ve got many creative avenues to explore, networking contacts to make, pieces to write, paintings to complete, a healthcare system to enroll into before the looming deadline (tomorrow!) and taxes to file.

I take a deep breath and thank God I’ve finally arrived to a place where my creative energy is no longer limited by a principal, a school district and a state that actively drive out teachers like me to keep their lucrative, for-profit standardized testing machine oiled. Make no mistake, I’m still a teacher. I now teach in a classroom without walls.

http://kxan.com/2014/03/31/teachers-call-it-quits-after-getting-fed-up-with-staar-testing/

http://www.myfoxaustin.com/story/25134789/standardized

Psychosomatic Illness?

I spent a blissful two weeks on vacation and got a half day reprieve from professional development in form of a dental appointment on Monday morning. A three year-old had allegedly died after a trip to the dentist recently, which rattled me a bit, going into my own dental appointment. Yet, I’m an avid flosser; so I passed my exam and treatment with flying colors.

As soon as I stepped into the building just in time to have lunch and get some work done in my classroom, I started to feel ill. As much as I enjoy being a full-time artist during vacation, a part of me feels a severe disconnect between my strong creative drive and teaching at my present school. I figured that was affecting my health.

Tuesday was the first day of school for students. At the end of that day, I felt even sicker. I’d learned since Monday that the cedar pollen count had been high and that H1N1 was sweeping the nation at near pandemic levels. I tend to dismiss the alarmist reports of the American media since I’m well aware that they sensationalize facts for ratings. At the same time, I could not deny my constant sneezing, coughing, gathering of clouds behind the eyes, and slight chills.

Whichever combination of pathogens had invaded my system, I was determined to be well by the weekend. I started taking nightly “garlic shots,” which is what my family calls swallowing crushed raw garlic with plenty of water. I also put drops of hydrogen peroxide in my ears and went to bed earlier–a couple of nights, I didn’t even read (gasp!) before turning off the lights.

One thing I would not sacrifice was my bikram yoga practice. I knew staying in the hot room for 90 minutes would help detox my system. Even though the room was at a balmy 105 degrees, I didn’t break out into a pouring sweat like I normally do since I didn’t have the energy to exert myself in two sets of each posture. Even if I did both sets, I didn’t have energy to go to my edge.

Or put another way, my edge was simply staying in the room and moving as much as I could. The real challenge was internal. For two evenings in a row, I went to yoga since I had to get groceries on Thursday and cook Friday. In retrospect, that back to back hot yoga practice, along with garlic shots and more sleep truly kicked those pathogens’ ass! I felt so good on Thursday until about 7:30 and went to bed an hour and a half later. By Friday, I almost felt 100%. Close enough.

I cooked for the potluck that I was going to and managed to have a fabulous time socializing. Just like last month, I brought tupperware to pack up lunch for the following week.

I got even more rest, sleeping in on Saturday morning. I went to capoeira and had to modify nearly everything since my teacher did a lot of jumping moves. At one point, I noticed that my left hip had finally unlocked. This came a week after having a deep tissue massage on my lower back and left leg. I was initially ecstatic until my spine started some uncomfortable popping and a catch settled between my shoulder blades. No amount of gentle spinal twists could alleviate it.

So today, much to my delight, I woke up without the catch and I discovered that my left ankle had recalibrated along with my spine. For the first time since the accident, I did postures my previously gimpy left hip had prevented. My left ankle had become more flexible and could bare more weight. Just the amount of energy gained from the postures truly fueled me on. I’m so happy that my body’s reached another stronger plateau.

What a terrific way to start off the week…I’ll just see what happens when I walk into school tomorrow.

Standardized Testing Hell

From an academic standpoint, this past week was pretty much devoid of academic rigor, thanks to the latest round of standardized testing. The normal school schedule was drastically changed in order to accomodate the freshmen and sophomores taking the writing portion of the STAAR. The students who weren’t testing, participated in either a TAKS camp (the old standardized test) or a STAAR (the new standardized test) camp. We teachers were also divided up into test proctors, TAKS camp tutors and STAAR camp tutors.

I’m glad they referred to it as “camp” since every morning, I felt as if I were huffing it out to a concentration camp when I carried materials to the portables. For three days in a row, it rained, making things even more dreary in the concentration camps. Although I didn’t have to prepare any of the materials, not being in my own classroom, with my own students was more draining than carrying all those materials every morning and afternoon.

Now after living through a week of hell, I’m going to face a week of trying to get my classes back on track to finish up a major project, drill the juniors (and some seniors who still haven’t passed the science TAKS) for their upcoming standardized tests and a get a new batch of advisees to tutor Physics. Just to add to the humor, the science department has started a new thing of reviewing “best teaching practices,” as if April is the ideal time to do so rather than, say, August.

At least two things make me hopeful: even my most immature students are stepping up to the plate and the state government may help alleviate testing hell weeks by reducing the number of standardized tests from 15 to 5.

What drives me to go into work early tomorrow morning (Monday) is a crazy belief that somehow, if I get everything organized for my students, then perhaps I can spare them most of the craziness that otherwise jips them from having the first class education that they should be guaranteed by being citizens of one of the most powerful countries in the world.

No Hotdogging Around

This past week at school has been intense. Not because of the students or, miraculously, the administrators. I’m in the final countdown of the number of classes until my little ghetto brats take their finals. In the upcoming week, I’ve three more days with my A classes and only two more with the Bs. Fortunately, the only good thing that has come from the overemphasis of testing is that my B classes are a day ahead; so they’ll both finish up equally.

Nonetheless, in the last three class meetings leading up to the finals, I’m presenting new information without much moment of pause. I’d slowed down the pacing in the beginning of the semester in order to tutor my students during class time since the vast majority cannot fit tutoring in their teenage angst-ridden schedule or reconcile it as part of their habitual motivations. Now I can no longer afford the luxury of having them to do majority of their work in class, which means (gasp!) they actually have to complete their work outside of class, whether it’s at home or not.

This’ll be an intense time for me as well. One of the major goals that I accomplished by Friday morning was putting the final touches on the semester study guide and getting the guide photocopied to offer to the students. Out of all the students on Friday, only a handful in the last class of the day requested to have their study guide this coming Tuesday. I was impressed at least with the acknowledgement of most of the students that it was better to have their study guides sooner rather than later, especially since I warned them that we probably would not have any time during class to work on it together.

Saturday, my normal routine changed, but I remained just as busy. I started my morning writing, then I took a luxurious hour to work on three paintings. I’d checked out “How to Draw Magic and Fantasy” from the school library, but I only flipped through it since the weather was so beautiful that I could indulge in painting. I do all my sketching for when it’s too cold to go out on the balcony and paint. I then went to the capoeira studio to wait for the guy bringing 30 rental chairs for the last event that I’m hosting in that space.

After arranging the chairs in a circle, which is this month’s theme, I dashed off to pick up my new prescription glasses. I jokingly told the optometrist that I was merely swapping one set of birth control glasses with the next, but truthfully I’d picked out a stylish pair of new specs this time. I dashed from there to the library for a screening of “The Inconvenient Truth about Waiting for Superman.”

About 30 of us turned out for the hourlong film. I appreciated that the audience was small enough to allow for a good discussion, but large enough to have parents, students and educators mixed in. Viewing that movie, I felt more empowered about the work I’m doing in the classroom, given how there’s a national conspiracy against both public schools and veteran teachers. It’s no coincidence that, depending on the class, my student population ranges from 60 to 80+% at risk students. Thanks to the war against teachers two years ago, my class size has exploded, which means even less time can be dedicated per student. Now, the growing trend has been to intimidate veteran teachers into quitting or early retirement, starting with sudden negative evaluations, placing them on “growth plans” and other tactics to discourage veteran teachers who are more likely to call out questionable practices and cost more money.

Following the housing bust of three years ago, education is now poised as the biggest untapped market for hedgefund managers. In addition to the lucrative market represented by standardized testing, taking over public school space and monies in the form of corporation-run charter schools is the new money-making venture.

Essentially, corporations have far more money to lobby the politicians, who will readily throw working-class and poor parents under the bus along with their kids. As a charter school, they can cherry-pick the students who will give them the high scores on standardized tests. If the selected students don’t perform well, then they kick them out of the charter school, retaining the “good” students who increase the overall test scores and concentrating the at risk students in regular public schools. And for all the corporate money and deck stacking, their students overall are not better educated in vast numbers as one would expect, given the fact that virtually none of the corporate-run charters accept students with learning disabilities or English fluency issues.

Part of the reason is that, like a business, corporate-run charters attempt to keep costs low. Inexperienced teachers are cheaper and as soon as they burn out, then the business can just hire the latest batch of inexpensive, energetic, inexperienced teachers to educate the cherry-picking. Disgusting.

The ray of hope at the end of the discussion was the fact that the recently elected school board members are against this latest corporate-run charter and will have the ability to stop the spread of the infection. In addition, there is a survey available that anyone can weigh in on about the newfangled standardized test, STAAR. I cannot wait to share my two cents!

After the meeting, I quickly whipped up my lunch for the week, and got myself together to go shopping with some capoeira friends and then hangout at a sports bar. One of my ulterior motives for being a part of girls’ night out was to survey other women about a certain sexual practice, which we codenamed “eating hotdogs.” As with virtually any sexual conversation, we had a lively discussion, arriving at 10 pros and 28 cons of eating hotdogs. I’m eventually going to type up my findings for a piece which I plan to read at the Austin Writers Roulette in February, which is themed “Cupid’s Naughty Secrets.”

Describing the Essence of Orange

One of the aspects of teaching that keeps me coming back for more is when the students say something so insightful that I ponder the ramifications long after the fact. One such jewel dropped from a student’s mouth when I was circulating around the room, helping my Physics students with their study guide in small groups. Inevitably, there was one group that just wasn’t focusing as well as the others. They had hardly started; so I sat down with them and reviewed the difference between vector quantities and scalar quantities.

Of times, science students get tripped up on vocabulary even if the concept behind the term is easily understandable. So, I repeated the definition of a vector quantity, which has both magnitude and direction. Then the next vocabulary pitfall was “magnitude.” Instead of simply telling them what the word meant, I gave them examples of magnitudes such as their age, shoe size, height, weight. For ten of the longest minutes of my teaching career, I attempted to get one of the four students to say the magic word that was synonymous with “magnitude.” At one point, a student confessed that he felt that I was trying to get them to describe the essence of the color orange. At the time, I thought the comment was so outlandish, I quickly dismissed it. A few minutes later, one brave soul carelessly said, “Numbers?”

I erupted, “Yes, yes, yes! Magnitudes are numbers! So scalar quantities, like your personal statistics, are represented only by a number and vectors such as displacement, acceleration, velocity and force have a number and a direction!”

The classroom was eerily quiet for a few moments, then the students collectively let out a sigh of relief and giggled at my temporary insanity. After class, my student’s magical phrase, “describing the essence of orange,” came back to intrigue me.

I thought I was giving clear, logical hints to lead my students toward the word “number,” but there was no connection to the pattern I wanted them to see. I loved that my student used an analogy about color since how would I describe orange or any other color to someone who had never seen color before?

I could have that person to taste the sweetness of a ripe orange. I could take that person outside during both the sunrise and sunset and let them feel the sun when it was that color, but could I reconcile those three experiences with the ESSENCE of orange? I could take the physics approach and talk about wavelength and how all the other colors are absorbed except the orange wavelength, which reflects into our eyes, making the object appear orange, but is that scientific explanation the essence?

In retrospect, I’m relieved that my job is merely teaching physics.

Between Bikram & Malbec

I don’t want to be “that teacher” who complains about the lack of vacation time, but for the fourth year in a row since teaching in Austin, the stretch between Labor Day weekend and Thanksgiving has been the worst time of the year. I’ve never noticed that before. Perhaps teaching outside the States for a collective 11 years, with a combination of American and host country holidays, have helped keep me sane throughout the school year stresses.

Over the past 4 years, I’ve absorbed the local culture and recreated my lifestyle, just like I always do when I move to a new place. Technically, Austin’s not exactly new to me, but every year feels nearly new since I explore another aspect of this wonderful patch of the universe. When I first arrived, I danced salsa at least once a week, trained capoeira 2-3 times a week, wrote every day and drinked a glass of merlot or cabernet with dinner.

Fast forward a few years and now I still train capoeira twice a week, drink malbec with dinner, write every day and I’ve managed to fit three bikram yoga classes into my busy schedule, which includes organizing The Austin Writers Roulette.

Despite my stress-relieving exercise schedule, writing outlet and wine consumption, my subconcious still slips me an occasional reminder that there are unresolved issues I still need to strategize. The most recent reminder came in the form as a familiar dream: I was driving a Landrover through a jungle. The road was bumpy, and adding to the challenge, the thick foliage. Nonetheless, I managed to maneuver well until I came to a sudden clearance, opening into huge, muddy canyon.

Since I was aware that I was dreaming, I allowed the Landrover to leap into the canyon, landing safely along one of the walls and continue rolling down. As exhilarating as the ride was, I woke up and instantly knew the destination: despair.

That word just popped into my mind. All the negotiating through the jungle represented obstacles that I face. The canyon of despair appeared because I felt tired. Not the kind of tired that comes from a few lost nights of sleep in a row, but the accumulative fatigue that sets in over a protracted period of time of working hard and feeling that very little progress is being made.

A bikram yoga class, glass of wine and good night’s sleep later, my new destination was hope. I’ve learned a while back that fatigue dulls my creativity and my best course of action was to rejuvenate myself as quickly as possible. In the middle of the next yoga class, I came up with a brilliant solution for work and a clever idea for the roulette. Two for one!

As this year comes to a close, I’m excited about the upcoming plans I’ve made and the new opportunities as they unfold.