Natural Disasters

The first 5 full days of school have been... spaced out.

Day 1 was fantastic. Things went smoothly, as one would hope they might. However, it turned out to be the calm before the storm because on day 2.... the earth quaked.

The day was going as we had planned, minus two of our support staff. No big deal, we're used to adapting. The kids had just finished lining up in the hallway to go to gym and left. One of my girls, AY stayed up with me because she wanted to grab some makeup work since she missed day 1. I was talking with Mrs. S, our math teacher, in the hallway when things started rumbling. Considering our building is essentially a construction site, and workers are on the roof above our classroom as well as hanging outside our windows, I thought nothing of it.

As we all know, the shaking didn't stop. It got worse. Many things began running through my mind as the ceiling tiles began to fall in the hallway.

1. The children are in the stairwell - I should run and help them.
2. The ceiling is falling right around Mrs. S - I should grab her.
3. AY is standing around looking confused and not worried - she should be more scared.
4. Those guys working on this building blew something up and now I'm going to die in this $60 million dollar project.
5. I should stand in the door frame, just like all my elementary school teachers told me to do.

Realizing that running to the stairwell wasn't going to help anyone and would likely hurt me - I decided the adults with my kids would be able to handle that situation. I grabbed Mrs. S and AY and shoved them into my doorframe with me. Mrs. S and I hugged AY to keep her from running away - as she wanted to go sit at my desk. The thought of the building going down did not stop, and I calmly accepted death and figured it was fitting that I died in the school as it had taken over every other aspect of my life. There was no praying to God, I thought about my family for a brief moment, and was glad I told them all I loved them the night before.

Then the shaking started to lessen, the building just swayed back and forth. Mrs. S kept telling me how that had to be an earthquake - as she had been through many of them when she lived in Japan. I shared my theory about the construction issues which made us all laugh. She then noticed that all the parts of the ceiling that had fallen slammed on the floor right where the kids had been standing 2 minutes earlier. Mrs. S felt it was very eerie - I thought it meant we had good timing and it added another reason why it is important for us to transition quickly.

After standing in my doorframe, hugging, for about 3 minutes, we decided it was safe to move. An announcement came overhead telling us to evacuate the building immediately. This brought a 6th thought...

6. We have no idea what the emergency evacuation/fire drill procedure is and have not been provided with a fire drill plan.

It figures that the first year I don't know the fastest way out of my building is the first year I actually need it. Of course, we are like rats in a maze and are able to find the cheese - especially when you're concerned your life is at risk. When we got outside my children immediately ran to me, telling me all about what happened. After a quick mother-hen head count, I was able to breath and listen to their stories about how the gym was shaking. This allowed my brain to forget my 1st concern (that the children were in the stairwell).

The principal made the executive decision to let the kids all go home (everyone walks) as it was unclear if it was safe to reenter the building. Of course, my kids ride a yellow school bus and had to wait to be picked up at 3:15pm - it was 2:00pm when all the other students were let go.

So the ID cluster team stayed with our awesome children and we played games in the mobile classroom/cafeteria until 3:15p. When we finally got them all on the buses, all other teachers had left an hour ago and only a few administrators were left. It would have been nice to leave when everyone else did, but my kids are fun to hang out with so it worked out in the end.

It was just nice to know that it was just an earthquake and not the building blowing up - that would have been a major bummer.

Due to the need to have every DCPS building inspected, Day 3 of school was canceled.

Once the earthquake was all dealt with, Hurricane Irene paid a visit and caused significant flooding in the basement of our newest section of the building. I'm sure there are many reasons this happened, but I can't help but think the empty window slot in one of the basement classrooms that only has a trash bag separating the elements from the indoors had something to do with it....

Between the flooding and the lack of power, Day 6 was canceled. After spending all weekend in my apartment braving the storm, I had done a significant amount of planning and decided I deserved a true day off. This naturally means I went over to Mrs. S's house and helped her with math planning. I do know how to relax though - I went kayaking in the Potomac with some of my fellow teachers. This was an excellent way to spend an afternoon off. I also jumped in the Potomac and went for a swim (yes, I am aware that river is super dirty - and yes, I am also aware it was likely dirtier that day due to the excessive flooding - but can you say you've swam in the Potomac? I didn't think so!) The rest of the day was rather relaxing, setting me up for a successful Day 7 today. Keep in mind, Day 7 was our 5th full day of school.

Considering the beginning of our school year usually sets the tone for the rest of the year, I'm completely stumped at what is to come. I'm not on board with all that apocalypse talk - but this year is promising to be my most interesting yet!

Fake It 'Till You Make It

About 8 or so years ago I was talking with my brother, about airport experiences. He was telling me about his most recent trip with my dad where they almost missed their flight due to airport security lines (don't worry, this isn't turning into a Seinfeld joke.) The security line was a mile long, and their flight was boarding - my brother was sure they were going to miss their flight. My dad turns to my brother, tells him to follow, then darts down the line, charging towards the metal detectors. My brother was terrified. He followed my father, head down like a scared puppy, and charged forward. When they got to the front of the line, my dad turned to the person in front and simply stated he was about to miss his flight and would the person mind if he jumped in line ahead of him to catch his flight. The person had no problem and let them go ahead. My brother was astonished... did that seriously just happen? How did they manage to skip a 45 minute line??

I was confused... why did my dad do that? When I asked him what gave him that kind of confidence he explained the following two principles:

1. Always wear a suit while traveling. It's never hurts to look really important.
2. Always act like you know what you're doing. People usually can't tell the difference between really good fakes and the real deal.

While I don't always travel in a suit, I quickly learned the power of faking it. People in the faux handbag industry learned the value of a really great fake, why couldn't this apply to people? Now, please don't take this as me supporting being a fake, but when in a pinch, it's alright to act like you know what you're doing and hope people believe it.

This principle is what has been the basis for my job over the past 2 years. First, I had no idea what it meant to be in an ID cluster, so I faked it. Then, I had no idea what it meant to teach math and english to students with intellectual disabilities, so I faked it. Next, I didn't know what "life skills" curriculum meant and what that encompassed, so I faked it. Lastly, I didn't know what vocational training looked like, so I faked it.

But today... Today I didn't fake it. Today, I made it. Our cluster was functional. It was beautiful. It was happy. It was appropriate. It was a well oiled machine. It was what all the kids wanted. It was appropriate for their levels. It was exactly what it should be, no faking.

While the other two teachers (yes, we have a 3rd teacher as of 8am this morning!) may feel like they're faking it, I was right in my element. The best part? The kids must have known, because we have never had great first day, and today was GREAT. They were all following directions, we got through the majority of our classes (we started late because of the rest of the school, not because of us), and all the logistics went seamlessly. It usually takes us about a month to get to where we were today. I am VERY excited to see what our group will look like in a month!

I thought it was just our group. I couldn't imagine the rest of the school having as good of a day as we did. But it turns out everyone stopped faking it today. Some people had 25 kids in their classes (usually that number hovers around 15 for the first 2 weeks), many teachers were able to meet the majority of their students, the building wasn't overcrowded with parents, there was an orderly way to handle registering new students, the list goes on. The only thing that didn't go right was the football team was supposed to meet with me after-school and didn't get the message, but that is extremely minor in the grand scheme of things.

It's looking like a great start to the year! Now the battle is maintaining this wonderful momentum we're starting with. I'm pretty sure we're up for the challenge.

Half the Battle is Just Showing Up

The ID (intellectual disability) Cluster that I work in has a team of 8 adults that work with our kids on a daily basis. In addition to these 8, we have other support staff such as social workers, speech-language pathologists, occupational therapists, counselors, and tutoring services. But the 8 core teachers and aides are the ones who have at least one class they teach to our kids everyday. Yesterday, 6 of the 8 were present for our first day of professional development. 7 of the 8 were accounted for. 1 was missing.

Today, we had the same attendance. This was unnerving. This feeling changed to anger and frustration when I learned that the 1 missing had quit the day before professional development started. I was even more upset that I was not informed of such things. I am the ID Cluster Leader and I have two days of professional development that are set aside just for me and my staff. Missing 1 person is not something I planned for.

I of course began frantically calling and emailing people, trying to find a teacher to put in this vacant position. Once I had a few candidates, I went and spoke with my principal who was interested in someone he interviewed for a different position last week and hadn't initially accepted. Unfortunately, that teacher is now at another school. My search continues...

I knew it was all too good to be true. I am in the newly renovated area of my school. I have a beautiful classroom, with brand new desks, shelving and cabinets built into the wall, a new teacher laptop and screen, a student laptop (theoretically I'm getting another as well), a laser jet printer,  a phone, cloth bulletin boards, 2 white boards, filing cabinets (yes, plural), beautiful windows, control over my central heating, amplification equipment so that I can wear a microphone while I'm teaching, and a promethean (smart) board. And I also received a key to my classroom, all my cabinets, and my filing cabinets.

This is the unbelievable upgrade from my classroom with old graffitied desks (many of which were broken), a filing cabinet that I purchased myself, a laptop that had missing pieces, a white board that didn't erase without industrial cleaner, a chalk board, stolen book shelves from other classrooms, mouse poop in one corner, a roof that leaked when it rained in another, no student laptops (they used mine if we did a computer activity), lights that weren't always on or working, heat sometimes, a/c window unit that we prayed worked every day, windows you couldn't see out of because they were so dirty, cement walls that NOTHING stuck to, a key I received 1.5 years after I started (because my door broke off the hinges and when it was replaced, the repairman gave me a key, not my administration), and the list goes on.

The amount of times I've gotten so overwhelmed with positive emotions that I've gotten teary eyed in the past week is embarrassing. Our children deserve all of these amazing things. They really do. They also deserve a full staff dedicated to them and DYING to teach them. I can say that is true for 7 of us. But I guess the eighth couldn't even show up to give us a chance. They didn't show up to give our children a chance. I guess they did us a favor, because if they don't even have the courage to show up for a day and give our team a chance or show up for our children, we don't want them in the cluster. Our children deserve better than that.

The latest and greatest is that central office cut the 3rd teacher position in the cluster. We brainstormed for two days and have come up with a plan. We're pretty confident it's going to work. Make it happen with what you've got and where you've got it.

Game on.

Everything You Say Can, And Will, Be Used Against You

Until this week, the only type of court situation I had been in was in regard to speeding tickets (it happens to everyone... doesn't it?). However, when I received an email from a DCPS Attorney General, Ms. G, I was beckoned to a new type of legal situation.

"Good afternoon,

There is a due process hearing for [my school] student [JN]. The issue is whether the IEP and location are appropriate. Based on the meeting notes I have read, it appears that Ms. Walker has enough experience w/ the student to speak knowledgable about her. Ms. Walker, are you available for a hearing on August 3rd?

Thank you."


I knew this was coming. I had 3 meetings in the past 7 months for this student where the parent and attorney for the student argued that JN needed a more restrictive, therapeutic environment. (Read: They want DCPS to pay for JN to go to a vocational instruction based private school for students with special needs located in Northwest, DC). I continued to explain that based on what I knew about JN's needs, my school could technically service her. Would she benefit from this private placement? Absolutely, any kid would. Should it be on the Districts dime? No, I need that money for new curriculum that she would benefit from. But they kept fighting, and I kept disagreeing, so here I was, being asked to testify at a hearing as the District's witness.

The meeting actually occurred on a different date (which I found out by showing up on the 3rd and then told that it wasn't that day.... so glad I came back early from vacation for this meeting...), but I agreed to come and testify in JN's case. Before this hearing, a person called an Educational Advocate had been the representative for the lawyer at the IEP meetings. The lawyer was clearly too busy being important to show up for JN's IEP meetings, but was perfectly capable to speak about the entire process we had been going through for 2 years by reading notes from all the meetings. I had never met the lawyer, and the advocate was not my biggest fan since I wasn't intimidated by her (something many of these people bank on), so this was not going to be the most comfortable situation. Luckily, JN's mom, Ms. C, and I have a great relationship and talk frequently about JN and how I can best help her in the classroom. I talked to her about once a week (or more) during the school year and Ms. C always appreciates everything I do for JN. Ms. C doesn't like anyone else in the building, but at least she liked me. It was nice to have at least one person who didn't hate me when I walked into the office...

The prosecuting lawyer, Mr. H., presented his case first.  He used the advocate as a witness first. As I listened to the questions he asked her, I was blown away. I found the whole process fascinating. He asked her questions that would ideally mold someone's point of view (duh) and it was frustrating. I wanted to interrupt and yell at him for being manipulative. Naturally, I raised my hand and the DCPS lawyer just kept hushing me. As Mr. H asked questions I wrote notes for the DCPS lawyer, Ms. G, informing her about all the between the lines things that he was glossing over, hiding, or flat out lying about. I didn't realize that Ms. G was going to get a turn to ask the advocate questions. I became much more aware of how important my presence was... my notes became our entire case... everything I wrote down was really important to counter any arguments put forward, clear up any manipulation Mr. H tried to create, correct any lie that was laid on the table. I felt pretty important.

After the advocate was finished with her testimony, Mr. H brought forth his next witness, the Executive Director of the private school in NW that Ms. C wanted to send JN to. This woman was really nice - I liked her. She seemed to be running a school that was helping kids who needed it and anyone who does that is a winner in my book. No manipulation was needed, her program sounded great without the shady questions. Once her testimony was complete, he asked the woman who completed JN's Functional Behavior Assessment (FBA) to review the assessment that she completed. This was annoying and unnecessary because we could simply read the assessment and get the same amount of information out of it, but of course when the psychologist reviewed it she only discussed negative aspects about my school and didn't point out the positives that she wrote about. I became increasingly annoyed with Mr. H who was wasting my time and going out of his way to be a jerk. Just use the people who were at the meetings and who know JN, not people who met her once and performed an assessment.

Next up to bat was Mom, Ms. C, my only ally in the room. Unfortunately, this was the first time we were pitted against each other. There were several points during the hearing where we tried to communicate, but Mr. H hushed Ms. C as if I was going to give her cancer by talking to her. I was a disease that would ruin her mind and his case. So he began asking questions, and she was unsure of some of the answers and would look at me for help. I'd look back and frown, wanting to say something but Mr. H would remind her to just say what she remembered... implying not to ask me for help. It was brutal. We had been a team for 2 years in educating JN and now we were separated, both trying to give JN what was best but having different views of how to provide it (appropriately so). I continued to write notes for Ms. G for her counter argument, but I didn't want to, I didn't want to do that to Ms. C. But alas, it was expected, and I like to meet expectations.

After the prosecutor's case was complete, it was my time to shine. I was sworn in (the first time I've ever had to do that!) and then Ms. G began asking the questions. She used my notes mostly to mold her case and ask questions that would counter arguments that had been said. I knew what to say, and how to say it. After listening to the first 3 witnesses and paying attention to the questions that Mr. H was asking, I realized this wasn't about what information you shared as much as HOW you shared it. It was all word play. Ms. G spent about 15-20 minutes questioning me, where Mr. H and Ms. C wrote notes about everything I said and whispered back and forth as Ms. G and I had done during their testimonies. This is much more nerve-wracking than I had expected, but I tried my best to keep my cool. (To be honest, I was rather concerned with my peeling skin from a bad sunburn, and every time they whispered my inner-self-conscious-teenage-girl thought they were commenting on how I looked like a reptile. My inner-confident-young-female-adult knew that this was not the case, but it was definitely one of the reasons my heart was pounding.) Then it was time for Mr. H to counter-question (or whatever it's called). I became visibly nervous.

"Take a deep breath, Ms. Walker! I'm not going to bite. You look nervous!" "Well, thanks Mr. H! You saying that is totally convincing and now my heart can stop pounding, my palms can stop sweating, and my peeling skin will reattach itself and you won't notice that I look like a 24-year-old-white-leper! You're SOOOO kind!"Ok, maybe I didn't say that out loud, but I definitely wanted to. I figured that wouldn't be a good thing to have on the record. Instead I politely laughed and reassured him I was fine, just anxious about meeting my 12:30p deadline to leave for another meeting (politely reminding him not to waste my time and to be prompt).

There were several moments where he became upset with me. I could tell he was upset because he actually raised his voice at me. I was caught off guard... I thought we were all adults, and adults don't raise their voices at other adults... at least I thought they didn't. When this occurred I would look around the room and then back at him to make sure that others were aware of him belittling me and treating me like a child. I would also pause before answering any time he raised his voice at me, to make sure that I had an extra calm response to show the contrast between our two voices.

"Ms. Walker, you clearly stated in this report that JN was suspended more times this year than last, but you are now saying she wasn't suspended her first year?!". [Look around to make sure we all noted he is acting like a child....1....2....3....4.... Look at him and make eye contact....5....6...] "Yes, Mr. H. Since she didn't have any suspensions her first year of school, anything more than 0 would be more than the previous year. So I am right, she was suspended more this year than last since she has been suspended at least once." "Ms. Walker, please pull up page [blah blah blah blah blah] and read that last line for me." "It reads, 'Despite [JN's] improvements, Ms. Walker explained that JN has had more disciplinary suspensions this year than last year." "And you now say she wasn't suspended her first year but in this report you clearly state she was suspended more than her first year, clearly pointing out that she had been suspended!" [Look around to make sure we all noted he is acting like a child....1....2....3....4.... Look at him and make eye contact....5....6...] "No. I clearly stated that she was suspended more this year than the previous. And as I said earlier, anything more than zero suspensions would make that statement true. We have repeatedly said she was suspended multiple times this past year, which is more than zero, and thus more than the previous year." "Ok... well... Ms. C said that JN was suspended her first year... are you saying she LYING?!" [Pause... look at Ms. C with a note of sympathy.... 1.....2.....3.....] "Yes, I believe that Ms. C is mistaken." "Oh... well... you think Mom is lying... then fine...." [Mr. H shuffles through papers and acts like a 5 year old with an attitude problem] "On to my next question..."

This went on for 20 minutes. Then the "judge" hearing officer had clarifying questions that lasted another 10 minutes. He seemed genuinely interested in what I was saying and doing at my school and seemed to show more sympathy than I expected. When I was finished, Ms. G wrote "good job." in my notebook and closed it for me. I said goodbye to everyone, told Ms. C "good luck with everything!" and then ran out of there. After being yelled at by a lawyer for 20 minutes about things out of my control, I was ready to forget all about it. I can't control whether the deans document suspensions properly. I can't control what other teachers do in their classrooms. I can't control whether adults are consistent with children in the building. I CAN worry about me and I CAN control what I do, but that's about it.

Cases like JN's aren't uncommon in the district. I have about 5-6 students each year who are special needs and have lawyers who "represent" them by filing complaints against the district. We call these, HOD cases, which stands for Hearing Officer Determinations. When a parent feels their child has had educational harm done to them, they can file a complaint against the district. The complaint is presented to a Hearing Officer, and that Hearing Officer determines what actions are to be taken in order to resolve the issue. If these steps are taken and the issue is still unresolved, it comes back before the Hearing Officer and the case is then heard about whether DCPS can service the child within the public school system or if the student must attend a private school where students from the district are placed. So, JN's case was an HOD that went back to court because mom wants JN at a placement school. Unfortunately, the equivalent of ambulance chaser's have taken on the responsibility of encouraging parents to file complaints against DCPS and the district spends a significant chunk of their budget on lawyers, placement school tuition, and transportation to said schools. While I think it's great that these kids get to go to private schools, it has diverted millions of dollars in resources from those kids without lawyers who also expect to be educated on the public dime. Who is really winning here? We'll save the explanation for how this lawsuit culture started and my opinions of it's effects on the District for another day.

One thing I did realize after this whole experience is I need to start watching more lawyer shows... Maybe I'd know what to expect? On a more serious note, it did make me think about going to law school. If I'm going to be battling lawyers as a teacher, I feel it could be useful to know what they know. Know thine enemy, right?

For now, that will have to remain on the back-burner and I'll just watch more Law & Order.

Aren't You Angry??

"Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent to throw it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned." -Buddha

There are so many things to be angry about when you're working in inner-city schools, DCPS in particular...

Disparity between groups based on zip code. Attitudes of people ignorant to the problems of inner-city education. People within the system who perpetuate the problems schools face. Being forced to be a part of a union when you don't believe in what it's fighting for. Lawsuits against the District for denying FAPE to children. The problems you can't control that your students must face every day. The assumption that you aren't good at your job because of X, Y, and Z. The instability within the classroom, school building, and district. You are assumed guilty until proven innocent. Lack of resources. Lack of consistency. The list goes on.

With so much to be angry about, I'm a surprisingly happy person. I generally have a smile on my face, I laugh loud (and often), and I try very hard to have a "glass half full" mentality. If it was 4 years ago, I would be the raging angry person that this District turns people into - unable to handle all of the disfunction and running away as far as possible to somewhere... anywhere else.

While Buddha is not the first person to provide the advice "let it go", he sure does say it nicely. About 3 years ago I was talking with my dad, and he was having a hard time listening to me. He interrupted my whining about some insignificant sorority girl problem, and said, "Sweatheart, why do you care so much about this? You don't seem to even like the person..." I retorted, "Well of course I don't! I don't care about them! They're driving me crazy! I just don't understand why they need to make me so miserable!" Then he said the most infuriating and liberating comment, "Well, you clearly care about them because you're so angry about it. You care enough to be angry. If you really didn't care, you would't be so angry with them... you would simply not care."

I was enraged. How dare he tell me that I cared about something (or someone) that I didn't give a shit about. I didn't care SO much that I practically HATED it. So I stormed around my apartment at the time, huffing and puffing about whatever I didn't care about, and super mad at my dad for having the nerve to tell me how I felt.

A few days later, I had calmed down about whatever I thought was so upsetting. My dad tried to explain to me again what he meant about caring. "You do realize that it takes significant energy to be upset about something, right? For example, you were so upset about the situation that you not only spent energy being mad at the person, but you also go upset with me." He was right. In the heat of "not caring" about this person, I was spending a significant amount of time and energy being mad about a situation that (in the grand scheme of things) wasn't that big of a deal. Why did I care so much?

Maybe I liked drama. Maybe I was a emotional teenage girl (well, it was more my early twenties but it carried over from the teen years). Maybe that's how everyone else responded so I felt that I should do that too. It was unclear.

In light of this discovery/sage advice, I adopted a new frame of mind. I wasn't going to care if I didn't want to. I had the power to choose what I care about. This was the most liberating change I have ever gone through - with getting my drivers license as an extremely close second.

Ever since I decided that everything was a decision, life became a whole lot happier, and less stressful. It was a good thing I learned this lesson before starting my job because I know so many teachers from my program who didn't realize it was a choice to care about things. They would get beyond upset about things that were far out of their control. They spent so much time being upset that they became less effective teachers. Don't get me wrong - there is a certain level of caring and anger that is necessary for inner-city teachers to be there - but if you got outrageously upset about everything, you wouldn't be able to enjoy your job. I get angry sometimes, but only because I choose to. The things I choose to get angry about are the ones that I know I can change, thus allowing my anger to be productive, instead of destructive. Thanks to my dad's (and Buddha's) advice, I am able to channel my anger to benefit children and be a better teacher. Besides, anger is way overrated. It's much more beneficial to think about all the great aspects of my job.

There are many things to be happy about when you're working in inner-city schools, DCPS in particular...

The kids are awesome. You are in the midst of educational reform. Chancellor Kaya Henderson actually listens when you talk to her about issues within your school. The union isn't so strong that children are completely devastated (so thankful I don't teach in NYC). You can take kids on field trips to some of our nations greatest treasures (hellooooo Smithsonian Museums!). You know that you're making a difference, and know that you can show children they are worth it. DCPS is in flux, and we get to be a part of this (hopefully) positive change. I have a really great team of teachers I work with at my school. I have an administration that lets me run a program that I've completely made up. The list goes on.

Work, Work, Work, Every Day and Every Night

Many say the best part about being a teacher is summer vacation. Two solid months of no work, where you can just kick it and relax. And that is exactly what I planned to do. I went on a cruise. I spent 2 weeks at my parents' house. I spent 2 weeks in DC, just to enjoy the city. I went to Cape Cod with Buddy for 4 days. I saw friends I hadn't seen in years. I spent some time in NYC with friends. And I even managed to be at my parents' place in time for my mom's birthday. This was all done with my final 2 weeks of summer to be dedicated to school, working on planning and setting up programs for this coming year, as well as helping new teachers prepare for the mayhem to come.

While I was able to do all of these wonderful things, I managed to work my way through the entire summer. I was sitting in the airport the day after school ended (about to hop on a plane to Budapest), and I found myself frantically sending emails before take off. Even when I was on the Danube River in Austria, I was completing attendance for days that decided not to log my attendance entry. I was sitting by the pool, and couldn't help but read through English standards and deciding which I would use in my curriculum for the year. I came back to DC and promptly picked up a tutoring job. I went to Cape Cod, and compulsively talked about how I would set up the theme for my classroom. I went into New York City to visit friends, and spent 5 hours in a Starbucks, deciding which literary devices would go with which units I've picked. IT. NEVER. STOPS.

I have conversations with other teachers and can't help but talk about the upcoming year. What is to come? What will you do differently? What are you teaching? How are you preparing for X, Y, and Z? Did you hear about [enter fun gossip topic here]? I can't talk to a single teacher without discussing what's to come this next year. Some teachers are raging excited for all the potential of a new school year. Others are not so optimistic, painfully aware of the let down we have experienced at the beginning of each new school year. False promises, empty hope, crushed dreams.

I obviously love talking about work (I'm clearly spending my free time writing about it...) so it's not talking about it that is so irritating. It's that whenever I talk about work, I have a compulsive need to be productive. Every conversation is a reminder of all the preparations I need to make for this coming year. When I was asked to think about what a productive, efficient, and effective after school program could look like, I created an 11 page proposal and promptly met with my principal, asking for the authority to run said program. When I talked about how I might go about planning for English, I immediately hunker down and create a long term plan. When confronted with the idea of creating a theme for my classroom, I brainstormed for a few hours and drafted a vision. I can't JUST have a conversation about work – I have to do something every time I talk about it. It's not very relaxing.

Granted, I do not want to sound super whiney. I clearly do all of these things because I love my job. And I do. Terribly. I love my job so much that I take on even more jobs within the school (i.e. the after school program). I'm just frustrated because I didn't really have a vacation. I spent the entire time preparing for this upcoming year. With all this preparing, one would assume that I have set myself up for a (relatively) easy first few weeks back.

That's where I get REALLY frustrated. I spent all that time creating a beautiful after school program, sending it out to teachers and coaches requesting feedback... and it's likely not going to happen. Not because I'm raging pessimistic about change at my school (I've been pretty successful at changing things up), but I can't have the position I need in order to officially implement it. I'm going to need to convince someone else that my program is what they should use and then do all the work for free. Yes, for free. (I'm never one to say no to something that benefits children, but I'm extremely tempted.) I have been emailing my principal with minimal response (he's a bit busy with more important things... like hiring teachers for vacant positions) which does not bode well for my program. So I spent all this time developing a program, while on "vacation", and it is likely going to be a waste.

I haven't lost all hope. I will clearly continue to fight for this program to get set up, but I'm not going to be surprised if it gets shot down before Day 1. While my after school program may not get adopted (this year), the cluster is moving in the right direction. I was given the authority to be the "cluster leader" again this year - allowing me to continue implementing my 3 year plan for the ID cluster. Our new subject of "Business Skills" was approved, allowing us to give our students even more useful instruction during the day. The principal gave me a dean that will be assigned to the cluster, moving towards some consistency in administration with my babies. It's not all wasted work (thank GOD!) I still have 2 weeks until we report back for Professional Development, though. Both of which I'm in the District for.... who knows what I will get done!

Soooooooo.... that's what I did on my summer vacation.