To be, or not to be... resolute.

It's that time of year... the New Years Resolution List is making it's appearance on many a blog, Facebook profile, Twitter feed, etc. I made my first real public list of resolutions last year. Here's an abbreviated version of that list:

1. Get more sleep.
2. Say no.
3. Eat better.
4. Cook more.
5. Meet people.
6. Read.
7. Read.
8. Stop being angry.
9. Exercise.
10. Write.

Let me tell you how well these went...

1. Slept less.
2. Said no. Watched things implode. Went back to saying yes.
3. Veganism didn't go well. Gained 15 lbs.
4. If my microwave counts as cooking, I did well.
5. I met people... but they were still within my workplace. Fail.
6. Read for school.
7. See #6.
8. Fail... just, fail.
9. HAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
10. I wrote 21 posts in 2012. The goal was 54... 38.8% is a big fat F.

This brings up the question of did I feel resolute about my resolutions? Was I whole-ly committed to what I wanted to do in 2012? Is that the person I really wanted to be? Someone who slept enough, didn't overcommit, ate well, cooked, was sociable, read, exercised, and was never angry? Apparently not, since I am not that person and I'm pretty happy with my life.

Do I want things to be different? Yes, absolutely. Time moves forward, as do I, and staying the same is... boring, to say the least. But what do I want to be different? What am I determined to make happen in the next year? Do I really want to lose weight? Absolutely. Do I want to have a healthier overall lifestyle? Of course. Do I want to be more social and meet new people; possibly have a boyfriend? Definitely. But if I wanted to do those same things last year and didn't... where's the breakdown? What are my true New Year's Resolutions?

This is a tough question to ask, especially because my "new year" really starts in August instead of January. As a matter of fact, this is more the middle of my year.

In the beginning of the school year I was feeling resolute about many things. I decided to have a better work-life balance. I decided to improve in my craft. I decided to learn how to teach students in diploma-track classes, thus learn to teach new content. I decided to stop being vegan. I decided to take less administrative responsibility. Lately, my feeling about these decisions has been less than resolute, it's been somewhat halfhearted. My work-life balance is not what it should be (let's be real, anyone who gets home from work at 9pm at the earliest get an F for this category). My teaching hasn't been as good as it was in the past, let alone better. My main food groups are Lean Cuisine, Hot Pocket, PB & J, and Starbucks. I am secretly making administrative decisions because no one else is, leaving me as a ghost admin that just gets trampled over instead of respected.

Realizing that I am in need of some resolution revival, I'm making a mid-year inspiration list. Instead of listing new resolutions, I'm going to think of reasons to be resolute. Hopefully this works out better than coming up with new resolutions, since I can just carry over last years failed ones.

Reasons to be Resolute

1. Practice what you preach. In order to expect my students to live productive, healthy lifestyles, I must model that for them. It is not fair, or realistic, to tell them how to live, but not follow my own advice. 

2. This, too, shall pass. Far too often I think that this phase will never end, that I'm digging a hole that is really a grave, and that things will never change. While I do not think I should go too far down a dead end, I do believe that many of my frustrations will pass and the light is at the end of the tunnel.

3. A good man is hard to find. This can be taken as a romantic man or a metaphorical one. What is most important is to remember quality is what I'm looking for, and that is not always the quickest answer or option.

4. What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. I often get overly discouraged by my failures. Even though my dad always reminds me that you must fail a dozen times (at least) before you truly succeed, it's hard to remember that it's ok. Even if I fail, as long as I learned from it, that's what matters.

5. Rome wasn't built in a day. I think this is most important for me to remember as I work on creating new programs at school. It's foolish to think that I'm going to get it right the first, second, or even third time. The (arguably) strongest empire in history took hundreds of years to build up... Not that building programs should take hundreds of years, but I'm sure you can catch my drift...

6. It's not the end of the world. December 21, 2012 came and went. We're all still here. Clearly things aren't that serious since the world isn't ending.

7. When the going gets tough, the tough get going. There are those people you can depend on and those that you can't. When things get hard, it's important to remember those who you can count on to not only work with you, but remind you why you are there. If you don't surround yourself with the tough in difficult times, you must be ready to stand alone.

8. Quitters never win and winners never quit. I had a weak moment a few weeks ago when I messaged my friend Mr. B. He's our Athletic Director and the person who has asked me to run our after school study hall for our athletes. In a weak moment where I felt I wasn't needed, I asked him, "Do I really have to do study hall anymore?" He was shocked to see that I had a quitters attitude. Even though I explained some legitimate reasons why I didn't feel I was needed and thus didn't want to do it anymore, he asked me the simple question, "Do you think [the students] need it? What would happen without it?" I thought about it, and the kids do need study hall. I also didn't want the kids grades to fall, they then become ineligible for sports, and then our teams that have been working so hard to turn around our reputation go back to square one. Quitting isn't the answer. Reorganize? Absolutely. But don't quit. 

9. You can drag a horse to water, but you can't make him drink. Kids are not robots. Neither am I, for that matter. Even if all the tools and materials are there, if the person doesn't want to use them, they might as well not be there. Far to often I spend too much time being disappointed about kids, and myself, not using the tools that are right under our noses. There is only so much I can do, and being upset about someone not taking advantage of what is laid out in front of them is a waste of energy. Recognize it and move on.

10. If you can't dazzle them with your brilliance, then baffle them with your BS. Sometimes, people just don't get it. Other times, I just don't know what I'm talking about. Regardless, the art of bullshitting should never be underrated, as it got me through my first year of teaching. No matter what, figure out how to move forward and make it happen. There is no other option.

Here's to a (more) resolute 2013!

DTR

I'm not sure where this abbrev came from (like that I abbreviated abbreviation? I know.... to cool) but it's one of the more handy ones I've come across.

When you "DTR", you "define the relationship". This could be used in many circumstances, with the most common of them being in a romantic relationship. However, it can be used in some other situations:

Friendship

Co-workers

Family

Religion (DTR with Christ is a common thing, so I hear)

Since I had only heard the term in a romantic sense, I had a difficult time imagining why you would need to DTR any other relationship you have with people/things/higher beings. However, when I was talking with my friend Angela the other morning, she was hearing lots of names of students as I caught her up on everything that I was doing and she kept asking, "So, how do you know that kid? Is he/she your student?" And I had a hard time explaining how I know MS, AR, DT, and pretty much all the kids that I don't teach, because our relationships are... well... complicated?

This confusing situation happens quite frequently. I am very close with many students whom I will never teach. (I won't ever teach them because they are in general education classes.) However, I am closer with these students than almost every teacher that has taught them. When they introduce me, they intially refer to me as their teacher, but when asked what I teach, we look at each other, stumped.

"Well, I'm a special education teacher, but I don't actually teach _______ in class. I run tutoring programs that they participate in and a bunch of other stuff."

Does that even begin to describe my relationship with the kids I don't teach? Does that adequately rationalize why I get up early on a Saturday to pick up AR and drive him to the SAT across town with batteries, pencils, and a snack to boot? Does that explain why I drive over an hour to see MS play basketball with her AAU team? Does that connect with why I pick up DT every morning on my way to school? Does that connect with why I take VM to buy uniform pants because he can't afford them?

No... if anything, it sounds kind of creepy.

So how can I "define the relationship" with these kids, if I'm not even sure where it came from in the first place?

Kids have described me as a mentor, but that causes some confusion. Most of the mentors in our building are from outside programs that come to our school and target struggling kids. While I am close with some kids who one would consider "struggling", many of the kids I'm close with that I don't teach are not. DT, AR, and MS are in 3 AP courses (the most they can take as seniors). Many of my "students" have wonderful mothers (and some wonderful fathers) who provide everything they can for their children. Out of the 75+ athletes that I tutor and work with on a weekly basis, about 35 were on honor roll. So when I say "mentor", it gives people the wrong impression of the student, even though it's an accurate explanation of the things I do with the kids.

Kids have described me as an older sibling, crazy aunt, or mother. While that can describe my relationship with kids, it gets confusing when they look at both myself and the student and realize there is almost no way that we're related (remember, my school is 99% black... we have 1 Latino/Hispanic student). Of course, my students more and more frequently describe me as black, so that makes it a slightly more possible for us to be related.

Kids have described me as a friend. This doesn't happen often, usually in strange social settings. This is a terribly inaccurate description of our relationship for many reasons. There's a clear hierarchy, chain of command, discipline structure, or whatever you want to call it. There's a clear age gap that is quite strange for a friendship. There is dependency that is not normal in a friendship. I would never introduce myself a friend, but sometimes the kid is lost for words on what I am.

So if I'm not your teacher, family member, mentor, or friend... what am I? What is this strangely close relationship that I have with the students at my school who I do not teach?

Their person. That's what has been the most common explanation of what I am to them. When I meet a coach for the first time, the student explains that I'm "their person" at our school. When teachers ask who they should talk to about getting a student what they need, I'm "their person". When an administrator asks who the student needs in order to be successful, I'm "their person". When I take a student to the hospital, they write down that I'm "their person".

It may not be the most traditional of titles, but I am more than happy to be their person. It happens to be the most accurate explanation of our relationship. They look to me for a variety of things, but I do not look to them for anything but their best foot forward. My name is usually the first out of their mouths when they are stuck, and my arms are where they run to when they are in pain. I am a teacher, but I'm not their teacher. I am a sister, but I'm not their sister. I am a friend, but I'm not their friend.

I am a person. I am their person.