When the Going Gets Tough, the Tough go to Mom

When I was in 3rd grade, I was an overalls and tie-dye kind of gal. I had crazy, curly brown hair that fell to my shoulders, but I often had it tied back with some awesome scrunchy. Barefoot was my preferred method of travel, but I wore beat up sneakers when I was forced to cover my permanently dirty feet. Watching lots of television was not permitted in the Walker household, so I grew up playing outside with my neighbors, or if it was raining we would dress up or make up plays. Good ol' fashioned fun.

When I was in 4th grade, I was finally told tie-dye was no longer cool, and screen print t-shirts were what everyone wore. That's when I got my favourite t-shirt of all time. It was a picture of these two young girls playing in an overgrown field, and in cursive writing it said "When the going gets tough, the tough go to Mom." I wore this shirt proudly at least 2 times a week, until 6th grade when it resembled a rag more than a shirt.

To be honest, I had no idea what that phrase meant. I read that phrase on my shirt at least twice a week for several years, and couldn't figure out what "the tough" was. I guess I had never heard the original phrase, "When the going gets tough, the tough get going," because then it would have been obvious that "the tough" were people. Instead, I often imagined what "the tough" looked like. I imagined that "the tough" was like a wind, and ultimately your mom was the one who had to deal with all "the tough" that came through your family. Somehow she had the super-human strength to deal with all "the tough."

It wasn't until I was in my second year of teaching that I finally understood what that t-shirt meant. I was on the phone with my dad, and we were talking about the importance of grit. It was a seemingly insignificant moment, when he said, "Well, you know what they say: when the going gets tough, the tough get going!" I burst out laughing. Here I was, 24 years old, almost 13 years after I had gotten rid of my favourite t-shirt, and I finally knew what it meant. He asked what was so funny, and I explained the phrase on the t-shirt, and told him that I finally understood what it meant: that the tough go to their mom for strength, and those little girls were running to their mother. He chuckled and said, "Yep, that t-shirt sums you right up. You're one tough cookie sweetheart, but when things get tough, you always call Mom."

It was a weird compliment. On the one hand, I am a pretty tough broad. I've dealt with some extremely challenging situations in my life, especially in the last 5 years, that many people would have backed away from. I don't give up easily, almost to a fault. I almost always accept a challenge, and I don't let setbacks deter me. On the other hand, I do talk to my mom, a lot. I call her at least once a day, if not more often, primarily depending on if I had a difficult day or not.

I've been having a difficult time with my adjustment to my new school [see previous post]. Naturally, this means I've been calling my mom more than usual over the past few months. Recently, I've been less than satisfied at work, primarily due to the daunting reality that is urban special education in our country, and honestly the world, right now. It came to a head this evening while I was on the phone with her. I was feeling as though I will never be able to claim victory, or determine that I've been successful. Most people's worst fear is failure, and while I'm petrified of the dark, I have an unhealthy fear of failure as well. I've kept my composure about these worries and the general discomfort I've been feeling, and trying to be tough.

The Tough bit my skin and made my eyes tear. The wind was stronger than I could handle, and I gave in.

I cried. I cried for feeling like I'm not making a big enough impact. I cried for thinking that I could solve the problems I had faced at my previous school by going to a new one. I cried for the hopelessness that I feel sometimes about the future of students with Intellectual Disabilities because our system dismisses them. I cried for the kids that won't get a better education if something doesn't change. I cried because everyone wants to write a single prescription for a problem that needs a whole cocktail of medications. I cried because our system has been failing, and it feels as though we're even farther away from fixing it than when I started.

And then The Tough went to Mom.

Mom did what only mom's can do. She shielded me from The Tough wind and reminded me that I am not Atlas, and the world does not rest on my shoulders. Perspective is everything, but keeping a high bar is important. Mom took that tough wind, dried my tears, and gave me a break from being tough.

My fear of failure has not been cured, and I definitely still feel too small, but I'm able to be tough. Mostly because The Tough went to Mom.



Thank you, Mom, for always taking The Tough away when it becomes too strong.

Driving with the Emergency Break On

A lot has changed since April....

- I decided to leave my school and did not renew my contract.
- I was hired by another school to start a program there similar to the one I've been building for the last 5 years.
- I got a puppy (she's adorable and the cats are pissed)
- The class pet, Pepe the hamster, passed away (RIP, furry friend)


Ok, so maybe only a few things have changed, but they are major. And up until recently, I was kind of just plugging along, thinking that not much had changed. But, I was wrong.

I have never handled change well. When I was 15, my family moved. Mind you, we only moved across town and I didn't have to change schools or anything, so this theoretically wasn't that big of a deal. However, I managed to get myself so worked up about it that I became depressed, an insomniac, and had to learn various coping strategies to deal with the stress of transition.

I felt crazy because I should have been excited - I was moving into a much nicer house than the one that I had grown up in, I was going to be in the same town, and I was going to remain close to all of my friends. Not to mention I was moving with both of my parents, not because of a divorce, which seemed statistically impossible to happen with the rate of divorce now a days (let me just say that my parents are fantastic role models for what marriage should look like - thanks guys). But even though this was a fantastic situation, I couldn't stop crying about wanting to be in my old (significantly smaller) room with my Laura Ashley wall paper and double bed. All I wanted to do was walk in the house and sit down at the kitchen island and breath in the smell of my childhood memories. This was no longer an option, and I could not grasp that reality. So I cried. And I laid awake at night feeling insecure and vulnerable, as if I was a baby bird pushed out of the nest too soon.

Obviously I made it out of the transition with minimal scarring, but it opened my eyes to a severe deficit of mine. My tendency to have a meltdown around change, as well as my inability to transition smoothly, has handicapped me my entire young adult, and now adult, life. When I went to college, my inability to handle the transition resulted me in coming home every other weekend and nearly failing all of my classes. When I got my first "real job", an internship in New York City, I practically ran out of that city every Friday to hop on the first train home. I ate lunch by myself because I was petrified about the change happening around me, and missed out on the awesome experience that is New York City in your early 20s. When I graduated from college, I had a full on melt down where I cried hysterically and had to pull over multiple times on my way home to call my mom and calm down. There was a point where I almost had her and my father come meet me on the highway to drive me home because I thought I wasn't going to be able to pull myself together.

While these are extreme situations, these are when I experienced major life changes and just had massively amplified anxiety compared to the average person. Most people would have a healthy dose of anxiety and skepticism about what the future holds. Instead of a healthy dose of skepticism, I have paralyzing fear about the uncertainty that is the future, the possibility of failure and defeat, and about the permanent nature of moving forward and leaving the familiar behind. Of course, so far things have worked out for the better when I make change, which is why I keep doing it, but that does not change that the process is absolutely, positively, terrifying and painful.

As I mentioned earlier, I came to the conclusion that I needed to leave my school. There are many reasons that led me to this decision, but it was not a joyful decision. This decision was made with the heaviest of hearts, and I am still extremely sad that I had to say goodbye to amazing people and students. However, I was blessed with a job offer just a few short weeks after I submitted my intent to not return. As I accepted the new job, the slow paralysis of fear crawled through my brain and has been trying to lay siege.

"What could be so scary," you ask? Well, let me count the ways....

1. I have worked with my closest friends in DC for the last 5 years. I got to go to work every day and see at least 5 of my close friends, which is a luxury not many people have. While I was not besties with everyone in my building, I always had someone I could turn to in a time of need or crisis, and I knew that they would not only listen, but would prioritize me and help me in whatever way they could. That environment was more than familiar, it was family.

2. I have had the freedom to create and design a program for the last 5 years with minimal restraint. I knew that I could go to my principal with an idea, and as long as it logically led to student achievement and positive mental health, I was able to implement it. I was given a lot of liberties that I would not have been afforded in another school as a 1st, 2nd, 3rd, or even 4th year teacher. Of course, by the end of this past year, that freedom started to become restricted due to issues with "downtown", so that freedom was not going to exist anymore.

3. There are many students that I have taught for multiple years. This is rare in a normal teaching situation, but since I worked in a cluster this was not unusual. One of the downfalls of teaching the same kids every year is that if you have a personality clash, it's a long road ahead. However, the most amazing part about teaching students for multiple years is that you get to know them and their families very well, sometimes better than you'd like. There were several students who I said goodbye to this year that I have taught since my very first day of teaching. Each year I said goodbye to students who were ready to leave the nest, but there was always a comfort for them that I would still be at school and they knew where to find me. Despite them having my contact information, it is nerve wracking for all of us that I am the one who left the nest.

4. I was going to a completely new place. Considering that I have taught at one school since I graduated college, I don't know what other environments look, sound, or feel like. The unknown is my worst fear, and I was running towards what, in my mind, looked like a brick wall. Do you like the thought of sprinting straight at a brick wall? I didn't think so.




After about 3 months at my new job, it is fair to say that I'm alive and breathing. I haven't had a major meltdown, which is a sign of maturity, and I have even made a few friends. While I've been enjoying my time there, it has come with some learning challenges. I have been moving forward, but there is a nagging feeling of something resisting the change. I am doing my job, teaching and designing a new program, but still feel as though something is missing.

Feeling unsettled, I spoke to several people about my dilemma a few weeks ago. I was feeling like a car that was driving with the emergency break on, like I was moving forward reluctantly. Based on this comparison, I needed to stop and turn off the break before I started moving again. The only problem was that I couldn't stop doing my job; the school year had begun and kids would be in seats every day. So what could I do? That's when they (I say they because I can't remember who said this originally) stopped me and made me realize what the real problem was. My "emergency break" was my old school and my previous students. I couldn't let go of what I had and move on to the next stage of my life. Whether that's because I had such a great experience, it is my only point of reference for comparison professionally, or it's because of my usual transition anxiety, is unclear.

This caused me to reflect back to my first year of teaching. I journaled a lot that year, so I went back and reread my journal entries from various points in the year. I had forgotten how alone I felt for the first 6 weeks of teaching. I had forgotten the disaster that was our program up until Year 3. I had forgotten that I only slept 3-5 hours each night for two years. I had forgotten that I didn't start to sense a deep attachment to my students until at least December. Some kids... it took years.

It was then that I started to have more forward momentum at work. After reviewing my challenges of my first year of teaching at my previous school, I felt better about my struggles with my new school. Of course, things are still a work in progress, but at least now I'm driving without the emergency break on.

What did they teach me?

What did they teach me? What did I learn in school?
A whole lot of useless stuff, that I've never used a day with a kid
I'm sure it was important at the time, which is why I complied
But then when it came to the big dance? It was miraculous what I did.
They didn't teach me how to potty train an 18 year old
It wasn't in the manual either, go figure, but candy bribery worked just fine
They didn't teach me how to behavior manage a person with schizophrenia
I had to split my attention between the two; now second nature
They didn't teach me what to say when a girl watches her mother get murdered
She came to school the next day, and I cried while she comforted me, so mature
There are a lot of things you don't learn in school
There are even more things they don't tell you
It's your privilege and demise to be introduced to them
At the least convenient time, in the worst location. You won't know what to do.

What separates the Haves from the Have Nots?
It's what my best teachers taught me in school.
The Have Nots don't care, don't listen, and don't worry
About much more than looking cool
To either their colleagues or the students.
The Have Nots are the names of teachers you don't remember
Of the ones that made minimal impact.
They were given a sledge hammer
Only to leave the surface unbroken.

The Haves shattered your perception of realty
Brought you back to the casualty
Of your former self, abandoning your propriety
Making you face the rest of society
With you acting so defiantly
When faced with the difficult decisions, justifiably
Standing up for those who don't know better, who quietly
Sit in the corner, being overlooked, and notably
Look to you to lead them out of the emotionally
Terrifying place they're sitting in: ignorance
The Haves taught me how to educate
They taught me how important it was to celebrate
Myself, because we are only as good as our reflection
You can't love others if you don't show yourself affection.
So once I learned to love myself I opened my eyes
They taught me how to see, I became baptized
In the fountain of knowledge, learning how to dedicate
My life to acquiring and sharing, trying to replicate
A love for learning in others, lighting a fire that would detonate
The bomb that we need to blow up this system
Let the ashes fall and shower everyone with the wisdom
That we are only as good as we make our children.
The Haves taught me how to lead by example
If you don't walk on the right path, The Have Nots will trample
All over you, and no one will win.

Please don't misread this message and think that I'm saying something else.
It's not that the Haves didn't teach me how to read, write, and calculate.
They did - but that is not what made them the Haves.
It was that they taught me how to eradicate the hate.
They taught me how to love someone so deep, in their brain and soul
That you could mistake them as your own family, your child.
They taught me that if you show someone how to value themselves
And help them find their confidence, their imagination will run wild
They will blossom and grow, not like a weed but ivy
That will slowly grow up our stable foundation, and after some time
You become consumed and when you look in the mirror to see your reflection
You see the most beautiful product, a picture truly sublime
As you are no longer looking in a mirror at you
But your accomplishments, the beautiful souls that you fed
The Haves look in the mirror and see the lives that they changed
Not because of the content they taught, but by the example they led.

So what separates the Haves from the Have Nots? It's simple.
Love.
Love of education, love of a challenge, love of the battle
Love of knowing that someone else's life is just slightly better
Because you met them, taught them, lead them on the right path.
When it came to the big dance, it was miraculous what they did.
Because love is a miracle. Love makes a person do crazy things.
Mix love and education, and you have a kid's dream come true.


This piece is dedicated to the staff of The Harvey School from 1998-2005.

The Double Black Diamond Decisions

I've never been much of a skier. I used to go with some family friends when I was younger, but once my knees started acting like my mother's (read: poorly), I gave up on the sport and resigned to being a snow bunny. I had an experience recently that brought me back to the feeling of the one time I decided to go down a Double Black Diamond...

I texted my principal about 3 weeks ago, and told him that I need to meet with him. Whenever I send texts like that he replies within minutes.

Principal: GM, of course. I am free after 1pm.

Me: Great - I'll be down once my class dismisses.

After 5th period I take the chairlift to his office, my stomach in knots about what is to come. Imagining the steep slope that is about to begin, about the moguls I will desperately try to avoid, and feeling the massive pit that is my lack of experience of how to navigate this trail. My sweaty palms slip a little bit on the door handle to the main office.

"Is he in there?"

Ms. K shrugs. I go ahead and knock, secretly hoping that he wasn't. 

"Come in!"

I open the door to officially commit to my future. I'm at the top of the mountain, overlooking the beauty that was my last 5 years at my school. I reflect on the previous trails that I have taken, the lessons I learned, and the falls I got up from. After a little bit of small talk, he nudges my skis onto the ledge:

"So, Ms. Walker, what did you want to meet about."

This is the moment that I have rehearsed for almost a month. This is the moment that I've met with various mentors about, asking for advice on how to navigate this conversation properly. How to make sure no one gets hurt. But that's not possible; as my dad tells me, skiing is a sport with a 100% injury rate, it's just a matter of time and severity.

"[Principal], it with the heaviest of hearts that I tell you this news, but I will not be returning to [School] next year."

I start slaloming down this unknown trail, the first one in 5 years that will lead me to a destination other than my school building. I explain that I wouldn't be true to myself if I said I was satisfied with staying in our building and only advocating for our 115+ students who are self-contained. There are hundreds of students in this district that are not getting half the education that my students are getting. How am I supposed to be ok with having a possible answer to the question of, "What does quality self-contained programming look like?" and not spread the good news? Isn't that settling? I don't know what will come next, but I know that if I want to make a real difference for my 115+ kids here, I must make sure I make the difference for the hundreds in this district, and thousands in this country, who deserve the same great education that my kids deserve. I will always be a [mascot], but I must go outside of these 4 walls to provide for what's inside them.

As I am weaving back and forth, trying to explain the direction I'm going, hitting a mogul here and there, stumbling a few times over my words, he is looking at me with sad eyes. 

"This is a big loss for us, Ms. Walker, don't get me wrong. But I understand what you're saying."

We talk about my future, and what it can hold. We talk about my past, and what doors it has opened for students at our school. Most importantly, he tells me that he supports me and wants to make sure that I accomplish everything I want in life, especially when it comes to helping our kids.

I walked out of the office with watery eyes, very confused about my feelings. Was I relieved that I had made it down what I thought was going to be the toughest part of the trail? No. It was then that I realized that I was still at the top of the mountain, and the trail was much steeper than anticipated, and worst of all, I was very far from the bottom. 

I hurried back to my classroom, hoping my vertigo will pass. When I sat at my desk, I immediately filled out my DINR (Declaration of Intent to Not Return), to make sure that I didn't try to climb back up and sit at the top of the mountain, waiting. I finished typing up my input for their feedback survey, and electronically signed my resignation. 

Up until the moment that I clicked submit, I thought that the click was going to be a pressure release. I'd finally reach the bottom of the slope and I could go inside the lodge, sit with a cup of hot chocolate, and revel in my accomplishments of the mountain. It was a moment that I had built up in my head for almost 2 months, so as a person with an anxiety disorder I had pushed myself to the point of a mental breakdown over clicking this button.

When I clicked it, that was not how I felt. Everything changed, but I hadn't. The biggest decision I've made in 5 years didn't feel like it was really made. Could my entire life changing be reduced to a button? Was it that clean of a cut?

The unraveling of my "news" over the past 3 weeks is just in it's beginning stages. I told some select friends, and a few administrators. What I didn't expect was the feeling that I pushed a snowball down when I left the top of the mountain. It's as if I'm racing ahead of this snowball that is building and chasing me as I try to navigate this scary path that is my future. I may have had a head start by meeting with my principal, but clicking the button that was my resignation was the moment the snowball started rolling. It's been a race ever since I clicked that button. The race destination is dependent upon who I'm talking to.

What are you doing next year? You need to figure that out soon. Why are you leaving? You know the kids are going to freak out. Are you staying in DC? You know how much we would love of you to live nearby.

I'm far from the end with this transition, since it's just beginning. What I thought would be a clean cut has turned out not to be so. Looking back, I feel rather foolish for being so worried about the conversation with my principal. He was nothing but supportive and understanding. It's the conversations since that have been the most difficult. 

When I spoke with my family about it, they were overjoyed. It was about time. Bigger things are waiting for me. I have big goals to accomplish. I should keep an open mind about where I go next, especially if it's New York. Let's connect you with some people. Did we mention that New York has plenty of job opportunities?

When I speak with my friends about it, they have mixed emotions. Those who are staying at my school next year are heart wrenching. They lay on the guilt. As if this decision wasn't hard enough, they had to remind me of all the reasons that prevented me from making the decision sooner. The faces, the needs, the accomplishments, the work I'm leavening behind. When I talk to friends who aren't working at my school now or next year, they shout, "good riddance!" and wave bon voyage. They think I'll get my life back, whatever that means.

Each conversation brings this impending avalanche closer and closer. I've started down the hill, there is no turning back. The question is, will I figure out how to navigate the hill properly or will I succumb to the avalanche of anxiety? While I know that I will be fine, I feel as though I won't be.

Not every decision in life is convenient. My decision to go to Cornell came at a time when I could no longer stay in high school. My decision to join Teach For America came at a time when I was going to be graduating from college. Now, this decision does not come at a natural time. There is no natural life transition that is pushing me on to the next mountain. This is my first time choosing to get on a different ski lift, or possibly choose an entirely different mountain range. 

Even though nothing time sensitive has pushed me to make the decision to leave my school, I am more certain in this decision than I have been in any of my other Double Black Diamond Decisions. Maybe it's because I have a more intense sense of purpose than ever. Maybe it's because 5 years is the longest I've gone without transitioning since elementary school. Maybe it's because I've grown up and recognize that I need to grow professionally and that won't be able to happen in my building. Maybe I know that in order to know if the changes I've put in place at my school are long term, I need to let them run without me. Maybe it's because my principal was right when he said, "you're just tired, and that's ok, too."

Regardless of why I'm ok with my decision, I am. That's what matters. I just have to keep reminding myself of that. For once, I'm not overly emotional about my decision; this wasn't impulsive, and it's a logical time to leave. Contrary to popular belief, I am rather rational. 

Of course, everyone else's emotional reactions to my decision make me emotional and often result with me in tears. Go figure. It's nice to know that some things never change?

Wake Up Calls

For the last few years, I have been a wake up call service for many kids. Their alarm clocks either aren't effective or don't exist, and when I've offered to get them loud, annoying alarm clocks, they assure me that it would be a waste of my money. "Just call me in the morning Ms. Walka. I'll wake up then."

And so it began. Some mornings I would make up to 10 different phone calls to wake up various students, greeting them and telling them it was time to get ready, don't forget x, y, and z is happening today, check in at blah blah blah time.

This is my first year where I am not consistently making wake up calls in the morning. Many of the students who I was calling have graduated, so that's part of the reason. While I've still offered when a student is having tardiness issues, most of my students sort it out on their own.

Today I made a wake up call of a different nature. Even though I'm not Christian, I attend a Bible Study with several of my teacher friends and a few other educator types. Several of us were given some tough news yesterday about changes that were made to our schedules that are going to negatively affect several kids, and cause more problems than solve. We also know that more changes are to come, but we haven't been told yet. We were all on edge last night.

Before leaving, I was talking with Ms. Art and Ms. D. We were discussing how early we needed to wake up in order to get everything prepared for today. I told them I wake up everyday at 5am, it's just a question of how many times I hit snooze. They both wanted to wake up at 5am, but felt that they were going to ignore their alarms. I jokingly said that I could call them in the morning if they'd like, because it's harder to ignore a person than an alarm clock. Ms. D got excited and started telling us about this 5am prayer session these women did with each other because of their busy lives and families, and that was the only time they could gather spiritually and pray together over the phone. Ms. Art said that would be a great way to start the day. I told them be ready for a 5am wake up call.

It's now 5:28am and I just got off the phone with them. That wake up call was not my usual symphony of grunts, moans, and whining. It was beautiful to hear about the things we should remember to be thankful for, the people who we should be mindful of, and the emotions we need to keep in mind. As I said, I am not a Christian as I do not firmly believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God who came to Earth and died for my sins. However, I do firmly believe in the power of prayer and the power that it gives us to hear myself and other humans be humble in their work, be thankful for what they have, and mindful of what they don't.

While a million things can go wrong today, and 999,999 probably will, I feel more prepared than usual. Maybe it was the 5am Prayer Session, maybe it's because I only hit snooze once. Either way, I am thankful for waking up another day to serve the beautiful students at my school, despite what poor decisions adults and institutions make.

Amen.

Time for coffee.

Dear D, Choose Good

Dear D,

I was watching the Green Lantern the other day, mostly because I love Ryan Reynolds, but also because it's a decent movie. I don't know if you've seen it, but it's a superhero movie where a guy is chosen to be a part of this special alien space police force, but he's a guy who avoids responsibility and quits part way through the movie. When he tells his bestie, the lovely Blake Lively (I forget what the character's name is) that he quit because these people are supposed to be fearless and he is afraid, she says to him that it chose him not because he is fearless, but because "you have the ability to overcome fear. It saw that you're courageous." He then goes on to beat the bad guy and save Earth, and the universe, and it ends all happily ever after.

When I was sitting in Courtroom 3A today, watching you, I couldn't help but be afraid. You know that I'm an anxious person to start with, and this whole situation did not settle my usual jumpy nerves. As I sat there feeling fear and anxiety about your future, you sat there with courage. You had the courage to look the judge in the eye and plead guilty to all those things. It takes real courage to be able to plead guilty to crimes such as eluding police, driving a stolen vehicle, and involuntary manslaughter. There was so much for you to fear, so much for you to want to hide from, but you took responsibility for your actions and said with true courage, "guilty, Your Honor."

I drove to the courthouse today thinking that I was going to testify as a character witness for you. I've written Letters of Character for students before, but you were the first student that I have come to court for. As you noticed, this was not the day for me to do that. However, I am glad that I was there to support you, because I want everyone to know that you're a person worth supporting. Even though I didn't get a chance to share with the judge what I think of your character, I am going to share with you what I had prepared to tell him, because every person deserves to know how wonderful they are.

Your Honor,
I have known D for a little over a year now. I taught him for 1 period last year, and also worked with him as a tutor when he played football. I am a teacher at his school and I also work closely with our after-school programs. He was in my English I class for the duration of his freshman year, but I do not have the pleasure of teaching him again this school year.
While D attends a school that has a less than stellar reputation, he has shown that the building will not define him. D has shown resilience, overcoming obstacles such as getting injured in football, adjusting to the transition from middle school, and doing well in school despite his disability. While no freshman has an easy transition into high school, D handled his transition with grace, and of course a few bumps in the road that he was able to smooth out with assistance from teachers and coaches.
An unusual characteristic for many students in our building is empathy. It is not uncommon that I go through my day with no more than 1 or 2 students asking me about my day, how I am feeling, or what my interests are. This was not the case with D. He was sure to ask how I was doing, with genuine interest, and was also sensitive to my emotions. His attention to others never went unnoticed with other students, and they began to become more empathetic in class because of his example. 
Hand in hand with his empathy is his patience. A rare virtue shown by most teenage boys that I have come across, D has shown me that he understands the value of patience and that "good things come to those who wait." Of course, that does not mean he was never impatient, but he knew to be patient when it was important. 
Lastly, D is incredibly intelligent, and has shown great perseverance, as he is a student with a disability. School is naturally harder for him, but that has never prevented him from performing well in all of his classes. He performed so well during his freshman year that he was selected to be in AP World History this year as a sophomore. This is a student, who unlike many students at our school, is on a college trajectory. I have no doubt that he will not only attend college, but perform well enough in school and in sports to earn a full scholarship. 
Your Honor, I know that there are consequences for every action. However, I also know that every consequence serves a purpose and sends a message. There are people in this world who need to learn their consequences in a secluded place in order to protect society. D is not one of them. I have seen several of my students come out of the juvenile justice system, and they come out broken from what they were before. It has turned good kids into ones who feel they have something to prove or defend. A code to upkeep. While I feel strongly that D won't be one of those kids because of his strong character, I cannot help but have little faith in the juvenile system for actually correcting the behavior. For my students who were a true danger to society, I understand completely why they needed to be incarcerated; the public's safety is the priority. D is not a student who is a menace to society, nor is he a danger to anyone. Teenagers make mistakes, some worse than others. D is a teenager who made a devastating mistake, but he is not one who has shown a pattern of repeated mistakes that should cause us to fear for the safety of the public.
D is a good person, and I hope that this letter has shown that. It would be a greater disservice to society to have him incarcerated than to provide him with a consequence outside of a youth detention center.
                                                                                             Sincerely,
                                                                                                  [Ms. Walker]

D, you are an amazing person. You are so strong, so courageous, and so humble during this terrifying process. You entered this process as a great person, and I want you to remember that, because you will exit this process as a great person. You do not need to change and be anyone else but yourself after this experience, because that is what this is, an experience. It's not necessarily a good one, and it's definitely a hard lesson learned, but it is one of many experiences you're going to have in your life. What is most important is that you let your experiences improve you as a person, make you better, stronger, smarter, humbler in your walk through life. Do not let this experience harden your soul to what is right and what is good. You are an innately good person, which means that you were born good and you are good without trying. Do not fight this. Accept that you are a genuinely good person and hold onto that with all your might. Good people do stupid things. Good people even do bad things sometimes. But that does not make them a bad person. Just because you did something stupid, and something bad, does not mean that defines you. You get to define who you are, so choose wisely.

Stay strong, kiddo - I'm rooting for you. If you need anything, let me know, and I'll do my very best to make it happen. I love you.

                                                                               Choose good,
                                                                                        Ms. Walker

When It's Cold, It Pours

This past week, the Polar Vortex hit everyone in the United States. And I mean everyone. Even if your temperatures weren't subzero, I know you felt the chill in your spine when you read the -40 or so wind chills in the midwest.

When you know such terribly cold temperatures are coming, usually you prepare your home/building for such weather. Maybe you stock up on supplies in anticipation of power outages. Maybe you pull out those extra thick wool sweaters that Grandma knitted you that have crazy designs on them. Maybe you put anti-freeze chemicals in your heating system to ensure that pipes don't freeze.

Maybe you don't.

Well, on Monday DCPS had a Professional Development Day for the first day back after Winter Break. Great idea on their part, to ease adults back into working. Rather sensitive of them. The plan worked well, in my opinion. I ran professional development for half of my team in the morning, and then our school met as a staff in the afternoon. I was amped and ready to go on Tuesday morning. I left a few things unfinished in my classroom, but I was going to come in early on Tuesday so it was fine to leave them out.

I had a nightmares all through break about various things. People getting shot, getting lost in mazes, people dying - usual nightmare situations. Monday night was no different, and I woke up unsettled on Tuesday morning. It took an unusual amount of self-coaching to get out of bed, shower, and get ready for school. However, I walked out the door at 6:40am with coffee, packed lunch, and backpack in tow and left for school. At 6:53am I received a text from Ms. C, one of the teachers in my cohort:

Ms. C: The 3rd floor is flooded!!

I rolled my eyes and immediately assumed that the pipe that has been leaking for the last 3 years was leaking again. While several people have come to fix it, they never quite seem to solve the problem. 30 seconds later I receive another text from Ms. C:

[video of entire hallway floor flooded]

Hmm... well that is significantly worse than usual.

As I'm watching this video at a stop light, I get an email from our principal that the school will be closed today. Blah blah blah.... insufficient heating... blah blah blah....

By the time I get to the flooded floor, the ceiling has fallen in at one end of the hallway. There is an inch of water on the floor and my cute flats are getting terribly wet. As I came up the stairs, someone mentioned something about my room being the worst... I assumed they meant my room from the year before which was on this flooded floor. I didn't think anything of it.

Ms. C suggested that we go look at my room now, just in case.

When I walked in, I didn't want to believe what I saw. My room was 1.5+ inches deep in water. It was raining inside my room. Pouring, as a matter of fact.

I had binders of documentation on the floor under my desk. The student laptop was rained on. My hand-written Algebra II curriculum binder was looking pretty soggy on a countertop. My bulletin boards on the back wall were crying; bleeding objectives, student work, and positive posters ran down my wall. My Promethean board was drenched, and the ceiling in part of my room was on the floor. My printer was partially submerged in Lake Walker. My Flag Football jerseys were in a storage case that was looking flooded. Donated binders, materials, and clothing were sitting soggily in bins on the floor.

That's when I lost it.

I started yelling. Lots of yelling. Not at anyone in particular. No really distinguishable words. This was the 3rd year in a row this had happened to me. I was in a new room - this wasn't supposed to happen. It was ok to have things on the floor in this room, one that hadn't leaked previously. I didn't have enough shelf space for all of my materials - where else was I supposed to put my things? Was nothing safe in this God forsaken building??

Ms. C just stared at me, shocked. I never yell like that, or lose it, or even curse loudly in the school building. I am a loud person, but I keep it appropriate. Honestly? She looked a bit scared, and I don't blame her.

I. Was. Pissed.

Then, I smiled. I took off my shoes, rolled up my slacks, and waded through the water to save what I could. I moved it all to Ms. B's room. My team all helped me with moving my things to the opposite end of the hallway, where it was dry. As I passed security guards, teachers arriving at work (they hadn't gotten the email yet), and various other staff, they saw my room and gasped. They then saw me, barefoot, wading around in the mouse poop and plaster-filled water, salvaging my belongings and giggled. "Oh Ms. Walker, you're so crazy." "Ms. Walker, you'd do anything for your stuff, wouldn't you?!" "Ms. Walker... make sure you shower when you get home." I smiled, and shrugged it off, saying my usual "Shit could be worse" and kept it moving. No one likes a Negative Nancy, especially as a leader. So shower I did, and smile I must.

I gave myself 4 hours to be mad about this incident. I got in my car to go back home and cried a little bit for the lost materials that I had worked so hard to collect/make. I cried for the frustration of having to redo bulletin boards that took me hours to put together. I cried for the fact that this was 100% preventable if someone had put anti-freeze in the pipes. I cried for the 4 other classrooms that were damaged and thus have to be moved until they fix the problem and clean the area. I cried for the fact that this of course happened to our school, as it always does. I cried because the transition back to school was going to be difficult in the first place, and this was going to make it that much harder.

I cried because this was upsetting, I am human, and I get to be upset when bad things happen. People in my school building often forget that, and are disappointed when I am human, and get upset.

I am now teaching my two classes in two other teachers' rooms. 4 of my teachers had to move to classrooms that aren't frequently used and were dirty and do not have the technology in them that every other room in the building has. I have made the best of it, and I've tried very hard not to be angry, since it's long past my 4 hour time limit.

But, like I said, I'm human. Materials that took me hours, days, months, years to make/collect/design were destroyed. I get to be upset.

But don't worry, everyone was grateful to have an extra day off. I told them, "oh, you're welcome." And smiled. Always smile. Like I said, no one likes a Negative Nancy.

2014 To Do List

This is my third year in a row publicly discussing New Year's Resolutions. Two years ago I posted a list of 10 Resolutions. 1 year later I hadn't accomplished a single one of those resolutions. So last year I decided to write 10 Reasons To Be Resolute. 1 year later, I'm still feeling pretty resolute. Maybe I'm on to something...

One thing that I learned is that being resolute made it easier for me to make decisions. It also allowed me to operate with no regrets. When I made a decision, I made it. No looking back. No wondering about the coulda, woulda, shoulda. I plowed forward at full speed and committed to whatever it was. Maybe it was a new curriculum I tried. Maybe it was a shopping day at the mall. Either way, I was resolute in whatever I did.

On the flip side, I'm not so sure about my results. There are many things that are going well, but there are many things that need to be better. One major positive that I have seen is that I am feeling better about myself. I am living a healthier lifestyle, I am doing more things for me (I've read 2 books this vacation!), and I have branched out socially. I've taken on new and necessary tasks/responsibilities at work and I am feeling confident in my performance. I am going to keep my 10 Reasons to be Resolute for 2014 and see what other great things happen.

Of course, there are areas where I would still like to improve. So instead of calling them resolutions, I have 10 items for a 2014 To Do List. I do much better with lists that require me to cross things off instead of general "do better" lists. I've attached loose due dates to each item to ensure that I don't put it off until December (I'm a natural procrastinator...), but of course, the goal is to accomplish them 364 days from today.

2014 To Do List

1. Run a 5K (due date: October)

2. Participate in a GORUCK Light Event (due: August)

3. Read 24 books for leisure (due: December)

4. Learn French - complete 1 course (due: May)

5. Take an art course (due: November)

6. Be a Highly Effective Teacher according to IMPACT - for the first time ever (due: June)

7. Take the GRE - get a "good" score (due: July)

8. Get a boyfriend - I know... very desperate girl sounding, but I couldn't help myself (Due: When Fate allows)

9. Begin research for PhD programs I want to enroll in - visit 3 campuses (Due: September)

10. Travel to 2 locations in the US, 1 outside of the US (Due: December)

It's going to be a busy year.

Happy New Year!