Weekly Reflection

Overall, this week has been very eventful. As I mentioned in previous posts, my HS welcomed our sister HS to the campus as the result of a catastrophic flood. On the first day of school, everyone was on pins and needles. Our students, normally concerned about finding their classes and friends, were in the spotlight. Camera crews were everywhere. By the end of the day, we were all patting ourselves on the back. Our district showed the city what we are made of!

I was nervous! From the moment the 7:50 bell rang until the end of the first period my heart was racing. There was so much to remember. Did I take attendance right? Did I write everyone’s name down correctly? Did I mention that they have homework? And, what do they think of me? By the end of the day I was exhausted! Where did the time go? Instead of staying late and working on future lessons, like planned, I went home and took a long nap. I could barely keep my eyes open during the drive home. I prayed that my energy level would be rejuvenated before Tuesday.

As the week progressed, things began to gel. My students began to accept the rules for the class and the fact that I have to enforce the rules of the campus (ID tags, long shirts tucked in, no facial peircings, etc.). By Friday I knew we were beginning to trust each other.

I have been preparing my students to write a narrative essay about an event in their life. I set aside time at the end of the week for them to work on their draft and meet with me one-on-one. Several of my student’s who are deemed “at-risk” by the district reached out for my acceptance. They wanted to know if their story ideas were appropriate for a school assignment. They wanted to write about the time they were arrested, the birth of their child, the time their family was carjacked (and how it made them less trusting of the world), the death of their mother, etc. I explained to the class that I want them to write for themselves, not me, not the school, and not their parents. Yes, they could write about anything. By the end of the day on Friday, I was even more exhausted than I was Monday afternoon. I couldn’t stop thinking about their lives. I fell asleep at 7:00 and didn’t wake up until 8:00 this morning.

The most touching story for me was the boy whose mother passed away from cancer. She has been dead for two years. He was on the verge of crying. I shared with him my own experience of losing my mother and told him that if he ever needed to talk about it I was there for him. I saw him later in the day at the library. He waved at me from across the room and smiled for the first time this week.