Finding a Happy Place

It's interesting as I read back upon my few posts, that the material I choose is usually the tough things that are wrestling around inside my over-analytical head. Human nature, I suppose. I'm pretty introspective by nature, so what better way to improve one's self than to expose all the parts that need to be worked on? Don't take this as my being a self-proclaimed Debbie Downer. I'm actually pretty optimistic and positive. Those self-improvements aren't so much changing what is wrong about me, but reflecting on what works and doesn't, and making adjustments that work better in the future. I'm not sure why I needed this disclaimer before the meat of this post...I just did :).

This time of year, meaning, this time of the school year, is usually my favorite. While others love the new and fresh beginnings of the fall, I prefer the comfort and familiarity of the spring. My students and I get each other, know each other. I said in a previous post that this allows them some freedom to manage themselves in an educational environment that is organic and authentic, with my being less in control of the ship, but rather being available to guide the course. I like when we get to this place.

This year was marred by the issue of my changing schools, and the uncertainty that also brought. But this year is more than that. This time of THIS year is hard. And it has more to do with my students than anything else.

I have a "tough" class this year.I don't consider them individually difficult, but collectively, there is a pack of eight that are a constant strain. But not in the sense that one might assume. It's not that they are driving me crazy or pushing boundaries. It's the very circumstances they come from, continue to struggle with, and will likely be immersed in for years and decades to come, that is hugely weighing me down. Outside of our room these kids are impulsive, disrespectful, have little regard for boundaries, and lack drive, will, or motivation. Inside our classroom they try harder. They smile when they feel like they've achieved something. They even raise their hands to contribute to discussions when they feel like they are getting it. But their successes are so short-lived. A day, an hour, a minute, a moment. And then they leave school, and it is completely undone.

Their situations are tough. They embody all the sociological and psychological challenges that people cite when discussing troubled youth. They have parents who are not only divorced, but divorced ugly. They have parents in jail, and mothers with restraining orders. They don't have enough positive adult interaction, appropriate boundaries, or reasonable expectations; and by reasonable, I mean pretty much no expectations at all. They are exposed to adult content too early, and not given opportunities to understand how this fits in the context of the world. They hear racially charged jokes on T.V. and have nobody to tell them those jokes are off the table. They live with grandmothers who fill the house full of other troubled youth, perhaps with altruistic intentions, but minimizing the opportunity for the original child that much more. They have adults who haven't respected them, or demanded respect in return.

I'm pissed.

I'm angry and exasperated at their situations. I'm angry and exasperated at the people who are supposed to be their biggest advocates, who are failing each and every one of my infamous eight.

This has been the situation all year for us, and probably most of their lives for them. So why is it suddenly laying on my shoulders like a lead weight? I'm realistic about my job. I don't expect my nine months with a student will be the magic bullet that will transform their life. And maybe that's part of it. I feel like I'm out of time to influence them, and their challenges ahead are only going to be astronomically more difficult. Who do they have?

I get that these kiddos could pull up their own boot straps. I know people, and was a person, who grew up with very challenging circumstances and prevailed. But I think the ability to swim up river, climb up on the bank and conquer the mountain, rather than give into the exhaustion and drown with the tide, is somewhat wired into our DNA. I just don't know that my infamous eight have it naturally ingrained in there. The odds are much more difficult than people who have not survived this struggle could ever understand. Not because they aren't empathetic and smart, but because "walking one's walk" really does apply.

I found myself this week, channeling my frustration about my kiddo's Mt. Everest circumstances, into them. Instead of building them up, I was the last in the chain of people to weigh heavily on them, and I don't want to spend the last six weeks with them being that person. So I'm resolving to connect with them again, understand where they are, and make sure they know I value them and see their worth. I will continue to have high standards, expectations, and clear boundaries, but also balance it empathy, kindness, and humor. When I recall the people who really steered me through the difficult times in my adolescence, it wasn't the people one might think. It was a few people that were, in honesty, fleeting in their presence. It was my counselor at school who allowed me to use her car to take my driver's test. It was our school security guard who would run with me in the mornings, took me on a ropes course, and bought me lunch when I got decent grades. It was my Japanese teacher who was never angry with me for having a late assignment, because he knew my circumstances were tough, and instead greeted me everyday with a sincere smile and welcoming aura, like he was glad I showed up today. These people, without even meaning to, or maybe they did, made me feel like I mattered, had value, and could achieve. So, if I do nothing else for my infamous eight, hopefully they can leave my classroom with a little more self-worth than they started, and remember their last year of elementary school with some semblance of a positive glow.