Salty, bitter and sweet

Teaching is a series of trade-offs. Everything sweet has a bitter underbelly or a salty side.

Yesterday we sacrificed a whole precious day of test prep - the ELA test looms up in a near distance of less than a month - to go on a field trip to see a theater performance of The Diary of Anne Frank, a picture book version of which which we had read as a read aloud. It came at the price of a couple possible percentage points on the test, and the also at the price of $10 a ticket. It was hard to ask the families to spare that money, especially after all the expensive graduation-related stuff I've had to ask them for this year. Bitter: knowing what giving up $10 means to some of these families. But I think it is a testament to the families' dedication to their kids that they all came up with it one way or another - I think it shows how much they care about giving their kids the best education possible... sweet.

And to my mind, it was absolutely worth it. I grew up in a family where theater and music were priceless and where trips (field and otherwise) were considered just as essential a part of your education as learning to read and write. So when D-- said on the school bus that the only other show she had ever seen was with her last year's teacher, part of me felt sad that she doesn't get to have what I had, but part of me also felt proud and privileged to introduce it to her. A tiny bit bitter, but also sweet.

Another sweet: my AP Candy came up to me at dismissal asking if I needed a new rug and what else did I need for my classroom because she's about to place an order... I said, "Wow, what a great question to hear!"

To her credit, she has always been very good about getting her teachers what they need. She has often come around to my classroom with an armful of books or some other resource she'd gotten her hands on, asking if I could use them. I've always felt like she has my back, which is so crucial -- when shit went down with N-- and the other boys, I never felt blamed for it in any way - I blamed myself for it more than anyone else blamed me. I never felt that it was taken as a reflection of my ability as a teacher. And thinking back to my first year debacle of a post-observation conference with the Big Cheese -the one where He made me feel about 2 inches tall, and ridiculous for even having ever tried to become a teacher since I was so preposterously ill-suited and incompetent and undeserving of the job - Candy sat on my side of his big imposing desk, and fielded the blows with me.

The consensus in my academy of the school is that we're lucky to have her as our assistant principal - for this reason, and because she's kind of hands-off, and just lets us do our thing.

The salty side of this is that although I've always felt supported by Candy, there is danger in falling out of her good graces. I've heard from others like Nessa last year who made the mistake of crossing her in some way - well, Nessa's back was no longer had, and she no longer works at our school. I've heard it expressed that when Candy comes in to do a formal observation, the outcome is already decided when she walks in.

And although she has only ever been sweet with me, I do have another rather bitter complaint about her: I think she and Principal Peeves are a bit too quick to blame the kids and their families. I've heard her say things about kids and families, especially when it comes to up-close-and-personal topic like bedbugs and lice, like "they're dirty..." When Jafa and I were mentioning how much we like tamales, she asked incredulously if we buy them from the ladies with shopping carts who stand outside the subway station. When we said yes, she said something along the lines of "Ew, I can't believe you do that." And when Jafa told her that he and his partner are fostering a baby and that he might be taking some paternity leave, she made a comment that was totally supportive of him, but kind of made him cringe when she used the opportunity to derisively call into question the parenting capabilities specifically of Mexican families...

So yeah. I suppose every person has their underbelly. And how does that quote go? Let the person who has not sinned cast the first stone... I'm not trying to say I've never thought an unkind thought about a child or a parent, or that every comment I've made has been morally unassailable. Thinking mean thoughts and feeling forced into saying unkind things from time to time is almost a hazard of the job...but I try not to. I will say that it's disconcerting to work under a supervisor whose worldview appears to be so different from mine.

All in all, I think she's a good person, that she really does appreciate the kids and want to help them. And I really appreciate being left alone and allowed to do my job in peace.

But I also I know that when I started, what I really needed was NOT to be left alone - I needed someone to come in there and help me, save me, show me what to do and how to do it. Instead I bumbled painfully through, and cost some first graders, who really could've used a strong teacher, an important year in their educational lives... I felt like no one even knew I was in there most of the time. When Peevie finally remembered that he'd hired me permanently and not as a long-term sub and walked in to do his observation in May or June, I was the only one who wasn't surprised how much I was struggling.

I think the mark of healthy management is that the leaders of the school are really in touch and in tune with what goes on there day to day. I think most of our school leaders (not all) look at what goes on at PS OO through admistrative binoculars... And I'm not saying I would like to be visited more often by the administration, because I most emphatically do not! But I am kind of saying that I wish the culture of my school was one where seeing your administrators walk in the room wasn't so surprising, and wouldn't stop your heart and make your stomach drop down to your ankles. And one where you knew for sure that everybody's heart was in the same place as yours.