The Perks of Paying it Forward

Another solid day. No mistakes.

We had recess for the first time -- for the kids who have spent their educational careers at PS OO, for the first time in their lives! The ear to ear grin on N--'s face pretty much summed it up as she went skipping by in her navy blue uniform dress.

And I am reaping the benefits of having befriended the (young, dedicated and very hip) school librarian last year, because I am borrowing her smartboard projector while she doesn't need it as I wait for my replacement bulb to come in. I could hardly remember how to teach the old-fashioned way, so I had to be resourceful! The teaching fellows talks about "building alliances" with the people in your school, and I think that's a good way to think of it... not so much a "you scratch my back i'll scratch yours" scenario, but like an entire invisible economy built on paying it forward -- lending a hand when you've got one to spare in return for the many kind ways that you have been helped by others in the past. The teachers at P.S. OO really do look out for each other.

So I'm trying to pay forward a bit of what I received from Corky last year by trying to make sure that Sunny does not get totally overwhelmed or left in the dust... and, I reiterate, she is in excellent shape compared to other new teachers, and a very bright and a very hard worker, so it's actually easy, and she's lovely, so it's fun, too.

I went to Pequena with Sunny after work to do a bit of planning for next week and the coming month over a beer and some yuca fries, and just as we were settling in and I was beginning to gesticulate wildly and start speaking very intensely about the phases of the writing process, I glanced outside and the air was literally white and blowing sideways full of leaves and debris, gale force gusts like I have never seen or experienced before...

We were in the eye of a hurricane in the center of Queens! And enormous chunks of trees fell off, and one of them fell onto the tracks of the 7 train! Men in white trucks with flashing lights came with chainsaws... no train, no buses, more or less gridlock on Roosevelt Avenue... Sandra and I walked about 30 blocks to her house, where I borrowed her bike and rode home (in my dress, in the rain).

But as we walked we talked about how that segment of Roosevelt reminded us of Latin America or of some developing country, and how nice and convenient it was to live in a place where, in general, the trains and buses do run on time, and regularly. And even despite a hurricane, I was thinking that coming home from grad school it would still be later, and I would feel worse.

After all that, I can't help thinking, just the job? That's it? Is that all? No more?

And even after all this, after a 12-hour workday, I felt fine. Like, unflappable. I guess the more flaps you're in, the less they get to you. People are adaptable. And on the bridge on my way home, with wet hair plastered to my forehead, I still even felt happy as I gazed over at the Manahattan skyline, the Empire State Building all lit up.