Walking from my car to my classroom yesterday morning before school, halfway between my disparate worlds - still wearing flip-flops and a backwards baseball hat while straightening my tie and tucking in my shirt - I heard someone call my name and turned to see LT grill-grinning and running towards me as he pulled out a packet of papers from his bag;
“I got accepted Mr. Doyle!”
Months ago, I got a letter in my box asking me to nominate a few students for an Earthwatch Fellowship. EarthWatch provides scholarships for high school students to participate in 2-3 week long summer research expeditions in North America, Hawaii, Costa Rica and the Caribbean. I spent some time thinking about who might be a plausible candidate (not many) and who would actually take the time to apply (even fewer). I nominated a couple, and out of those I nominated only one actually opted to fill out an application and spend some time after school working on his essays. His transcript wasn’t stellar, barely passing several of the key subject areas, so we spent a lot of time editing and re-writing his essays (like most of my students, he’s way behind where he should be in reading and writing) and to be honest, I didn’t think he had much a chance. Last month, I received an email telling me LT was one of 300 Earthwatch fellow finalists – he had no idea, not having received the notification that had been sent to him in the mail. The letter he showed to me yesterday, beaming with pride, said he was one of 82 high school fellows selected out of all the applicants nationwide for an all-expense paid research expedition. Never having been out of Mississippi or on a plane before, LT will be flying to Churchill, Manitoba in central Canada this summer to study the wetlands between boreal forests and arctic tundra. Later, during my prep period, I could feel the fear and excitement from LT as I showed him where he would be (right on the Hudson Bay! Strangely, I have a map of Canada on my classroom wall - as part of the Ramp-Up curriculum I received this summer but haven’t been able to use) and read out loud the waiver warning of “the highest concentration of polar bears in North America”.
As thrilled as I was for LT (and slightly envious – I want to go to Canada, too!), the elation paled in comparison to what another student accomplished earlier this month (and which I’ve been meaning to blog about). You might recall in past blogs the mention of a BH, who was preparing for an audition with AMDA (The American Music and Dramatic Arts Academy) in New York City … BH used to stop into my classroom earlier in the year from time to time to chat after school, being a senior and thus not one of my students, and we soon got around to talking about his interest in theater. There is hardly any opportunity for him to explore this interest in our community, but he has done what he can and from what I’ve seen he has a lot of talent. We spent some time researching a few schools and programs, and put together a few applications. The focus of his attention was on AMDA, and these essays we spent the most time on. Once sent in, the next step was to select and rehearse two short contrasting monologues (approx. three minutes long), which he would have to perform at a regional audition in Nashville, TN. We eventually settled on a passionate soliloquay on racial inequality from ‘Statements’ by Athol Fugard and a comedic one-act by David Ives. For several weeks, nearly every day after school in my classroom we practiced these monologues, eventually bringing in other teachers or driving around to local businesses for ‘mock-auditions’. We had a lot of fun, and it was amazing to see his improvement. I pushed him, but this kid has a ton of natural talent. He headed up to Nashville with his mother on a Sunday for the audition, and called immediately after to let me know how it went. He told me about all the other applicants he met in his typical upbeat manner, but I could tell he was a little distressed about something. When he got to telling me about the audition, he paused … “He cut me off Mr. Doyle!” Halfway through his second monologue, the Fugard piece, the far better one that we saved for last to really give them something to remember, the judged looked up and cut in with a “Thank you, that’s enough”. It didn’t necessarily mean anything, but it didn’t seem like a good thing. They said they would call him within a couple of weeks.
Over spring break, while I was in the car driving back from several days that took my mind nearly entirely away from school, I got another call from BH; “I just wanted to thank you for all your help Mr. Doyle, you know, even though it didn’t work out – got a letter today saying I didn’t get in.” I paused, crushed, then recovered enough to go on and on about how much he must have learned from the whole experience and to not give up on what he wants to do just because this door may have been closed. He let me talk for a few minutes before interrupting with, “I’m playing Mr. Doyle; I got accepted!”
In a town where very few students go on to college, very, very few go on to four-year institutions, very, very, very few go out of state for school and probably none before have pursued a degree in the theater arts at such a reputable school – this is huge. Perhaps for the first time this year, I truly felt like I had actually made a considerable difference in at least one kid’s life.
I haven’t been the best teacher in the world this year. In fact, I haven’t even really been close to the best teacher that I know I can be. I do get excited and passionate in the classroom. I’ve gotten through to a lot of my kids that need a lot of direction in their lives and made some pretty great connections. I know they know I care about them very much, and we have a lot of fun – even when we’re reading or writing essays. But, I’ve missed a lot of classroom instruction when I’m not prepared or when I feel as if I am letting go of aspects of my personal life that are too important for me to entirely abandon all at once. So there is the guilt, battling dissatisfaction. Maybe it’s a selfish tendency. In addition, I’ve never been the “yes sir/ma’am” type, and have found it very difficult to acquiesce to ‘authority’ when I don’t approve or believe in what I’m being asked to do – which has made for some rocky professional relationships and not a very warm work environment outside of my classroom. I’ve learned a lot about myself this past year, some positive and some negative, and am looking forward to the end of May and a chance to put this chapter behind me so I can start focusing my attention on getting it slightly more right the next time around.
Big positives, like helping LT or BH, plus all the little acknowledgements doled out in smiles, laughs or nervous thanks do give the year some sense of accomplishment despite all the daily frustrations. Still, I’ve got a lot more to learn and, hopefully, a lot more to teach.
For the moment, I’m going to go see if I can find the snapper I picked up on my way back from Jackson this morning. The jay-walker was in the middle of Highway 49 and running the risk of getting squashed under 80 mph tires when I swerved to miss him, pulled over, and ran barefoot back along the gravel to rescue the ungrateful, hissing reptile. While I’ve been typing, there have been periodic thumps from the living room that I’m guessing are his attempts at escape. The rain has stopped so I’ll drop him off along the creek before going for a run and burning off some of this apprehension I’ve accumulated so far today. Next half-marathon is less than a month away.
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