For the 10 millionth time I am attempting to keep a Blog this time for my first year teaching experiences. I spent the past 2 years training for this exact chance. Every "new teacher" that comes back to speak to the newbies of the graduate program at Rosemont College mentions something along the lines of, "You can never be prepared for your own first classroom." Really...they aren't lying. Too many things happen on a day-to-day basis that if I don't write it down and blog, I may never fully appreciate everything I have done or what has happened to me. My days blur together. It is like one long 120-hour day.
I have now realized I don't have the time to write EVERY day. I wish I could...really. This seems to be a therapeutic outlet. But here I am at 12:40pm on a Friday afternoon during my prep time TRYING to get some thoughts on paper...or a computer. I have to jump hurdles even for this therapy session. Currently the school blocks www.blogger.com...so I am crunched in the corner of the learning support room, by the window (the only one I can look out for the entire day since my room is all walls) straining for that unsecured network. But alas I have it...enough to get the page up and running for me to write on.
So let this be my introduction into the crazy world of a twenty-six year-old middle-class, suburban-raised, Caucasian woman teaching in a predominantly poverty stricken, African-American, North Philly charter school. My stories are yours. Learn from them. Pass them on. Many of them are great for learning what NOT to do. Everyday I try something different. Something’s work, a majority don't. This isn't here to scare people away from teaching in urban schools. I hope my honesty and pureness help those beginning their journey into the teaching world. Seriously.
If you don't believe me, read on. After graduating college in 2006, I moved to New York City to be the next top talent agent. After 2 years of working as a makeup artist, associate producer, location scout, production assistant, talent associate and best of all mailroom girl, my dreams changed. I followed this path since I was in high school. A freshman in high school. By the time I was 23 I was done. Exhausted and wanted out. It was lonely. I had no success in the career but MANY life lessons. So I followed my heart - since a boy stole it from me - to Philadelphia. Here I made a new home. But I had to convince my Mother it was a good idea. A full believer in furthering education, the plan was in place for me to pursue a Masters in Education. For those who didn't know me for the first 24 years of my life, teaching was NOWHERE on my agenda. Kids = boogers and poop. Not a fan. Crying...no thank you. I didn't have the patience. I still don't. But when you fall in love with a guy who is in the Army (National Guard) you find a career you can do anywhere. Teaching was it. Everyone needs teachers...or so I thought 2 1/2 years ago when I moved here. I convinced myself no matter how cute little kids can be (when they aren't yours); I needed to be with the older kids. Middle school. A challenge? Yes. Impossible? Well...I am still alive.
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