On joining MTC

Needless to say, there have been many times over the course of the past year and a half that I have thought to myself, "what have I gotten myself into?" I jokingly tell others that I envisioned moving to Mississippi, buying a truck and a boat, and enjoying small-town southern living to a soundtrack comprised of the Allman Brothers and Creedence Clearwater Revival. Obviously when I actually arrived, I found that the task awaiting me did not afford the aforementioned luxuries, and that a lot of me would be completely consumed by my work. The feelings of inadequacy, desperation, and frustration have been real in this place, maybe more real than any other time in life. Last year's fall was the hardest season I have ever lived through. I kept remembering, "at least no one is shooting at you", though at times it felt someone might try. All this said, I think I'm glad that I've taken part in MTC. It is hard to say for sure because an element of the MTC's satisfaction resides in its completion, but I know this is where I was called to be, and for all things at this moment seen, I think I know why.

Those who know me best would agree that I have always been excited about my academic institutions. I didn't study education, but quickly found that the educational world was one that fit me well. I knew that faculty experience would never be harmful to a career in education, so I began researching programs that would put me in the classroom. I didn't feel I was qualified to teach anything at that time, but knew that if I was admitted to an alternate-route program, it would be a good foot in the door. After doing some research, I remembered I had a friend who was an MTC alum from a few years before. After speaking with him, it seemed like MTC was a far better alternative to the most well known alternate-route program, Teach for America. So I applied, essentially putting all my chips in the MTC bag. I'm not entirely sure why I didn't apply for TFA as well, but the appeal of a free computer and master's degree while teaching in the exact same schools was a pretty compelling argument for MTC.

Now that I am 3/4 of the way done with the program, I can confidently say that if you are thinking of doing any kind of alternate-route program on the Mississippi Delta, MTC is the one to do. It will not be without heart and headache, as the problems of this land are so much greater than any one person (or even one town), and you have to know that you are coming down as damage control. That said, Mississippi is a wonderful and charming place in many ways, and MTC is a good conduit. It is the land that I now call home and will be until we are called elsewhere, and I'm grateful that MTC took a chance on me.

My second year has passed by much quicker. Though the students at the school are probably worse than last year, I've found that a year of experience adds a keel to even the most turbulent of days. I even find much more time to ride the dirt roads of the Delta and sneak in some Allman Brothers from time to time.

Round and round

Gone are the days of the innocent child,

soft and sweet their tempers once mild

Replaced come now the bruises and scars,

symbols and hardships of deep broken hearts

Battles rage on the champion unsure,

Facebook or he said or she said the lure

The cycle roll on like the river due west,

wider and stronger, wider and stronger

Round and round we go

Playing favorites

Hello World,

We're now well into the fall season here in Mississippi. Leaves are finally changing and we're having the occasional 30 degree morning. School has now been in long enough for me to know the personalities of most of my students, the ones who don't skip class that is. One thing I've noticed is it is hard not to develop favorites. Some students are really great to have day in and day out, while other kids are just less amiable. The interesting thing is that your favorites aren't always the ones who make the best grades, or even act right for that matter. On one hand, you'd love a classroom full of kids who come in quietly and get straight to work, but on the other hand, the occasional ornery one makes things a little more interesting. That said, it is kind of hard to pinpoint a favorite student. I have one girl who is sweet, diligent, quiet and very bright; I would call her a favorite. On the other hand, I have a student who is loud, obnoxious, foul-mouthed, and not particularly bright, and I would honestly call her a favorite as well. Both make me laugh in different scenarios and both make teaching worthwhile and interesting. Girl one, for example, has so much potential. She's very bright and has a great work ethic, so she could go on to a four-year institution and actually get out of the Delta culture that stifles so many. Girl two, on the other hand is not nearly as bright or driven. She is quick to quit on things when confused and will probably not attend any institution of higher education (if she graduates). She is funny though, in a ridiculous, I can't believe you just said that kind of way, and has found a way to curse and fight her way into my hardened teacher heart.

Students of all shapes and sizes walk in and out of my classroom. These are just two and for all the personality that they both bring, there are roughly 88 more like them under my instruction. Hate it or love it, no two days are ever the same.

DonorsChoose.org

Hey Team,

Quick post time. There is a neat organization called Donors Choose that is focused on helping teachers in poorer areas of the country with classroom supplies. They service all grades and subjects and you can support an array of projects through it. I have a project for a laser printer that I am trying to get funded right now and if any of you would want to donate toward it or think you might know someone who would, I would be incredibly thankful. Just click on the link below for more details. More later, hope all is well with you and yours!

http://www.donorschoose.org/mr.ware

Murphy's Law - Tuesday

After monday’s charades, there was a noticeable tension in the air. Again first, second, third, fourth periods and first lunch went fine, and second lunch, during my planning period I had to go to a professional development seminar. When it concluded, I was walking back to my classroom when one of the hall monitors, one of the sweetest ladies I have ever met, said with a smile from ear to ear, "Mr. Ware, you wear your running shoes again today?" to which I said somewhat jokingly, "haha why Ms. Campbell, they fightin' again?" and she replied, "sure are, look at 'em". Suddenly I realized they were in fact fightin' again, so I bolted out to the scene to find a recently ended girl fight. As I tried dissipate the crowd and herd the students toward their classes, another girl fight broke out of equal magnitude, thus sending things into frenzy again.

This would have all been enough for tuesday, except Tuesday morning I noticed that the air my cooling unit was blowing was not exactly cold. If you’ve been following my blog, you know that a relatively common thread throughout my time here is non-trustworthy air conditioning. Some places that would be fine, maybe even pleasant. Mississippi in August is not one of those places.

The first four periods were still “cool” enough that the students didn’t complain (and sweat). After lunch it was definitely hot enough outside for my classroom to be downright uncomfortable.

So with fighting on the mind and an abundance of heat and humidity in the air, I tried to teach trigonometry. Most of my students put up with it and things were going ok until the academic coach came by my room and told me that the school was temporarily on lockdown. “Oh lockdown? How splendid” I thought to myself. Turns out these girl fights were related and the police were in the process of investigating it. While they did so, we were to hold our students where they were to prevent further fighting from taking place.

Luckily, ingenuity kicked in in the form of manilla folders (or vanilla folders as one of my students said). Manilla folders are not only helpful for general storage, but can also serve as a makeshift fan quite easily. Before long I had my students determining the cosecant of 7π/6 with as much of a breeze as their wrist could afford. All in all, there were two fights, 0 air conditionings, who knows how many tardies and many frazzled teachers.

Murphy's Law - Monday

Week two was an opportunity to explain Murphy's Law to my students. For those of you who are unfamiliar, Murphy's Law is an adage that simply states "anything that can go wrong will go wrong". Such was the case with week two at our "new" school.

Monday started off the way most mondays do, alarm clock ringing to early and the mosquito-filled august air too muggy. First, second, third, and fourth period went along relatively smoothly, along with a nice warm lunch duty for the first lunch serving. My planning period is during the second lunch serving, so I was in the office trying to work out some paperwork, when I heard a commotion outside. I ran around the corner to see the JROTC teacher dragging a child away from a recent fight that had taken place in the courtyard. I say dragging because it was all the Major could do to hold the boy, as he was squirming like a recently hooked fish, still trying to get in on the action. This is relatively common, so I thought "no big deal". Eventually the kid even started adhering to the direction he was being yanked and walked under his own strength. As they approached me, the Major asked me to grab the child, but with my poor hearing, I didn't quite make that out, and as soon as the kid passed me, he ran around the corner then back toward the courtyard. As soon as he did this, I realized the err of my ways, and was then in hot pursuit of the recent combatant. He made it about four doors down before I caught him and literally carried him back to the office. This was the first of 2-3 fights that day.

Later, new teachers who had seen my heroic act of justice made sure to say, "Way to go", and "great job" as it is not everyday a teacher gets to run down a student and get away with it. "Aww shucks" I said, "just another day on the job".

The second first day

Friends, family, random blog browsers, we're back for the second round of blogging about victories and defeats in a classroom. In the time since my last post, many things have changed about life and our school. I successfully finished summer school in late June, married the love of my life, traveled to Costa Rica for a bit, and rushed back to the Delta to begin professional development two weeks before school started. In that time of professional development, I was able to get to know the MANY new teachers and administration. We have a new principal, assistant principal, school improvement grant coordinator, academic coach, 2 new english teachers, 5 new social studies teachers, 2 new science teachers, 3 new math teachers, and between 160 and 175 new tenth graders. Basically the only thing that is familiar from last year is last year's students, and our school's dilapidated building and grounds.

School started on August 8 with a funeral. No I am not kidding, we had a funeral. All of the 600 or so students walked by a hearse as they were being corralled into the gym. In the gym, soulful black spirituals could barely be heard playing over the rattling industrial air conditioners. Chairs were laid out in front of a podium for faculty and staff, and students sat on the bleachers on either side. At approximately 8:00 a.m. all of the faculty entered into the gym behind a casket which was being rolled out by six pallbearers (one of which being me). The ceremony proceeded as we laid the old high school and all of her awful disfunction to rest.

First the mistress of ceremonies welcomed everyone to the event. Afterward, a veteran teacher welcomed everyone again, and delivered a goosebump invoking speech regarding the circumstances of the ceremony. Then two coaches welcomed everyone a third time and made reflections on the old school, one as a student, the other as a coach. Then after a quick verse of "Glory Glory Hallelujah", I made resolutions. Finally it was the time of our new principal to deliver the eulogy. First he gave his own personal history with the school, as he actually attended a rival high school, and had a lasting negative impression after an incident with the marching band and an egg. Afterward, he made his wishes known for the “new school” which will rise from the ashes like a mythological phoenix. Finally, he asked the students to all write down something they did not like about the old school on their programs.

When he finished his speech, he introduced his staff, and one by one teachers came to the microphone and read aloud their homeroom roster. When each student's name was called, they came down to the gym floor and symbolically dropped their programs into the open casket, officially putting to death all these things many held so dear.

When we left, we each went to our homeroom classes and reviewed the student handbooks with the students. Once that finished, students were released for lunch, and afterward they began changing classes and meeting their new teachers. This felt particularly miraculous because last year it took the guidance counselors a week to even get the students their schedules. Changing classes on the first day would have been unheard of last year. The day (and week) went significantly better. If it is at all indicative of how the year will turn out, I have high, high hopes.

Summer Skillz

School has been out for over a week now. Since dismissal, I have gone to the beach, played golf, and sincerely tried to sleep in past eight o’clock. Though I will surely carry parts of the past ten months with me, I fully intend to make the most of my summer off as well. As a “second year” (because I’m in my second year of teaching), I will living in beautiful Oxford, MS during the majority of the month of June and be helping out with summer school. If you remember some of my earliest posts, you’ll remember that Teacher Corps has a summer school that they administer in a town about 25 or 30 miles north of Oxford. The summer school essentially serves as a training ground for first year teachers. It is also an opportunity for second year teachers to hone their skills and develop better practices of their own.

One of our blog assignments asked us to think and write about teaching skills we are hoping to practice and improve on this summer. As I think back to the past year, I know that I still have a long way to go to be an effective instructor. I can’t possibly be good at this with only one year of experience. What I would like to improve, though, is developing activities that will push the students to learn and comprehend the subjects while also having fun. I had a couple of instances last year where a student said “why don’t we do more stuff like this?”, as they were both learning and having fun. Unfortunately I didn’t really have a good answer for them. The risk of “fun” activities, is the management of your classroom could go to shambles. Because of the relatively uncontrolled environment, one kid says something to another, and before I can intervene we’ve got arguments and no one is learning. This is honestly why planning fun activities is such a risk. Summer school is a pretty safe venue for experimenting with ideas like this though. Also, because I’m only going to be teaching a couple of times a week, I should have more time to think and brainstorm ideas that I could implement.

As said before, I realize I have a long way to go to be an effective teacher. This summer should be a great opportunity for developing many other skills as well: an effective set in beach volleyball, my driver and #4 iron, the moorhead swag...

A Note to Second Year Teachers

Dear Second Year Teachers,

The first year of teaching is one I never want to repeat or replicate. In it, I have been stretched, strained, and stressed far beyond the point of anything close to comfort. In all the difficulty, though, you have remained a constant source of...well...honesty.

I could say you’ve always been inspirational and motivating, but that would fall short; you were something much more helpful. In a conversation I had with some friends recently, they said, “what is the typical alternate route teacher like in their second year?” to which I was able to reply without hesitation and say, “they’re much more realistic”. Like me, you probably entered the program “bright eyed and bushy tailed”. You probably felt you had a silver bullet to the ailments of the struggling public schools, but reality quickly and humbly brought you back to earth as well. Having gone through this, you could have lied and painted a picture not accurate, but you didn’t. You knew that teaching sucked at times. You also knew that teaching has unmatchable moments. You knew all these things, and you expressed them. For this I thank you.

An overly optimistic and skewed picture would have been cruel. To tell first year teachers of all your successes without your failures and hardships would simply make them feel like failures. I’ve never met anyone who has stepped into a classroom like the one I teach in and immediately succeeded. I don’t even know what success looks like in this circumstance.

The hardship and difficulty you experienced last year, which you honestly conveyed, gave me hope for my own personal development. Development is difficult to track. It is difficult to see take place. People say it is happening, but dealing with the same difficulties for eight months tends to be somewhat taxing and discouraging. Thankfully, though, you are living proof that there is light at the end of the tunnel. That light still seems dim and distant. A year still stands from that light, but again, the proof that you have been lends a certain comfort.

As you move on to whatever it is that you will do next, know that your honesty has been a tremendous help. As I step into the shoes you once filled, I intend to employ the same attitude. Things will continue to be rough in my second year as well. Students will continue to be ornery. Air conditioners will continue to break. The Delta will still be the Delta. What will continue though, is a gift of truth.


BCW

Senior Skip Day

Senior skip day is not an uncommon tradition. It always goes where the entire senior class decides on a day they will all skip school and demonstrate their “invincibility” by all taking a unified day off. When I was in high school, there was a senior skip day. I didn’t observe it, but many did. Like many high school traditions, I thought I had a pretty good understanding of what senior skip day involved, then I moved to the Delta.

My high school takes senior skip day to another level. In following the standard tradition, the seniors clear out as expected. With them, though, they take the majority of the school. It is not an exaggeration to say that there were less than 100 students at school, compared to roughly 650 enrolled.

Knowing that senior skip day was approaching, I asked my classes by show of hands how many weren’t coming. The results showed about half from each class. “That’s fine,” I thought, “I’ll still plan something for the ones who do make it”. Well what I welcomed to class that day was far less than even anticipated. Here’s the layout of students had all day:

1st Period - Enrolled: 18, Attended: 1

2nd Period: Enrolled: 17, Attended: 0

3rd Period: Enrolled: 17, Attended: 2.5 (one left midway through)

4th Period: Enrolled: 16, Attended: 2

5th Period: Enrolled: 13, Attended: 2

6th Period: Enrolled: 23, Attended: 5 + 1 kid from another class

7th Period: Enrolled: 26, Attended: 3 + 1 kid from another class

Now part of this attendance could be a result of the mini-hurricane that took place that morning, but the weather cannot have that much of an effect on attendance numbers. If nothing else, these signs further point to a day in May not too far away!

Ch ch ch ch changes...

Spring is springing, birds are chirping, and signs are starting to point toward the end of the school year. This has been the longest 8 months of my life, and in less than two months, our school year will be over. This reality has brought forth a new energy on the campus. Unfortunately this energy has manifest itself in much more skipping, apathy, and near rioting, but none the less, signs are pointing toward May 24. As I look forward, knowing that after May, August will be back before I know it, I also think about what things will be like next fall. How I will be different (and hopefully better) as a teacher, and what our school will look like. As I think about it, I also must think of things I will do differently. Much of my experience has shown me both things that do and don’t work (for me), and one of they key elements to next years success or lessened failure will be implementing my experience and utilizing my “on the job” training. Practically what does that look like? I’ve got a few ideas:

Decorate my room better: Classrooms are meant for learning. Consequently the decor/layout of the room should be conducive for this purpose. I’m far from an interior decorator, but I recognize that the feng shui of the room needs some intentional thought. The room need also be friendlier for classroom procedures. If students are going to gather up calculators or dry erase boards, they need a convenient place to store them.

Be more organized: Ole Miss gave us sweet laptops. The sweet laptops have lots of room to store lots of documents. Consequently, when creating documents or downloading them, there need be a system to keep up with those documents in an organized fashion. I spent some time re-organizing my hard drive (man that sounded nerdy), but it really will be extremely helpful in the long run.

Start stronger: Over the year, I’ve gained much more confidence and understanding in the way this school operates. I have also learned more and more my role as an instructor to these students. Consequently, I will start much stronger next year with classroom management. Bring the ruckus.

Teach to the ACT: There is no state test for Geometry or Trigonometry/Precalculus. Consequently, one of the largest selling points for the two classes is the ACT. If I can improve the scores of my ACT students, I will consider it a success.

Dream of more dynamic lessons: Admittedly a lot of this year was spent learning the material myself. I took neither Trigonometry or Precalculus, and it has been years since I thought of Geometry. Often times I was teaching material I had learned only hours earlier, so I was literally just trying to survive. Next year will be different. With a working knowledge of my curriculum, I’m confident I’ll be able to work toward more dynamic lessons. Students will undoubtedly still think my class is worse than being tarred and featherd, but there’s something to dreaming.

Speak slower, clearer, and more succinctly: When inexperienced and nervous, there is a rush to fill the uncomfortable empty air with noise. Consequently, it is easy to speak quickly and unclearly. This is something exceptional public speakers have mastered and is something I am actively trying to improve. The specific words chosen and the way they are delivered affects the climate of the classroom.

As I brainstorm more, I am confident more ideas will arise. I welcome any new suggestions you have too. Yay for new beginnings!

Does the shoe fit?

Picture a student. Let’s call him student A. Student enrolled in school around 1990 and immediately had issues. He was not following along with the curriculum as well as the other students, and his parents decided it best for him to repeat a grade. He repeated, though he continued to struggle. His testing showed above average intelligence, but student A had a very difficult time performing at the grade level. He was tested for attention deficit disorder and dyslexia, was prescribed for Ritalin, but student A was simply not getting school. He continued on from elementary to middle school, working with “learning coaches” and developing a strong distaste for all things academic. At times he would act out in school and draw attention to himself. Consequently student A was a discipline issue, though he justified his behavior by saying things like, “this is so boring, it’s not my fault, I’m just trying to stay awake”. When student A limped into high school, he was not where he should have been, academically. He was enrolled in the remedial classes and still had difficulty making the grade. Socially, he was generally well known and well liked. He played sports and had friends, but had never really found a niche of his own. Then student A found “shop class”. Shop was a general wood crafting class housed in a back corner of the school, but for student A, it was so much more. In shop, student A was able to work with his hands, operate power tools, and ultimately create pieces of furniture. He was guided by the instruction of a teacher he liked, and surrounded by students with similar stories. They were a tight knit bunch, and shop class became the highlight of student A’s day. After four long and arduous years, Student A graduated high school, barely. It was no surprise that college was not in his future, so student A began a journey of various careers, serving as a mechanic, trim carpenter, and a landscaper, among others. Student A is currently employed by the school district from which he was reared. He tends to the facilities at several schools, and uses very little of the material he was taught in high school.

Now picture another student, let’s call him student B. Student B enrolled in school at the same time, in 1990 and fell into the swing of things relatively easily. He made his way through elementary and middle school, not excelling academically, but not failing either. He had difficulty with math, and did not enjoy reading, but he managed, and remained an average student all the way into high school. When high school began, student B was somewhere in the middle of the class ranking. He also tested to have an above average intelligence, but school was not a tremendously pressing interest of his. Consequently he floated through his freshman year, not really applying himself, but also not excelling. After his freshman English teacher had a heart to heart with him, student B realized he was capable of more. He enrolled in an advanced class the next year, and started taking his education more seriously. After he saw that he was able to keep up in the advanced classes, student B started looking to the AP classes, as he knew that he wanted to attend college, and the classes seemed to be a good idea. By the time he was a senior, he was enrolled in a couple of AP classes and was making better grades than those of his freshman year. He was able to enroll in a good four year state university, and graduated in four years with a degree in business. Afterward he lived in a major city, had a good job, and benefitted from the foundation that he received in high school.

The difference between student A and student B? Only a name. Student A and student B are twin brothers. Born on the same day, reared in the same household, attended the same high school, and afforded the same opportunities. This begs the question, “is the traditional school model working?” It serves some well, but fails many others too. Some students just don’t fit school, simply put. They could be in rural or urban settings, they could be black, white, latino, or asian. Ignoring this fact is a moral dilemma, as it condemns a population into thinking they are failures and stifles a society of a potentially productive and beneficial asset. As class sizes shrink, and education reforms, I hope serious consideration is put into the ultimate ends which these means are aiming. If it is for more students to read 1984 and write term papers on its similarities to Nazi Germany, I fear we will continue to underserve a growing population, but if our aim is to create more productive members in a society, who will aid in economic growth, there has to be another way.

The Toe Saga

I've been fortunate enough to stay relatively healthy this year. Schools are traditionally havens for all sorts of cruddy germs, so I consider myself relatively lucky that I've not had any real illnesses. I have, however, had a medical saga of a different variety. What I initially thought not to be a big deal, has turned out to be a long lived battle of flesh and toenail.

In September, I developed an ingrown toenail. Gross, disgusting, uncomfortable - I know. What made it even worse was the toenail got infected. I'll try and save the gruesome details, but due to the infection, I had to have a piece of it cut out in the hopes of it growing back to normality. Unfortunately it didn't heal quite as planned, and my toenail returned back to its previous nasty state. I went back to the doctor and had the same procedure done again, only this time stitching the nail to the toe hoping that it would mend better. It started out promising, but again grew back improperly and had me and my doctor friend scratching our heads. He referred me to a local surgeon who took a look at it, and deemed it best to go ahead and have the whole thing removed. Basically after the infection occurred, my toenail wasn't going to be able to grow back correctly otherwise, so two days ago, I became toenail-less on my left big toe.

Needless to say, it has been sore. It has been difficult to walk, difficult to sleep and honestly difficult to focus on much. Because of this, I was very worried how this would affect my role as a teacher. I honestly feared that for many students, I simply appear to be an authority figure without feeling or emotion. I think it is easy to dehumanize teachers, especially if they don't allow you to do what you want, so I was nervous of what could come from my injury. In light of this attitude, I knew one of two things would occur: 1) my students would see the limp and feel remorse, sympathy, and compassion. They would recognize that I was literally limping around in pain and would try to make things as smooth as possible or 2) my students would see the limp as indication of weakness and try to take advantage of it in some sort of Darwinian/Lord of the Flies type way. It would be easy, pick on the gimp right?

I got to school, wearing the only pair of boots that I could fit my wrapped up toe into, and after limping through my morning routines, started class as normal. "What's wrong with your foot?" one of the students said after noting my new stride. "I'll explain in a little bit", I replied. Suddenly and miraculously, my first period was silent, waiting to hear the issue which was ailing me. I could have told them story after story of my run in with a mountain lion or my attempt to climb a Redwood barefooted, but instead I decided to keep to the truth. After I explained to them the nature of my limp, one blurted out, "Coach sit down, you don't need to be standing up like that", then another, "why you standin' up then, we can take care of passin' stuff out". Surprised and relieved, I found no fault in their argument and complied. Thankfully this was the sentiment that would last throughout the day. Honestly it was still a fairly miserable day because of the side effects, pain, and lack of sleep, but it could have been significantly worse.

The toe is on the mend and I'm told the soreness should be gone within a week. Luckily we've been testing the past two days, so I haven't had to walk or be on my feet as much. None the less, it is good to know all of my students won't kick me when down. Three cheers for Piggy!

Delta Birthdays

In maintaining a blog and sharing my steps along this Delta road, I've tried to document life as it is here, for better or worse. Anything less wouldn't be an honest story. The complexities born from humanity are often funny, sometimes tragic, and it is interesting how they are manifested in different ways in different cultures. Some differences are little, some big, and as far as I'm concerned, are all worth noting. It is in this thread that we come to today's entry: birthdays.

Birthdays have always been something to celebrate. A year older, a year wiser - it is an opportunity to look back and reflect on the past year. It is also an opportunity to be celebrated by loved ones far and near. Before moving to the Delta, I figured I had seen all there was to see in birthdays. Cake, parties, and presents are all things commonly associated with the birthday tradition and you can spice it up if you'd like and go to mexican restaurant where you typically wear a sombrero and are serenaded by the wait staff, or a hibachi grill where they fling shrimp in your mouth, but again, all pretty standard stuff.

Then I came here. The tradition here is not only unique, but I think is dangerous to females. When a female student has a birthday, instead of bringing her presents, other students pin cash to them. I don't know if they show up with just a pin, or if they start with a base sum to be contributed to, but throughout the day, students give cash to the female student, and she pins it to her shirt. As you can imagine, with a popular student there is a large amount of cash pinned to her shirt. Literally the only thing keeping this money from flying away by wind or thief is a safety pin. One swift snatch and the birthday is no longer as happy.

The first time I noticed this, I was alarmed. I saw a girl walking around school with $20 bills attached to her shirt. Not wanting to seem ignorant, I didn't question as it seemed perfectly normal to everyone else. Later on, when talking to a roommate, I recounted the confusion to which he responded, "oh yeah, it's her birthday". What? There are girls walking around with large sums of money safety pinned to their shirt, and the tradition is honored by friend and foe alike? I've heard several stories of students getting jumped for the cash in their pockets. Sad, downright low, but apparently the higher code of the Delta makes the money pinned to each girl's shirt the most sacred of currency?

I polled a couple of classes, to see how much money had been pinned to their shirt at any one time. Some responses were: "$32 dollars bucks", "$60", "$55", "$20", "between $100-$200", "$0 - I never pinned money to my chest because it like advertising how much money you got", "$70", "no more than $400", "$228 money for my birthday". Fascinating.

As I said, human complexities are manifested in many ways. I may never understand this tradition or how it got started, but it beats a sombrero at Chi-Chi's any day of the week. Happy birthday to you, Delta girls.

The Scoop on Teacher Corps

I recently received an email inquiring about my experience with Teacher Corps. Here's what I wrote:

Dear Person,

I again apologize it has taken me so long to respond. I have been playing catch up since returning from the weekend, and finally feel like I have a little bit of breathing room.

First off, I'm glad to hear that you are interested in Teacher Corps. I am admittedly very biased, but I really feel it is the best program to not only prepare, but also support you for teaching in a critical needs environment. Like you, I worked in financial services, then fundraising, before applying for Teacher Corps. I grew up in the South and feared traffic and congestion was slowly taking years off of my life, so I moved from a big city looking for a rural Mississippi adventure - which is exactly what I got.

Like you said, the Program is a very challenging opportunity. The fall was one of the most difficult seasons of my life. I was learning the ropes as a teacher while coaching football. On top of that, I was trying to do my graduate work and plan my eventual proposal to my now fiancee. 4:30 a.m. was a regularly seen time and often times I didn't leave school until 9 p.m. Since football has concluded, things remained busy for a while, but have more or less planed out. Now I'm usually at school till 6:30ish, and am able to think a little bit more about things other than lesson planning.

I do think I'm making a positive difference, though there are admittedly times where I fear I'm doing more harm than good. Because you are basically trying to convince other people to do something that they don't want to do, you often feel extremely disrespected. At times, it is easy to take that personally and allow it to frustrate you. Teaching requires a patience I didn't know I had, but I keep having hope that ultimately this experience is not only refining my student's minds, but my own as well.

As far as application goes. I'm told there is a high demand for Math and Science teachers, so you'll have a better shot at acceptance there. Also, would you want to coach anything? I know Teacher Corps really values the teacher/coach model, so if you had any interest in coaching, it would bode well.

Teacher Corps places teachers in Northern Mississippi (Holly Springs, Sardis, Byhalia) as well as here on the Delta (Indianola, Greenville, Hollandale). As far as visiting, I definitely suggest the Delta. There are few places like it, and honestly it is a sight to see even if you end up not teaching here. When I visited, I went to a guys classroom in Greenwood and it was the defining moment in my decision to apply.

Like you said, most people will be out on Spring Break during your time. Please just let me know where you're hoping to visit, and I'll be happy to make some calls to see if anyone will be around. If I can clear up any more questions or help in any way, please let me know. I wish you the best in your application process and appreciate all of your kind words.

Take care.

A Conversation in April

When I meet new people and tell them what I am doing on the Delta, there is a pretty consistent assumption that I am in Teach For America. Teach for America (TFA) is a much larger, much more well known alternate-route teaching program that serves critical need areas all over the country. Due to the similarities of the missions, there are a copious amount of TFA'ers on the Mississippi Delta (roughly 540) and the issues faced by any TFA teacher here easily mirror those of the Teacher Corps. When reading articles like this one and this one, I can only nod my head as I am reminded of critiques and war stories of my own.

I remember a conversation over dinner the April before I started the program. I was living in a big city, with a much more lucrative and attractive job, and had been making plans to make the transition to the Delta. In the conversation, my friend asked me: "What are you most excited about?", to which I paused, pondered for a second, and responded, "you know, I'm just really excited about working my butt off, I know it's going to be a challenge, but that's what I'm most looking forward to". For whatever reason, this conversation has lingered with me through the past eight months and likely will continue to. Not for the ignorance of my answer, but for the life lesson that has come from it.

It is easy to talk about training for a marathon. You can research training plans, make fantastic carb heavy meals, and even go buy a pair of new shoes. At some point though, you actually have to start running. All the talking of training and intentions won't actually bring you to the finish line, only your legs will. Herein lies the lesson, as it has been my experience with Teacher Corps as well. It is one thing to say, "yeah I hear this is the most difficult thing I'll ever have to do", and a completely different thing to rise at 4:30 am in October, exhausted and defeated, and realize it is only Tuesday and you have to continue on for four more days and seven more months.

A certain element of teaching here requires planning, a certain element involves realistic expectation, and a lot of it mandates grit. I don't say this to glorify myself and my meager accomplishments here, but because the expectations of the experience should be realistic. All too often, I imagine aspiring teachers read or hear the accounts of the alternate route, and imagine themselves to be the exception. "Oh well it's terrible that they had to deal with that, but I surely won't have to", they think, or "well it sounds like they had a very difficult time, but they probably didn't do much in college to prepare them". To all these thoughts, I would humbly say, "I hope you're right". Yes, I poured a lot of time into studying while in college. Yes, I was heavily involved in several extra-curricular activities while enrolled. Yes I worked. These are all things that caused strain and stress in my life, but again, the comparison is not there.

The difficulty comes, though, when one hears accurate testimonies, and discounts them to subjective self-pity. Any random aspiring teacher can hear that they will likely face the challenge of their life, but to say this and to do it are two very different challenges.

Will This Circle Please Be Broken

Yesterday, while in my first period Precalculus class, a young lady asked if she could have a word with me outside in private. She spoke softly, with worry filling her eyes and I knew something was not as it should be. We stepped outside, and she explained to me that there had been a death in her family. With a concerned voice, she informed me that due to this death, she may be at odds with some other students in the school. Apparently her step-grandfather had passed, and there was some confusion as to the actual cause of the man's death. I tried to decipher what I could from the girl, offered to help in any way I could, and we returned back to the class room.

The next period, the same girl came to my door with tears in her eyes. Her boyfriend was in this class, and she came to speak with him. Given the background and situation, I allowed her to speak with her boyfriend, and after a few minutes, he returned back to class. His face showed anger and I could only guess that she had had a run in with another student.

Today during the RIT instructional period (homeroom), there was a large disturbance taking place outside. Because the students were just completely reassigned new teachers for this class, I figured there would be some confusion as to where each student was to be. The commotion outside, however, clearly indicated something more was wrong. One could hear screaming through the window, and when I looked outside, I saw people running. One student yelled, "oh they fightin'", which would be the assumed cause, but nothing was visible from my classroom. Honestly, I had no idea what was going on. There was a general uneasiness in the air, but I knew not why. For a moment I was tempted to run out and see if I could lend a hand, but with a class full of students, and 3 stitches in my toe, I thought I should probably stay and watch after my own flock. Within a few minutes of the bell ringing, there was an announcement over the intercom to lock our doors and not let any students in or out of the classroom. I continued on with class as normal, hoping that my students would remain calm and direct their focus toward my instruction. Luckily they did, and after a few minutes nothing else could be heard outside.

Several periods later, I spoke with the School's resource officer, and was informed of what had happened just a few periods earlier. The girl's situation I had heard about yesterday had unfortunately escalated. The girl in my first period class was attacked by one of my football players, and a kid I would have never guessed could be capable of doing such a thing. It seems the step-grandfather who had passed over the weekend had a history of beating his wife. This step-grandfather was a member of one local family (the football player's), and his wife was a member of another (the girl's). The cause of his death is still up to debate, and the families involved are at odds with one another over it; one claims heart attack, the other suspects murder. Because the community is so small here, the families are big and the loyalties deep. An offensive word or act to one person could offend a whole host of others, so naturally the situation at hand created an explosive and volatile atmosphere.

Until today, the two students involved were friends. After today, though, their lives could be permanently changed. This is a sad sad situation.

A sick irony is that two generations later, there is a young man from one family who is in prison for beating a young woman from another. The reason why? Because of accusations of a man from one family beating a woman from another, two generations earlier.

Snow Day on the Delta

Admittedly, when I returned from Christmas break, I was a bit disillusioned. I was back on the Delta, away from family and friends, and the realities of the day to day requirements were setting back in. We came back to school on a Monday (which is brutal by the way), and went through a full week of class. Toward the end of the week, I began hearing rumors of potential wintry weather that could come our way, and my spirit started hoping and praying for a snow day. The rumor has always been that schools here could be cancelled even with a threat, so I knew the 100% precipitation that was predicted for Sunday night had a great deal of potential. Sure enough, wintry weather arrived. It started as snow, then we had some sleet, then more snow, providing a light white blanket over the Mississippi Delta. As I looked out the window into the arctic tundra that was forming outside, my mind began reeling with how I could accomplish what I really wanted to do with my day off: go duck hunting.

I've grown up hunting and got into duck hunting when I went to college. Because the Delta is so close to the Mississippi flyway, duck hunting here has been acclaimed as one of the better places to hunt duck in the United States, if not world. I moved down here with all of this in mind, and hoped that I could make the connections necessary to do some legitimate Delta duck hunting while here. Fortunately I have developed a fantastic community of people through my church, and within this group there happens to be some salty waterfowlers.

I called up a friend whom we'll call Farmer John. Farmer John is, you guessed it, a farmer, and consequently has a copious amount of land that floods in the winter months. These fields which once held rice or corn are now magnets for various species of waterfowl and are prime locations for duck hunting. After speaking with Farmer John for a few minutes, we had reached an agreement, and I made plans to arrive at his house at 5:30 the next morning.

I could hardly sleep that night; I think I literally got 3 hours. Between nervous excitement and random energy, I had to do push ups and read Old Testament literature to eventually find slumber. Sure enough, though, my alarm fired off at 3:50 a.m. and I was on the road to Farmer John's by 4:30 a.m.

Because of the nature of the roads, I tried to leave ample time to make the 30 mile drive to Farmer John's. I crept my front-wheel drive Honda Accord up the highway, knowing that a bad move could literally result in my being stuck in a ditch for who knows how long. Motivated by a healthy amount of fear and a giddy excitement that rivals this kid, I completed my passage and pulled into a remote driveway in the middle of nowhere.

After we loaded the 4-wheeler, bags, decoys and guns, we set off to one of his fields on the snow-covered gravel roads. After a short ride, we unloaded the 4-wheeler, and continued on to one of Farmer John's duck blinds. A duck blind is a place where hunters are able to hide and stay out of sight from the ducks and out of touch from the weather. Think of it like a baseball dugout with camo all over it on the side of a lake or field. We sat in the blind as shooting light came and passed, and honestly saw little action. A few birds passed here and there, we shot two, but again, were sort of wondering where all the ducks were. After about thirty minutes, we kept hearing the near deafening noise of the thousands of geese on the fields nearby. I turned to Farmer John and asked if he wanted to maybe just poke his head around and look at 'em, he smiled and agreed.

We left the blind, and went over to a slough (a muddy side channel) on a neighboring field. This is where it got good. We arrived to a place among the cattails and marsh grass, threw out a couple of decoys, and set up on the shoreline. The birds that had seen us arrive were initially a little skittish, but either they left or forgot about us, because it wasn't long before there would be a steady stream of birds flying in within range. One fell, then another two and so on down the line until I had successfully shot my daily limit. I'll be honest and say that I've never shot my daily limit. Admittedly I was beginning to think I might have been cursed because of my track record with duck hunting is so dismal. The curse was broken, though, and we began to accumulate a small pile of feathered friends as the morning matured.

All in all, we shot nine birds that day, and had a boat load of fun doing it. I was able to get out in God's creation, marvel and the beauty of the region, and truly and legitimately experience some of the storied Delta duck hunting. It is a hunt I will not soon forget, and will surely be a new standard for my hunting. Interestingly, it also happened to be a bit prophetic that I was able to hunt duck on the morning of the BCS Championship game, where the Tigers of Auburn ate some duck of their own. In light of their victory, we'll dedicate the song of the week to "the loveliest village on the plains". KL, this one's for you, WAR EAGLE.