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.