I’ve found a bit of a paradox.

I bring this up because of the conversations I’ve been having with respected and degreed educators in my sphere, one whose very close to me personally and one whose cool with me professionally. Both have different schools and different situations, but both have the students in their schools in mind.

On one end of the argument, we have a large conclave of teachers who complain at every turn possible. Simple matters become grandiose events. We can have a professional development period, and once those kinda discussions happen, everyone has that looks-at-their-watch-when-is-this-over-not-just-yet-aw-man look on them. I’m all for rebel rousing and upsetting the established order, but there are also times when this sort of activity just isn’t necessary nor valuable to our primary objective: helping students. For example, someone who’s taught the same student for 5 straight years because that student can’t pass his class should take an earnest look at his or her class and how they’re addressing that child’s needs. Teachers who would rather read the newspaper in homeroom than take care of students and simultaneously complain about their students’ lack of effort boggle my mind.

But then there’s the flip side of that argument when we talk about responsibility. Teachers don’t always get treated like professionals, and the expectations for them shift depending on whoever’s in charge. Some of the bitter history between administration and teacher is hard to erase, and so is the whimsical flux often frustrated teachers. I’ve stated time and again how the profession of teaching takes time, and just from general conversations with teachers, I get the feeling that what’s “important” is usually just a facade to appease rather than actually researching and figuring out what’s best for the students.

So I’m at a weird spot right now. Any thoughts on this?

No, it’s not the same.

Mostly the same kids. Same subject. Same friendships. Same teachers in the building. Same madness in the beginning. Same school building. Same confusion as to what the heck students had on their heads and why they decided not to wear uniform if they’ve been to the school already. Same high hopes. Same uneasiness.

But it’s definitely not the same.

This year, I envision me taking better care of myself. For all intents and purposes, I felt almost useless for the last 2 weeks of last year due to circumstances I couldn’t control. Now, even with the recent teacher departures, I feel I’m more in control. As a teacher, I come into the classroom with an incredible swagger. I fully expect all eyes on me even when I’m not the one teaching. I expect quiet when I’m speaking. I expect a certain respect from everyone. When I write on the board, I expect students to be writing notes in back of me and nothing else. I expect quiet usually, and maybe just a little buzz while they’re working in groups. My gumption doesn’t come from anything except wanting to preemptively avoid 85% of classroom management problems from the onset.

and if I thoroughly believe in that persona, then that’s exactly what I’m going to get … and sometimes to a fault.

Even with all that pomp, I still find that the kids react to me just the opposite of what I’d expect. They welcome my presence, and even my slight passing by the classroom gets them overly excited rather than nervous and scared. :: snaps:: So much for that. I’m still getting kids running up to me, literally leaving their classes, and begging me to teach their class (I have little control over that). It’s a weird feeling, for as much as I want to maintain the “no smiling ’til Christmas” mantra, I also know that, much sooner than later, my students find out I care a lot about them.

So for the new teachers reading, please know:

Teaching is, more than anything, a living contradiction:

• It’s a profession because I’m getting paid for it, and a calling because there’s something innate in true teachers that implant us in our students’ memory banks
• I get to be mean and nice, sometimes within a span of five seconds
• I’m fully expected to be ready with a lesson plan, but I’ll never truly be ready for what happens on the everyday.
• Almost everyone knows what a teacher is and what they should look like, but I still have a hard time expounding on my experiences as one to anyone but people who work with youth in that capacity.
• I teach math, but I’m a prolific writer, a music connoisseur, and an avid reader of historical non-fiction (usually on the radical side)
• I’m expected to be a role model, but that suppression of some of my more unbridled habits (cursing comes to mind) makes me want to do it more when not in the view of children
• I love being with the kids, but for my own mental health, I need a break because …
• The energy I put into my profession is what comes out of me …

But that’s my job. I’m amorphous and omnipresent. I’m an overlord and proponent. I’m whatever my students need me to be. And that’s the way I like it.

jose, who has no idea what he’s gonna dress in tomorrow …

Let this be known now, my people. This blog will still be journaling the daily happenings of this educator of the masses. I obviously won’t go into extraordinary detail about who said what, nor will I regress into discussing fellow teachers / administrators / school staff strictly because it’s unprofessional. However, as with everything, I do take the ideas that annoy me and flip them into extensive thought-out essays for people to discuss and digest. That’s my only vow for this blog and people can read into the ideas and who they came from all they want. That’s the give-and-take of having a blog with my name on it: I have to write responsibly but honestly about anything I write, and it gives people a real person to write back to, for better or worse.

With that said, today I got a rude awakening of the fleeting nature of this job. I’m fortunate that the staff at my school has (to this point) kept the majority of its staff intact, creating a continuity that’s unparalleled at most schools. They range from the young and confident (like yours truly) to the elder but sterling in their grey. We have teachers who’ve transferred a couple of times and teachers in excess. We have teachers who aren’t very effective and those who one only needs to take a seat and put your face in your palms as you marvel at their ability to manage academics and classroom management flawlessly. We have the curmudgeons and the social butterflies.

The most effective teachers in my building, no matter what anyone felt about them, always worked hard at what they did. Whether they come across as teacher-dictators or cool cats, there was always a sense from them that, in their class, students were learning. Obviously, some teachers have deceptive techniques to make it look like kids are learning in the classroom, but after a while, they reveal themselves in more ways than one. This summer, I felt like I forgot how to do it, but today, I refocused myself on being reminded.

That came with the surprising departure of one of my mentors and closest friends in the building. He was one of my mentors and closest friends in the building. Yes, he’s got at least 20 years on me, but he was like a big brother to me. He contributed so much to the school environment and gave everything he could to the kids, but he found a job elsewhere. While I’m happy for him and his family, I’m sad for our school. That coupled with lots of other shifts happening in the building make me more determined to do as he did. He often took me under his wing when I was a first-year teacher, and I hope in his new job as coach, he’ll take the staff under his large wing as well.

So this morning, I looked into an empty classroom, with chairs up, desks clean, my personal desk still cluttered with last year’s teachers’ stuff.

I took a deep breath and said, “This is gonna be a special year.”

jose, whose work is never over …

It’s around this time of year that have to re-remember how to be Mr. Vilson and no longer Jose. This summer’s been great, and I’ve had many a revelation through this summer personally and professionally. I’ve rested, I’ve breathed, I’ve read, I’ve written, I’ve learned, I’ve loved, and I’ve lived. And now, I’m almost ready to face those children again. It’s a moment of truth, and I’m starting to feel it. But I’m just not ready yet. I’m already reading blog after blog from teachers already getting prepared for the coming year with lesson plans, seating plans, grading policies, and syllabi ready to roll. I, on the other hand, have had far too much fun this summer.

With all that said, I had a conversation with my lady yesterday (who is on a whole ‘nother level when it comes to education) and she zeroed in on what makes a good and effective teacher. And after that discussion, I realized that, yes, I think I’m ready. I’m motivated, I’m committed, and I’m going to be ready. Believe it or not, I do have these awesome moments of self-doubt where my cynicism reflects back onto me, and it keeps me humble enough to keep me focused on my ultimate goal, and she’s often been the one to bring me back to that focus lately.

I’m going to go to my classroom a couple of days before we officially have to be there. I’m going to have my letter to the parents ready, and I’m going to have a list of my kids’ phone numbers so I can call their parents from the jump. I’m going to get even more familiar with my co-teachers on the floor, and I’m going to have the first week of lesson plans ready. I’m going to get organized, and have my classroom 80% set up by the time the students enter into my classroom. With my new added responsibilities, I need to keep a proper perspective.

Teaching is a calling and a profession at once. It’s not enough for me to just love what I do but work hard for it as well. Personally, the most effective teachers I’ve seen keep a good distance so teachers are not percieved as the students’ friend, but give enough of their person where the students look at the teacher in high regard, irrespective of whether the student failed or passed in the class. It was probably my biggest strength my first two years, and a quality I somewhat lost my third year. As passionate as I was with my students, I also lacked the understanding of going from “new teacher” to “veteran teacher” in the school.

For the next year, I repledge my efforts to those causes. More than anything, this summer has given me time to replenish. For, when all is lost, the battle is won with all these things that I’ve done …

jose, who recently took on yet another project … yes, I’m a madman …

p.s. - Bellringers put out the 185th Carnival of Education :-).

Vacation time’s coming to a close, but I’m still hanging onto the idea that I’m on vacation. For better or worse, though, ’till something does us part, I’ll always be an educator. And this vacation time has done nothing but solidify my teacher mentality.

I knew I was a certified teacher when …

- I saw kids on the train fighting / not holding the bars / making too much noise / chewing their gum like they’re horses / annoying me and wanted to give them detention for it (haha, jokes)

- I explain things to people like I’m teaching them, even teachers.

- I can make a quick-n-dirty lesson plan out of the simple things like using a camera or drinking bubble tea.

- I explain to a prospective teacher the pros and cons of teaching using a Venn diagram in my mind.

- I can attach some songs on my playlist to a memory I have in my classroom.

- I walk around and look at a poster thinking, “I can really use that for my classroom.”

- I still read teacher blogs … on vacation!

- I wake up on the first few days of vacation ready to jump out of bed with a suit and tie when I realize I can sleep just a little longer.

- I identified myself by my profession than any race or ethnicity markers (whoa)

- I still enjoy the surprised looks when I tell people what I work for.

- I can’t go a Tuesday without blogging about education …

When did you know you were a teacher if you are one? Even those that aren’t, do you have any experiences like that?

jose, who doesn’t think his latest graphic novel purchases V for Vendetta and The Watchmen are appropriate for my students …

My first pearl of wisdom to you: be a student first, teacher second.

You’ve just gotten in, or you’ve been finishing up your summer training for the Fellows, and you’re wondering where to start. You probably Googled for NYCTF and ran into my site (hopefully) or any assortment of ed bloggers that either give constructive criticism of the program or completely bash it as a waste of time (the latter is definitely not my approach). Rather, I’d like to help you get accustomed to the NYC school culture as it were and how your position as an NYC Teaching Fellow gives you a unique position to help improve the schools but also grow as a person.

For your own sake and the rest of us who’ve been working diligently with our kids, please don’t come in with a mentality of privilege. Oftentimes, the stereotypes of Fellows being prissy, disengaged, hippie-yuppie, separatist, and holier-than-thou-art come from actual behaviors that fellow Fellows take on themselves and forget that they’re part of a system that’s primary purpose is to educate children, not some sort of prestigious undertaking. Yet, for the majority of fellows who want to actually become part of the community, these stereotypes prevent you from actually becoming involved in the school community.

But there’s hope! If you just follow my 5 simple tips for starting out your year as a Fellow, you’ll have no problem getting acclimated to the rather rigorous first month of the school year:

1. Stay Humble: People from NYC or other urban settings usually don’t have a problem with this (in the classroom anyways), but if you’re not humble, then be cautious: telling people outright your background, your alma mater(s), and that you got into the Fellows is probably not the way to go because, again, it indicates a vanity about yourself that’s unbecoming of a new teacher. Stick with humility and introducing yourself as Mr. / Ms. / Mrs. _____. Trust me on this one. And that goes with your style of clothes too. Professional, but no Dolce & Gabbana or Versace or even Yves Saint Laurent. You’re begging to be isolated.

2. Personality Check: Reflect. And don’t just do it as a list of activities. Identify your strengths and weaknesses. Sharpen your strengths; manage your weaknesses. Then when you’ve got alladat together, you can better relate to others in your classroom. Honest.

3. The Student Mentality: Learn and digest everything that you see around you. Be a constant observer. Ask a good collective of teachers (preferably with different styles) if you can drop by their classroom. Most teachers that I know will welcome you with open arms into their classroom, even on their break, so long as you follow #1. Take copious notes when they speak and ask away until they’re annoyed with you or vice versa.

4. The Poker Face: Look at this face:

Notice that Tim Duncan’s face is expressionless. Emotionless. You can’t tell whether the man wants to hurt you, help you, or wants a slice of pizza. That’s how you need to roll. First few months, this sort of posturing is important because it gives the sense that you’re only there on one mission: teach the children. I know it’s hard because sometimes you want to crack up or make an angry face, but it’s better if you keep that to a minimum, not just with the students but the teachers and staff too.

5. Don’t Believe The Hype: “So let me ask you, what do you think about this teacher?” Your answer should always be: “I’m not sure. I know she works here, but that’s about it.” Keep conversations about other teachers and staff at a minimum. Students are usually fair territory (as long as it’s constructive), but by no means should you get caught up in the gossip and heresay of the school cafeteria. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t break bread with other teachers, but there are always one or two that want you to stoke their fire a little bit, and then implicate you for things that you may not have said. Please.

If you follow my advice and just take things one day at a time (while planning a week or two at a time), you’ll make it through. By now, you’ve surely got tons of material on classroom management, curriculum, lesson planning, etc., but I hope this is a nice supplement for you as you venture into the next school year. Please don’t take any of this personally; we all had to go through this self-examination.

Remember: you’re a student first, teacher second.

jose, who learned the hard way that he can’t take his position for granted …

p.s. - Please read about the case of LaVena Johnson, whose death was ruled a suicide a few years ago but had suspicious marks on her body that may have happened from some sort of physical struggle. Some are speculating that it was more than just a fight. To read more, click here while you’re at it.

I’d like to tell my children, whoever they may be, that I was an activist someday. And by children, I mean the ones I borrow for 10 months a year, but I mean the ones I hope to have in the future, too.

I don’t mean that I’ll be rebel-rousing in my school per se. It’s bad enough I know some of my administrators are reading every word I write carefully. I wouldn’t want them to think I’m trying to start a revolution in our building ::ahem::. In school, as a matter of fact, I tend to maintain a very professional attitude, doing my best to be completely respectful of the students and faculty I encounter on a daily basis. When people ask me for my opinion, I usually give them a blanketed statement that comes straight out some manual on best teaching practices. If not, I give my best opinion, but make it so it’s constructive and non-judgmental.

But when the door closes, I want to give my kids the reality that they may face out there. I want to tell them how the war’s a hoax, how billion-dollar corporations have the gall to help raise gas prices while simultaneously lower wages and cut jobs every quarter, how our president and vice president have no shame whatsoever about their corruption of the US Constitution, how this country’s foundation came at fractionating people who weren’t rich white males, how the world will not look too kindly on children from their neighborhoods, and how they should never forget the struggles where they came from.

The problem with that is: I’ll be labeled a radical.

Oooh. Just the thought that I might impart the documented but often hidden truth to students who often have a distorted vision of the country agitates some to the point that they’ll label me as such. Would I prefer to be downgraded to some title like “liberal” or “anti-war” knowing my past and present thoughts and behavior? My affinity for Rage Against the Machine and Immortal Technique? My protests against NYC budget cuts, against calls to repeal affirmative action, for true immigration reform, and against racist and sexist policies by others on my former campus? My affiliations with activist groups I’ve been a part of, have joined, or will be a part of eventually? My blogroll? Some of the search results that lead people to my interviews and writings? My poetry? Never that.

And I have a hard time looking at people who grew up with similar upbringing to mine and consider themselves moderates. At the risk of sounding belligerent, take a damn side. We can’t sit idly by while so many of us fall down like dominoes in an intricate display of callous tumble design. As much as I like building bridges in the blogosphere and connecting with people who may not necessarily agree with me, I also don’t see any way for me to compromise myself and my ideals, especially with everything I know.

Then I look at my kids, and wonder how much their educational system really values social studies and being informed of current events and history. I wonder how much all these distractions have pulled them away from trying to actually understanding the intricacies of why their cousin’s in jail, why they have a hard time seeing themselves anywhere besides rap videos and the wrong end of a murder story, or why both of their parents have to work at all hours of the day and people still call them lazy.

If trying to find real and ethical answers and solutions to these questions makes me radical, I’ll take that proudly.

jose, who gets the microphone fiend in him every so often …

Juan Luis Guerra’s quintessential song is “Ojala Que Llueva Cafe En El Campo,” a song that comes across more as a incantation that the poor and hopefully at the least have coffee somehow fall from the sky to bless them, as if to say that G_d might bless them with their basic necessities to relieve them from their hunger, strife, and sorrow. Riddled with metaphors and as passionate as any song you’ll hear, it’s a reminder of how simple his people’s needs really are. In our own little way, we can be that “cafe” for someone else, not necessarily saving the children, but giving them what they need as well as we can.

On the first night that I landed in Dominican Republic, in the village my mother comes from, I almost immediately found myself teaching math, in a town in need of someone who understands how to turn “improper” fractions into mixed numbers, and how to divide. It’s scary that, even on my vacation, I’m put in the precarious position of trying to tutor a student on 2 years of math in 2 hours. The 16-year-old had a test the next day, and she didn’t really understand anything her teacher was talking about. Of course, that’s where I get to show off and make students wish they got excited about math the way I do. (ed note: Please don’t get it twisted. For goodness sakes, this is strictly PG if not G.)

Granted, a couple of things are at work here. First off, the environment she’s been raised in isn’t the best. The emphasis on education in the neighborhood is, to put it politely, disparate, seldom, and limited. There are a few residents of the hood who’ve done great things like try out for the Olympics and gone to Argentina and Spain (I’m proud to call them family), but most of the people in my neighborhood beyond that. There’s also the utter destruction of their streets, the filth that emanates from the lack of sewage and garbage transport, the violence and rape that’s occured and increased over the last 6-7 years, and what seems like an unresponsive government only concerned with getting their faces painted all over buildings and not reaching back to their supporters.

There was also her attitude. Her voice went from sweet to rancid in seconds, calling out her friends and passersby all types of names that I wasn’t too fond of. When I’m in an educational mind frame, I can’t help but roll my eyes when I’m cursing. Her friend, whose 2 years younger but who looks 10 years older, quit school (or was asked to leave) because of a prank she pulled on a teacher. Her own voice seemed to echo a naiveté about the consequences of her actions, and what most of my friends here deem as unacceptable (having a family really early) seems to be her destiny from the hints she dropped about herself.

Yet, the one slice of hope, and that’s when the next day, the girl I taught told me she definitely passed her math exam, and that excited me a bit. I also knew I couldn’t be there for the rest of her educational career to see her through “la universidad.” However, I did find something out about my little cousin Wanda that I would have never known.

She likes math.

A lot.

And she’s proficient.

Once I found out, my brother and I decided we’d sponsor her to come to the States, that is, if her grades remained at the excellent level they’re at. I put down a nice down payment, and all they needed to do was make sure she’d do what she needed. Not to say that the conditions here are the greatest, but I also find that the most successful people out of Dominican Republic have traveled to other places besides the other side of their country. They can follow the examples of Juan Luis Guerra, Aventura, Julia Alvarez, Junot Diaz, Amelia Vega, Felix Sanchez, and the myriad of underrated athletes, politicians, historians, writers, beauty pageant contestants, and television personalities that may come from their neighborhoods.

But more than anything, they can come back to their neighborhoods and be the coffee that awakens the people in their neighborhoods.

Ojala que llueva cafe …

jose, who’s taken some of the lessons from over there and applied them to his mindset here …

Hey former student,

I just wanted to say that it was great seeing you today. You’ve grown so big. Your shoulders are bigger, and you’re a little reminiscent of your mom. Your vocabulary’s grown a lot, and I already have a sense of how you’ll sound when you become a young lady. I always knew you had it in you. I’m not surprised that you ran and screamed my name in the middle of Harlem just to say to me since you’ve always liked me as a teacher, but I’m surprised to have even seen you since I had just thought about you and the rest of the students in my very first class at our school.

With all that’s happened to me recently, from the visit to the ER for my heart problem to my cousin’s death, I reminisced about some of the last few events over the past week. In particular, I started to focus on the 8th graders vs. Staff basketball game (we won), and the recent prom. Then I remember how you were the prom queen, and how so many of my kids were there, so well dressed and so impressive.

Then, I reminisced back to when you were 7th graders, my first homeroom. You were the only class who’s ever thrown me a birthday party, and a surprise one at that. Your class is the only class I felt like getting gifts for as a whole. Your class is the only class I cried for because I was so proud of you all. I could talk to all of you about anything, especially the news, and many of you appreciated those words of wisdom. I developed great relationships with almost all of the parents in your class, and almost felt like that second father, or even the father that some of your classmates never had. I could be everything in front of you all, and still feel like what I said would resonate in your minds.

Even during our rough spots, I never felt anything short of love from the majority of you. Now, it seems that the students I teach have become less appreciative of the teachers who care for them. At least on the surface. In two years, after I’ve been their math teacher for 3 years, I wonder if they’ll make me as proud as you have. I wonder if, when I go to their proms, I’ll have secret moments when I wish I was still sitting next to you reminding you to multiply the variable with all the inside terms, reminding you why you can’t calculate the slope the way you did, or pumping my fist in excitement over you knowing that there is a relationship between multiplying two variables with each other and finding the area of a square.

And seeing you today kinda makes me miss that feeling of pride. I know I still see some of you, strolling by 52 with parents or not-that-significant others. Sometimes, I even get to catch you on my Teacher MySpace, seeing you throw up deuces like you’re that cool. Even if most of you don’t end up remembering me decades from now, I’m still grateful to have had the opportunity to not only teach you, but hopefully inspiring you to become better people and not just students. You all weren’t always the perfect class, but I still miss you all …

mr. v

Damian tagged me, and I must oblige. After all, I tagged almost everyone and their mother yesterday trying to get you all to help me with my most involved effort yet. Damian asked me which of my previous (and worst) jobs helped me prepare for the job I have currently (please tell me you didn’t miss that boat). Let me preface this by saying that I’ve never had a bad job because each job I’ve ever taken either advanced my transparent agenda or helped me put food on the table or paid for college expenditures. Now that that’s out of the way …

I have to say, after working as a camp counselor, concession stand worker at a big movie theatre, student security on campus, and database work at an educational research firm, none quite prepared me for my job or helped me get into the mentality of working with kids quite like my position as the Education Chair of La LUCHA at Syracuse U.

OK, so that wasn’t the worst job, nor was it something I was “hired” to do, but voted in. Of course, some of the readers who already knew me from previous incarnations wouldn’t consider it a job either as I never got paid monetarily. OK, fair enough, but here’s why I was more than prepared for my work with children after helping to lead that organization:

1. I had to learn quite quickly to not take things too personally. I had a big habit of doing it because, really, I put my whole person into that organization. Unfortunately, some people don’t view it the same way nor do they see my vision for the org. It prospered, but not like I’d hoped.

2. Making real change happen takes a lot of personal sacrifice. On the one hand, I had a drive very few matched when it came to that org, and when I wanted a real change to happen, I worked as hard as possible to make that change happen, sacrificing a whole lot of time I could have spent doing a whole lot of nothing.

3. I must make personal time. On the other hand, I also had to take some time for myself, and often, I didn’t know when to step back and do that.

4. Constant feedback and reflection are a vital part of becoming the best. At first, I didn’t take constructive criticism or any other type for that matter too well, because I thought the organization at the time needed a vast change and I was the only one who could bring it. Then, I was asked to get humble. And quick. I reflected on where that criticism came from and what much of that negativity would mean for the legacy I was trying to leave behind. But it wasn’t about me. It was about the org. Once I came to that epiphany, I started to work quietly, adjusting my game plan for the great good.

5. Sometimes, the best reaction is to let the chips fall where they may. There’d be days when certain people would bring a lot of negativity in my direction, trying to force me to react or fire back in a way that’s “unbecoming” of a leader. Most of it was immature, and they tried to intimidate me to step down. I wouldn’t. Rather than respond, I let everything pass, because I knew there’d be a moment when karma would inevitably take care of everything, which sure enough, it did.

6. Dealing with administration takes time, patience, and professionalism. No matter how unprofessional the professionals are, and no matter how “in the right” you are, there’s a time and place for every protest, question, or even comment. Professionalism will more often than not help your case.

7. Never let a moment in which you can teach someone go to waste. Never.

jose, who will not lose …