The one question every person in this profession faces is the ubiquitous “Why do you teach?” (The most recent comes from Sherman Dorn). It comes from kids, parents, friends, and family. I don’t know whether it’s out of pride or pity. Everyone can list their favorite teachers and most hated teachers, and those people usually had a greater influence on their lives than the teachers even recognize.

After all, I can tell you how coming from the Lower East Side, growing up in the projects where one resident compared this area in the mid-90s as a modern-day Beirut with the residue of 1980’s drug warfare and Giuliani fascism, with so many Black and Brown faces falling that Chico might have run out of paint to make those famous murals for them. I’ve seen enough roses, hearses, ambulances, arrests, little blue bags, blue, green, purple, single mothers, and red caps to write my own gangsta rap. Some of my own cousins come in and out of jail like a revolving door, and even some of the kids I grew up with were crack babies wishing for some peace in their minds. I slept with the sounds of gunshots and arguments outside my window and woke up with the same elements. People in my hood actually killed each other over a pair of sneakers or some brand new toy. As proud as I am to have come from all of that, that’ll be enough for anyone who’s even caught a glimpse of the better life to want out immediately.

I was one of the fortunate few to make it out with some sense of integrity, though other more personal issues plagued my soul. At times the only sanity I had was the rituals and routines we had in school. I knew I could count on learning and expressing myself academically, and no one could tell me different. I can personally tell you every great and not-so-great teacher I’ve had since elementary school. I couldn’t tell you much about college other than the activism and the parties, but that’s all extracurricular. Yet, even the teachers I hated had some influence as to why I teach.

I remember my language arts teacher in 7th grade, who, for anonymity’s sake, I’ll just refer to as Mr. D (and no, D /= dick, but just the same). He was a tall man who always had some nervous head movement, probably from too much coffee, and he spoke so sharply, he could’ve scratched his chalk against the board and that might have been more pleasant. He didn’t have a nurturing bone in his body. Rather than help me out when I tried to understand the present participle, he would just argue with me and act like I was trying to best him. Rather than showing me the difference between saying “What happened?” versus “Excuse me,” he’d make me write “What happened?” 1000 times (no hyperbole here, folks). Thanks to him, I not only remember the lack of efficiency in that assignment, I learned the meaning of carpal tunnel very early.

He’s not the only one either. There’s the dozens of teachers who opted to ignore me because it’s easiest to ignore the only “Black kid” in an all-honors class, who would rather throw me out of class than hear me out, or who found it easiest to suppress my inclination towards knowing my history because it’d be much easier to express their conservative views for their own pleasure. Easy pickings for a teacher when the student’s submissive.

Yet, without a doubt, I can honestly say that I’ve had some of the greatest teachers from elementary school onwards. To simply list them would be a disservice for everything they’ve done for me. And this is why I teach: not only is this a job for me, but it’s an understanding that I’ll pay forward what I’ve been given. There are teachers in our system who are case studies for the retraction of tenure, but the teachers I’ve had by and large not only made me the man I am, but gave up so much of themselves to be figures of inspiration for me. I did my end, working hard to achieve the heights I did, but when I got out of line, they disciplined me. When I needed the encouragement, I got it and tenfold. I remember their ability to make me feel like everything I had to say was important, and my thoughts mattered, and for someone with the aforementioned history, it means a million.

That and all the vast experiences from acting and singing in front of thousands to my activism and organizations helped me hone my strongest qualifications for teaching. And NYCTF almost didn’t give me a chance, but I must have lucked out. Either way, I took the opportunity, and ran with it as far as I could. I’m still running, too.

Because despite my difficulties with my homeroom, my administration, or other teachers, when I walk into my classroom, I’m given another reason to love what I do. Whether it be a student who, for a day, had an epiphany that he or she would be the best student in the class, or the teacher who’s got another student anecdote, I’m loving it. I’m not just a teacher who gets off on random praise from people. I love the feeling of an accomplished lesson. In some ways, I even love my failures because they teach me something about me as a person, not just a teacher. I’m overwhelmed usually with the amount of work I have to do with my kids, but I can never complain about this job getting too boring. I get a thrill knowing I have a set of audience members for my show from 8-3. Quite the contrary, I like how everyday there’s a new set of problems for me to solve, and even as I’m teaching my kids math, I’m learning along with them.

Now, I’m in the process of refinement, making steady progress towards getting my kids prepared for the state math test coming in March. I want to seek victory from the experiences I’ve gained this year, but it’ll come one day at a time. And to think, I was told by another teacher that it was my idealism that would prevent me from becoming the best teacher possible. To paraphrase Bobby Knight, “When my time on Earth is gone, and my activities here are past, I want that they bury me so they can kiss my ass.”

jose, who was just given the best blog of the day. i think i’ve arrived …

Less than a month ago, The Village Voice published an article about the NYC Teaching Fellows entitled “Your Own Personal Blackboard Jungle” by Stacy Cowley and Neil deMause. Basically, it discusses the hardships that so many fellows go through in the NYC Public School system, and lay much of the fault on the rather accelerated training of the NYCTF.

It’s caused quite the stir in the blogosphere, and in particular with the newer fellows and teachers out there. I’m happy that the article was written: it prompts some honest discussion about a program I was fortunate enough to have been a part of. While I believe that Cowley and deMause had good intentions for writing this article, I also disagree with them on a lot of major points.

Working for the public school system is difficult, regardless of whether or not you get into it through regular certification or alternative certification. Any “rookie” in a high-stress environment will be tested thoroughly on their skills, and won’t be as efficient with their methods as someone who’s been in the school system for 4-5 years. It happens with doctors, entertainers, stock brokers …

The only difference is that we have the charge of taking children under our wings. Student teaching for a year is a great idea, but what happens next? Frankly, some people are great teachers on paper, but can’t cut it in a classroom for various reasons. When they finish their apprenticeship, they’ll be in the same situation as they would be now: all alone with 30 kids who might not necessarily have the same background they do.

Whether it’s 4 hour visits to an NYC public school and summer school teaching, or a whole year in a classroom, some people might not make it. For some people, there is no amount of training that can adequately prepare them for that first day, and the subsequent and harder days that follow. Being overwhelmed and underprepared is part of the program; it’s how you learn to manage that that defines the teacher you are.

Unfortunately, within the program, there’s a set of people who are in it to “save the children.” It’s one thing to have an understanding of the children and have a sense of idealism in one’s discourse, and another to not even attempt to understand the children and overcompensate by looking at them with pity. The ones that have the latter mentality get crushed when they got in the classroom, and those that had the former do relatively well.

Reading the article reminds me of why I didn’t tell the veteran teachers I was a Teaching Fellow until I built a good rapport with them: the program is often associated with negative connotations of a degree-focused, bi-annual turnover, whiny, lazy, mainly White, callous, privileged, and condescending individuals. These opinions come from so many of the veterans I’ve spoken to informally, and that’s created many divisions within the teacher corps of so many schools. When I finally felt comfortable with establishing my association to the program to the rest of the teachers, many of my colleagues’ jaws dropped.

But what can we do to rectify the situation and set a better example for future teachers in the program? Well, the problem is not just how the program is set up or the lackluster reputation of the CUNY classes all of us had to take (because I’ve taken issue with some of the madness), but it’s really the system the program works within. Changes need to come from the top down. Consider this:

How can we as teachers be expected to raise the achievement of students when administrators often treat their teachers like children? How can administrators be expected to develop their teachers when they’ve never been taught how to do so and the policies of their higher-ups stand in contrast to actual success in the classroom? The system is in a constant state of flux, so even teachers into their second decade of teaching often feel burdened. I like the idea of accountability and responsibility, but often it’s teachers who take the blame for the failures of the school system, but get none of the praise for the successes. No program that works within this system can expect to see some of these changes.

With that said, new teachers should be made to feel like the administrators will support their growth. No one’s first year was absolutely perfect, but the most successful teachers always find a way to find a point where both they and their students are learning. Looking around the blogosphere often reminds me that many of the veterans, when prompted, will really act like they want their students to act. They’re the most inquisitive, the most attentive, and the most active within their specific domains.

Personally, I’m happy with my Fellows experience. I read the ad with the simple “Tackle inequalities. Teach Math.” and will display it prominently in my classroom. Although some of the CUNY classes weren’t good, they made me an even better teacher. If the classes were good, I’d take the newfound information and use it with my own kids. If the classes weren’t, I just learned how to not teach in my own class. I had a couple of good administrators I could depend on, a core of teachers within the school that were readily accessible, and 2 excellent mentors (every new Fellow gets 2 mentors) so in that respect, I was lucky.

But my school was far from perfect my first year. What really helped me get through the hard times was my resilience, my maturity, my humility, my connection to my students, and a stalwart mentality that no one could take this profession away from me. I treated them like my own children and not just some charity case. Many of the characteristics that make a great public school teacher transcend but take into account a person’s background, race, class, and gender.

If we can foster school environments where the pressure is on students’ personal growth and not just their academics, raise salaries that compare fairly to suburban counties, lower class sizes, and have helpful professional development, then people will want to come into the school system and make a difference. If teachers’ schedules didn’t get the rug pulled from under them in an instant, or if they weren’t made to feel afraid to seek counseling or to feel like taking a personal day off will affect how their kids will perform on “the big test,” teachers would stay longer. I’m not asking for a cushy job, but basic respectable conditions often promote good culture.

jose, who’s got first day jitters and doesn’t fear retribution for his opinions

I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready …

Borrowed from J. Dakar:

The Rules:
1. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
2. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged write their own blog post about their eight things and include these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged and that they should read your blog.
5. 8 is a magic number. Though three is the magic number. (I changed this line.)

Eight Obscure Things About Me:

1. Derek Jeter’s my favorite baseball player. I love the heart and determination he shows on and off the field. From baggin’ every chick most dudes want to to baggin’ awards and stats left and right, he’s the epitome of awesome. That and the media gives him a pass for everything he does. He’s one of NY’s true kings. Plus, I got his home and away jerseys.

2. Alex Rodriguez is now a close second, surpassing just about anyone I can think of. I think the fact that he’s been playing with a “chip on his shoulder” really endears me to him more than anything. Despite the little blond streaks and the cheating sprees, he’s still a fantastic player on both ends of the field, so give him his crown already people. If he stays in NY, give him his “true Yankee” label already. ::rolls eyes::

2. If something were to ever happen to my favorite city ever (NYC), I’d move to either D.C., Chicago, or San Francisco. Let’s not let that happen, though.

3. As a math teacher, I gotta say: I didn’t choose math; math chose me. When I filled out the application through the NYCTF process, I don’t even remember what I wrote in, but they figured since I have a computer science degree, I must be good at math. I’m good, but if I had a choice, I’d teach … everything. Math, ELA, and social studies. Then again, maybe not. Math it is.

4. I have a slew of books I haven’t read yet, and that are waiting to be read. By my estimates, it’s a good 25 of them. I’ll get to them eventually …

5. I sing along to my favorite songs on my iPod (Common’s Finding Forever currently on rotation), no matter what song it is or time of day. I don’t care how people look at me; I’m going to sing and/or rap, f******.

6. I search for myself on Google just to see if my name is inappropriately associated with anything … and usually run into very interesting things. It’s mostly positive now, but wow.

7. I’m somewhere in between obscure and easily found. I have a MySpace, Facebook, Yahoo, AIM, MSN, GMail, my own site, an NYCDOE e-mail, CCNY, Syr, and a few other accounts out there I haven’t taken into account. I’ve had most of the social networking sites even before they became trendy. With that said, people always say how hard it is to reach me. Please …

8. The five contemporary famous people I’d like to meet are: Common, Derek Jeter, Alex Rodriguez, Jay-Z, and Joe Budden. There it goes. The Rock would be cool, and I’ve already met Talib, Rakim, and Chuck D, so I’m fine.

Tag. You’re it:

You, you, you, you, you, you, you, and you …

jose, going to New Orleans this weekend …

I love existential titles; don’t you?

Well two days ago, I completed my greatest public speaking gig I’ve ever had. I spoke for the NYC Teaching Fellows in front of 2000 or so people, most of which were new teachers in the program. I was anxious about 10 minutes before I had to make the speech, but next thing I know, I’m in the middle of speaking to all these teachers who really haven’t the slightest as to what they’re getting into.

It’s been a full circle trip for me. Two years ago, as part of Cohort 10, I was a new fresh face to the program, nervous but excited about this new career I got into. Now after those two wild years, I stood before them to share my story about how things are in the classroom.

I tried not to paint an extremely rosy picture, but I also laced it with the idealism that’s gotten me through the past two years (and will definitely get me through the next few years). Because of this program, I was given a chance I didn’t even think I had. I had thought about becoming a teacher ever since I was in college, but to become one (and one that people really love) is a whole ‘nother ballgame.

As for the speech itself, that went well. I spoke about the endless possibilities for students to achieve in urban schools and how I turned my life experience into a career in turning kids lives through the program. Of course, that sounds like candy to any teacher’s ears, but I also did my best to explain (especially for those not from urban communities) that it will be difficult, and that my example is only a snippet of what they should expect. After all, we can’t scare them off on opening week.

I really hope those 2000 or so student teachers come into our school system with the mentality that they’re not there to save the kids, but accept them for who they are and let them reach their own potential. Definite difference.

By the way, if you’re a Fellow who just found me, or just a new teacher in general, shoot me a message; I’ll be around …

jose, the new oldie …