Final Thoughts?

I've been home almost a week now, and all of you know that, but I was reading back through my journal today and found an experience from Washington that I wanted to share.

A few weeks ago I had a very hard morning--some personal problems in the apartment along with difficulties with someone I love very much. Quoting from my journal:
"I had about 3 or 4 breakdowns at work this morning, just couldn't keep back the tears, so I had to go to the bathroom and let it all out.

I almost thought today that I should just leave, that I was being more of a hindrance than a help. But not only could I not bear the thought of being in that apartment, especially not alone, I needed to be with my kids, not only as a way to distract myself, but to receive of their love and give it back, in handfuls, in great sloshing buckets. The kids were especially playful and affectionate today, giving me lots of hugs. As we sat to read a story, Isaac leaned in my lap on the right, Ashley in my lap on the left, and Israel against my left side. I was so comforted and soothed by this. The story we were reading was about color, and how people are all different colors, chocolate-y and cinnamon-y and caramel, and as we were reading I was overwhelmed with love for my little mixed bunch of nuts. Ethiopian and Latino and Black and happy and sad and playful and energetic and careful, all of them, and then I really started to cry, realizing that my time is almost gone, and then they really wanted to know why I was crying, and Israel made the comment, 'My mom cries like that,' which only made me cry more."

When I finally left that classroom for the very last time, Jose called after me--"I'll miss you!" in his sweet way.
These kids, their hard lives ahead of them--I don't doubt that Israel's mom does cry like that, quietly and incomprehensibly for these little kids, whose tears are showy and clearly linked to events. Their lives need to be good--I will it to be so.
I wish I had updated this blog more. There is so much that I learned this summer. So you'll have to take my word for it, that I learned a lot. And you'l have to take my word for it that that love I experience from serving and from working hard brings the greatest joy I'll ever know.

Patriotism

This week we went to the National Archives and saw the original Declaration of Independence, Constitution, and Bill of Rights.
After I finish listening to Condoleeza Rice's autobiography, I am going to listen to David McCullough's 1776. One of my favorite things about being here is all the things I am realizing and learning.

I have long had a skeptical attitude toward the sort of patriotism that expresses itself as American supremism.
David Sedaris put it really well in his book Me Talk Pretty One Day when he said that "sometimes Americans forget that other countries have nationalistic slogans of their own, none of which are 'We're number two!'"
Yet as I've toured Mount Vernon, seen the national monuments, and looked at our ancient documents, I feel, in a deep place in me, that it is true that "the Spirit of the Lord was upon the Gentiles, and the Gentiles that had gone out of captivity were delivered by the power of God out of the hands of all other nations" (1 Ne 13:15, 19). (I like this video.)

You know, I said I was proud of America when I saw monuments and documents, but I've been proud even as I've walked the streets and seen the homeless and the uncaring, as I've followed politics and observed the out of touch and self-serving partisanship.

Why do I say this? Well, it's like this. America is a pretty cool place. We certainly have our mythology and our god-like heroes; yet somewhere underneath the mythology, the supermen, and the arrogance there really is a kickass brand-new idea called America, started by people who were sometimes strong and sometimes stupid, sometimes too partisan, sometimes just and righteous and sometimes greedy and selfserving--who were, in short, human. But I really think they believed in what they were doing. And what they did has become a phenomenon. This phenomenon is not unlike the people who started it: America sometimes does the right thing and sometimes does the stupid thing, sometimes we are generous and true to our ideals, and sometimes we fall preeeetty far.

So despite my reservations, I believe there is a way to believe in America. Not that we are better than everybody else; not that we are infallible. We have promises to keep, and many miles to go before we sleep.  But that what we have done here is completely unprecedented, and what we have done here is incredible. And I have a great hope that the "pieces" of the American dream "that are pure and true" will be the ultimate victors over poverty, ignorance, and greed. And most especially, I am grateful that I can be here in Washington D.C. putting in my little part to solve a sliver of our problems.

Fourth of July in Washington

Well, of COURSE Fourth of July in Washington, D.C. was sweet.

On Saturday my roommates and I made a barbeque: ALL by ourselves :) plus a lot of help from some male neighbors to get the grill going.

On Monday we woke up early and made pancakes, painted our fingernails to coordinate, and went to a parade on Constitution Avenue. It was very, very hot.

Our hometeachers had invited us to come hang out with them at the Lincoln memorial that afternoon and wait for the fireworks to start. Which we did. There were a LOT of people everywhere (obviously) and a lot of singles who we could hang out with and eat their food.
I ended up having a very long, "deep" conversation with a comedian pot-smoker whose ex-girlfriend and mother of his son is certifiably crazy. We talked about smoking pot, the Plan of Salvation, using the "n" word in comedy (I was against, he was for :p), and the Bible.

At 9:00 we got to watch fireworks. Check them out in this video. I have seen a lot of fireworks in my day (including the ones at Walt Disney Land and the war zone that is any given city in Germany at New Year's but these...may have beat them all. They were HUGE! If you look in this video, you can see how HUGE they were in comparison to the Washington Monument and the Washington Monument is no small buddy. They had squiggly fireworks and sparkly fireworks and booming fireworks that shook the Lincoln Monument, and this video does not do it justice but maybe you can get a flavor of it.

(also: Kiera and I may or may not have heard Josh Groban singing at the Capitol Hill Fourth of July concert)

Afterwards, Kiera, Amanda, Eric and I walked home. Yeah, I can walk to my house from the Lincoln Memorial. NBD.

The benefits of preschool

Time magazine recently did an article that claims a huge correlation between preschool attendance and lowered crime, better education and income levels, and reduced addiction rates among the poor. They claim that spending more money on funding quality preschools would therefore be more effective than things like "cracking down on crime" programs (I guess that means increased police force?).

Read the whole article here. 

And:

Today we went outside to the field and ran around.

This involved a lot of the kids "locking me in prison" and a little bit of hot potato with some number bean bags (trying to get kids to recognize that "seven" is the same as "7" or "three" the same as "3"). It involved some writing our names in the dirt and it also involved rainbow ribbons and twirling them in the air while catching bubbles.

Visually, it looked and felt like this, because the sky was so blue and the ribbons so bright.

While running after one of my little girls to tag her with the ribbons, and she was giggling so hard, I was just...grateful. Grateful that I came here and that she knows me and that I know her. 

This particular little girl loves to "paint" my fingernails and put on "eyeshadow." She can shake her what her momma gave her like a little Shakira. This morning she was crying after she was dropped off and I just put my arm around her and held her. Then we read a book about spaghetti.  She thinks it's hilarious to tell me how Isaac's got a giiiiirlllllfriennnnnnd. She can write her name almost perfectly.

"Every child comes with the message that God is not yet discouraged of man."

Why and How Things are Better

In my last post, I talked about a lot of the things that are wrong.
A couple of weeks ago I was very, very close to going to Kyieda (the coordinator for Jumpstart) and telling her that I couldn't take this anymore.
But I knew I needed to at least try to discuss my concerns with my classroom teacher before going to Kyieda.

I find my teacher pretty intimidating (I don't like being yelled at from across the room "Uh uh! Don't do that!" on a regular basis). And she seems constantly stressed out.
But I did talk to her, which accomplished a couple good things:
-communication. is ALWAYS. good. I understand her vision a lot better.
-she suggested that I start coming in at 8am instead of 9am--which has been like a magic pill.

It is like this because now I have almost a whole hour (at least half an hour) where my teacher isn't there and where the kids are just playing in their centers. This is my time. In this time, I can work with the kids on writing their names (as she asked me to do), or work on social-interaction skills (sometimes using dinosaurs) or logical thinking (with puzzles or building towers). I don't feel like she's breathing down my neck and I don't feel like I'm intruding or trying to change the day's schedule. I can still help out with classroom management and the other routines of the day (which she desperately needs, since her assistant has been gone the majority of the time I've been here) but I have some of the day now that is mine and mine alone to control.

I was also able to take on some projects for her as far as re-doing some of the labels in the classroom (labeling things is a great way to encourage literacy and alphabet awareness in a preschool classroom) which also helps me feel like I own the space a little more.

I know these seem like small things, but I'm grateful that they had the effect in my psychology that I needed. I'm happy again. Overwhelmingly happy, again, like I usually am.

Disclaimer post

Just as disclaimer:

-I will not ever include the actual names of children that I teach (when necessary, pseudonyms are applied)
-nor any of the names of specific teachers in the school.
-nor post the name of the actual school.
-Similarly, I will never post pictures of any of the children, teachers, or the school
This is to protect their privacy.

Any criticism I may voice about the school, school administration, or individual teachers is an expression of my personal opinion and an attempt to share my personal experience honestly. I try to maintain a healthy balance of criticism and praise, but in case this balance is not always met, please be aware that I do have the highest regard for this school and these teachers and the incredibly challenging task both teachers and administration face.

Also, I may make some observations about race or low socioeconomic status families that may seem politically incorrect. This is only my attempt to honestly explore the meaning of human interaction and my experience in Washington D.C.  Not all of my observations are correct; many are surely biased. That is why I am here--to explore and overcome my personal biases and to learn to clearly understand the problems America faces through my own trial and error.

It's a been a while: Challenges

Unfortunately, I have not been as on top of this blog as I would have liked.
June was not a very easy month for me, and I spent much of the time being tired or frustrated.
But for a couple of weeks now, things have been looking up.

Let me tell you first what I hoped or expected my experience to be:
I expected (and hoped) (and looked forward to):
-to pull one or two children out into the hall and spend time reading with them or working on the alphabet
-to be working somewhere that looked kind of like a regular elementary school with regular school hours
-for the children to be significantly below age-level for reading and language and to find it difficult to motivate them or help them understand. This was probably what I expected to be the hardest.
-to be able to communicate well with my teacher and get to know a lot about her
-to have a lot of fun times playing outside or playing in centers with the kids

Well, want to know something funny?
Not a single one of my expectations came true.
I was expecting this to be hard--but I was not expecting to feel
            frustrated
                                useless
     displaced
                       or undermined by the adults


The school is actually:
-structured a little more like a daycare
-constantly understaffed
-most of my time and energy went into helping maintain classroom control, going to and from the bathroom, getting ready for lunch, eating lunch, cleaning up after lunch, etc
-I was never really sure what my teacher really needed me to do and never felt that she wanted me there
-any opportunity for one-on-one time with the kids usually resulted in me feeling that I had intruded into the teacher's plans
-sometimes my teacher would leave the classroom or wouldn't show up for a few hours--expecting the kids to sit silently on the carpet waiting for her to return (let me tell you what, this does NOT work for four year olds), or leaving them in the charge of an adult who either didn't care to maintain a lot of control or didn't how to
-which often meant that me, being proactive, would jump in and try to maintain control--often with great results as far as the kids went, but isolating the adults
-I find the classroom management style VERY different from what I consider appropriate--and I spent WAY too many days/weeks trying to prove to the adults that I could do it their way in order to gain their respect. Big mistake.


So that was my first month. As I said, things have begun to look up--but that's for a different post.