Soul Journey

Looks like life has gotten in the way of blogging once again. I think that is just fine though. Here are updates.

As of last Friday I started teaching the Seniors. This group of seniors is so disenchanted with life. They enter my room quietly, sit quietly, and leave quietly. Getting them to talk to me is equally as hard as getting my third period (worst period) to shut up. I have considered different types of ways to get them to be more active because simply asking them, and being real with them, is failing miserably. One idea I had was to make a deal that if they participated in class discussions (poetry analysis and Romanticism) then I would let them teach me something. Considering the things that they could teach me (Stoicism 101) led me to trash that idea. Back to drawing board.
The first day I taught them we had a "discussion" on poetry as a representation of culture. They brought in song lyrics and we discussed whether or not the song qualified as poetry. We attempted to identify unique traits of each students individual culture, which was insanely hard. When did the population of school age children become so homogeneous? Differences include race, socio-economic status, and, uh, I guess that is all they thought of. WHAT? Back to the story...
After my monologue spotted with "yeahs" and "I disagrees" from my audience I asked them to write a poem that accurately represented the culture from which they come. By the way, when they said "I disagree" I would really sink my teeth in and get them talking, but it didn't work. Generally, I give my kids a choice of whether or not they want to share, but not these guys, they had to share. Asia's turn to share came about and she stood up, marched to the front of the class (not required) and began to cry. She then shared with us a poem she wrote about her step-brother getting shot outside of a QuickMart three days prior. I had no idea.

That class is a true melting pot, with hot wings and caviar covering white, steamed rice. Some of those kids are bound for ivy league schools, and the only way that the others would see the halls of Yale is from behind a mop. Why mix kids on such drastic levels? It is beyond me. Quite a challenge.

My freshmen are cute. They stress more than I do. In the past four days two beautiful, bright little ladies have come to me crying because grades in other classes or because they had a test coming up. It is wrong for 14 year old children to be crying over an 89. CT is going to bring it up at her Dept. Chair meeting today. Basically Math and Geography are swallowing the kids whole and because of that I am afraid to give any homework, which is fine. However, I do not want to feel guilty for assigning some if it is necessary. Poor babies. So much pressure on them to succeed, when they don't even know what success is yet. Not for themselves.

Tonight is Halloween. I love Halloween.
Friday I was Karl Marx with a yellow party hat on. A member of the Communist party! Get it? It was bad. Nobody got it.

Teaching has really hindered my ability to be able to deal with my own life. Currently, I am working on a plan to find my head again and resurrect part of my heart. Wish me luck. This is what is most important of all.