I teach. Most of you, if anyone of you (whoever you are…I know you can’t see this but as I’m writing this I’m raising my eyebrows and sorta twisting my mouth and squinting my eyes to give the impression I’m a little skeptical there are people out there, and confused as to why any of you stumbled onto this disaster of a blog) know me, know that.  If you didn’t, now you do.

Not only do I teach, but I Teach For America (all big letter words these days).  And that’s how I ended up in Philadelphia.  Actually, the new leadership of my school asked the teachers there to write a statement of positionality about how they got to Boys’ Latin and why they are there.  The first round I was in a rather perfunctory mood and wrote the following:

  1. I was accepted to TFA to teach secondary English in Philadelpia.
  2. I was interviewed by and subsequently contracted to this school.
  3. I accepted, gladly.
  4. I will be finishing my second mandated TFA year this year, and hope to serve at least one more year.

Needless to say, some people in the leadership found that…shall we say, lacking a certain emotion.  So I wrote another one.  I don’t know why I did.  It was the above in paragraph format.  Four paragraphs.  Four actions.  They were underwhelmed.  I was annoyed.  So one morning I sat down and laid out the whole awful story of my life from playing in the ditches of Tallahassee, to the worst and best debacles of my teaching experience this past year.  They were happier.  And if they were happy, I was satisfied, and I got some weight off my chest.  All was/is well…I think.  Heather, if you’re reading this, let me know…

Work for the past year never really ended.  A week after the school year was done, I was working with TFA to help Induction for the new PhiladelphiaCamdenWilmingtonand90%chancethereisgoingtobeanothercityintheregionbynextyear.  The next week summer school started.  Right when summer school was just ending, freshman orientation started, and then I had two weeks.  Those two weeks were the longest vacation I had since exactly one year ago after Institute–remember that ridiculous teacher training camp.  It was awesome (kinda)!

Anyways, freshman orientation was miserable.  Wait, I take that back.  I was miserable during freshman orientation.  I figure it was a lot of things, but probably biggest was that I hadn’t taken “me” time in a year, and I need me time. (You know, the stay up late, drink all night, wake up late, eat out too often, watch too many movies, watch more TV, waste too much time, work way too little, pretend to do important things for an hour or so, but otherwise goof the day down the way you did–or should have done–in undergrad.)  That’s what I needed.  And I got it the past two weeks. Freshmen orientation was when I was apparently in the mood to write perfunctory lists.  I’m embarrassed.


Refreshed and excited about the year I walked into work today feeling good, feeling like I wasn’t fooling myself, with the past behind me, a bit worried about having to teach through four hours without a pee break, happy that I have good co-workers, sad that I have an entirely new academic leadership team,  but confident in their abilities, more agreeable during PD sessions, less annoying to everyone in general, more focused on the idea of writing, confused about how really great movie get made, hoping I have the genius to pull one off one day, tired because I was still on undergrad time last night and around 1 AM thought I should go to bed, cursed myself the next morning (and by next morning I mean 5 hours later) for being so dimwitted, got out of bed, made myself a smoothie, rocked the earl grey, and got to school refreshed and excited about the year…

I could go on, but I probably shouldn’t.   So I’m not.

Now, the blog is definitely back.  Done and done.