Arts, Smarts, Schmarts

I worry/fear on a weekly/daily basis that my Job is rendering me dumber by the minute. I find myself searching for free moments to recapture lost and somewhat useless information--lost due to lack of use, and useless due to a profound inability to find more than a handful of students who have had any kind of sequential training. The fact that many of my sixth-graders arrive to my class with second-grade skills is maddening, not to mention that I often feel like I'm preparing them for nothing. There are THREE city high schools with active choir programs: Douglass, City, and Western. A fair number of students from my middle school will attend these schools, but most of the city's students will not. Thankfully, I know of three students who have gone on to study music in high school, so there are some rewards.

This week's cover story for the City Paper is called Bankrupting the Arts. The Opera has already filed for bankruptcy. The Senator Theater, in operation since 1939, recently closed its doors. In the rush to delay the foreclosure and auction process, the owners have ceased screenings at their other theater, The Rotunda, while they reorganize. The only movie house that doesn't seem to be threatened is The Charles. I personally attended a school board meeting, along with dozens of other fine arts teachers, to protest the exclusion of the Fine Arts Coordinator position from the budget. We were fed a lot of crap...told that the exclusion was "an oversight," and that "the function of the position will be preserved." In other words, in CEO Alonso's words, someone will be "wearing many hats." That's short for, "thank you for your opinions, but you're screwed." By the way, the City Paper comes out on Wednesdays. As of this evening, the only on-line commentary on the linked story is: "

"Good. Why should my tax dollars go toward pushing the aesthetics of bygone European royalty on the populace?"

Beyond all of this, I've been silent...more so than usual. I have no love of or flair with words, because I'm tired of hearing myself talk. I come home and drown out the day with noise or oblivion, when I could be seeking solace in the music I love, but my lack of contact with it makes me ill. It's sad that students respond readily to character themes from movies and television, but laugh when I explain how students younger than they are were shot and killed in Soweto for singing a protest song...a song about freedom.

My "dream job"--in light of my former observations--is not only highly unlikely, but highly improbable. I find myself returning in memory to months-old, job-related AMS posts concerning the dire state of higher education in the humanities, and then comparing it to the abysmal black hole of despair that threatens Baltimore. I wonder, even if I do manage to land a collegiate position in the distant future, will I even have any students to teach?

Thoughts on being a messy/Messie teacher:

I wasn't always messy. I put away my books and my toys. Every morning my nest of stuffed animals went back to their home that was my closet. I could even be talked into making my bed, and I was out of it before the sun rose. What happened? Life happened, and my cleanliness didn't last beyond age seven, or so. I am one part perfectionist, one part idealist, and one part lazy bum. In other words, I try to do too much (i.e. everything) perfectly or not at all...and when I get discouraged, instead of working harder, I procrastinate through leisure. Again, this was not always so. I was once a ball of productive energy. I didn't need to eat, sleep, or study...or so I thought. I practiced, and I performed well...and beyond all else, it was FUN. That ended after my first year of college.

Faced with the task of grading hundreds of papers well below my own educational level, calling parents, and attending meetings that have little to do with learning and more to do with paperwork, it's easy to start sounding bitter...which is why I allowed myself a taste in the beginning of this paragraph. I feel like an academic stuck in a teacher's body. ...and even though I want to improve, like any unruly student, I also want to rebel. This is not FUN, this is WORK. Gosh, what a concept.

One thing that I have learned from teaching is this: the thing that we are most likely to resist is probably that which we desperately want to learn. My failed attempts at becoming the perfectly clean, perfectly organized teacher are not failures at all, but learning opportunities. What do I do well? What is challenging for me? How can I fix it? What steps can I take to be the person I want to be? Whether I organize at home or at school, having a clean, serene life is something I hope for, and something with which I have always struggled. When I was young, my busy schedule and my accomplishments prevented any self-directed ill feelings, because I had valid reasons for my disorganization. Rehearsal and performance and practice time trumped all else. Now, my goals have changed, but my habits have not.

Last year was a rough year for me, for personal reasons, but I have noticed a slight improvement in my perspective and my work habits. How good is good enough? How good is good enough to keep my job? How good is good enough to get another one? These questions still follow me in the aftermath of last year, and I am at pains to impress and at once overdo my patient progress. It is difficult to regain someone's faith once you have lost it. More than that, it is difficult to expect from my students what I have trouble achieving for myself. If anything, I hope that it makes me sympathetic.

Responsibility, or Things I Never Learned In College

(Note: I wrote this last night, but I dropped into my bed before I was able to hit "Publish Post.")

At the beginning of my third full year of teaching, I'm barely beginning to uncover its seedy underbelly. I did much better today, in terms of grading and organizing, despite my unruly sinuses. That said, I know that I still have a long way to go to reach some small goals. Due to my cold, I'm going to make this as short and bittersweet as I can.

1. You will never "catch up on" your paperwork. There is always more.
2. Learning how to say, "no," politely is just as important as learning how to say, "yes."
3. Knowledge does not necessarily come with experience. It also requires effort.
4. Expectation is overrated...and that includes expecting a budget, a reasonable schedule, and a classroom door that locks.

Ah, the NyQuil is kicking in, so my brain is checking out for the evening.

As an update from yesterday, I had a chance meeting with A.K.'s parents and his house principal today. It went quite well. After I left the office, I suddenly remembered the circumstances that landed him in my class in the first place. At the beginning of the year, he chose three other SPAR classes before mine. Actually, he was my student last year, before he was transferred into gym without warning...a disciplinary tactic. None of the other teachers would take him. I did. I'm still an idealist. I also took all of the other students that no teacher would touch, either due to full sections or personal distaste. It was terribly sad to see all these children getting passed over for personal reasons. No Child Left Behind, indeed. Yes, I'm aware that I completely manipulated that reference to suit my own needs. We self-serve all the time. Our tendency toward self preservation can be an advantage, because it provides a safeguard against burnout and doormat-syndrome. Then again, the same tendency can make people mean, suspicious, and even conspiratorial. Yes, all of the students I accepted are problematic. It has made my working life extremely challenging. It's a good thing that I like a challenge, but admittedly, I'm frustrated, right now.