In spite of a few things, a good day

Feeling blessed as I go to bed

In spite of a few things, it was a good day.

I didn’t get enough sleep. I need to be in bed by 8:30 because I get up before five. I don’t deal well with lack of sleep these days, but I got a little less sleep, and I was okay. Tired, but okay.

I didn’t get access to my Power Point lessons until class, so I was flying cold with the toughest questions on the SAT. There was just a mix up - I reviewed them weeks ago before the camp started but I always review the night before. Still, I was okay.

My favorite TA stayed behind at lunch to work with me and figure out the best way to explain a very tough problem. We get a half hour break in the entire day, no more, but we both stayed to do what’s best for the kids, and we had fun. It’s wonderful to work with such brilliant, enthusiastic and thoughtful young people. “What a blessing,” I thought to myself.

Then I went downstairs and my lunch wasn’t there. They order in lunch for teachers, whatever we want from three good places. It’s a tremendous perk and you can bet I’m grateful as I plan the rest of my life around working for this company in perpetuity.

Maybe it wasn’t delivered, maybe one of the kids took it - no lunch. My spicy salmon pokebowl wasn’t there. So I ate the one leftover dish - a lo mein - and I didn’t faint.

About ten minutes into my afternoon class, my favorite TA brought me my lunch (they ordered a new one) and a fork and a plate. I nibbled on my pokebowl as I taught some more questions. How can I stop from being grateful when my hard work is rewarded this way?

As a teacher, you learn to expect very little. If you work in an urban district, you know what it’s like to feel like you’re lucky if you’re just not in physical danger every single day. You stop expecting that the kids will value what you have to teach them. The system convinces you that it’s your fault that they don’t engage. Or that “systemic racism” made these kids hostile, violent and on the best of days not too quick on the uptake.

Teaching kids whose parents did their job has changed everything for me. These kids know how to be quiet, how to pay attention, how to take notes. They get out their highlighters. I am not training zoo animals: I am educating young humans.

There is a difference. When parents do their job, the educational system can build on it. When parents teach children how to sit, be quiet, show respect… a very different thing from when a seventh grader is screaming at an adult, “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FACE!” - well, education has a chance.

Urban education is up against the impossible. You can’t defy culture. The kids who try are punished, the kids who disrupt the most get the most resources. Everyone coddles. Everyone bleats the same excuses all over again. The kids can’t read and write.

I’m not as angry as I was. The warm smile of the sweet kids who come in to improve their SAT scores has a mollifying effect. I give them emotional support on top of lessons. I cheer for them.

But I will no longer accept excuses. The best thing about these kids is that they make me more accountable to myself. They make me better. Every day.

These kids that the Left would be so happy to exclude from higher education because they are successful disproportionate to their numbers.

Now never let it be said that the Left judges people based on skin color…

While they venerate people with brown skin, they feel free to discriminate against, even hate, the kids with brown skin who achieve.

My students of Indian descent could actually talk about settler colonialism with a straight face. But of course they don’t. They are too busy succeeding to embrace excuses for failure.

I am so grateful for the opportunity to contribute to these young people’s success every day.

And for my favorite TA when he brings me my iced cold brew.

Honestly, if I died and went to heaven, I don’t want anyone to bring me back to life.

I’ve seen the promised land. It’s kids who work. Who are smart and value that. Whose parents love them so much that they sacrificed to give them a better life. It’s the parents waiting in line to pick up these sweet, respectful, brilliant and funny children. It’s the owner of the company who cares about her employees and makes sure we have what we need. This is the American Dream.

I watched “Perfect Crown” over the holiday. All thirteen episodes. I may eventually go to Korea to teach. I kinda like the style.

These kids? I’m talking to them about running for Congress. They say they won’t. My favorite TA says they don’t really talk about politics.

We’ll see.