Just keep swimming swimming swimming ...

I certainly intended to chronicle my adventures in TFA's Summer Institute better, but they really leave very little time for such pursuits. I've basically been eating, drinking, breathing teacher trainings -- and for the last three days -- teacher being. It's been overwhelming but exciting, draining but energizing. I hardly know where to start.

So I'll start with the kids. For the last three days I have been Mr. McKee, teaching one lesson per day (45 minutes) to a smallish (16 kids) class of 3rd graders. These students are in summer school due to failing to pass the ISAT (Illinois State Assessment Test -- or something like that) and potentially due to failure to show up to school. The students range wildly and in unpredictable ways in personality, knowledge and skills, from McNulty*, entirely illiterate but with a heart of gold, to Rhonda, who looks like she's 14 and HATES me.

I won't say that the first few days with the kids went exactly as I'd hoped or expected they might go. Apparently my charm and brilliance aren't quite enough to woo them into docility.

After the Monday (Day 1) I was seriously worried about my ability to do much of anything to maintain control of the room. After just 10 or 15 minutes of instruction kids were talking, yelling and moving around in a flurry of uncontrolled chaos. I didn't entirely lose my head, but I came dangerously close and quasi-barked at a table of students that (I thought) was particularly flagrant in their disregard for my authority. Looking back, I probably could have chosen any of them, though. That table was probably just the closest one.

Tuesday was marginally better. I felt like I at least got some of my points across, though behavior was still decidedly terrible. My Faculty Advisor, Ms. W, who sits patiently in the back of the class while our pathetic crew of entitled wannabe teachers has our keesters handed to us, offered some words of consolation and advice. Despite what was probably actually a worse class, however, I somehow felt better than the night before ... probably because my standards and expectations had been drastically reigned in.

Today felt better than yesterday, too. Not good, of course. Not by a long shot. But I could feel certain things really working -- things that I had, in my hubris, felt were lame and unnecessary. Of course, after two days of third graders taking bats to my ego, I was ready to try anything. So I went in with the plan to use behavior narration and to be exceedingly firm with regards to the rules and consequences. Behavior narration, for those not privileged enough to use or hear it regularly, is a pretty obnoxious teacher tool in which the instructor actually narrates what they see students doing, pointing out positive and negative behavior (ideally in a 4:1 ratio). It goes something like this:

I see Bubbles working silently at his desk. I appreciate that Lt. Daniels is doing the assignment and keeping his hands to himself like I asked. Kima and Bunk Moreland are doing a wonderful job of following me with their eyes to let me know that they are ready to learn.

Gag me, right? But this steaming load of hooha actually seems to work -- particularly with the young ones, I'm told. May have lots of behavior narration in my future. So my friends and family will just have to forgive me in the event that, in the middle of dinner out, I start saying things like, "I see that Nathan is ready to order because he has put his menu down like I asked. Kevin is doing a very good job of not eating dairy products. Thank you, Kevin. I like the way Laura and Jessie and Simon are chewing with their mouths closed."

Anyway, it's late and I'm tired, but tonight was the first night in quite some time that I've been able to finish with work before 12:30, so I thought I'd better seize the moment and update while the thoughts and frustrations are fresh. Tomorrow is a new day, and the children WILL learn expanded notation come hell or high water.

*To protect the innocent (though after three days with them, I'm prepared to say that "innocent" may be the wrong word), names have been changed in any mentionings of specific children.

Induction and Institute ... so far!

I'm pretty loopy and punchy (I'd combine the words -- as I am wont to do -- if it weren't for the unsavory results ... and I'm not talking about "lunchy") after 16 hours of Institute today (inclusive of lunch and dinner "breaks") and 2.5 hours of post-institute homework tonight. Tonight's assignment: Churn out as many "Lesson Visions" as I can stomach. I think I've about had my fill of Objectives, Key Points, and Assessments.

The past couple of weeks have actually gone fairly well. Induction -- the first week "away" (in which I actually only spent one night away) with TFA, primarily orientation to what TFA is -- is a distant and blurry memory now, having been supplanted by the rush of information that's come in the past two days of Institute. But I moved in to Lewis Hall at the Illinois Institute of Technology a week and a day ago and met my roommate, floormates, future coworkers, and a bright-eyed, eager-beaver group of mostly 22-year-old Type A personality overachievers. There are around 170 of us in the Chicago corps, teaching a variety of subjects and grade levels and in placements in Chicago and Gary, Indiana. We reflected and explored, laughed and cried, heard inspirational story after inspirational story, and yet I didn't gag once!

Some highlights from Induction:
-Getting to see Rachel more than expected. As mentioned above, the schedule was considerably more relaxed than I had anticipated, so I got to spend pretty much every night at our apartment.
-Meeting my future coworkers and getting to know them. They're impressive people, I must say.
-Formally and Informally planned social events, like an impromptu outing to Wrigleyville, a pizza dinner at an Auxiliary Board Member's house, cocktail reception for '08 alums at the Chicago Public Library, and a golf pub crawl through Wrigleyville (yet again ... a fairly despicable neighborhood, if you ask me, but apparently the only one that anybody from TFA goes out in).
-Facing (in my own way, which wasn't particularly successful, I suppose) my not inconsiderable social anxiety and feelings of isolation and shame associated with my old age. This is still certainly a work in progress ... but each day yields new results. I've gone from Day 1, in which noisy Jesus (a fellow corps member) said "How old ARE you? You look a little older than the rest of us?" to people looking shocked and impressed by my announcement (always accompanied by a flourish of my left ring finger) of my pending two year wedding anniversary. Sorry ladies and gentlemen -- this geezer's taken.

So with Induction behind us, Institute finally began. I've been hearing horror stories about this thing since I first inquired about Teach For America, and I'm not going to say that it hasn't lived up to the hype, but I am going to say this: if one can somehow manage to acquire a social anxiety not unlike the one mentioned above -- an almost crippling inability to make friends or introduce oneself to people without misidentifying oneself, mixing noun-verb agreement in simple speech, or muttering and mumbling into an audible ellipsis punctuated by a timid "never mind, sorry, I guess, oh gosh" -- then the challenges of Institute will pale in comparison.

That said, it has been an intense couple of days so far. We are spending the rest of the week learning about lesson planning and teaching literacy skills. Just to make things interesting, I'll be skipping out on classes on Friday to attend the festivities associated with the nuptials of close friends in Seattle ... only to return on Monday to teach a remedial class on using "branching" (some newfangled math thing) to add a set of single-digit numbers. You're not gonna want to miss that one.

The onset of actual student interaction will be a very good thing, I think for this blog. Looking back over the last 30 or so entries, it's clear that the focus needs to switch from my neuroses to the pithy and cute utterances and antics of small school children ... or at least the focus can be shared.

Branching Out

Due to "The Great 70cent Boycott"* of the Dunkin Donuts-Baskin Robbins (formerly known as "Andy's Office"), I've relocated my locus of operations to Purabelleza, where I'm currently abusing their wifi and consuming inappropriate amounts of coffee.

Today will likely consist of me lying to myself that I'll do something important like get my new driver's license or go get fingerprinted for the third time in the last year and then proceed to sit around and wait for the kindly folks at AT&T to call to let me know what the dilly is with our internetz. I'd try to muster up the emotion to be angry at our new internet providers if every customer service representative I talked to weren't crazy-friendly and if I didn't have the sneaking suspicion that our tech woes are all my fault. In any case, thank you to Brian, John, Rhona and Shonda (all of AT&T) for being so nice to me, despite the fact that I'm sure it's apparent to each of these individuals that I'm a big oafish internet-breaking fool.

In happier news, the Blackhawks won the Stanley Cup last night. Funny how something that I wouldn't have cared about AT ALL just a few months ago has come to be such a big deal in my mind. I successfully watched every game of the Finals and, in the course of doing so, became something of a regular at the Congress Pizzeria and Ristorante, where the friendly bartender and Jesus, the manager, made us feel very welcome ... and didn't seem to care that we know almost nothing about hockey.** Thanks, guys!

Getting pretty jittery from all this coffee, so I'm going to add some endnotes and call it quits for now. Til next time, true believers!

*The Great 70cent Boycott, alternatively known as "The Dunkin-Baskin Boycott of 2010," begun in earnest on 6/8/2010, is a response to the sudden arbitrary price hike in many drinks on the Dunkin Donuts-Baskin Robbins menu, including a 70cent increase on small iced coffees. Participants in the G70B (still ongoing) demand a return to previous prices or at least an apology for the sudden, hurtful bump.

**Lies. Look at all of these things I've learned about hockey:

Names of Blackhawks players (I'm not even looking these up before I write them): Toews, Byfuglien, Kane, Niemi, Hossa, Seabrook, Boynton, Richards, Sharpe, Hjarllson, (or something equally ridiculous and Scandinavian) and hated Flyers players(Pronger, Pronger, Pronger, Pronger, Hartnell, and Pronger).

Penalties: Icing, Off Sides, High Sticking, Cross-checking ... I even know what most of these mean and can identify them while watching a game (most of them).

Now We're Cookin' (and Taking Warm Showers) with Gas!

I always liked that expression ("Now You're Cookin' with Gas!"). I never really understood it all that well -- I guess gas is awesome to cook with? Faster or something? -- but it seems to apply to our current situation, both literally and more figuratively, I guess.

First of all, we finally have (wait for it ...) GAS in our apartment after a long saga that is hopefully over (furiously knocking on wood) and involved numerous encounters with John the Plumber, our friendly racist Russian (I think?) plumber who doesn't understand any of my attempts at humor until well after they've been made, at which point he tries to let me know that he understands and reciprocates with a joke of his own, which I usually don't understand ... until later, if at all. John blames the Mexicans for the cluster-F that has been our plumbing situation over the last few weeks. Okay, John! Thanks for the hot water!

In the more figurative sense, we truly are revving up our Chicago existence here with an ever-improving domestic situation (beds, couches, dressers and much MUCH more!), bar review courses and a FUTURE JOB for Rachel (that PAYS ... cue angel chorus NOW!), and daily adventures and preparation for Teach For America for Andy.

To the first of these, we must truly thank IKEA for two adventure-filled, headache-inducing trips, the most recent of which did at least include a touch of humor. As we were (over-)loading our car with boxes of assemble-yourself furniture (which makes me feel like such a man! grunt grunt grunt.), I couldn't help but overhear the startled and concerned cries of the young Asian women (over-)loading their car next to me. A sampling of their ejaculations included: "Oh no! This bed mattress doesn't fit in my trunk!", "Oh no! Tying a knot upside down is way harder!", and "Oh no, girl! Why am I bleeding?" Between these hysterics, those of our own (which will go unelaborated upon), and those of the couple on the other side of us whose stack of furniture strapped to the top of their car looked like a mobile leaning tower of Pisa, I thought we had wandered into a Saturday Night Live sketch. In fact, I regaled Rachel with what I thought that SNL sketch would include the entire way home ... she loved it.

Secondly, and WAY more importantly, Rachel has a job! She'll be clerking in Milwaukee starting fall 2011, which is totally awesome, totally affirming, and totally a load off. Now we just have to figure out how we're going to work our household between my job in Chicago and her job in Milwaukee (1.5-2 hours away). Sweet Potatuhs! My wife is smart as heck!

As for TFA, I stopped by the office the other day for a test prep session and then took the Teacher Certification test yesterday. It was crapalicious, so hopefully I didn't do myself any favors like failing it. During the lunch break I went to this awesome place called Maxwell Street Depot and got a porkchop sandwich ("Chicago's Best!") and about broke a lateral incisor on the humongous bone that was still in it. Once I came to grips with the fact that the bone probably made it more authentic and must have been left in there on purpose, I decided it was fine ... although I was also less excited, because my quarter-pound porkchop lost about half of it's weight/mass once I nibbled around it like a scaredy cat. Anyway, suffice it to say, my breath reeked of grilled onions and whatever else they piled on the thing, which I'm sure my test-taking pals were thrilled about in the afternoon session.

In closing, I decided to google "Cooking with Gas." Here's your tidbit (from a website of "American idioms"):

"Although common place today, gas stoves have not always been the norm. Gas stoves started to be available in the 1800's, and until that time wood stoves were the standard.

Now you're "cooking with gas" comes from an old advertisement for gas stoves. The phrase suggests that gas is faster, easier, cleaner, better than cooking with wood."