Almost There...

The best news of the week is that my bike is up and running again. At full force. I finally got it together and just brought it in to the local bike shop for a tune-up. I guess I was extra motivated because my roommate Amanda bought a sweet brand new Gary Fisher and has been riding it around every day. I couldn't continue to let my red dragon sit on the side of my house and rust.

Now it runs beautifully. On Friday I drove straight from work to the bike shop, picked it up, left the car there, and rode home. Yesterday I took it out to Ka'ena Point and had the best ride of the year. The weather was perfect and we were there a little later so it wasn't overwhelmingly hot. I tore it up a little on the trails and then went for a quick swim at Hidden Beach, which was packed with local families who had driven their 4x4's out there to spend the day drinking Heinekens and enjoying the sun. We rode out to the point and then cruised back down Farrington Highway as the sun went down.

I'm starting to get back into the active lifestyle now that the year is coming to a close. I'm finally done with IEP's and all I'm preparing for now is the end of the year exam, so I have a little bit more time to take care of myself and get out and play. Now that the bike's fixed, that's another outlet. I'm also running a little bit more and trying to get in better shape for summer. The only bad news is that I lost a fin yesterday morning boogie boarding. I was at Ali'i Beach, just down the road in Haleiwa, and the waves were perfect. I was about to catch my third wave of the day, another perfect one, when my fin came right off. Long gone. Just another expense to add to the book. Oh well.

Last weekend was a good one as I had a chance to take four of my top students to the Waianae side for Teach For America's Student Achievement Picnic. I took Patrick, Matthew, Michael, and Ekim, four who have been some of the hardest workers in my class. I picked them up on base around 10:15 and the first thing I told them was that "the number one rule when going somewhere with Mr. T outside of school is that there are no rules." Well, I don't know if that was the best idea, but they didn't abuse it and we all had a blast at the picnic. Their favorite part was the water fight at the end where they got to pour about 20 gallons of water on their teachers. At least it was hot outside and I dried quickly. We headed back up to Schofield worn out from a day of fun. It was such a valuable experience because things in my class have gotten pretty overwhelming and I'm just stumbling to the end of the year. All sorts of curve balls have come my way recently, including a few new students (up to 22 now) and countless new behavior problems. I thought the end of the year would be the easiest, but it's opposite. I'm hoping that next year, with a more evenly distributed classload, things will work out better. Because right now, these last days are simply battles to gain control and I can barely teach anything. It kills me. But with the most optimism possible, I know that it can only get better.

At the Student Achievement Picnic with my favorite students

With the Sixth Grade team...I'm going to miss being part of it next year!

Broken Glass

The moment he said it, it shattered my heart. But beneath the broken pieces I saw clearly for the first time just how strong my devotion and passion for my job really was.

Stan has been a lot of trouble in my class for the past couple weeks. He came to special ed from Gen Ed back in December but was out of school for several weeks due to struggles with bipolar disorder. After tons of paperwork, medication, and discussion, he was placed back at Wheeler in Special Ed. It started out fine, but he's now rapidly returning to his earlier and more troubled form.

It's tough to help kids like these. So much of their struggles stem from medical problems. But today his attitude was just too much. I sent him out of class, stepped outside, and that's when it happened.

I gave him the same old speech that continuously fails to work: "When you set foot in that door, you will not disrespect me. I expect the same respect that I show you. I'm trying to help you. Etc Etc." And that's when he said it.

"Why am I even in this special ed class in the first place? I shouldn't be here. These kids are all idiots."

It hit me so hard that it didn't even resonate at first. But then it did. Hard.

At that moment I realized how much of my life I have wagered on these kids. They literally are my life. They are my struggles, my triumphs, my joys, and my pains. They are everything. But they aren't idiots.

I couldn't convey this to Stan. I made it clear that what he said was absolutely wrong, but I don't think it reached him. I told him that they were going through the same struggles and challenges that he was. He responded by saying that no one had been where he had been. He was probably right. If you wrote a book about Stan's life, it would be a very sad and troubling one. But none of them have it easy.

The most frustrating thing about this job is the walls that you can't break through with these kids. So many of them just can't grasp that you are there to help them, no matter what you say or do. I spent 10 minutes on Monday trying to explain to one student that I could be there for him if he needed someone to talk to. His father is about to go on trial for an attempted murder that happened just off base and made headline news. I practically begged him to at least acknowledge that he heard what I was offering. He just stood and glared at me. He was already too shrouded in pain. I couldn't get through. I hope that someday they can look back realize just how many people were trying to help them.

Just when you feel like the glass has been shattered and there's no hope, a light comes through and bounces off of every broken piece and illuminates your spirit. Maybe it's a quick smile or thank you. Maybe it's your favorite student, coming in at lunch for help on a project. Maybe it's a friend who is there to give you a little strength. The light warms you, and you carefully pick up the fallen pieces and put them back together once again.