Why I'm generally in bed by 9:30

I love my students.  I love them I love them I love them.  It's curious how the thing that drains me to the point of sheer exhaustion every day is the same thing that fuels me and keeps me sane.  I knew children could be a handful, but I didn't know to what extent.  I also didn't know how quickly I would grow to absolutely love them.  I guess if kids had no redeeming qualities, the human population would have gotten its tubes tied a while back.  But I digress.    

I thought it was about time to introduce my students, through a mask of anonymity granted by a Slovenian name generator, to my three or four close relatives who read this blog.  The main characters:

Ms. Zeljak  Fourth grade teacher extraordinaire, she exudes the kind of "mama bear" persona that makes her both feared and revered by all of her students - not to mention other students, and even faculty members.  She is a force to be reckoned with, and absolutely wonderful to work with. 

Ms. Dodik  Former teacher, and now the dean of students, Ms. Dodik has been credited with turning the school around.  This woman runs the school.  She has been a part of the Ferebee community for well over twenty years, and knows every student and his uncle.  You don't mess with Ms. Dodik.

Ilse  The closest thing I have to a model student.  She's sweet, funny, kind, well liked by everyone, and probably the coolest fourth grader I have ever met.  Everybody loves Ilse.  She, along with most of her classmates, is under-performing in reading and math, but that's not for lack of trying.  

Durim  In a movie, he would be one of the kids I set out to "fix."  I took him outside the classroom to go to the bathroom once, and he used the opportunity to run laps around the fourth floor for five full minutes, shrieking and cackling the whole time.  Rarely a day goes by that he is not summoned to Ms. Dodik's office.  However, more frequently I've been seeing signs of sensitivity and trying in him, and I have to say, it's priceless.  He's one of the farthest behind academically, reading at around a first grade level, but lately I've seen him put in a little more effort.  Durim and I are going to have fun this year.  

Lirim  Another one of the "bad boys" of the class, though not as notorious as Durim.  Lirim tends to act out in a more subtle way, making snide remarks whenever I pass by or refusing to follow directions.  

Jovanka  This girl has attitude.  The famous Jovanka pout has become a regular feature in Ms. Zeljak's class.  At first I thought her stubborn facade to be impenetrable, but then I learned about her background.  Jovanka is the baby in a family of ten or eleven siblings, and has lived with Aunt Giorgina for almost her whole life, due to her mother's history of substance abuse.  A little love goes a long way with Jovanka.  We've definitely had some great moments.  

Zala  Did I mention attitude?  I don't think I knew attitude until I met Zala.  We have had one or two good days, but most of the time she likes to remind me of how much better last year's City Year was and how much she hates the new City Year.  She would win the award of class clown; I have to admit, it can be hard not to laugh at all the faces she throws me when Ms. Zeljak's not looking.  

Karel  Karel.  What can I say about Karel?  He is one of the sweetest kids I have ever met, and every day he surprises me further by sticking up for a picked-on classmate or saying something extremely insightful.  Karel is quiet and soft-spoken, but his smile can just melt your heart.  He can run into trouble through hanging with Durim and Lirim, but he respects me more than any other student.  According to Ms. Zeljak, Karel has a bit of a record, but it has yet to show.

Marija  Marija had to transfer to our class a couple weeks ago due to behavior issues in her previous class.  She can be extremely rambunctious and has mood swings like nothing I've seen, but I've there's some definite good in her.  She's also significantly more advanced than most of her peers at reading - that is to say, almost at grade level.  

Lizika  Lazika is very behind and acts far younger than most of her classmates.  She shuts down easily and doesn't have many close friends in the class, so helping her has been a struggle.  

Matej  One of the students enrolled in special ed, I don't get to see him as much as the others.  When he is in class, he has the effect of brightening my day.  He is the closest thing I've seen to a human embodiment of a puppy.  Unfortunately, he rarely seems to be able to grasp what's going on around him.

Diko  Ms. Zeljak tells me that Diko spent much of last year in the hospital, for unknown reasons, and since then, has seemed a little off.  Diko is sweet as can be, but, like Matej, can seem a bit oblivious at times.  The positive side of this is that he is always happy, but I have never seen him stay on task for more than five minutes at a time, and he tends to find himself missing recess for reasons unknown to him.  

Karmina  Karmina is doing relatively okay academically (key word "relatively"), but she can get a bit moody.  She is always vying for my attention and help, which is good because it means she's interested in learning, but not so good because she needs to become more independent in her work.  The cries of "I need heeeeeeeeeeeelp" are starting to get a bit grating.  

Amon  Another one of the big "problem students."  Amon is also enrolled in special ed, but he is the farthest thing from timid and gentle Matej.  Amon is the shortest kid in the class, even though he is already ten, and he seems to supplement self-esteem issues with violence.  It is rare to see Amon walking down the halls without a school administrator leading him by the hand.  The school has all but given up on him.  Amon is reading below kindergarten level, but boy, can this little guy run his mouth.  However, it could be wishful thinking, but I think I'm growing on him.  It's been over a week since he's given me any attitude.  I'd like to say Amon and I are starting to form a special bond.  

Anton  Probably the most social kid in class.  He's a little chatterbox with the girls he sits with during class and doesn't hold back with the boys at lunch either.  Anton is one of the best kids I've ever met, ever.  He's pretty behind in reading, but leads the class in math and has memorized the names of almost all the presidents in order.  His favorite music is rap, hip hop, and classical.  

Dejon  Along with Durim and Diko, Dejon is one of the boys I'll be helping the most with literacy.  Dejon's a sweet kid with a big heart, but he gets frustrated very easily with schoolwork.  Dejon is usually better behaved than most of the boys, but he has a tendency to slip when provoked.  Dejon is one of my favorites to observe during lunch, as he often leads the other boys in freestyling.  I have to say, the boy has rhythm.  

There are 23 kids in the class, but these are the ones I'll be working with the most.  As to why so many of them are so far behind, Ms. Zeldak tells me that all the current fourth graders had a pretty incompetent teacher in second grade, and for all intents and purposes, should have been held back as a grade, but logistically, it made no sense.  So they moved on to third grade, in which half of them were met with another sub-par teacher.  Consequently, a majority of them are now reading at a first or second grade level.  

All I can say is, it's a good thing they're cute.  

That's not my name

Upon telling people what I'm doing this year, they tend to respond with something along the lines of "Oh my gosh!  How are you adjusting to the long commute/ change in scenery/ minimal stipend/ unfamiliar demographics/ timberlands?"  Surprisingly, my transition from suburban life to, well, whatever it is one would categorize the way I live now, has been relatively easy.  There has, however, been one notable culture shock for me.  And that is going from being one of three "Hannah F's" in my grade of 450 to being the only Hannah the roughly 300 students at Ferebee-Hope have ever met.

Now, this wouldn't be worth mentioning, except for the semi-recent cultural phenomenon revolving around a certain Disney Channel show.  Hannah Montana.  Maybe you've heard of it.

The first couple times a student read my name-tag and asked me if I was, in fact, the bewigged superstar, I simply answered "yes" (just for kicks).  But when some of the students started believing me, I decided to change my approach.  Now the interaction goes something like this:

Student: Miss...
Me: Hannah.
Student: Like Hannah Montana!
Me: No. Like "Ms. Hannah."
Student: Ms. Hannah Montana?
Me: Ms. Hannah.
Student: Ms. Hannah.
Me: That's ri-
Student: MONTANA!


I've learned to just deal with it.  My other big challenge has been trying to explain what freckles are to my kids, a majority of whom have never even experienced a suntan.  Any ideas?

Basic Training Academy

Here is where I sum up my first 6+ weeks in DC in one post:

It started with the 10 hour drive from Boston down to Silver Spring.  That wasn't hugely eventful, so I'll spare you the details.  I finally got to meet my roommate Rachel, with whom I'd previously only conversed through phone, email, and facebook.  Within the first couple hours, we got the sense that we'd get along famously, and so far that's held true.  The next day Rachel and I held something of a roommate audition for Zack and Tiffer, our two other potential roommates, at a nearby Starbucks.  We liked them enough, so we agreed to add them to the lease that night.  So that's my household, for the most part.  It's pretty ballin.

My first official City Year experience was a full day registration extravaganza!  I waited for about three hours to get fingerprinted, but it was all fun times, because I got to wait with City Year people (and they're the best people).  And it was so worth it, because next time some unknowing citizen mistakes me for a criminal, I can whip out this piece of paper that PROVES that from the time I was born through August 11, 2010 I was never accused of felony.   Chyeah.  Also, it means I can work in D.C. public schools.  The rest of the day was spent signing a LOT of paperwork.  And so ends registration.

August 16 marked the beginning of Basic Training Academy.  BTA is what City Year called the six weeks we spent learning the ropes of CYDC.  On day one, we were split into our "crazy teams," randomly assigned teams of eight to ten corps members, with whom we learned about City Year culture before being assigned to our official "flagship teams."  That first day, after getting to know the members of my crazy team (named "Rabbi's Gift (fo' sho!) after a City Year founding story (founding stories are a collection of inspirational fables and stories that preach morals that City Year strongly upholds)), we went head-first into service.  We spent half the day volunteering at a community center in Southeast, playing with the kids there and leading them in various games.  It was definitely a good way to start off the year.

The rest of that week was spent learning about City Year and the different teams we could be on.  That Friday we filled out a pretty intense survey that, along with what the staff managed to glean about us from our initial City Year interviews and various interactions that week, would determine which team we'd be placed on.

That weekend, if I remember correctly, was my first optional service day.  I went to Stanton elementary in Southeast for a beautification project.  It was a couple days before school started, so everyone was in crunch mode, trying to get the school in shape.  I spent the whole morning working in the garden at the front of the school in 95 degree heat.  I picked up about a gazillion cigarette butts, pruned some bushes, and planted a bunch of mums and grassy things.  Suffice to say, I looked pretty cute and not at all gross by the end of it.  Despite the physical exhaustion, I found the experience to be extremely rewarding.  The school looked so much more inviting than it did when we started, and I got to know some of the CY senior corps and staff, as well as the members of other nonprofits, pretty well.

 After that weekend of nail-biting suspense, we were finally assigned to our flagship teams.  I was assigned to an elementary school in Southeast D.C.  In 2006/07, only 16.3% of the students at my school were proficient or advanced in math, and only 17.7% in reading.  The school has been restructured since then, and now the numbers are closer to 30% in reading and math, but it's still pretty sobering.  So many of the kids qualify for free or reduced school meals, that the school provides three free meals and a snack to all students every day.  But you'll hear plenty about the school in later posts.

Wednesday, the whole corps of 140, along with the senior corps and staff, left for our three day Basic Training Retreat.  BTR was held at a gorgeous family camp in Maryland on the Chesapeake Bay.  The corps liked to joke that instead of a relaxing retreat, BTR was CY's excuse to work us 14 hours a day.  Long hours aside, it was a really eye-opening, memorable experience.  I heard some amazing speakers, got to bond with my new team, and participated in a talent show and a spontaneous dance party.  However, the highlight for me was the privilege line.  The privilege line began with the entire corps holding hands in one long line in silence.  It was a gorgeous day, and the setting was tranquil and beautiful.  A staff member read out directions, such as "if you live in a household with two parents, take a step forward," or "if your parents are divorced, take a step back."  The directions dealt with family, race, gender, religion, sexual orientation, and socioeconomic status.  Those who had attended a private school took a step forward, and someone who felt he or she had been denied a job based on race took a step back.  By the end of the activity, hardly anyone  was still holding hands.  The privilege line was followed by a whole corps discussion, in which we talked about what it meant to be privileged.  I was amazed by how diverse the corps was, in every aspect, and how we almost all agreed that the standard measures of privilege don't adequately describe how rich a person's life can be.

The rest of BTA was a whirlwind of trainings in math, literacy, and behavior, coupled with observations at my school.  The days were long and it was hard, often boring work, but I learned so much.  City Year is huge on surveys and other types of feedback, but whenever I was asked what else City Year could help me with before I began official service, I would answer that BTA pretty much covered all bases.

And now we get to the really fun stuff.

Good morning, City Year!

So I probably should have started this a while ago.  Within the last month and a half, I have accumulated more tell-worthy stories than I had in my previous 18 years.  The sparknotes version: I moved out of my childhood home for the first time in my life to live in an apartment with three virtual strangers in a city I had been to only once before.  Now I pay for my own food, rent, laundry, and toothpaste, all on a "modest living stipend."  I spent six weeks meeting 140 new people on a very deep level and learning how to sound out the word "cat" using phonemes for ten hours a day.  Now I wake up at 5:30 five days a week and come home after seven.  Between those hours, I can be found tutoring, quieting, dodging, chastising, chasing, helping, instructing, leading, and hi-fiving a rambunctious conglomerate of first through fourth graders.  

Although the only people who will ever read this blog belong in my immediate family (Hi mom!  Hi dad!  Hi Nadav!), I figured I should probably specify what exactly it is I'm doing this year.  What I'm doing is called City Year, and said city is Washington, D.C.  And what exactly is City Year, you might ask?  Well, if you are one of the business professional types I see every morning on the metro, I would answer:

City Year unites 17-24 year olds from across the country for a full-time year of service.  We are stationed in 20 cities in the US, and have international sister sites in London, England, and Johannesburg, South Africa.  We focus primarily on combating the drop-out crisis in public schools, but also try to engage the community in service.  I, specifically, work in an elementary school in Southeast D.C. where I'm on a team with 8 other corps members.  Each of us are assigned a grade (I have fourth), that we work with during the school day, after which we provide after-school support.  Most CYDC teams work on similar teams, but one focuses more on engaging middle schoolers and the surrounding community in service, and another provides HIV/AIDS awareness and prevention education to middle and high schoolers.  

However, if that cute guy from CVS were to ask me what it is that I do all day that leaves me so fashionably disheveled (by the way, smokin' jacket), I would have to reply:

City Year is a way that the government can put 17-24 year olds to work in some of the nation's worst performing schools for 10 hours a day on a $200 weekly stipend.  And it's the best thing I've ever done.

It's all true.  The days are grueling, but I mean it when I say that it's the most rewarding experience of my life.  I've met some of the kindest, warmest, most radiant young people through City Year, and don't even get me started on my kids.  The social aspect, the work aspect - all of it just fills me with the bubbly fuzzies.  And the stipend isn't even that hard to stretch, especially when you're sharing a two-bedroom, one bath apartment in Silver Spring, MD with three other roommates and a temporary couch surfer.   

Alright.  I'm gonna go sleep for a while.  Remind me to thank Christopher Columbus when I get the chance.