College Day

There are lots of things about my job that I love. Even though I haven’t had my own set of kids for over a year and a half, I do get to interact with students across the district on at least a weekly basis, albeit for only a few minutes at a time. Usually it’s indirectly–I’ll be in a classroom coaching a new teacher and suggesting questioning strategies, behavior management techniques, etc. Sometimes as I’m walking around a classroom I’ll notice one particular kid struggling with a concept or hesitant to begin an assignment, and I’ll lean in and provide a bit of guidance. If I see an untied shoe, a runny nose, or a broken zipper I might step in and save the day. It’s mostly stuff like that. Looking in from the outside, really. I’m a body in their classroom, but not quite a person.

Today, however, was different. Last week I received an email from our administration encouraging everyone from Central Office to wear their college attire on November 20. Beneath that was an invitation to participate in a districtwide initiative to promote college awareness by signing up to speak to high school students about our own college experiences.

I didn’t jump at the opportunity. I’ve been swamped with work lately, and it feels as if every second of every minute of every hour of every single day is completely booked with some important task or event, whether professional or personal. I have TONS of undone things on my to-do list, and the thought of having to plan an entire presentation for high school kids who might not even take me seriously did not seem like the wisest use of my time.

But even as these thoughts passed through my head, I knew that I had to do it. Even as I muttered internally about not having the time to do this, I was already clicking the “accept” button, already choosing a high school, already signing up for a specific time slot. And the funny thing is that soon as I hit that button and made the commitment, my attitude changed. Now it was a mission. Those kids were going to take me seriously–I was going to make sure of it.

A couple of days ago, I stopped by my alma mater, the good old University of Texas at Dallas, to pick up a t-shirt, since the only other one I had ever had ended up, faded, shrunk, and falling apart, in the trash about five years ago. While I was browsing through their selection of attire, looking for something in the school colors that clearly showcased the name of the school, I also picked up a few trinkets–some pencils, a plastic cup, and a couple of folders, all with the school logo. I wasn’t planning to bribe the kids, per se, but it couldn’t hurt to add a little pizzazz to my speech…

After that, in my spare moments (all seven of them) I planned out some of the topics that I would touch upon–why I decided to go to college in the first place, how my first semester went (I dropped two out of four classes for the most ridiculous reasons!), the challenges I faced, and especially what I loved most about my college experience (the opening up of my mind and getting to learn about SO MANY different opinions and views about SO MANY different concepts).

Last night, after I finished doing all of my work and motherly duties, I sat down to compose a draft of my speech. I tried to make it conversational, but no matter how hard I tried, it still sounded, well, speechy. This morning I tried it out on my own kids–one of them a high schooler herself–and I got the same feedback.

“It almost sounds like you’re reading it.”

On my way to the high school this afternoon, I kept going over and over the most important points I would try to make. I recited the speech again and again, each time trying to insert quirky details about things I remembered, but it kept sounding like I was rambling uncomfortably. I imagined a worst-case scenario in which all the students started laughing at me or calling me fat or old or stupid, maybe even throwing things at me. I knew that wouldn’t happen, of course, but it was a way to sort of calm myself down, to loosen up because even if something like that were to happen, I know that would react with humor and patience, and I would win over those darn kids, even without my pencils and folders.

Finally, I arrived at my destination. I signed in and walked over to the classroom in which I was to present my speech. Luckily, the teacher had about five minutes of his conference period left, so I had a little bit of time to gather my thoughts, chit chat with him and get comfortable with the layout of the room. When the kids started trickling in, I greeted most of them in a friendly and casual way… and I didn’t even have to fake it.

The teacher then introduced me and set me free. And you know what?

…

It was AWESOME! None of the stuffiness that had been there during my rehearsals. When I actually rolled out what I’d plan to roll out, I focused on hitting the topics but instead of reciting my speech, I just spoke. I asked them questions, I got their input. I circulated around the whole room and made jokes, made them laugh, took questions, answered them honestly. I gave out my little prizes to kids who took risks in actually participating in the discussion. I used my old go-to pickle discussion to make a point about people’s differences. They were wonderful!

Aww, there was such a magic about this experience today. I was able to provide facts about applying for and surviving college, and about all the ways in which a college degree helps improve your life. I was able to connect with the kids, because just about every single one of them was Hispanic, like me, and came from low income families. I felt their love and I’m pretty sure they felt mine, too.

Today was so much better than teaching. It was giving, sharing, living. It was Teaching with a capital T.