Happy birthday, Langston Hughes, and welcome to the start of Black History Month. For my three highest 6th grade readers, this month will be marked by a broad study of black poets in America. Today we began with Langston Hughes, which was especially meaningful, as today was also his birthday. We compared to poems ("Dreams" and "Harlem") written in the 1920s and 1950s respectively and talked about how time and place impacted Hughes' writing. 

Yet, what amazed me was how little my students have learned about civil rights history. Trying to get them to say the Civil Rights Movement, I asked what began in the 1950s and really took root in the 1960s; they tentatively answered the "end of slavery." I couldn't find complete error in the spirit of this reality, especially in Louisiana, but I needed them to understand the chronology of American history in order to truly look at the writings coming out of the African American culture. As we talked I realized more fully what exactly my students have been robbed of. It's not merely that my students have been robbed of an excellent education and the opportunities that such an education affords; my students have been robbed of a heritage and an identity that comes with an excellent education.

As I began to talk to my students about the Harlem Renaissance, I saw them waking up. They were practically hanging on every word I spoke today. They wanted to know that at one point there had been an African American cultural explosion that warranted the term "renaissance." They wanted to know that African American art and writing was worth revering, even among whites. As I talked about the hopes and disappointments of the era, they understood that what had happened in New York City was about a struggle that was felt throughout the country. I was so proud of them for the way they took to the deeper issues quickly.

It was strange, though. I felt unworthy to be the one to expose them to this whole world and heritage. After introducing them to the first two poems, I stopped and took the time to talk about how I have envisioned this poetry unit, focusing on African American poets (which they have been uber-excited about for the last two weeks). I then pinched my skin and reminded them that I knew full well I was white, and I understood that this unit would inevitably include many conversations on race. I asked them if they were comfortable and willing to have these conversations with each other and with me and in front of me. They assured me eagerly that that would be okay, but I still wonder... I wonder if I, who have never experienced what it is like to be black in America, can possibly present this unit half as well as I ought.

So wish me luck, as I engage the unit I have been most excited about all year.

I did not realize how long it had been since I last wrote, until I signed in now to write a new post. I was considering today how very different this MLK Day is from last year. How vividly I remember getting ready for last year, then narrating the tour of downtown Harrisburg to my assigned service group. I remember crossing the semi-frozen Susquehanna and getting out at the Civil War Museum, overlooking Harrisburg, to read the moving "I Have a Dream" speech to the other members of the van. I remember sitting in Sci-Tech Academy listening to an African American teacher discuss teaching African American poetry to his students and thinking about the educational needs in America, hardly considering that in less than a year I myself might have my own class of students. I remember going with my group to Paxton Home, where I would then choose to spend the rest of the semester volunteering, to help up fix up a halfway home for them.

Today I will not take a tour of Pointe Coupee or read aloud Reverend King's "I Have a Dream" speech. Today I will not get my hands dirty painting walls in King's honor or tour schools that appear to be one more  step along the long path to meeting King's dream. No, today I will simply lesson plan and hope, in doing so, I too am honoring King with the dreams I hold for my students.

During this last week as Obama unveiled a new plan for Afghanistan, I had the realization that my entire adolescence was and it looks very likely that my entire young adulthood will be during a state of war. Sometimes Iraq and Afghanistan seem so very far away and removed, and I don't think constantly about the wars. Yet, how has it affected my psychology and especially my political psychology? More importantly, how is it affecting the younger generation who have no memories of an America not at war? What does that do to a child for whom distant war and conflict has become normalized? How will that affect our future, when these children begin leading our country?

It's strange, because this war is such a distant, simmering thing. We all understand the possibility of terrorist attacks after 9/11 and have some vague notion that our actions in the Middle East could be an impetus for further attacks, but overall I feel the average American feels safely removed from the conflict... until a friend of a friend or, worse yet, a loved one comes home in a body bag. It's this constant shadow that looms on and keeps taking lives, but meanwhile we keep living a fairly normal existence.

Don't get me wrong, I understand more than most what it's like for Americans in other countries, from Europe to Asia to the Middle East. I suppose when you're overseas, especially in Europe and the Middle East, you live with a greater awareness of the conflict, but I would contend that unless you are actually physically in Afghanistan, Iraq, or Pakistan or know somebody there, it's still your government's war, not your own. We, as a people, have not embraced this war (and I would contend neither has their been widespread rejection), and yet it continues.

I cannot say I have any major point to make here. I merely wished to reflect on the sobering reality of this chronic conflict. In a few months, 30,000 young men and women will be deployed into a living hell. Those who live will wear the scars of the conflict in their eyes for years after other scars heal (if they do). Over Thanksgiving break, I flew through an airport where probably 1/3 of the passengers were men and women returning from Afghanistan and Iraq. The heaviness in that airport was more tangible than I'd ever felt, and as Obama announced the new surge, I thought of them, and I prayed for them. I also prayed for the people of Aghanistan, Iraq, and Pakistan. Their scars will be visible every time they look out their windows.

I do not say any of this to say that this new surge is right or wrong. I'm a near pacifist, but I also realize that our country is already there, and therefore it's hard to justify simply walking away without some efforts of protecting the people. It's a terrible mess we're in, and I have no answers. I simply wish that killing people was a viable option for either side. So long as it is, my prayers will continue to remain with all people on all sides of the equation whose lives will be devastated by this mess.

Dear Friends and Family,

It has been a long time since I last wrote here. It is hard to update, because so many of the best stories I simply cannot post here. Even without names, if the wrong person stumbled upon this site, they could figure out which students I was discussing just based on the stories. I still write the stories down, but I find much of what I write, I cannot post. Yet I feel an update is in order.

First, on Tuesday I finally got my enormous SmartBoard installed and running. I cannot even say what a blessing this is, especially in a low-income school, where such high technology can never be taken for granted. Though I  have not had time to do a lot with it yet and I have not been able to get it hooked up to internet yet, already I have seen what an amazing asset a SmartBoard is to a teacher's room.

For those of you who don't know what a SmartBoard is, it is essentially an electronic board that hooks up to a computer and can be used just like a marker board (without all the mess) AND a computer. The screen/board is fully touch sensitive, so I can surf the internet with it and it becomes just like a touch screen monitor OR I can run videos on which I can draw and point to specifics OR I can turn ordinary PowerPoint presentations into fun, interactive games. Thankfully today and tomorrow are the Louisiana conference on technology, so I'm getting lots of great ideas on how to use it.

Secondly, on Tuesday I also got a new student. The SmartBoard could not have come at a better time, because this child is both hearing and visually impaired. The SmartBoard allows me to keep her attention better than I otherwise would have, and I'm going to need that a lot with her. I've got a lot to learn quickly through teaching this child. Thankfully, one of the other sixth graders told her (in front of me) that I'm a little crazy. Such an image can only help.

In terms of the other stuff -- the rough stuff, the emotional stuff, the stuff that this job is really all about... well, on Monday, my sixth graders and I were discussing the book Number the Stars (some of you may remember one boy reading the book earlier in the year, but now the entire class is for our historical fiction unit) when they asked me what the Star of David was. I showed them on the board, and we discussed the meaning and also the meaning of the title of the book. When I explained that the words "number the stars" comes from the promise in the Jewish and Christian Bible where God promised Abraham that his descendants would number the stars, which the Jews are a result of, one girl looked at me and asked very poignantly, "So then all those who hate Jews, really be hating Abraham?" I smiled at her quick understanding. Then they asked me what a swastika was, and I immediately knew this would be a longer conversation. After all, the shadow of the KKK has not lifted off Pointe Coupee yet. So I told them that this was a symbol I was not comfortable drawing. I tried to describe it to them, thinking some of them might have seen it before, but then I decided on showing them on the computer (remember I did not have a SmartBoard yet). We all went to the back of my classroom, and my students circled around me as I found photos of Germany during the WWII era. Sadly, and not unexpectedly, I heard their audible reactions as they recognized the symbol.

I have no words for how proud I was of the maturity levels of my sixth graders. They are such a great group. Older than the average 6th graders, they are very much at the age where realizing their racial identity is an important developmental step. They go to an all-African American school, which has delayed many racial encounters, but the fact that they are part of a racial minority has begun to matter to them in a way my fourth graders don't even think about. So, without any words spoken, they all sat down and made themselves comfortable where they were (huddled behind the computer), I turned around to face them, and they began talking. They had stories to tell of the KKK or other racial encounters, and they certainly had lots of fears to talk about. They had frustrations and confusions, and they wanted to talk about slavery and today. I had no clue that this conversation was going to come pouring out at that moment.

I felt humbled to be a part of that conversation. After all, they have many black teachers with whom that conversation could have been held. I'm glad they felt the safety to talk in front of me. In the end, we ended the lesson with a conversation about "standing for peace in a violent world." Ha, I suppose my pacifist Messiah education helped prepare me for that moment! It was interesting, though, because one of my students had been in a car that received five bullet holes over break, and I definitely choked up as I looked this student in the eye and told them all that they have to live long enough to be able to stand up for peace. They have to be careful about the places they go and with whom they choose to associate, because they can't make a stand if they're already dead. It was emotional for all of us, as they thought about those that have died to violence and I thought about the statistics society waves of special education students from low-income neighborhoods. I love those kids, and I want them to live and to make a difference in this world. They're good kids.

My fourth graders are still incredibly difficult, and my sixth graders are no cake walk. Oftentimes, I'm very discouraged. Yet, there's no question that I love my kids. I wish teaching were easier, and I wish teaching in a failing school was easier, but maybe "failing" will someday be a word of the past to describe the school. Today some teachers were discussing what a difference TFA is making in the two elementary schools it's at in Pointe Coupee. It amazed me to hear them, because I don't feel that we are, but perhaps they're right. Perhaps in the midst of all the discouragement, change is secretly and quietly creeping into our midst... or, perhaps, kids are merely learning. :)

Kara

Dear Friends and Family,

It's been nearly a month since my last post, and I feel like I'm in a completely different place emotionally and spiritually. I just got off the phone with one of my students, which kind of made me smile, and while I'm still very behind on grading and all sorts of teacher-y things, I can positively say that I *love* the opportunity to work with my students everyday. Sometimes it gets overwhelming, but you could not convince me to leave them right now. They have so many struggles, and, for whatever reason, I am one person with whom they can work through some of those struggles. I do not have a story to tell you. I only want you all to know that I am doing really, really well.

Always,

Miss Kara

Dear Friends and Family,

 

            Some of you have commented on my very negative Facebook status updates, so I have attempted to reduce those. Not everything I experience is negative. Yet, today I am at the point of admitting how very discouraged I really am. I don’t feel like a good teacher or even like I’m helping my kids most days. The only thing that keeps me in this job is I know that if I quit they’ll be even worse off. God knows, though, that’s not really saying a whole lot.

            At 8:00am yesterday I happened upon two eleven-year-old students trying to strangle each other to death. They both appeared to be within seconds of passing out. I’m convinced that the first one to pass out would not have survived had I not walked up on the incident. The rage and expression I saw on their faces scared me more than almost anything I have ever seen. I realized they each fully intended to kill the other. Usually when I fight happens, kids get excited and circle around shouting, “Fight, fight, fight!” It was the first time where I saw little boys really scared saying things like, “Stop… no, really, guys… stop, you’re killing him… please stop!”

            That’s how I knew something was terribly wrong as I walked to my class, holding my freshly copied worksheets in my hand. Next thing I knew I was running, shoving myself between the two boys, shouting at the two, and shouting at the teachers for more help. One of the boys was my student, in fact the boy that I have worked with more than any other child and seem to spend every spare second of the day trying to imagine how to help him more. I love this child, and I am scared to death of the direction I see him going. Another special education teacher advised me to just count him “lost” in order to ease my own emotional stress levels. That teacher does not understand how deeply I love this boy already and how I can never give up on him, no matter the emotional cost.

            Most days I fantasize on the way to and from work of just driving off, of simply failing to stop until I am far, far from Louisiana. Sometimes I think how amusing it would be to just pass my school, keep going on the ferry across the Mississippi, and to keep going until I find myself 14 hours later in North Carolina, just to leave everything and not come back. I am not going to do this, because my heart remains somehow with my kids, but I will never deny how tempting it is. Sometimes, I just want to forget all of this and pretend I was never a teacher so I never have to feel guilty about leaving, but the reality is that even if I left today, you could never take the memories away. Life forevermore will be impacted by what I’ve seen in the last two months and what I will see in the rest of my two-year experience. I know that when I finish enduring this, I will be able to endure any future career. Graduate school will never be the emotional ride that teaching special education has been nor will teaching in a university. At the same time, every future career will be influenced by this experience.

            Meanwhile, I find myself “escaping” as often as possible. Sometimes I use the television, other times sleep. I realize how dysfunctional it is, but I see the stack of papers that need to be graded, think of all the parents I should probably call, and imagine the goals for upcoming IEPs that I should start writing, and I simply feel incapable, therefore I avoid.

            There are those really sweet moments, like when a child tells me he loves me, or when another child tells me he wants to become a writer because of me, or amusingly when all the students become convinced that I’m sisters with the Asian sixth grade math teacher at school, or even when the regular education kids beg me to take them to my class. I don’t want to ever forget those moments, because they keep me going… and, slowly, I do get around to the grading, the paperwork, and the phone calls. It’s just I’m not doing anything at my best, and there are always so many backwards steps. I wish there was a less painful way to make a difference in the academic lives (and overall lives) of these children. I wish they knew how much I am fighting for them and how much I hope for the best for them. I pray for them, and I love them. I’m scared for them, and I hope for them. I know they can do well; I just hope they realize this too, which is why I continue teaching them.

            So pray for me, because this is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, and I am scared of failing, because, for the first time ever, my failure will not be my own. My failure will equally and unfairly become my kids’ failure.

 

Love,

Miss Kara

My heart sank when I saw handcuffs around the small wrists of one of my boys today. He's such a good kid... with some major issues. I care more deeply for him, however, than I ever thought possible. My heart soars when I see him making good choices and enjoying learning, and my heart sinks when I watch him make a bad choice. I don't even begin to know how to pray, but all my prayers are that I will watch him flourish this year. That would be amazing.

It's taken me a while to start writing about teaching, because it's taken me a while to even begin to process the world I have immersed myself in. Truthfully, it's extraordinarily rough. One of Sharona's friends made some comment about what I am doing now being really "cool." Actually, I can positively say that "cool" is the one word I would not use to describe what I am doing. I would not want to be anywhere else (at least I recognize this sentiment right now), but it's not cool. Young boys trying to be big, bad boys telling me to get out of their face as their morning greeting is not cool. Young boys about to lose it and already swinging their fists back to hit me is not cool. Young boys going up to young girls to molest them is not cool. Young boys who are *sooo* sweet but have not learned to what to do with their anger (and, truthfully, they have a lot to be legitimately angry about) is not cool. Young girls more concerned with flirting with the boy next to them than the opportunities that an education will provide is not cool. Young girls trying to impress the boy next to them by showing blatant disrespect is not cool. Being legally unable to discuss sex with my young girls or young boys is not cool.

What's frustrating is that I know so many of you will read the list I just wrote and still you will romanticize it. It's not romantic, and it's not cool. There are some very sweet "teacher" moments, but a lot of what I do feels more like surviving. I love my students, and I want the absolute best for them, and I think about them non-stop. But I haven't always figured out how to provide an excellent education. The only thing I know is that I won't give up. Maybe if there are just enough of us in their lives acting as these cheerleaders, they'll make it alright. Yet, sometimes, I'm terrified. I can't let my kids know it, but I don't always feel like I'm in control of my classroom at all. When a young boy throws a table across the room, I feel positively out of control. Yet, each day I find it less likely that yesterday's misbehavior will repeat itself. Maybe that's really what classroom management looks like--just learning to lessen yesterday's problems until there have been enough "yesterdays" to actually push learning ahead.

So tomorrow begins another week, and I hope and pray it's better than this last week. I need and appreciate all of your prayers. I am doing the positively most difficult thing I have ever done in my life. I just want my kids to learn.

I live on a lake on the sweetest and most welcoming small town on this side of the Mississippi (I now live on the Western half). I have a magnificent view of the sunset over the lake from every back window in our house. My mom is coming tonight. Life is good.

Right now I cannot express how happy I am to be sitting in the Hilton in Baton Rouge (thank you, Hilton, for sponsoring TFA corps members in SLA). The humidity feels wonderful! Even sweeter is the fact that when I stepped out of airport I did not feel an oven opening onto my face or a blow dryer sucking all the moisture off my skin.

Instead, I am sitting silently and alone in my hotel room in Baton Rouge. I cannot imagine doing anything more wonderful. I cannot help savor these moments of quiet before the rush, and the rush is definitely coming. Tomorrow I sign the lease for Meg and my lake cottage. On Monday we complete all the necessary paperwork and fingerprinting. On Tuesday I begin Pointe Coupee training. On Wednesday I return to TFA training in Baton Rouge, which also goes into Thursday. Thursday night we have our welcome dinner back in Pointe Coupee. The rush continues right up until August 3, when I officially begin my adventure as a 4th-6th grade special education teacher.

I have so much to learn still, but everyday I learn more. Moreover, everyday I begin to grasp how much this job is and will transform my life. I can only hope I'm ready.

I am sooooooo proud of my Kindergarteners... correction: my first graders! Today they graduated from the Kindergarten summer school, and next week they enter the first grade!

Our reading goal was to move up 6 points on the DRA, and on average we met 197% of our goal. Every student at the very least met their goal; one even tripled it.

Our math goal was to increase 70%, and we met 88% of that goal. Nonetheless, our students soared! They know far more than they ever did before, and they learned what hard work can bring!

My greatest fear is that I will never learn anything else about the class that first taught me how to be a teacher. They were my teachers, too, after all, though I could not tell them that. I will never forget Andrew falling on the floor wailing, because he was in the group that was "less than" the other side... failed attempt at teaching greater and less than. Nor will I ever forget watching Andrew begin reading or my deep disappointment when he stopped showing up to summer school. Nor will I ever forget that moment when Marquis fluently read a Level H book and gave me the biggest grin and a high five! Nor will I forget when Aziyah counted blocks one at a time! Nor will I forget when Christian apologized for using mean words! Nor will I ever forget when my students taught my mentor teacher how to stand "hip and lip"! Nor will I ever forget when Zaquariae began to participate in class, sometimes bursting with the answers! Nor will I ever forget when shy little Ju'Maree transformed into the class clown! I will never forget these beautiful faces. They will be with me forever.

Teaching continues to transform my life. I wonder what two years will do to me.

Rough days and good days. I unfortunately do not have time to type all, but let me just give a glimpse of the last few days:

BEST MOMENT: A spontaneous hug from the dearest little boy ever on a rough day for him (he wasn't acting out... just carrying family pain into the classroom).

WORST MOMENT: Watching a little girl cry over trying to unbutton pants that were far too small.

GREATEST ACHIEVEMENT (not necessarily my own achievement, but I am as proud of a student's achievement as my own): A girl, who had no concept of one-to-one counting at the beginning, demonstrated mastery of the GREATER THAN concept!

PLACES FOR GROWTH: Learning to challenge my three most advanced students while not losing my three least advanced.

MOST FUN: Reading to my kids with all silly voices I could think of!

Today was... well, it was Day 2 of Kindergarten, and I suspect a fairly typical one in the summer experience. I cannot call it bad, because truthfully the kids were well-behaved and not one cried (like they did yesterday) to take a nap. Yet, it was *hard.* I had a carefully planned lesson for today's objective (to identify a number one less than a given number) only to discover a significant portion of my class had no number sense and could only barely manage counting forward (if that), let alone backwards. One dearheart told me that 22 came after 5, and I could not for the life of me figure out where in the classroom she was looking to come up with that number.

That being said, it was a day of falling in love with students who, already, are years behind their privileged peers. I have only four weeks to work with these dearhearts, and Kindergarten is far from my ideal age range, but if I can make a difference in their future achievement, I will be happy. I asked a child why we were doing what we were doing, and one of them (as I hoped) said so that we could count like a first grader. Another child piped in so that we could then eventually count like a third grader. I followed these two statements with so that we could then count like fifth grader, and then a seventh grader, and then a high schooler... and eventually like a COLLEGE student!

Their response was a bunch of giggles and a few exclaimed "College?!" back to me. Yet all of them beamed with pride over the possibility that what we were doing now might prepare them for this very distant dream. I hope their future teachers tell them the same thing. They have a right to teachers who will not give up on them after seeing diagnostic test results.

First week of training in Phoenix will be done tomorrow, and I am utterly exhausted. I thought I would have written multiple times by now, but when even a good night's rest continues to elude me, this blog slips to the background. I will simply say that it appears I will be teaching elementary special education in Pointe Coupee, Louisiana, but I am still not yet hired. For the summer training, I am teaching Kindergarten. Anyway, I have ten minutes before dinner, so I need to go.

Yesterday consisted of 13 hours of driving through six states (North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama Mississippi, and Louisiana), lots of oil drills, swamps, and a space center. Today consisted of attempting to meet 160 individuals, unloading my furniture into a storage unit, and listening to the Louisiana Secretary of State talking about Louisiana history and culture (quite exciting!)... oh, and naturally getting lost. Also notably, my friend from paging (Rachael) and I were actually randomly assigned to be roommates for induction! That was a fabulous surprise! :) Overall, it's been a good day, but I am exhausted beyond words and ready to sleep. There are several social activities going on (most people are going to the bar), but I think I will save my social energies for the morning. Today I have simply reached my limit.

Today I was able to observe several EC students at Kaye's school, which was fantastic and very exciting. I had a small realization though: I am still at 22 years of age unable to say my "teacher" name satisfyingly. Miss Skarda has unfortunately three S's too many for a former lisper. Naturally, this could pose an especially significant problem for teaching special ed students, who may utilize extra mimicking skills. I still have a very vivid memory of trying to correct my Thai students' pronunciation of an "r" and finding that instead I had only managed to switch their "s" to a "th." At least then I went by "Miss Kara"...

Just imagining a mildly amusing scenario in the fall in which I am consistently avoiding saying my own name...

Dear Family and Friends,

It is strange that I write to you now as a college graduate. The fact that four years of education are over has not yet really hit. This realization might be postponed by the reality that I have so much TFA homework currently. I am alternating between reading textbooks titled Teaching as Leadership; Diversity, Community, and Achievement; Instructional Planning and Delivery; Classroom Management and Delivery; and Elementary Literacy. Meanwhile, I am also attempting to study for the Praxis, which I am not horribly worried about but at the same time am stressed nonetheless over the fact that I only get one chance to pass. I simply *must* pass the first time around.

Thus graduation has not meant the end of homework, and I am reminded of the fact that I truly believe my nose best belongs stuck between the pages of a good book. I am not even upset about having homework. In truth, I find all this new work to be fascinating, as it is outside of the field I studied for the last four years. I cannot help but think how useful it would have been to have read some of this before teaching English in Thailand last year. Nonetheless I am grateful to be learning it now. Moreover, I am happy to simply continue learning and studying, though I wish I had a little more control over the timing and could walk outside more to enjoy the summer sunshine. Hopefully that will come in time. If not, however, losing one summer is a small sacrifice to pay in the goal of becoming the absolute best teacher I can be.

Overall, I am avoiding too much reflection. I do not want to reflect too deeply on all that I have left and said goodbye to, because I will miss it so dearly. If I stop now, I might be frozen and unable to keep moving forward. Similarly, I do not want to reflect too long on moving to a completely new location and having an entire class beholden to me. The responsibility and weightiness of that reality would equally freeze me. Instead, I am attempting to focus merely on today's work and what I need to do before I go to the beach with my family. While at the beach, I will have to accept the reality that I will be leaving for Louisiana just two days after I arrive back in North Carolina. It will all happen very quickly, but for now I am choosing to live in the present.

To the rest of Messiah College's Class of 2009: CONGRATULATIONS! We did it! :)

To those I have left at Messiah or in the Harrisburg area: I will miss you.

It may seem strange that I have waited so long to update this blog, but so much was up in the air, and with so much work to do, it seemed impossible to update everyone on all the little in-between phases. I have every intention now of updating more often, but that is because it is far less painful to update when decisions have already been made. The hard part is to update about applications, waiting, and deciding.

SO... I am not going to Thailand for a myriad of reasons that I will not go into in depth. I made that decision, more or less, back in February. I have spent the last several years jumping from place to place, and more than anything I desire to stay one place and invest myself in a community for a time. Of course, Thailand could have been that, but not getting paid makes that a bit of a trial. It seems a year would have been my maximum. Moreover, as time went on, I began to feel that I don't want to be that person who sees every problem in the rest of the world but fails to ever face the problems in our country's backyard.

So now for the change of plans... (drum roll please)... On June 9th I will pack up my car in Archdale, North Carolina and begin the 13 hour journey down to the bayous of Louisiana for induction into the 2009 Teach for America South Louisiana Corps. While such a decision may surprise so many of you, I am excited beyond words about this opportunity! I will spend the next two years of my life as an elementary special education teacher, and I will work in a school that our taxes continue to fail.

Some of you may ask, and fairly so, how this relates to many long-term goals of being a professor of political science. Some of you may remember a time in the recent past where I legitimately felt I might apply to enter a Ph.D. program immediately after graduation. I still hold the dream of becoming a professor, and I am thrilled to pursue that dream two years from now. In the meanwhile, it is time for me live a little and see beyond the ivory tower walls. Education inequality has robbed so many of the civil rights for which the last generation fought hard. I have an opportunity to be one part of bridging the achievement gap in America. Who knows? Maybe one day some of my students from South Louisiana will also be my students in the university setting. I have an obligation to make that possible, and I have every intention of doing my best. What can I say of political theories when I do not know the people most affected by the realization of these theories?

Moreover, for those of you must concerned with career choices, I might as well put you at ease and tell you that I have thought of one answer for all of you. Isn't it wise for a professor to understand the learning disorders that affect students? What better way than to see it as they first begin a lifelong journey of living with these disorders? So it's elementary special education for me... a choice I will never regret. If this does not satisfy the few of you out there who are more concerned with ladder-climbing than living well, let me remind you that in this economy, I am grateful to know I will have a salary in a few months' time. Prestige, power, and ambition have become ideas that turn my stomach. Working for congress will remain my closest voluntary encounters with power. I do not desire to enter the rat race. I desire only to live well and live meaningfully... ironic desires given my choice of major. I do not want to be a politician, though I love studying politicians and forms of government. My goals for life are to read good books, travel to new places, write meaningfully, and expand others' horizons as others have done for me. So today that means elementary special education and tomorrow I sincerely hope that will mean being a professor of political science.

I know that the next six months will include the greatest challenge I have ever faced in my life. Passing the three praxis exams that I must pass for certification and surviving the training institute will only be the beginning. If there was anything I learned from my two hours a day of teaching English to seventh graders in Thailand, it's that the classroom is a living, breathing entity for which you can never entirely plan. Yet everyday you must wake up and do the impossible--face the class again and somehow find a new way to approach the subject matter when yesterday's plan failed. The frightening thing is that two hours a day for eight weeks nearly consumed me. I felt more love and care for my students than I ever imagined possible. It wasn't ever perfect: I certainly have vivid memories of angry adolescents attempting to sneak off with their significant others, but even in those moments, I remember the adamant, overpowering  need to fight for their education even when they couldn't see its importance. Two hours a day. Four days a week. Eight weeks.

So now I am looking at all day, five days a week, two years. Different age group. Different culture. Different language. Different continent. Different subject matter. Different learning issues. It's the only teaching experience I really have to look back upon, but there is one thing I am sure of: this will not be that. "This" will soon become its own extraordinary and overpowering experience. You will soon read of my struggles and pain and of my hopes and concerns. Stay by me. Read my words. Share in this journey to close the achievement gap in America. It matters that by the time so many kids enter school, they will already be far behind their peers in upper-income districts. It matters a lot. So journey with me.

I have been reminded that if I am going to switch to a new blog, rather a very old blog, I should probably post something new so that everyone realizes that I have truly switched to this blog. So this is that post. I have switched. One day I will write here again.

For the time being, my energies are focused on being a student, and I have very little to say... or maybe I should say I have a great deal to say but none that I am presently willing to publish. I find myself writing all the time, but it's better writing than I used to put on the blog. They're only short vignettes, but they take the time that I might have once invested in blogging.

Eventually, however,  I will be trying to keep in touch with so many people thousands of miles away that I will feel compelled once again to write here. I may even this semester try to get myself started--maybe. Most likely I will wait until summer. At the current moment, I have no desire to publish my thoughts, for they are invested too deeply in my academic endeavors (mostly dealing with politics, religion, and their interplay).

Check back in the summer though. I really will write while in Thailand. I wish you all the best. Thanks for being faithful to my blogs even when they are virtually nonexistent.

Hey again to everyone reading this! (That would be very few considering I keep forgetting to e-mail everyone the address, so most of you don't even know this exists... don't worry, you will.) By the way, I've no clue why it says my last post was May 14th. Anyhow, it wasn't.

It's two days before I leave! Yes, and in a few hours I will see most of you (and maybe cry) as I go to my last youth group meeting and church event.

Well, I think a few of you have still not figured out what I am doing (despite that I've talked about it *quite* often), so for those of you who do not listen too well, please read below. Excuse me, if you are one of those from WFUBMC, Telenet, or DCCC, because I really did not get to tell most of you about all the details. I am not inferring that you are a poor listener.


Just a few DC side notes:

- no, I will *not* be living with a family
- yes, I will go to school: I will go to the House Page School and live in the House Page Dorms
- no, I am not doing an internship; I am paging which is to say that I am a modern day servant in the House (of course, that is *not* the official definition since I do not do most of the grunt work but do things like take notes, ring bells, answer the phones, etc.)
- It's true, it's not a rumor; I really will have to go to school 6:45-9:30 or 11:30 (depending upon the day) in the morning.
- yes, I will get to see the president but he is not likely to remember me because it'll be during the State of the Union Address when lots of people get to see him. Of course, if I'm lucky I could be like one of the past pages who strikes up a conversation with him in the hallway onto the Floor. ;-)
- yes, I am likely to get to know, at least, some of the congressmen/women. Some have more of a history of being friendly to pages than others, but I may eat lunch with them fairly often. Hopefully, I will, at least, get to know my sponsor, Congressman Howard Coble. It will be no surprise to come home with pictures of me with all different famous people.
- no, I am not likely to go back to the community college when I come back for my senior year of high school. I do not yet know what I am going to do, but I don't want to return my normal, er, "social life" which consists of little to nothing unless it's Sunday or Wednesday.
- yes, there is a chance I may not come home again... this may be my official exit from the nest. Some of the colleges in and around DC like Pages and try to find ways to attract them. A good way to do that is to accept them straight out of the Page Program even without a diploma. So college may be heading my way sooner than I thought.
- no, this is not like a boarding school or, at least, not in the traditional sense. Most past pages have felt it was very similar to college. I will be working a full time job, going to school full time, and allowed to go as far as the metro system -bus and subway- goes (into some of Maryland and Virginia). I will have to have another page with me at all times, though. So there goes my time alone that I usually value so much, so you could say a few prayers that I don't bite off the heads of either my roommate or whoever is with me just because I can't get alone.

Those are the basics. Other than that, I really am not sure what to expect of life. A lot depends on the roommates I get. There will be three to a room. I've been really pray for them. Also, I know we are going to have a Bible Study. Out of the 20 pages I've talked to so far, five of us are Christians. We are pretty set on starting this Bible Study. For the past two years, Pages have had a nightly Bible Study and we're getting ready to carry on this torch. Please, pray for us. God has called us to a strategic place, I believe, but I don't really understand it all.

I'll keep in touch. I'm leaving the day after tomorrow. On Sunday I move in and have orientation. I'm really excited and know this is a God thing. So just keep me in your prayers.

Love Ya,
Kara