On Friday, our middle school students involved in diversity
work put on the annual Student Diversity Assembly. They are, in a word, amazing. Each year I am blown away by the maturity and
insight our 7th and 8th graders bring to this event. I am also consistently amazed by the bravery
of our 5th and 6th graders to stand on stage and talk
about these enormous topics. While the
event always takes a mountain of teacher logistical support, the students are
the ones who pull it together.
Highlights from this year:
our playback theater group who performed at a
local diversity conference brought their work to the assembly and performed on
topics of friendship and diversity raised by the audience
members of our 5th & 6th
grade diversity club shared excerpts of an activity in which all students
participated earlier in the year, reflecting in writing on bullying and name
calling
a talented 8th grade videographer
interviewed students about what diversity means to them, had quotes of students
asking, “What is diversity?” in multiple languages, and put together an
insightful but delightfully humorous short video for us to watch
the 15 6th graders who attended a
recent diversity conference shared personal reflections about what they learned
and how they were going to make a change in their/our community
members of the 7th and 8th
diversity club put together a slideshow that challenged stereotypes and pushed
all of us to question our assumptions (it was pure middle school and
beautifully done)
Ultimately, we do it all for the students. When they can stand up on stage and share,
almost as eloquently as any adult could, their thoughts on such challenging
subjects, on some level there is clear progress being made!
So I walk away from this feeling energized by the diversity
work taking place in our school, but knowing there are still “miles to go
before I sleep.” Diversity work is never
complete. There are always new facets of
diversity being “discovered” and valued in our culture and school communities,
and those which we already prioritize continuously morph and change before our
eyes.
For a leadership institute in which I am participating I was asked to answer the following questions. I realized that my response was much too long for the context and so am posting my full reply here.
Why did you become an educator? When did you realize you wanted to work with middle school students?
In composing this response, I realized that at so many points along the way it was either chance or a leap of faith that resulted in where I find myself today. For someone who strongly believes that all things happen for a reason (although at times we need to dig deep or allow space and time to find that reason), I can’t help but think that this is exactly where I am supposed to be.
While I have always enjoyed working with children, when I entered college I initially declared international relations as my major. After taking a psychology elective and discovering that my school’s international relations program was more economics focused than I would have liked, I changed my focus to a psychology major. During my junior year I took a course in adolescent psychology and everything clicked. I had so many light bulb moments in that class. I went from thinking about adolescence as an age of nuisance, to thinking of it as an age of incredible growth that looks frustratingly awkward from the outside. I think this was the first critical moment that pointed me down the path to where I am today, an educator strongly committed to working “in the middle.”
Upon graduation from college, I had very little direction.
What I did have was a strong desire to help others, but I wasn’t sure what or
where my focus should be. I began temporary work with a non-profit that
supported women in developing countries. While fulfilling, it wasn’t a
viable long-term option. After some reflection I decided that, “I can be
a teacher. It can’t be that hard.”
Logically, I was hired by a school that stretched its teachers thin (as one would hope for someone with my
minimal experience). It was a beautiful independent school community, but
I was not really mentored or provided with any significant guidance. I was, almost
literally, handed my textbooks, shown my classroom, and sent on my way to
figure it out. I did find mentors of my own, and had a very positive relationship with everyone in the welcoming and diverse school community. I loved the children I taught in my high school Italian
and middle school Spanish classes that year. I felt drawn to the younger
ones for reasons I could not explain at the time. Despite the wonderful students, this was one
of the most challenging years of my life.
Family circumstances drew me across the country and I moved on after one
year.
After passing over opportunities for work that was more corporate in nature, life found me working on a psychological study of the long-term impact of early childcare on children’s development. The children in the study happened to be in 5th and 6thgrade during the two years I worked with the group. The spark I had felt during my first year as a teacher was rekindled. And then September 11thhappened. As many in the country did, I found myself questioning my role and my future. If I had been one of the thousands who had died, would I have left the world a better place than when I entered it? What had I done or was I doing to leave a lasting mark that in some way improved our lot? The classroom was calling me back.
I decided that I could not return to the classroom as ill prepared as I had been my first year, so I enrolled in a Masters of Education program and began to search for teaching positions. After several months of dead ends, I found myself with an offer to be a classroom assistant in a kindergarten class in a small K-6 independent school. With no other options on the table, I tried to convince myself that being back in a school would be wonderful and that this was the inlet I needed to get back into the system. Something didn't feel right and I was apprehensive. At the eleventh hour another offer came up to be a part-time middle school Spanish teacher in a slightly larger K-8 school. I jumped at the opportunity and was able to convince the head of school to allow me an advisory to increase my hours and compensation. I dove in and never looked back.
Over the years my roles in the schools in which I have worked have shifted and morphed, adapting to the needs of the institution and to my willingness to lean into discomfort. I have found myself, on numerous occasions, proving myself after the schools in which I worked took a leap of faith, so to speak. Actually, this was how my early career in education progressed ...
... the 2nd trimester starts tomorrow and we don't have a schedule? I can do that!
... the 6th grade advisory curriculum needs formalizing? I can do that!
... we don't have a formal transcript system and someone needs to work with the developer? I can do that!
... we have two extra sections of math to be taught? I can do that!
... ordering agenda books is too expensive and we need to create them in house? I can do that!
... the language arts teacher is on maternity leave? I can do that!
I've shifted to a place of seeking out opportunities and finding things that elicit an "I want to do that!" While I still occasionally jump up with an "I can do that!" I have become more focused in my energy and efforts, discovering where my strengths truly lie. Ultimately, I can't imagine myself anywhere but "in the middle." The middle years are dynamic, enthusiastic, tumultuous, open, unpredictable, malleable, caring, giving, and beautiful. It sounds like I'm in love, and I think I am. Regardless of the hat I put on within one, there's no place I'd rather be than stuck in middle school.
