9 yr. olds ready for college.

The school where I teach has a motto. It goes something like this: College for SURE! We talk to the scholars every day about making college part of their futures. The thing is I work at a Elementary School on the West Side of Chicago. It a pretty high needs area with lots of challenges. I am aware that not all these kids will make it to college. Its something I push in the back corners of my mind, because although it may be true, that some will fall away in the midst of gangs, drugs, jail, school drop out rates, and side effects of poverty...I have to believe that its worth talking about. Its worth thinking that all these kids will have a bright future ahead of them.

In my class right now we are working on a project. It occurred to me that college is this lofty unimaginable idea to the children. I teach nine and ten year olds and college is this make believe place people talk about-like the north pole. And they would love to visit it, but its so intangible to a nine year old kid who may not have a single person in his or her family that graduated from college.

So I thought, hey lets make this make.believe.land more real. The kids have to pick a college and have to research everything they need to know about that college. Then they will present what they find. My kids picked all kinds of colleges..some that specialize in what they want to become, state universities, BIG TEN football schools, Ivy League. The list goes on. It was pretty hilarious watching them try to look up the GPA they need to get in, how much tuition and room/board costs, the majors, dorms, and meal plans they could pick from. OH the choices! The girls were printing out pictures of the dorm they thought looked 'prettiest' and insisted they wanted to be in a QUAD ROOM...oh little do they know what four girls in a cubicle sized room can do to four eighteen year olds...

My one scholar decided she will go to Yale. She map quested how many miles away it would be from her home. She came into class with the mileage circled at the bottom of the page and a map tracing out the endless states she would have to cross to get there. Of course, she says, Me and my family will fly...:)

She spent her free reading time that day reading up on everything she needed to know about the school. She sat their highlighting the facts and stats. There she was wide eyed and I could just see her world unfolding before her.

That afternoon we wrote to my friend who is a Yale alumni. She sat right next to me blinking hard and staring at my computer screen as I typed out an email to him.
She had a list of questions for him about Yale. My little nine year old scholar insisted I put her email address in the email-so he could email her information directly. I laughed, and we sent the email.

I know she will probably check that email every day until he emails her back. And when he does, her mind will overflow with possibility and curiosity.

One day she will be eighteen. 101 months from now she will be graduating high school. I'm sure it will feel like light years since the day we sat side by side in her fourth grade year-emailing my friend and googling about going to Yale.

101 months from now a 101 million of life's moments will have happened to this little girl. And I just hope she will remember herself at this very moment at nine years old. Bright eyed, eager, determined to reach her goals.

And if she does, wow I can only imagine her endless possibilities.

The Wonder of M

I used to have this little girl in both my third and fourth grade class. She was a pretty troubled kid. We'll call her M. Her mom had died suddenly at the end of second grade leaving her dad with 11 children. Needless to say her life was kind of messy, and she was a sad little kid. I got to know her really well over the two years. As I learned her, I also discovered all her quirks and habits. Often she would go to the bathroom and stay there forever until finally I marched to the bathroom myself, pushing the door open quickly calling for her to come HERE RIGHT NOW! There she stood with permanent marker all over her pants and messages scribbled on the walls. M would insist it WASN'T HER that wrote the profanity. I shook my head and told her to go back to class.

Teachers around the school all had their stories about her. One day it was reported that during lunch M had snuck into the kindergarten teacher's room, opened her diet coke, drank 1/3 of it, closed it back up and then took three pieces of gum, lip gloss, and 11.00 in cash. My principal suspended her but she kept showing back up at my door every morning at 8:30. Finally after the secretary got sick of her sitting in the office, I said, "Come on in."

She was way behind in school. She didn't want to learn to read and almost always refused. Except when she wanted to pretend to be a teacher. Sometimes I would catch M in the corner holding up a book reading the words and showing the pictures to a fake audience of children. Every now and then M would even pause and stare at the air and say phrases I so often said to my own students, "Are you listening? This is your education, I have mine...this is yours..so criss cross apple sauce!"
I always made sure not to let her know that I was watching her but it made me love her that much more, watching her like that.

Her writing was horrendous too. Often I had no idea what she was even saying. It made no sense but perfect sense to her. When we would share stories we wrote, she would stand up and rehearse a story, reading it carefully when in reality her notebook was a scribbled mess. Everyone loved her stories too...even if none of us could read them.

M loved math and would do math while I taught writing, reading, science, and social studies. She would stick worksheets under her book and do them as I wrote on the board. Every now and then M would look up and smile as if she were a top A student, that kind of smile, then nod at me and go back to writing. I finally gave up trying to stop her.

Often I sent her down to the nurse because she would come to school unfed or she would fall asleep on her desk for hours. At times her uniform was caked with dirt. I asked M how that happened? She said, "Oh well, we were on our way to school and then me and my brother thought it would be fun to roll down a hill." I thought about how much of a great children's author she could be, that is if she learned to write, with the imagination of those stories. Her stories were so colorful and convincing I began to wonder if she knew if they were just stories. For her they were often real.

One summer I got her enrolled in a summer camp for children who have lost their mothers. I found M a scholarship and faxed everything in. I called dad a hundred times to remind him where the bus would pick her up. I went away to Chicago to visit home. When I came back that fall for school I asked M how camp was!? She said she didn't go. My heart sank as I grew incredibly angry, But why? "Well my dad had to work that day so nobody took me to the bus stop."

That's how it went with M. And God did I love her. She would follow me around my room after school and help me hang things up and tidy up the room. She'd ask me a million questions. Sometimes in class she'd start crying in the middle of nowhere. I'd be reading a book to the class, maybe the book had a mom in it or something so very small and irrelevant. I'd look up and she'd be sobbing her little eyes out. The whole class knew when she got this way to just let her be. We even forgot in those moments about all the times she stole a dollar from my drawer, or took the left over Halloween candy and dumped it all in her backpack. We forgot the profanity and all the things she said to our faces. Because there she was, just trying her best to be okay. When you are 9 years old this should be a natural thing-happiness that is. So when its not, that makes it that much harder to find. I'd plop M in my lap and not before long she'd wipe her eyes dry and start pounding away at math worksheets.

There is this one day I remember though that always makes me laugh. We were outside for recess. It was one of the first days of spring. Just when it starts to stay light out later and you feel this relief. Everyone was running around and then M comes up. "Do you want to watch me hula hoop?!" Then another girl came up next to her. "I'll have a contest with you because I bet I'll beat you!"

I'm thinking to myself, oh goodness, she barley can read or write and I really can't watch her fail at this. I mean its just hula hoop but where I taught hula hoop and jump rope, well, they meant something real to those kids. She looks at the girl and says, "Aight, Lets do it. I'll beat you. I'm awesome at hula hoop."

They put the hula hoops around their waist and OFF they go, spinning, spinning away.
Right before my eyes this new child emerges from M. She whips that hula hoop around her waist and hips so gracefully like we are at the Olympic trials. That confident. That good. She's whipping it around in circles and this huge smile tumbles onto her face as it goes around and around. The breeze is passing through the trees and the sun is hitting her face just so. The other girl finally collapses to the ground in laughter. But M doesn't care. She doesn't even see her. Or me. Its just her and that hula hoop dancing around her. And then shes laughing; she's got this smile like the first time a kid sees snow falling. that amazing look. That's her and God its so rare to see her like that. I sit on the stoop of the school and watch her spinning delicately. Finally the hula hoop falls to the ground and she falls to the concrete floor. Panting and huffing she looks up at me finally.

"I told you Ms. O that I could REALLY hula hoop."

I smile big, really big and say, "Yes you did. You really did."

I moved away after that spring. M moved away to a new school. I think about her often and wonder. But most of all I think back to that spring day and realize the delicate wonder we all are.

When you Know you are a Chicagoan

You know when you are a true Chicagoan when you start to notice some of the following:

1. Your car has been smashed up in some way: broken into, crashed up, crashed into while parked, or window smashed AND you still drive it.
2. When its above 15 degrees you don't consider that unbearable weather.
3. If you wake up to a blizzard, you do not pause with contemplation of a snow day from work.
4. Its normal to talk to strangers or help them dig their car out of a parking spot.
5. You have a favorite Chicago neighborhood that you consider 'superior' to the others.
6. A typical weekend has some form of sports entertainment...preferably Cub season.
7. People are generally in a pretty happy mood without obvious reason, just because.
8. You put a chair in place of the parking spot you dug out that morning with your shovel.
9. Every time summer arrives, you treat summer like winning the lottery...surprising and thrilling.
10. Your friend from the 2nd grade is the buddy who you still hit the bar with on Friday nights.
11. You see family more than three times a year.
12. Regardless of the where you travel, you can't help but defend why the seasons build 'character' and thus is reason enough to return to Chicago...:)

President Obama

Watching Obama become president made me quite sentimental for my old city of Washington, D.C. I also felt elated to see this moment finally arrive. I teach at an urban school where 99% of the population is African American. So I felt like I connected with this moment in a unique way. My scholars all came to school beaming on the day of the inauguration with gigantic pins of the Obama family on the front of their uniform shirts. We went on a field trip the entire day. Although we arrived back to school exhausted, the fourth grade spilled into the cafeteria where our principal set up the television for us to watch the inauguration taped. My kids eyes were sagging with fatigue but when he walked out with Michelle they sat up as big smiles tumbled onto their faces. As Obama gave his speech they listened and cheered. Sometimes they clapped in the middle of his sentence, at times for no apparent reason but simply because these kids-were excited.

What an amazing thing to see but the hope and excitement on the faces of 9 year olds. Although they may not fully understand terms like 'recession,' 'collapsed economy' 'health care' but they get it. These kids know something big has happened, will happen.

Today I told them about how much my mom loved JFK. They sat real close to me, blinking their eyes hard, curious... eager. And then at the end of my story, I said the way my mom felt about him is how many of you feel for your new president. So make sure you never forget this moment in your life, because one day you will be telling your story. They nodded, because although these kids are 9 they understand what I meant, maybe far better than many of us.

Sucky People and Humanity

There is no point writing another letter. I already wrote one to the jerk who stole my mum and the jerk who broke my car window. It seems silly now to even attempt to address this blog to the jerk who smashed into my car yesterday. This is life in the city. Take it in, breath it out. Repeat.

So yesterday I was driving home from a busy work week. I had just had a little encounter with one of my student's mothers who decided, instead of sorting out miscommunication between me and her, instead its best to just scream at me. I was in the lobby surrounded by many others and I just stood there in shock of her willingness to display inappropriate behavior. Sigh. Silly people.

But nothing was bringing me down, I thought after the encounter. I mean for God's sakes it was Friday and I had just got paid and lastly I was on my way to happy hour. What else do I need?

So my teacher friend and I were on our way to drop off my car and then go get a cerveza. I was cruising down the road in my 98' Prizm in the -18 weather but hell- I could have rolled down the windows, because the three day weekend had arrived. We were on Sacramento and as I drove through a green light suddenly a white Marques comes barreling towards me. Most normal people with basic intelligence KNOW that when you make a left turn, FIRST you drive to the center of the intersection look for a clearing in oncoming traffic and then turn.

But there it was. This massive old Marques plummeting towards me in a wide circled turn as if he took about six-eight shots and then decided driving would be a fun happy hour activity. I stepped on the gas and tried to speed up. Crunching metal blasted through my car. I screeched my car to a stop as cars blasted their horns and whipped past me. My back bumper was dangling off my car like a lonely dog left to go astray. Looking up the guy in the car glances back at me and then drives off. Just like that. The cold air is setting into my cheeks and my fingers are wrinkling by the frigid breeze. Suddenly summer is gone and here I am on Sacramento and Augusta, cars zipping around the disaster I've become.

Then something miraculous happened. Humanity appeared. A car pulled over and gave me a description of the guy. He said, "He was somewhere in his 20s, actually like 29, and dark hair, real dark like jet black ..." and on he went with a vivid description. I thanked him by his careful observation of life's daily happenings and off he went.

Then suddenly a cab began reversing down the busy road towards me. My friend and I thought, "Oh God PLEASE! We need to wait for the cops, why is this cab driver pestering us to take his cab?!"

The cab driver got out and gestured for me to roll down my window. "Oh ma'am I sped down the street when I saw what happened to you! I followed that man who hit you! Here is his license and the make/model of his car. Oh ma'am I wrote it down for you." I was in shock at his humanity and good will. He requested to remain anonymous but gave me the note card with the information jotted down like chicken scribbles. "My gift to you." And off he went into the winter night.

We were relieved at the information and began drumming the dashboard as we waited for a cop to show up to make a police report. And we waited. And Waited.
"If I were bleeding to death I would be pretty much dead by now," I said to my friend. I got out of my car again to inspect the damage. I really didn't want to wait for a slow ass tow truck to show up. I began pulling at the dangling bumper hoping I could get it to come off completely.

Suddenly a man with a little girl showed up. "Can I help you?!"
I looked at him and his little girl bundled up and said, "Well, yes could you pull my bumper off?!" He tugged at his brown dirt worned gloves and yanked until my bumper popped off. Hoisting it, he crammed it in my back seat. I thanked him and off he went.

The sun was setting now and we were still waiting at the entrance of Humboldt Park. I remember reading about various crimes that take place in this park. "In about 25 minutes we will end up getting mugged or shot if they don't hurry up," I told my friend who sat patiently by my side.

We blasted "If I were a boy," and stared at the jet blue sky turning to the color of ink.

The police man finally did show up. He was polite and kept asking us if were were okay. He said they had the guys address and they would take him to court for numerous offense's. Who knows. I thought about my 500 deductable that is coming out of my pocket and how much it sucked. I thought about it about two blocks down Sacramento as we finally drove home. Then for some reason I just didn't care. Because although people out there do things to us that hurt or inconvenience us horribly, and God doesn't it make you want to hate city living or just sum up that everyone out there sucks. Everyone but a few. Although the idea went through my head to feel this way, instead I felt kind of relieved. Relieved that I was okay and peaceful at the fact there are good souls. Four of them showed up today in the midst of my chaotic moment. There are about three or four good souls to balance out the ones who do these things to us and our '98 Prizms. Because those 'sucky' people have their reasons too and I will never know his or why he looked back at me, standing in the middle of the intersection staring at my smashed up car, and then decided to drive away. But it doesn't really matter, because yes Chicago is city life at its finest and worse. Its -15 degrees but God it is full of humanity.

As we turned down Armitage my friend and I looked at each other, "Happy hour???"
We laughed and nodded and drove my crackling car home.

Thank you jerks for smashing my car window

I was driving home from the gym tonight. I felt pretty good about being productive with my day. As I pulled out of the parking garage I noticed the orange light was lit up indicating that my door was 'ajar.' I got out and shut my trunk tightly and shut my driving door again. But there it was, the light glowing at me. I had no idea why it was still on.

I got home and as I was getting out into the frigid winter night, there it was-staring at me. My little side window was smashed in. Then suddenly my eyes widened as I realized the other car doors were unlocked. Frantically I opened my glove compartment only to see my beloved GPS still resting inside. My heart fluttered in relief, because God knows I am in love my GPS almost as much as my boyfriend.

I had an empty box sitting in my back seat. Maybe the asshole thought something magical, that would solve all his problems, would be inside. Dude, its empty. But no, he broke in and reached his long arm to the front door and then opened up the other doors. However, nothing from my trunk was gone. Maybe he wasn't trying to steal anything. Maybe he was ready to take my blue piece of crap car for a joyride. I mean it has 140,000 miles on the thing. Seriously?! Who honestly thinks its worth taking? But I will never know, because there it was still waiting for me after my workout with glass shattered all over my back seat.

The funny part is I teach in the fifth most dangerous neighborhood in Chicago. Yet my window is smashed in a secure parking garage in Lincoln Park. Everyone reminds me a million times a week to be careful coming and going from work. Yet when I go to the upscale neighborhood a few miles away it is then that my car is screwed with.

Oh to the Jerks that smashed my window. Lucikly you were nice enough to only smash the side window. Thank you for that. I appreciate you not smashing the main windows. That would cost a lot more. That was sweet of you. But hey, future reference-an empty box in a back seat of a car may not be the winning pot of gold you are looking for.

Post New Years=The GYM explosion

It's a new year and hence many of us are making little resolutions. Some are big and many small. But as we watch the ball drop, we can't help but repeat our lil' resolution in our heads. We say it a hundred times as if that in some way will ensure that we will, this year...actually, keep our new years promise.

There are oh so many things to resolve to do in a new year. Such as: I will become a patient person who jumps out of bed every morning for work with a gigantic smile plastered across my face. Or: I will volunteer every weekend for the next 52 weeks. Even in blizzards. Or I will stop saying F*ck no more than 10 times a day.

But one of my favorite little resolutions that is oh so unoriginal but yet quite endearing is the promise of THIS year I will go to the gym and loose those love handles! I will loose those pounds!

I personally have never made this my own new years resolution. Even after quite a few drinks on new years eve, I try to keep my resolutions more manageable such as . I will make my bed every day. OR I will listen to the news and actually set my alarm 20 minutes early to ensure I have time to scrape the mountain of snow off my car to avoid being late for work. But after seeing the swarm of new workout rookies maybe I should make my goals loftier, or should I?

The past couple days at Bally's Total Fitness it has honestly been an ant farm. There are people crawling everywhere! The personal trainers are racing around like unfed mice sweat flooding from their heads as they slap a smile across their faces and give personal training session after session after session...

I've become used to the medium flow of the gym or the quiet hum of a Saturday workout as I pedal away on the bike. But now its swarming from every side. People are frolicking about in their new work out clothes hopping on tread mills, bikes, elliptical machines with issues of US Weekly glued in their hands.

It's almost inspiring. I almost felt guilty because a line was forming waiting for machines as I huffed and puffed away on my machine. I look around and its cute the way everyone is filled with motivation and hope for 2009. Its like almost a good ol' middle finger to the economy in ways. Its almost like we are uniting with a message of hope: I may not have a job but god help me I will fit into my skinny jeans!

But as I'm later waiting for a treadmill, my stomach growling for its dinner... I can't help but think, "Do these new bees really believe in themselves enough?" Will you all be here two months from now?

Probably not. But oh how good it feels to have enough faith in ourselves to make the goal in the first place.