Even after a bomb threat, an anonymous phone call threatening to kill bullies and the principal, bag checks, and police presence, I still want to do this.

I still love it.

I ain't scrrred.

Conferences:

• Where you talk for 3.5 hours straight
• Where you are existing in constant fear of the 'crabby parent'
• Where you size up each parents' body language for sudden movement
• Where you laugh and shake your head in wonder
• Where you get the chance to tell the amazing students' parents just how amazing their son or daughter really is
• Where you get to be honest with a parent about their son's disruptive and rude behavior in your class
• When you have a line of parents a mile long
• Where you get to tell the traditional C and D students' parents that their kid is getting a B or even an A in your class (for the first time ever)
• When you are exhausted but exhilerated as you walk out to your car in the empty parking lot at 8:00pm

Wow. Are you flipping kidding me? Read...

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/15142930/?GT1=8618

After reading my friend Ms. G's blog Closing the Gap in NYC I feel sick, but not so sick from reading her story, although it did affect me significantly. I'm feeling sick because I don't believe that it is fair that I teach where I teach and she teaches where she does. I cannot fathom the polar opposite experiences we're having. I can't believe that the culture of poverty is such a perverse force. I cannot believe that schools such as hers exist without the proper attention, funding, and staff.

I stress out about not having a laptop, that I'm stuck with an old clunker of a desktop, and that I therefore cannot use powerpoint during lectures, that I had to buy a DVD player for my room, that I can't work in my lovely and relaxing room, but rather, that I must work in my sterile office. These are the drawbacks of working for a fabulous district with the most amazingly supportive coworkers, mentors, staff, parents and administration.

When a kid is late more than 3 times to my class I can write a referral and they will come in and wash desks for me in the morning or do time at Saturday School. If a kid gets really out of hand and is insubordinate and swears under his breath he is put into ISS the next day. I couldn't ask for better support as a first year teacher. I had kids bring in projects today that included a To Kill a Mockingbird videogame, a DVD re-enactment of major scenes from the book, and soapcarvings just like Boo Radley did.

How is this fair that I get this and Ms. G gets blood on her walls, fights, and no computer at all, let alone a laptop. Honestly, I agree with her - the system is failing. The system is failing her students, but sometimes I think mine, too.

My students bask in the glow of the big Homecoming game, dress-up days, and getting their driver's licenses. They'll tramp off to a private college in a few years, or perhaps even, gasp, a state college or university. They have no clue what the world holds outside of their bubble. Their idea of poverty is someone who is on reduced lunch. Ms. G's kids deserve what mine have, but they would have so much more perspective than do most of my Abercrombie and Fitch clad students. Money can't by experience, it can't buy resolve, and it can't buy perspective.

Week five. Another referral down, many more to go, I'm sure. I won't go into the sordid details about a crappy SpEd teacher who lets students cheat on tests by giving them the answers. I won't get into the details about the girl who tells me each and every day how many times she's been raped. I won't go into detail about the show 5 of us English teachers put on as the Spice Girls on "Dream Job" day. I won't go into detail how I didn't quite make it all the way to the Homecoming game since a bottle of really good Reisling got in the way. I won't go into detail about how crazy my room looks with project posters plastered over every spare inch. I won't go into detail how I ran for 8+ blocks to the homecoming float I was to ride on with a huge box of candy to throw, or even about the ride I got from a cop so I'd make it on time. I won't got into detail about my extra chatty AP class - so chatty that I had to make a new seating chart.

I will say how utterly exhausted I am, how contented I feel, and how much I'm really making a difference. I will say that I am in love with and in awe of my co-workers. I will say that despite the ups and downs of teaching, I was made for this job.

I am in full realization of the contradictions I've made with the above statements. Too bad.

I didn't start at the beginning, so I'll just begin now.

Week four and I'm still sane. I love teaching more than I could have imagined. The relationships I've formed already are amazing.

I love to see the looks on their faces when they see they are getting that B, the highest grade they've ever gotten. I tell them now they have to keep it.

I love to see the looks on their faces when I show up at the powder-puff football game. I smile and tell them it was a ton of fun, and that I'm glad I came.

I love to see the looks on their faces when I follow through with the consequences I set out in the beginning.

I love to see that they're interested in hearing me expound on why a poem is important today, even though it was written 200 years ago.

I love my job, I love the support I'm getting, and most importantly, I love my students.

Don't get me wrong, it hasn't been all sunshine and daises, but I'll keep this first post positive. There'll be plenty of time to bitch.

But for now I am in love with teaching.