This isn't to say I feel old. Rather that opposite, that I am still a baby in the grand scheme of things. But these lines tell of something much harder, more calloused, walled off with brick and mortar.
These few weeks have been incredible and incredibly exhausting. The long hours, the having to succumb to buying a vehicle (not that I'm complaining, I've forgotten how nice it is to just get up and go for a drive if you desire that), the small interfering questions of "will I be good at this?" that seem to strike at the most inopportune times, the veteran teachers who aren't willing to cooperate, the parents who clearly have no right to be....
And then there's the children.
I've worked with children from all over the bay. Kids who grew up with a silver spoon in their mouth, running into the arms of a French au pair after a difficult day rather than their own mother. And the kids who watch stoic-like as their mother is taken away for domestic violence, counting down the days until she'll be home again. The ones who never dream of getting out because if East Oakland is good enough for their parents, its good enough for them too.
I knew going into this that it wouldn't be easy: they never once tried to avoid that during our training and orientation. We were told that we'd have bad days, terrible days, days were we felt utterly defeated and inconsequential. And so I started to build up my walls, preparing for the very worst. For the gang bangers and crack dealers, for the bastards of prostitutes and cast-away illegals. We worked together, picking out the books we'd use for story time, cutting and pasting and decorating the board that would hold our classroom rules and agreements, all the while suspecting what if this didn't work. But before we could doubt ourselves reasonably the first day was upon us and it was time to be teachers.
My name is Miss Mariel I announced carefully eyeing each child squirming on the area rug in front of the white board after a failed attempt at control. Was it too relaxed to use my first name? Would be they be able to pronounce my last name? Too late, I had to be confident. Alpha.
"Hi, Miss Mariel." They echoed after repeated prods from a colleague. The first blow was over with, the norming process could begin. Slowly but surely we'd be alright, we'd make it. I felt a heavy sigh escape me as I stepped off to the side, the weight of not knowing slowly starting to slip away.
We walked them to the only bathrooms we were allowed to use across the school campus, lining them up and marching them quietly up ramps and through the library. Half way to the door, I felt a tug at the back of my shirt, turning to a frail Mexican girl who always looked worried. It only took a moment before the tears started to pour over onto the apples of her cheeks. I panicked momentarily, not knowing what had caused her pain, looking from student to student as they passed trying to reach some conclusions, but none would meet my gaze.
"Ms. Mariel." She managed, pushing herself into me as the tears came faster now. What was I to do? Who was I to this child? Suddenly weeks of building my walls up were demolished in a moment. I bent down and brought her to me, letting her cry until the sobs subsided.
I had forgotten that as adults we teach ourselves to be cold and live alone if no one will have us. I had forgotten that the kids of the gang bangers and crack dealers, the bastards and cast-aways were still kids. And that as their teacher, it was my job to fill in so much more than the educational gaps their school had forced upon them. Hand in hand, we walked to the bathroom.
The first blow was over with, the norming process could begin. We'd be alright, we'd make it.
I can't promise these kids a better life, one filled with college and a two-car garage house in the hills, or a six figure pay check. But what I can do for them is teach them to be compassionate with one another, to sound out the words that a really hard, to get them excited about story time, to follow along with all the camp songs I still love to sing when no one is around. And to be the very best individual they are capable of being and becoming.
I'm exhausted. I'm sure I will feel defeated, but I am only a child in the grand scheme of things. And with these two hands, I can answer what it is I will do for my children, for Oakland, for education. For my country. For myself.
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