Now's the Chance

Sitting in a freshly made up bed, sheets washed after fighting a cold brought on by pink eye (yippee) and sipping on my very cold and very delicious chocolate zico, I thought to myself:


Hey, you haven't written. Not in a long time. The Walking Dead can wait for another hour or so.


Which brings me here, exhausted from a 4.7 mile run and exhilarated that I - Mariel Eleni Valerio - have become a runner. It's true! Fancy pants and all. I actually ran a total of 41 miles in the month of May (slightly more, but I was between iPhone apps and some got lost in translation). Me, the girl who was mortified to run in gym because my boobs always got in the way - well that actually hasn't changed much, but oh how sports bras have changed! Me, the girl who always convinced herself that her asthma was just enough out of control to never attempt such a thing. Me, the girl who thought her ankle couldn't handle it after the accident.  


What a crock of shit, the the stuff we tell ourselves sometimes right? 


And it wasn't just running that I became accomplished in this month. May marked the end of our literacy program at Longwood Elementary in Hayward and thus the end of my first year of teaching. A feat quite possibly more exhausting than those 41 miles, and yet just as rewarding. Add to my repertoire:

• Master worksheet maker
• Boo-boo fixer upper
• "Hey, get down from there!" yeller
• Sight Word Ring-stress 
• Lead Pencil Sharpener 
• Closing circle appreciations sharer 
• Change the Date-r 
• Home made Yearbook publisher 
• Queen of all things laminated 
• Gardner 
• Sanitize the living shit out of everything-er 
• Monkey-bar conflict resolution personnel 
• Black Top Hawk 
• Nap Time enforcer (dammit they'll thank me one day)
• High Five/Hip Bump/Side Hug/Fist Explosion-er 
• "Less talky, more worky" coin phraser 
• Bomb ass mother fucking after school teacher 

So maybe the last bullet point was slightly gratuitous, but you know what? I DON'T CARE. The last 10 months were hard, really really hard. And damn if there were days I thought it didn't matter, that so many people have given up on these kids so who was one more 20 something to throw in the towel? 


Wrong. 


I came in to a school where we weren't welcomed. Where the staff didn't want us eating lunch with them for fear we might start to believe we could make a difference. Where our students referred to us as anything but teachers. Where our classrooms were for many at the beginning a free babysitting service. 


But now, packing up and labeling the last of our supplies today at site, a steady stream of students and staff alike trickled in to room 13 to ask what comes next. If we'd be back to teach again, what would become of our hard work, our garden. To be honest I don't know that. I know the three of us won't be back, the pay isn't enough. What we're moving on to, that I can't say. Whether the next teachers will work as hard, I'm not sure about that either. 


I hope they can continue on. Press forward through the bureaucratic maze that our education system is comprised of to find their carrot, their prize: that it will always be about the kids. Because nothing - not an award, or gift card, or staff appreciation lunch - is worth to me than the thank you from a student. 


You see, running and teaching aren't so different. They can both be tedious, strenuous, time-consuming with slow results. Lonely at times, frustrating, painful. A winding path with no foreseeable end in sight. 


But when the finish is upon you, the sun at your back, suddenly you are strong enough, capable enough, without doubt that this moment, regardless of whatever suffering or inhibitions you held before, will be your most victorious to date. A feeling you can relive again and again for as long as you chose to continue to move forward.