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Tag Archives: education

I did it.

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In a matter of hours, I’ll be done being a student. (Unless I pursue my Ph.D, but that’s not going to happen for at least a few years! I need to recover from the past 17 years of my life.)

 

I graduate from grad school at 4:30 this afternoon. I’m graduating with a 4.0 GPA, and receiving an award at the graduation ceremony. I’ve worked my butt off during grad school, and it’s actually freaking me out to see the results of all of my hard work.  I’ve been nominated for a few awards this year, which I’ve kept to myself because I get embarrassed talking about my accomplishments. I was nominated to represent my grad school as a student teacher of the year, and I was also nominated to be the student speaker at graduation. I didn’t receive either of the honors, but it truly blew my mind that my advisor–and others– would think I was worthy of these moments of recognition for the hard work I’ve put forth in becoming an educator.

 

In the spirit of graduation, as well as the disbelief that I’m actually graduating this afternoon, I’d like to share the speech I wrote for graduation with you. One of my friends was selected to be the student speaker for graduation, which is awesome because she’s an amazing public speaker. Plus… I probably wouldn’t have been able to stop crying if I had to read this out loud.

 

Thank you all for supporting my journey to become the best educator that I can be. I may be unemployed at the time of graduation, but I also know that I will find a job where I can make a difference in the lives of students. It’s what I’m meant to do.

 

Without further ado…my speech:

Thank you so much faculty, staff, distinguished alumni, family, friends, loved ones, and, of course, the Rutgers Graduate School of Education Class of 2013! I’d also like to take a moment to thank the behind-the-scenes people, whether they be the guy who sends us countless emails– I’m looking at you Ken– or the College Ave Gym workers who made sure we had at least three fans in the place today. Everyone in this room has made this day possible, and I want to be sure that everyone knows how grateful we are for each and every one of you.

We’re about to receive a piece of paper– or, at least a temporary piece of paper until our “real diploma” gets mailed to us– that tells the world we are now eligible to be educators. For some of us, this paper is sending us ricocheting into the world outside of the college bubble for the first time. For others, this paper is adding a slew of letters to our last names. No matter what the case, we’re all about to take the education world by storm!

This afternoon, I want to let you all know that I will not use the t-word in my speech, which is a little odd considering this is the Graduate School of Education Convocation. Before I go any further, I need to take a moment to reveal something about myself, something that only a few members of my Cohort know. It’s something I’ve struggled with since I became part of the GSE, and I’m not too sure how many other people in here identify this way. Folks… I don’t identify as a teacher. I identify myself as an educator.

The dictionary defines a teacher as “a person who teaches, especially in school.” It defines an educator as “a person who provides instruction or education.” While the two words may seem like synonyms to most of you, to me they are worlds apart. According to the dictionary, a “teacher” is defined by his or her profession. An “educator” is defined by providing something that has the potential of changing and saving lives. This is what the GSE nurtures us to become.

Now, I know not everyone in the class of 2013 will receive the “teacher title.” Some of us are going into College Student Affairs or becoming Supervisors. Others are going into Counseling. Some of us have earned our Ph.D’s or are becoming Faculty Members somewhere. Others are here because they’ve become certified in something or are becoming Coaches. This gym is filled with graduates going in so many different directions with one thing in common: we are here because we wanted to continue our education. We wanted to dive further into the education field and make a difference some how, some way.

Every single one of you will make a difference in the lives of people, whether you realize it or not. You are the educators of the Rutgers GSE. You are intelligent, willing to be challenged, and undeniably amazing. You have the power to change lives for the better, and the power and knowledge to inspire others to do the same. You will get through the easy days with moments of grace and finesse, and even get through the tougher ones with determination and resilience. That, and a lot of caffeine. You are survivors. If you can make it through hurricanes, life, death, and the RU Screw while at the GSE, you can do anything. You can take on the impossible and put it in its place. You are the best of the best, and nothing is going to be too hard for you to handle as you face “the real world.”

In the last week of my student teaching internship, the Newtown, Connecticut school shooting occurred. In a semester that had already caused my students to lose their sense of security and stability because of Hurricane Sandy, I knew my students would want to discuss what had happened… and I let them. In my Creative Writing elective course, the students discussed the various individuals who had either lived or died in the shooting, and how the media had conveyed them. Victoria Soto, the teacher who hid her students in their cubbies and then took a bullet for them, was brought up. I could feel the inevitable happening, and, sure enough, one of my students said, “You know Miss B, this whole thing has me wondering… would you take a bullet for us? Be honest.”

As educators, especially in today’s world, we’re going to be asked some tough questions, some of which we may not have the answers to. We’re going to have to think on our feet, and we won’t always be right. We may say or do or even be “the wrong thing,” but at the end of the day, as I responded to that student, as educators, it is our priority to create a safe learning environment for all of our students. We need to not only change the lives of our students, but save them as well.

I know that each and every one of us is about to continue on an amazing journey. Each and every one of us has worked extremely hard to get to this moment. Our legacy begins today, and I cannot wait to see what mark the Rutgers GSE Class of 2013 educators will leave on this world.

I am so proud to be one of you.

Thank you so much. Enjoy the rest of this afternoon… We did it!!

PAD Challenge, Day 30

4/30/2013- a finished or unfinished poem

“Education lap”
-KB

I actually wrote
Changing and saving lives
is what motivates me
to be the best educator that I can be
on my final teaching philosophy
because I believe it to be true.
But nobody ever talks about
how your biggest motivation
to pursue the most worthwhile of dreams
disappears into the 3am sky
when you’ve been writing
philosophies,
professional development plans,
and unit plans
for non-existent students
for hours upon end
and the finish line
is within your sight
if you can just find some way
to stop time
momentarily
so you can battle the procrastination
standing between you
and a triumphant victory.
The race has only just begun.

I found my voice again…

In Disney’s “The Little Mermaid,” there’s a scene where Ariel gives up her voice to Ursula, the evil sea witch, so that she can walk on land and be something she’s not.

While I haven’t negotiated with the devil, and I never had a singing voice to give up, I’ve spent a lot of the past year or two in a funk. I gave up my voice to my own worst enemy: myself.

During college, poetry was my escape. Imagery and rhyme scheme allowed me to convey the emotions I couldn’t communicate in everyday life. I coped with love, loss, and even episodes of Glee. Then, life got chaotic. I struggled with all the stress in my life, encountered situations I didn’t know how to handle, and went through a minor meltdown upon graduating undergrad and starting The Real Life Pit Stop Known As Grad School And Student Teaching. Amongst all this, other than when it was for a poetry class, I couldn’t find the desire to write poetry or perform at poetry readings. I felt like a part of me had died, and I threw all my writing energy into GingerSass.

On Friday, something within me changed. I thought about collapsing on my bed and watching depressing episodes of Grey’s Anatomy or Private Practice, but, on a whim, I decided to attend Out of the Box, a local open mic I last attended over 3.5 years ago.

Attending OotB felt like a homecoming. It was hosted in the basement of a church by Pandora Scooter. (She’s fabulous; I actually want to try to arrange for her to perform at school for my students as a part of our performance poetry unit.) I read my post about Coming Out Day, and the poem I wrote in response to my students attending Dodge for the first time. After I was finished, Pandora shook my hand and thanked me for what I do. I also had quite a few people come up to me afterwards and compliment my piece, and I even connected with another teacher dealing with some of the same issues and feelings I have been dealing with.

Listening to the various poetry, musical, and other sorts of performances really warmed my heart. For the first time in a very long time, I felt like I was getting my voice back. Everything seemed right in the world, and it really meant a lot to be a part of such a wonderful, inviting group.

Oftentimes lately, I’ve felt like I’ve lost my voice. I haven’t had the time to write, and when I have, it’s usually been posts about something involving my student teaching internship. I’ve written maybe 2 poems since April, which is devastating to me since I usually write 2-3 poems a week. I’ve been having a bit of an identity crisis with the loss of my voice and my lack of writing. All of this combined with going to Out of the Box on Friday has helped me realized something: I really am my own worst enemy, and I am definitely the only person preventing myself from embracing my voice as a writer and a poetic performer. I have nowhere else to go but up, and I am so extremely grateful that I decided to go on Friday night. Without OotB, I don’t know if I would’ve found the desire to find my voice again. I’m finally getting closer to being the me I want to be.

10 Minute Musings #12- Love, poverty, and Dunkin Donuts

8/22/2012- 40 minutes

Flashback: Winter 2009. 

Sitting in Qdoba always reminds me of the moment where my ex, Irma*, and I realized we were in love, but wouldn’t admit it to each other, thanks to a homeless man. We sat by the window, eating our chips and guacamole and watching the snow fall outside. We sat next to each other, like so many people do during the honeymoon phase of relationships, and happily got lost in the mediocre music and people watching surrounding us. 

A homeless man came up to us and asked if we could help him text his wife, that he lost his glasses and it was hard for him to see the buttons. I felt for him as he explained he was worried about her because it was so cold outside, and he didn’t want her to freeze, that he wanted to tell her to meet him at Qdoba. I helped him write his message, and he thanked me profusely, saying that I had a good heart. He ordered a burrito and sat by the window a few tables away from us. Irma said I was too nice, that he was probably going to ask me for money next, and that he should just get a job. I retorted that sometimes those who are less fortunate just need a smile and a helping hand, that they aren’t always looking for handouts. Her caramel eyes smiled and I distinctly remember being told, “You’re too nice for your own good.” I blushed, still a bit uncertain and nervous of PDA with another woman, not sure of what the reaction may be from the people around us. 

As we continued eating, the homeless man walked over to us, his blue eyes twinkling and a huge grin spreading across his face. “I won’t bother you two again, I promise, but I just wanted to say…. it’s so beautiful how in love you two are. You have something special. Don’t lose each other.” We both blushed and looked down at our food, unsure of what to say. I really loved her, but I hadn’t told her yet…but I didn’t want a homeless man to beat me to the punch. “I, erm, uhhh…we’ve only been together a few months,” I mumbled, not looking up at the man or Irma. “That doesn’t matter! I can tell you two are so in love… you care for each other so much! It’s beautiful! You love her, don’t you?” he said, turning his direction to Irma. “Like she said, we, uh, have only been dating a few months. I love spending time with her, and she’s a beautiful, great girl, but, uhh…” she stumbled, her voice trailing off. The homeless man laughed, saying, “You two are so young and so beautiful together. Even if you don’t know it, you love each other. It’s beautiful.” He winked at us and walked away, leaving us at our table and staring down at our chips. That moment with the homeless man was probably one of the most romantic moments of my life.

*name obviously changed.

Present Day.

Maybe it’s my subconscious interacting with memories of the Qdoba incident, or maybe it was the emotionally charged, beautiful post from Six Year Itch I read the other night, but whatever it may be, but yesterday morning, fate told me to not stop for coffee on my way to Student Teacher Orientation at my usual coffee spot by my house. Instead, I waited until I got to the poverty-stricken town I’ll be working in.

I parked my car, fed the meter, crossed the street, and caught the eye of a man I’ll call Sal. Now, as terrible as it sounds, after four years of completing my undergrad in  a city filled with homeless individuals and beggars, I’ve learned to look the other way. I can tell when someone is a junkie looking for money for a fix versus when someone is genuinely asking for food money. I’ve learned to look the other way when I encounter those less fortunate than me not because I want to ignore them, but because I’m a student and don’t have enough money to help all of them.

When Sal’s eyes met mine, I was overcome with emotions. They were so filled with exhaustion, sadness, and despair that I immediately felt for him. Sal gave off a vibe that I can’t quite explain, but I knew he was just down on his luck. “Excuse me, miss, if you have an extra dollar, could please get me a small coffee?” he asked, looking as if he expected me to ignore his existence. I don’t know what came over me, but, without a second thought, I asked him how he wanted it. “Wh-what? Uhh… Just black! I don’t need anything fancy. Wow. Thank you so much, I just need a little something, anything in my stomach,” Sal stuttered, appearing to be in disbelief.

I went inside, ordered my own veggie flatbread and iced latte, and then, on another whim, ordered him a sausage, egg, and cheese combo. I figured he could use some extra protein. When I walked back out and handed him his bad of food and a large coffee, he got teary eyed and thanked me, saying, “Thank you so much, miss. Most people wouldn’t have given me the time of day, but you went beyond anything…you have a good heart. God bless ya!” I was overwhelmed with emotions by his genuine gratitude and wished him luck and told him to have a good day. “It’s already good, I’m going to have some food in my stomach!” he responded.

Two well-dressed women in suits had been watching our encounter, and they came after me, asking if I had found faith. I told them I had, and to have a great day. Sometimes you just have to have a little faith in doing the right thing.

Afterthoughts:

I am a privileged white woman. I’ve never been without a roof over my head or food in my stomach. My parents are educated individuals, and I am a college-educated woman pursuing a Masters Degree in Education. I have abundant opportunities in life, and for that I am extremely grateful. I’m even more grateful for the opportunity to be able to student teach in an urban district where 2/3 of the students have free or reduced lunch, where there are over 30 languages spoken at the homes of students, and where students are genuinely excited to be at school. My district even has a specific day of the week where students come to school with backpacks so that they can bring food home to their families, or they might go all weekend without eating. The backgrounds my students will be coming from may not be something I can even begin to understand completely, but one thing I do understand is compassion and a desire to reach one’s fullest potential. I cannot wait to begin making a difference in the lives of my students.