Posts (page 2)

I am sitting in the Ed building in front of my laptop, trying to figure out Google Docs, the lesson plan Wiki, the master teaching schedule for the summer school spreadsheet, the online version of the Mississippi Department of Education curriculum frameworks, and about a million other things that seem to have found their way onto my delightful new computer's hard drive. I am a little overwhelmed.

I'll be honest: I'm much more comfortable thinking and writing with a pad and pencil, storing my important papers in a trusty file folder. I find typewriters romantic, and still use them for my more creative pursuits. I have coils and coils of old computer cords with strange plugs and shapes attached that I have never used but am afraid to throw away. The first time I heard a computer-inclined friends speak of the operating system Unix, I thought they were talking about eunuchs. Clearly, I've reconciled myself to the fact that I will never be cutting edge in this regard.

In some ways, however, I am glad that our training this summer is introducing us to these new technologies- the fact that we can share and edit lesson plans as a community (and have them as a resource in the future) is a collaborative application I know I will come to love. But having everything online- the gradebook, attendance, teacher movement and schedule- and having it all constantly in flux and checked daily for evaluation really frightens me. There is so much information being given to us about how to use all these applications, and each time we move on to a new thing, I forget the instructions for the one we just discussed.

I'll get the hang of it eventually, I'm sure, but I'm a little shocked by how technology has passed me by while I was off studying Latin and Greek. For now, Google Docs makes me yearn for a small, quiet cabin without internet access.

After a long, back-straining drive down from New England, I've finally made it to Oxford and to the beginning of MTC's summer training. The first few days of any endeavor for me are always tinged with nervous excitement, and this new chapter was no exception. What will the other first and second years be like? How will we plan for the summer school teaching? Will I survive the readjustment to Southern humidity? After only a few days, I already begin to sense the camaraderie and common purpose that bind us all together, despite our individual personalities and varied backgrounds.

These first few days have been a flurry of introductions- both to Mississippi and to one another, ice-breakers, and, dare I say, displays of physical prowess on the part of the first years. Moments of levity (arm-wrestling!) were tempered by honest assessments of Mississippi's past and her characteristic attitudes toward change. Certainly, I never thought I would singlehandedly influence the culture of education in this state, but I now realize that even moving in the direction of openness and accountability will be harder than I thought. I am reminded of the phrase a family member from Alabama always used to say: "Thank God for Mississippi" - meaning that at least one state in the union occupied a lower spot on the ladder than Alabama did. James Meredith, forced integration, the rise and fall of segregation academies, white flight: Dr. Mullins impressed upon us that things do change in Mississippi, but they will change at their own pace. As trite as a Faulkner quote is in Mississippi, "The past is not dead, it's not even past."

I am thrilled to be here and excited about teaching English II and III this summer at the summer school. The second years I've met are encouraging and helpful, and I am so glad they are here for us to pick their brains. Oxford is a lovely, picturesque town; the heat and humidity are much more tolerable than summers in Tallahassee, and I have a new, long list of books to read and places to go. I am happy.

A thunderstorm is raging outside, the wisteria outside my window has finally arrived, and there is much to be done before my trek down to Mississippi. The last weeks of crew practice, the Sisyphean task of packing boxes, final grades and comments, saying goodbyes: right now it all seems a little overwhelming even without the mundane addition of major car problems.

However, I do feel compelled to voice the excitement I'm already starting to feel this very moment- the promise of a new place (finally being back in my native South!), the opportunity to do some interesting and vital work both individually and collectively. It will be a comfort to be back where iced tea is not a "seasonal item" (What are you thinking, Massachusetts?) and work with a group of people committed to the redefinition of public education.

Am I overly idealistic? Probably. But I do know what a class of 9th graders is like both after lunch and first thing in the morning; I've seen the full force of an administration, and I have realized the folly of trying to teach the pluperfect passive subjunctive on a beautiful day in May- in other words, I still have a quite a bit of optimism left to squander on the Jackson Public School District. As Hamlet notes, "the readiness is all." (Though in this case for good, not for murder, clearly...)

I leave on June 2nd; let's hope my poor ol' car makes it!

Oh, and mirabiliae means 'wonders'. I can't help it; I'm a Latinist.