Schooled.

I'm really, terribly grateful for my job. It suits me so well and I honestly don't think there's another position out there that combines the elements of international work, Spanish, focus on reconciliation, theological education, church interaction, spiritual formation, and being with college students. To leave would be to acknowledge I am giving up something rare.

I know to be daily grateful for my work because I used to cry or feel the dreaded knot in my stomach or both every morning pulling into the parking lots of International Christian School, Wilson Middle School, and Sojourner Truth Charter. In my former life, I was an elementary school teacher. Besides feeling too confined in the role, I believe I was also cursed with crappy leaders. The administrators over me lorded their power, moved about the campus with robotic, cold affect, and some were downright corrupt. The third school was actually shut down because the principal and VP ran off with millions of charter school money. Gross. I couldn't imagine starting over at another school, so my inclination to leave the profession solidified into my resignation.

When I reflect on my days in the classroom from my happy stance today, I thankfully recall the funniest, sweetest, more rewarding moments. So, mostly for my own enjoyment and hopefully yours too, a few memories...

* At the start of our poetry unit, my 5th graders had to create a couplet. Simple enough. I walked around the classroom reminding them to really try on this one. Just two rhyming lines wouldn't be good enough. It needed to communicate a point. This was an assignment they could tackle fairly easily, so the room worked in silence. Out loud, asking for all the class' input, Paris called out, "What rhymes with playa'?" Oh no... a couplet with Playa as the central character. Without two seconds' hesitation or removing her eyes from her paper, BreShaun remarked, "Hatah".

* Lorenzo was a small, shy Native American boy - the only non-African American in the class. He mostly only spoke about video games and had the most over-bearing, helicopter mom I'd experienced in my 3 years of teaching. Rough combo in 5th grade. Grading papers after school one day, I noticed he signed his name at the top of the paper as "Blazaken". Hmmm. I kept him behind at recess the next morning to inquire about the name change. "Lorenzo, What's up with this?" "Miss Tucker, I'd just really like to go by Blazaken from now on." Uh-oh. Social suicide. I couldn't participate in this. "Ok. You know and I know that you are Blazaken, but I think if the rest of the class finds out you have this special identity, they might be jealous. How about we keep this one just between you and me?" "Soooo, you won't call my Blazaken in front of the class, but I can turn in papers like that?" "Sure." I learned later that Blazaken was a Pokemon character. Of course. The best part of this story is how Rosco calls out "Buh-laaaaa-zaaaa-keehhhn!!!!" in this sort of creepy, booming wizard kind of voice.

* My best language teachers were my 6th graders in Costa Rica. I taught them in English, but if I ever had to use Spanish, they were mercilessly particular. I think they relished having this knowledge power over me. To practice subject-verb agreement one day, I wrote a paragraph about a dog. A simple little dumb paragraph. The first dog that came to mind was my grandparents' dog, Penny. So, I wrote the story about Pene. Midway through the assignment, kids were literally falling out of their chairs and giggling annoyingly. Subject-verb agreement is NOT this fun. What??? Turns out, "pene" in Spanish is "penis".

* Teaching sex ed to my 6th graders could be a whole post on its own. I'll share just one story. I thoroughly loved teaching sex ed. The kids gave full attention, which was lovely, and I knew I was doing them a service. I was delivering appropriate info in a confident way, and they were invited to respond with similar maturity. Remember the secret/not-so-secret question box? This was my favorite part of the whole experience because it kept me on my toes. Now, in 6th grade sex ed, you teach about anatomy, puberty, STDs and HIV/AIDS. Notice there is no education on actual sex in there. That comes in 8th grade. When kids ask about sex-sex, you have to avert the mechanical how of it all, though you can loosely refer to it. Tricky. I explained this, but still got the question: "When Snoop Dogg sings about doggie style, what is that?" Ummm, "Who has a dog in here?" Lots of hands. "Have you ever seen two dogs be connected in a strange way?" More hands. "People do that too." I didn't get fired, so I take it that was acceptable.

The great lesson of going on blind dates is - even if the date fails miserably, you'll at least have a story. It makes the whole thing less of a big thing. You laugh, recall the event better than it awkwardly was, and move on with a little more info about yourself and life to work with. I guess my outlook on life is similar. Look for the stories. You never know when Blazaken might strike.

ps: I've got it! My next post will be my best/worst blind date story so far...