Kinbaku-bi

Contrasts

I make sure I am in my classroom at most an hour before the first bell. Some parents are early birds and like to drop their children off as soon as possible. I have no issue with that. It allows me to get to know my students more to be an even better and effective teacher. Most times, I like to bring pastries in the mornings for the children who don't have breakfast at home. The school district I teach in is far more well off than the public school I went to growing up. We had free or "reduced" rate meals based on our parents' income, which, for the most part, was low. Most of my friends got free lunch, just like me. It was rare to see someone pay full price for lunch. It was as if they didn't belong. In this district, it's implied that every student comes from a well off- or well off enough household. So, they don't serve breakfast here—just a gentrified, expensive ass lunch.

I have no issues with the caliber of food they have here. I am happy the students here have a healthier variety of food. I remember eating mock-chicken legs and starchy ass mashed potatoes with watery gravy on top. You can't forget the variety of drinks we had: white milk, chocolate milk, and strawberry milk. On a good day, we'd have the Minute Maid push-up pops for dessert. If you can't tell already, I came from humble beginnings. Even as an instructor, sometimes I feel as if I don't belong here. Often, I see the contrasts in how my students are growing up versus me. But everything I endured made me into the woman I am now.

Although it's a good school district, you can decipher who comes from families with money and those who are barely making it. With how I grew up, I can see that shit clear as day. So, I bring pastries, offer after school tutoring sessions (free of charge) for the students' parents who have to work later to make ends meet. I've been there, done that, and got the T-shirt.

The school is diverse-ish. About fifty percent Caucasian, thirty percent African American, and the other twenty percent is everything else. Classroom sizes are an exact representation of the percentage breakdown. Classroom size ranges from 15-18 students, making teaching more manageable and more effective because of the level of intimacy involved. You get to know your students on a personal level. You get to understand their backgrounds, talk to them more. The average class for a public school is at least 30 students, with teachers who are underpaid and overworked. When you mix in lousy parenting and poverty, it adds more havoc to the classroom. The teachers lose empathy, compassion, and the drive to bring in the next generation. Those kids grow up with nothing instilled in them except knowing that their teachers didn't give a damn about them. That they were just getting pushed out for graduation because the teachers didn't want to deal with them anymore.

You have several scenarios that will happen to these children. One: The kids become young adults, make bad decisions, often landing them in jail. Two: The children become young adults, make bad decisions that unfortunately ends with them being dead. Three: You'll have children who are simply victims of their circumstances and get caught in the cycle of poverty and never make it out. Have some children and create the process once again. Lastly, four: The children who make it out. Either going to college, getting a good job, starting a family, or simply moving away starting at a new beginning, or they stay and decide to break the generational curses placed upon them. They build themselves and their communities from the ground up. I know it sounds harsh, but that's the way things are where I'm from. I've seen these scenarios happen to multiple people in my class.

I keep this in mind every day when I come to work. If I can help it, if I can instill something in my students, if I can make the slightest difference, I know I did something right. I don't want to turn on the news years down the line to see one of my fourth graders grew up to be killed out on the street. However, life happens.

On a brighter note, I have a solid group of kids. They are all unique in their way, and I make sure I tell them that. All seem to come from nonproblematic families. I have my spotlight students, students who need a little more nurturing, and the students in between. In class today, I'm teaching biology. The students are learning what animal and plant cells consist of. The public and private schools have one thing in common: having their students learn things that don't help contribute to their lives later down the road. Are some things important? Maybe. However, I teach what I am told to teach. 

The students- for the most part- are receptive to my lesson plans. Sometimes I'll have a student or two drift off, but I bring them back. Today one of my favorite children in my class was not engaged in my lesson plan at all. As an instructor, I know I shouldn't have favorites. However, he's the sweetest kid. He often shares his lunch with some of his less fortunate friends. He helps his peers when they don't understand the lesson. He's quiet but competent. A quiet storm. It seems as if he had something serious on his mind. He kept peeking out the window. The sunlight beamed into the classroom that day. It strokes against his tightly coiled hair. He is one of four brown-skinned students in the classroom. So, I had to make sure he succeeded in my class.

After writing my last definition on the board, I turn around to engage with my class. He is once again daydreaming out the window. Out of concern, I ask, "Prince, are you okay today? It seems as if something is on your mind.". The class looks at me, then turns to him to wait on his response. As he turns his head from the window, he expresses, "Yes, ma'am, I am okay. I was looking at the Hummingbirds outside. I enjoy bird watching.". The rest of the students looked at him, then turned to me to wait for my response. I didn't have one. I smiled, nodded, and continued with my lesson plan.