Speaking of adulthood...

About 6 seconds after I published the last post, I remembered an article I read last night called "What Is It About 20-Somethings?" And of course I laughed, because it turns out that apparently I fit into that 20-something "I'm-terrified-of-growing-up" category. There have been a number of articles, even books, written on the topic in recent months and years and everyone (Psychologists, sociologists, politicians, church leaders and especially our parents) asks the same questions: What's going on with the 20-somethings? Why are my friends and I leaving our budding careers to go "back to school" or to travel the world for a few months? Why are we still single? Are we just spoiled, self-indulgent adults who are shying away from real responsibility? Why do we need so much time to "find ourselves"?

From the above-mentioned article: "The traditional cycle seems to have gone off course, as young people remain un­tethered to romantic partners or to permanent homes, going back to school for lack of better options, traveling, avoiding commitments, competing ferociously for unpaid internships or temporary (and often grueling) Teach for America jobs, forestalling the beginning of adult life. "

I really wish I knew the answers to all those questions. Mostly because I'd probably win some sort of Nobel Prize if I could sort out all our issues (and I hear that comes with quite a chunk of change), but also because maybe then I'd have more insight into myself. This is a rather expansive topic and I don't want to write a book on the subject (why do you think I picked a Masters program that doesn't require a thesis?), but I want to look at the 5 milestones our author isolated that represent our transition into adulthood.

1. Finishing school. High School. Check. Bachelors? Check. Masters? Give me a couple years. The reasoning behind this one makes sense. We've been in school since we were 4 or 5, so it's logical that once we're done, we've reached adulthood. But what about those of us who finished school, worked for a few years and then went back to school? Is that a sign that we couldn't handle the responsibilities of being an adult? Maybe. A lot of our parents have stuck with their first post-college jobs for 20, even 30 years. So why can't my generation stick with it? Why the rush to "go back to school"?

For me, I decided that when I woke up every morning dreading going into work and secretly wishing for mono just so I could stay home sick for a month, it was time to do something else. I don't think that our parents just magically all loved their jobs. But we've convinced ourselves that our jobs should be entertaining, lucrative and emotionally rewarding and since a lot of us aren't married (see #4), we have the luxury of going back to school or switching careers in search of something that's a better fit. By the time my dad was 25, he had 1.5 children and quitting a job to go back to school would have been a much bigger hardship than it is for me.

And, lest you think I'm trying to rationalize all our behavior, partly I think we go back to school because we're simply indecisive. There are so many opportunities out there that we don't want to commit to just one. Sure, I like my current job, but what if there's something better? What if being a teacher is more rewarding than engineering? Shouldn't I give it a shot?

2. Moving out. Done. Except for a summer after my freshmen year of college and 6 weeks after I graduated, I pretty much moved out of my parents house the August after high school. I don't ever plan on moving back, although I am grateful that the option is still there if I ever needed it (I'm assuming at least. Mom? Correct me if I'm wrong?). I'm not sure if having the "i could always move back home" back-up plan disqualifies me from adulthood.

3. Financial independence. Again, a pretty obvious indicator of adulthood. I have friends that hit this one as soon as they graduated from high school and a few more friends who I suspect will never make it there. If you read my last post (yes, I'm spending far too much of my last day of freedom blogging), you noticed that a lot of the surprising/depressing realizations about adulthood were financial.

4. Marriage. I wish I knew. Like most of the intelligent, beautiful women that I associate with, I do want to be married someday. To be honest, it strikes me as quite remarkable that compatible people ever find each other at the right time, etc. etc., but I have faith and hope that things will work out, that the Lord knows me better than I know myself and that he will guide this one.

I do want to answer probably the most frustrating question I've gotten: "So, are all the women in DC like you, moved out east to pursue a career instead of getting married and settling down?"

The cynic in me replies, "Yep, that's it. And we especially like it when people accuse us of wanting to be eternally single." But I realize that's probably not the best answer. We 20-something women out here did NOT come here to avoid marriage. Believe me, there are thousands of cities all over this country with negligible social scenes if that was our goal. Most of us came here because we are single and because we saw that single-ness as an opportunity to improve ourselves and make a difference in the world. It's not that we're choosing careers over marriage and families. But I think we would all agree that a happy, productive individual is much more pleasant that someone who whines about being single all the time.

I will agree, however, that marital status is an enormous dividing line, especially in the church. We are designated as "young single adults" and then "single adults". More thoughts on that later. But yes, despite careers and education levels, etc., it seems that my friends who are married have been accepted into the church's "adult" club much more readily than we singles have.

5. Children. No way. Not happening until after #4.


I reiterate: I have no real solid answers. I do recognize how easy it is to get self-absorbed in this current situation and I know in my own experience that I'm considerably happier when I'm actively and "anxiously engaged in a good cause" than when I'm trying to figure out my life. I also, however, entirely agree with the author that we all feel the "30 Deadline" creeping up on us faster than we'd like. I'm searching for a way to feel content with my current situation in life but to continue progressing and reaching my goals. And although it still scares me a little, adulthood has its perks, right? I'd love your thoughts.

"I teach high school"

In just over two weeks, I won't be able to say that anymore.

For the past 3-ish years, those four words have been a huge part of my identity. Countless hours of small talk at evite parties, ward functions and chatting with new folks in my parents' ward has been consumed by me explaining what I do, where I do it and why. But being a "Teacher" isn't just a talking point. I am constantly in teacher mode - how can I teach this principle? How can I model appropriate behavior? I can't shut up when I'm with friends at Arlington Cemetery or about 3 dozen other sites in and around DC. And not 30 seconds ago I corrected a friend's spelling (though in my defense, she asked). I am a teacher.

So what happens when the label "Teacher" has been removed? Don't get me wrong, I'm not rethinking my decision to quit and go back to school this fall. I'm just searching for a way to re-identify myself, to explain why after only 3 years in the profession I'm leaving it for something else. Am I a "former teacher"? I feel too young to be a former anything. Am I just someone who needed the "inner city experience" for a few years to feel good about myself? Am I giving up too early? I don't want to be any of those things.

On one hand, I will always be a teacher. It has become a part of me. I apologize in advance to those of you who hang out with me at a museum or another particularly teacher-y location. I will continue to explain the history behind whatever monument / event / person we are visiting - I just can't help that.

And clearly, there are other things that define me. I am a daughter of God with limitless divine potential. I am a Chamberlain, the oldest daughter of wonderful parents who have set a high bar for their children. I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I'm an Idaho girl trying to make it in the big city. I will shortly become a student again and that just thrills me. I'm a daughter and a sister and a friend and I love each role that I play. But I think that despite how frustrated I am currently with my job, I'm going to miss the role of teacher a whole lot.

words of wisdom

Student 1: "ms. chamberlain, is Jewish a religion or a race?"
Student 2: "it's a religion right? because i'm Jewish, but that doesn't mean i'm from Jew-land"

♫ when i required students to send me a message from our online grade system so i knew they had logged in to their grades:

"hi ms. chamberlain this is amber i am just emailing you because you told me to and i really don't
have anything else to talk about so.. yeah im going to go now."

"i think white people with dreads look like they need to pour water on it. like it looks like sawdust"

prior to the first parent-teacher conference: "MRS. chamberlain, i'm excited you get to meet my parents tonight. you'll recognize them because my dad is really tall and my mom looks just like me."
my (internal) response: "i'll also recognize them because they're white."

"ms. chamberlain, are Africans considered African-American?"

and the follow-up question: "if a white American guy marries an African woman, are their kids African-American?"

"ms. chamberlain, your eyelashes are blond on top!!!" (after i've spent 3 minutes lecturing her on some behavioral infraction.)


despite all the drama, these little gems always just make my day

Let Freedom Ring

Text from my co-worker yesterday morning:

"U hear that... no students!"

This is why I love being a teacher.



I'll stop gloating after today, I promise.

No more pencils, no more books... (almost)

Dear Students,

Please do not come to me AFTER you failed 3 advisories and got a D on your final to ask me if you can do any extra credit. The answer will always be no.

If I can't tell the difference between "d" and an "a", I will mark the question wrong.

Yes, Life Is Beautiful is in a different language (about 25 minutes into the movie).

No, you may not leave the classroom with your whole bookbag in the middle of a test. Nor may you come back and finish it tomorrow.

"King of England" is not a sufficient description for Henry VIII, so don't try to argue for extra points.

Yes, I love you all, but I will probably not miss you one bit over the summer. And let's be honest, you won't miss me either.


Signed,

A still-Grumpy-but-slightly-Amused teacher.

Am I being unreasonable?

Dear administration,

Next time you create a final exam schedule, please don't hold an assembly at the same time as one of the tests.

Signed,
Grumpy Teacher

Stranded

A colleague of mine has a couple kids at the school and lives near several others, so she drives a few of the students to school every day. One of these students has been in my history class for the past two years (I teach two different classes, not because he failed), so I've gotten to know him pretty well. He's a very bright student, pretty quiet and very talented overall. He's the student that I really have to plan my lessons for, making sure that I'm challenging him enough.

Yesterday morning, this colleague reported that during their morning commute, they had been discussing whow they would take with them if they were stranded on a desert island. Apparently this student wanted to have me along "because she knows where everything is." When she reminded him that knowing geography might not be too crucial on a desert island, he told her that "Ms. Chamberlain just knows EVERYTHING."

I'm glad I've got someone fooled. :)

Snow Day

To anyone living in the DC area: Yes, I teach school in DC. No, school wasn't cancelled today. Yes, I'm being a little bitter/sarcastic with my post title here. No, no children actually came to school today.

To everyone:
After yesterday's snow and the freezing rain that followed, I was praying hard that the district would break their tradition of keeping schools open when everything around us shut down. As the ice thickened, I figured my chances of a snow day were getting better. I woke up this morning (three times, actually), to check the district and the WP websites only to discover that EVERY district for about 100 miles (maybe further, but they don't report those in the WP) was closed. Except mine, which had a "Two hour delay". We didn't have those back home, but the idea is to start school two hours late in order for the roads to clear enough to get kids safely to school.

After whining to my roommates and another friend, I finally accepted the fact that I'd have to go in to work, and turned to the first task at hand: De-icing my car. Walking down the front stairs was hard enough! This is what I found:

Maybe not that unusual for some of you, but I'm from Boise. We hardly even get snow, much less ice storms. It took about 20 minutes to actually get my car drive-able.

Once I actually got off of our street, the roads were fine (which is good, because I swore that if I started sliding at all on the ice, I was turning right around and spending the day at home). Upon getting to work, however, I discovered that my principal had sent us an email this morning saying that our school wouldn't be starting until 11:30. Which is lunchtime, meaning that I would really only be there to "teach" from 12:30 - 1:55. Lovely. We rounded up all the social studies classes (about 18 kids total from 5 combined classes) and showed a documentary on apartheid. Sure glad I went into work for that.

You could argue with me that the government stayed open (with liberal leave), that the roads were fine, etc. I agree- my commute could have been much worse, and I actually did get some things done today. But I'm still mourning my snow day.

A Rose By Any Other Name...

The spellings of my name I have seen in grading papers today:

Chamberlan
Chamberlin
Chamberlaine
Chamerlain
Chamberland

Really? Come on, guys.

Sick Day

Wednesday I took a bona fide sick day for the first time in a very very long time. It turns out that a "sick day" is a lot more exciting in theory than in reality. Here's the schedule:

6:00 am - Alarm goes off and I decide not to go to work. Not coherent enough to make the phone call.

7:05 am - Finally get up and call the office to request a sub. Text my co-worker Natalie to have her prep my room for a sub (Thanks, Nat!)

8:10 am - Call Nat to make sure she got my text. Grab a waterbottle & go back to bed

10:40 am - I crawl out of bed and make it as far as the couch. Watch Monday night's "Chuck" (for the second time) and finish writing a test on ancient Egypt.

12:30 pm - Decide I should probably eat something. Tuesday night's leftovers? Perfect.

2:00 pm - Naptime!

3:00 pm - Get up and return to the couch for tv and to write a worksheet for my unit on SE Asia. Sad that I spend my sick day working, I know. I also discovered today (when I passed out the assignment) that I shouldn't write tests/homework assignments when I'm not quite lucid.

4:30 pm - Naptime #2

Somehow the sick day didn't translate to my evening, which ended up as busy as ever. Bridal gown shopping with Diana and Book Club with Jay, Kim, Janine and Louise.

Sick Friday night in, on the other hand, is actually much more exciting. While it might be fun to hang out with friends, evite party small talk is much less enjoyable if you don't have a voice. So...after a nice long afternoon nap and curling up in bed to watch last night's "30 Rock", I made a quick run to Pentagon Row to pick up some Baja Fresh take-out. Then plopped down on the couch with my awesome roommate Amanda to watch a tv (extended?) version of Harry Potter 1 and try out a Serendipity Frozen Hot Chocolate mix. Yum. And the best part is that I don't have to talk.

My best friend this week. Thanks to my awesome VTs for replenishing my supply!

They don't pay me enough

Some days I feel like I'm babysitting. Take today, for instance.

In my 6th period class, one student comes to class with his lunch because he had been rehearsing for dance class during lunch. Fine, take the tardy, sit in the hall for 5 minutes and eat your lunch.

Student #2 had just taken medication that completely knocked her out - she answers two questions on today's quiz before falling completely asleep. Knowing her history, I decide just to let her take it later and sleep through the class.

This particular class has quite a number of dancers. Student #3 cannot hold still long enough to take his test. The rest of the class finishes while he is making all sorts of hand gestures and (momentarily) tries to balance a tupperware lid on his head. I take the lid and his test away.

The quiz ends. Students continue working on a mapping assignment from the previous day. Student #4 has already completed his map and is thumbing through the atlas in his textbook. In an attempt to challenge him / keep him occupied, I pull out a stash of (fairly difficult) National Geographic quiz questions (thank you, Dad!) and discover that he's a geography whiz. Awesome.

Classes end. I sit down to take a break and to get some grading done. Student #5 is wandering the halls because her piano lab teacher isn't there today, and she needs someone to talk to. I don't know about you, but never would have gone to a high school teacher for dating advice.

Lunch. Check.

Naptime. Check.

Discipline. Check.

Educational entertainment. Check.

Shoulder to cry on. Check.

Define the word "late"

So I've failed. It's been almost more than four months since I've blogged, which is really unfortunate because tucked inside those months was a kickin' summer break with lots of great story material. Sometime I'll actually get around to posting pictures, but you'll have to create your own captions.

My newest motivation for blogging is the realization that I talk about work too much. I'm hoping that if I write it, maybe I won't be so compelled to complain and/or tell stories about my kids. No promises, though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

12:30 pm. The bell rings, marking the beginning of my 5th period class. About half the class walks in a minute or two late, which in Ellington terms, is still early. Class starts, we discuss last night's (awful!) presidential debate and our thought-provoking quote for the day ("Illegal immigration has always been a problem in America; just ask any Native American"). The students had just finished a practice quiz on European geography when the door opens and my favorite (cough) student walks in.

Me: "Why are you 30 minutes late for class?"

Student: "I'm not late!"

Me: "Class starts at 12:30, and it is now 1:00. By definition, you are late."

Student: "But, I was downstairs with that guy. I didn't bring a note from him, but he'll write me an excuse note."

Me: "What were you doing downstairs? And what guy?"

Student: "The security guard guy. I went to the bathroom, he saw me go in there!"

Me: "So you've been in the bathroom for the past half hour?", generously thinking maybe he had been sick or something.

Student: "No!! I just went to the bathroom and then came out. That's why I'm late. He saw me go in there."

Me (by now, very confused/annoyed/amused): "Let me see if I can get this straight. The security guard is going to write you a note excusing you from class because you went to the bathroom? Which, incidentally, you should have done at lunch?"

Student: "But lunch is for eating!!!! You can't mark me late!"

Why do I even respond? Honestly, pure entertainment value. His excuses got worse and worse as the conversation continued. And he just can't figure out why he's failing all his classes. Why they blame teachers for poor performance is beyond me.

You're doing what, again?

Why is it that every time I take the time to sit down at my computer to post, I completely draw blank on what might be fun to write/interesting to read? I'm working on it. In the meantime...

"Washington D.C.? Really?"

"You're kidding, right?"

While I've heard it phrased a number of different ways, this is the general reaction that I get from people back home when I tell them what I'm currently doing with my life. I figure I should spend a little time explaining why I'm doing what I'm doing. In case you need an update, I spent my last semester of BYU (Jan-April 2007) in Washington DC doing my student teaching at Duke Ellington School of the Arts. Think of the movie "Step Up", but a slightly more ghetto version. Now, most people thought I was a bit crazy for student teaching here, but just passed it off as another one of my little adventures before my real life started. The shock came when I moved back to DC a month and a half later in hopes of teaching there permanently. Yes, I agree with all of you that teaching is hard enough without adding in the inner-city element. And I also agree that it's a little unusual for a little white girl from Eagle, Idaho to end up teaching in Washington DC. But I've always felt that if I were to teach, I should go to a place where I'm really needed. Not just as a history teacher, but as someone who can meet these kids where they're at, and help them get to where they can/want to be.

Let me introduce you to my world.

www.ellingtonschool.org

Stories will be forthcoming. (And there's no shortage of them, so watch out.)

The First Day of School (or My Pre-Teaching Anxiety Resolved)

Last Wednesday morning, I had one of those lightbulb moments. You know the ones I'm talking about - when you have the sudden realization that you've been thinking about something all wrong for years. An epiphany that really changes the way you look at something. Well, on Wednesday morning, I discovered that teachers at at least as nervous to go back to school as the students are. My knees were shaking as I trudged up the steps to the school, as I skirted around the security guards and the metal detector (after convincing them that I was, in fact, a teacher) and as I climbed the steps to my classroom. They were still shaking as I walked back down those steps because my classroom was locked and the key taken by the room's former occupant.

My school, however, has discovered an ingenious way of curing new teachers of that nervousness. Imagine this: you've slammed your finger in the door, and it's throbbing madly. Just as it gets to the point where you can't take it anymore, someone cuts it off. The finger, I mean. The initial problem - gone. Unfortunately, a much bigger problem has taken its place.

So there I was, a shaky-kneed first-year teacher trying desperately to calm her nerves and prepare her still-locked classroom for her first class. I also still hadn't received a roll or any sort of list showing who would be in my class. First period (my prep period) drags by, prolonging the time when I would actually face my first class. The bell fails to ring to announce the start of second period, so I stand patiently at the door for an extra few minutes to welcome the stragglers into class, direct them to their seat and point out the warm-up assignment written on the board. There are 12 (read: twelve) of them, all told. To those of you from Utah or Idaho, where a normal class size is about 40, this might seem tremendously small. In actuality, our classes usually run between 15 and 25, so I wasn't shocked by 12. When only four students showed up to my third period class, and even fewer in the succeeding four class periods, I began to worry. My nervousness about the first day was gone, replaced by frustration at the much larger problem at hand. I had only seen 18 students all day. Total. Students schedules hadn't been finalized before school started (and actually still haven't been finalized, a week later), leaving students with glaring gaps in their schedules. Students I had last year would find me in the halls: "Ms Chamberlain, can I come be in your class? I don't have a history class."

Aha. Anxiety gone.

My very own "Office Romance"

A hiccup in my summer teaching job (translation: DCPS fell through with their original offer) landed me in Falls Church as a payroll clerk for a security company. Now, I don't know how many of you have ever worked for security, but there are a lot of interesting people in the profession.

The company recently expanded, but hasn't yet moved into an office big enough to accommodate all the new employees, so for the first few weeks, I camped out on a small corner of the conference table in the room which I generally shared with 4 or 5 other people. Two of those people run one of the newer contracts in the company, and are constantly hiring new security officers. Applicants come in and out of the room all day, asking questions, filling out paperwork, etc. On one afternoon, my co-workers had stepped out, and I had the conference room to myself for five blessed minutes. Soon, however, the silence was interrupted by an applicant who I thought was looking for Alicia. He peered in through the door for a few seconds without saying anything, and then without any introduction:

Potential Employee: "Girl! You as fine as hell! Can I take you out sometime?"

Me: "Umm. Well." Trying hard not to laugh. "Hmm, I don't really think so."

Him: "What, you married? You have a boyfriend or somethin'?"

Me: "No, not exactly." At this point I should have just lied and said Yes.

Him: "It's 'cause I'm black, ain't it? You ever been out with a black man before?"

At this point it becomes useless to recall exact conversation. I struggled, probably in vain, to convince him that I had no problem dating someone who wasn't white. It was more the complete stranger thing that was keeping me from going out with him. He vacated the room soon afterwards, perhaps still unconvinced, and left me with a laugh