When I was younger I developed a personal theory that if you put positive energy out there, it will come back to bless you - not necessarily from the same place where you invested it... but it *does* return.
For example, if I was in need of a new job I would send out fifty or a hundred resumes and happily know that at least one of them would yield a new workplace. They always did... even though quite often, it wasn't the place I would have "chosen" for myself. Life typically had different, better plans for me.
When I first earned my certification to teach Gifted and Talented kids in elementary school, I wanted very much to find a position close to the community where I was living at the time. I felt comfortable there, safe in my own little sphere.
I applied for every possible post in every 'nice' neighborhood where I imagined I would enjoy working. I dreamed of walking or riding my bicycle to work... of checking out the ocean on my lunch breaks or after school.
The job I was actually offered however, on the spot at the interview, was not an elementary school job. It was also nowhere close to where I lived but instead half a city away.
The school itself sat in a lower-income area and most students were bussed in from an even LOWER income area. The kids I was asked to teach were seventh graders (12 and 13 years old)... an age feared and reviled by even the most dedicated and loving teachers, thanks to its saucy, belligerent"tweens".
The gifted students I encountered were nothing like the ones I'd trained for. They wore teeny short shorts (girls) and sagging pants (boys) to school. They carried chain wallets and specialized in graffiti art called tagging. Many of them didn't speak English that well, and had no English language input or reinforcement at home. They'd shown their giftedness in Math, Art, Science... most of them had not been "identified" as gifted for their language skills.
They were sassy. They were crude. They were rude. Sometimes they frightened me with their potential for violence and their gang memberships outside of school. I drove home to my peaceful neighborhood every day for the first month of the teaching job sobbing, wondering how I'd ended up at that school with those kids.
And then, the miracle happened.
One day I awoke and realized that I truly loved those kids. Some kid had wormed his or her way into my heart, and that was it... the rest of them all rushed in. I was toast. I'd gotten to know them all well, and they all now mattered to me.
Love made my heart strong, made my spirit strong. I no longer noticed their sassy banter... and when I did, I bantered right back in a more professional way. I no longer noticed their short shorts or sagging pants, other than to quietly offer to loan them clothes if they didn't have anything else to wear to school. I no longer cared about their gang affiliations; if anything, it made me more determined to show them a different kind of life, give them a glimpse of all the opportunity they could have if they succeeded in school.
I stopped wishing to teach at a different campus to a different demographic. Instead I dug my heels in right where I was and vowed that every single one of those kids was going to grow and thrive on my watch, and I worked long hours before and after school to provide them with the kind of education I believed they deserved.
It's funny how miracles work... I took the rowboat that God sent because there was no other option at the time, and as it turned out that rowboat turned out to be my dream vessel.
During my years at that school, I felt professionally fulfilled and loved my work. I learned so much from my students who represented a wide spectrum of life that I'd never spent much time around before... not just Hispanic or African-American students but also Vietnamese, Korean, Filipino and Malaysian. I learned about their home lives, their culture, their foods. I got to know their music, their teen idols, their ideas about love and marriage.
I learned just as much from those kids as they ever did from me, and in the process, we truly bonded with each other. I probably would have stayed at that school forever, had I not gotten a pink slip at the end of both my years there due to school district budget cuts. When I was laid off for the second time (with a wink-wink from the principal letting me know that she thought they'd be able to find a way to hire me back), I decided that I needed better job security than this... and I went out and landed an incredible job at a progressive charter school.
In the end though, my years with the "inner city youth" (can you call them that? how do they possibly fit that label?) represented some of the most beautiful, fulfilling, inspiring times I can remember experiencing as a teacher.
Students in affluent areas who have devoted parents willing to go the extra mile for their education (namely, students like my own children) are going to be fine. They are very unlikely to fall through any cracks, because someone is always going to be looking out for them to provide a safety net.
Those gifted, impoverished seventh graders I taught did not (in many ways) have a safety net. They were walking right on the edge between success and disaster, all of the time. Many had only one parent at home who worked all the time, or parents where deployed overseas. Some hadt had suffered abuse at the hands of their own relatives, or experienced the ravages of parental alcoholism.
Some lived with grandparents, and some were busy raising their younger siblings. Many, many of my students at that school were already sexually active - at the age of 12. Some were involved with drugs, and others had tremendous pressure within their home neighborhoods to join gangs and commit acts of violence. Some had already been targeted by acts of violence.
For many of these kids, I may well have been the one teacher who stood out - who made a difference just by believing in their potential and devoting myself wholly to their education and well-being. Someday I may run into one of them on the street or in a grocery store and if they say, "You were the teacher who made a difference for me," I will actually believe it because I know where they were coming from in life. They didn't have a whole lot of support.
In the end, being their teacher was one of the most blessed actions I have ever undertaken. There was truly an angel on my shoulder on the day I was offered and accepted that job.
Nearly ten years later, I'm once again hoping that same angel is with me... guiding me even now, even when finances have looked grim and health uncertain. I trust that whatever is coming is taking my family in an important direction.
This week I have begun to put my career energy back out there to see where I am meant to devote whatever portion of my time my children can spare. I'm throwing a lot of resumes into the wind again, wondering where they will land. This time though, the resumes look more like flyers... I'm gearing up to work for myself as a private tutor, so I can set my own hours around the needs of my family.
As I type address labels for each flyer, I find myself wondering where they are going to end up. What families will these flyers bring into my life and the lives of my children? What life-changing, perspective enhancing situations will I encounter as a result of putting myself 'back out there' again?
How will this positive energy I am sending into the world come back to bless my family this time?
I feel great faith in the process, and some excitement. My future is at hand and I can't wait to find out what the angels have in store for me next!
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