Long Time Gone

It's been a very long time since I've posted, and for good reason: My LA Service Adventure ended and really there was no more reason to continue writing about it. Or so I thought.

It's been an interesting year, filled with lots of questions: Why am I here? Where am I going? Who am I going to be? What am I going to do? How am I going to get OUT of here?

I've spent a good deal of the dreary, grey months of this mild Wisconsin winter scribbling in my journal, praying for clarity and digging in my heart and mind for the answers to these questions. The answer came just a few days ago:

Graduate School. In Los Angeles. Teaching at a private high school in my dream job as an English/History teacher.

I have orientation this weekend (my flight leaves at 5:16 pm tonight!) and I'm a combination of nerves, excitement, reluctance and ambition. I can't wait to start my classes, planning my lessons and getting to know my students. On the other hand, I'm not so sure about living in community again (a requirement of the program)and I'm hesitant to give up the freedoms I've enjoyed as an independent "adult". I've had my fill of "ice breakers" and "where are you from? what did you study? Oh, that's so cool!" and "You are here for a very important reason..." That said, at the end of these two years I will receive a "debt free" Master's degree in Childhood and Adolescent Literacy from a very well-respected private university, have 2 years of urban teaching experience under my belt and (hopefully) have grown my professional network and as a result gained the keys to countless doors of opportunity that would be locked otherwise.

So this is another beginning to another adventure. I'm going to keep the title of this blog because, even though "service" isn't the main part of this endeavor, it will still be an important element to the overall experience, both for my students and for me.

Are you ready for this? I hope I am!

Closing Time...for real.

9 days and I'm back in Wisconsin, helping Chuck load up his fair animals and hauling them to Seymour.

A stark contrast from crowded freeways, rumbling city buses, skinny jeans and palm trees!

Closing Time

I have exactly one month left at Dolores Mission.

Wow. It'll all be over soon. Hard to believe how fast 11 months can go by. Just like that.

Huh.

It's a runner's world...

"Alright, feelin good," I tell myself as I sync into a smooth rhythm, my dirtying white-and-pink Nikes sinking into pavement and my breath matching my flow. It's mile 12 of 26.2 and I'm about to run farther than I have ever run before. And I'm not completely freaked out.

Mile 14...15...16..17...they all pass by, breezy as pie and pretty soon I'm at 20 thinking, "This is kinda easy."

I hit a small wall at 21. My hips hurt, I've already taken more than enough ibuprofen and the thought of more Gatorade makes me nauseaous. But I keep going, one foot in front of the other, because I could scoot by my fan club at any minute and would hate to dissapoint them with a waddling, wandering, walking Teri.

I jog past my fan club, grab an envelope of French Vanilla Latte energy gel and keep going until they're out of sight. My hips burn and stab with every step and I need a break. "Just to that stoplight, I promise."

I toddle to the stoplight, take a deep breath and ugh. It's like I'm the Tinman and need some oil. A few staggered steps later, I'm back into the groove - rightleft rightleft inout inout - and I'm cruisin to Mile 22. Only 4 more left. I can do 4 more. Ain't no thang.

But 4 more miles are the longest 4 miles of my life. I keep going. Push through it. Mile 25 and an Asian drumming group is pounding away. I involuntarily speed up my rhythm to match their "pum pum pum", round a corner and can see the finish. It's farther than I'd like, but I'll make it.

Mile 26. Turn on the jet packs and go.

I finish my first marathon. With hardly any training at all. 5:33:30 baby. Oh yeah.

They never said it would be easy...

...but does it really have to be this hard?

I'm sitting in my office on a Thursday afternoon. I'm working on the letter of interest I'm going to send one of the schools I student taught at and a school that currently has an opening for an 8th grade English teacher. It's about 3:30 pm and the only way I know that is because Raul just walked in and plopped himself down in a metal folding chair next to my fancy, cushiony office chair.

"What's that, huh?" he asks facetiously, leaning over to catch a glimpse of my computer screen.
"Cover letter," I say, not thinking that I should try to keep it from him. His brow furrows and he quickly understands.
"So they fired you too?" He looks like he just got hit in the stomach with a pipe or something.
"No. I'm not coming back for another year."
"Wh-why?" he asks, his dark brown eyes becoming even more obscured with hurt.
"Because sometimes people do things they shouldn't and other people have to stand up against what's wrong."
"Hm." he says and quickly changes the subject.

Two weeks ago they fired my boss because they claimed they can't afford to pay him. I know that's not true. I'm not supposed to know it, but I do. So how can I stay here and act as their free labor when I know they're doing things that aren't in accordance with my own ethics?

Then again, how can I leave kids like Raul, with whom I've spent a year creating relationships and whose trust I have finally earned? How can I walk away from youth who have such a strong, undeniable need for someone stable in their lives, and who have such incredible potential to get out of this neighborhood someday?

Then again, how can any of that be realized when youth are only a priority in terms of lip service at this place and I will have no budget with which to do all the cool things that kids want to do. Right now I don't even have money to provide them snacks when we meet. When they fired my boss, everything in our space went with him save for two computers, three lounge chairs and a tv. Not exactly much to work with in creating a thriving youth ministry program.

I told my new boss - the pastor here - that I won't be coming back for another year. But now I'm wondering if it was the right choice. Maybe it shouldn't be about all the bull that's going on up in administration but about the kids. That'd be an easier mentality to hold if what's going on up in administration didn't have such a drastic effect on what resources are available to the kids.

I could work hard at fundraising and soliciting donations. I could pour all my energy into finding free stuff on Craigslist and begging people to come in a volunteer for our programs. I could create a youth program that would kick other youth programs' rear ends. But should I really do that for an organization that clearly has no plan; no walk to back up the talk; no conscience? Is my cooperation with them - my love for these kids - enabling them to continue abusing the people and resources they do have? What is my uncooperation achieving?

It wasn't supposed to turn out like this. And now I just don't know what to do.

Public Education

As a cradle-to-BA alumnus of Wisconsin's public schools, I have never appreciated the quality of education I received. Admittedly, I took it for granted. Living out in LA and hearing all the bad news about their public schools has brought me to a greater appreciation for not only the tax dollars that go into our schools, but also the teachers who put countless hours of preparation and immeasurable creativity and care into their lesson plans to give their students the best education they possibly can.

California's ranks 47th (out of 50...) in the amount of funding they send to their public schools, and has the Los Angeles Unified School District alone has laid of over 7,000 teachers. In the community where I work, if an adolescent doesn't get accepted into a Catholic or private school, that student barely has a 30% chance of graduating from high school. A 70% drop out rate is not a very encouraging statistic, especially given the problems with gangs and violence we deal with on a daily basis.

I'm not quite sure where the priorities lie here but when I talk to the 8th graders who go to school at Dolores Mission, I am proud that their desire to go to a Catholic high school will grant them success in the future. At the same time, when they tell me that they don't get the attention they need in public schools; that the teachers don't care; that they often walk away not understanding what was just taught to them, even after asking question upon question, I am disheartened and disappointed.

The point of this isn't to bash LAUSD. I don't know enough about the finances and politics surrounding all of that to make any judgements. Rather, the point is simply to acknowledge the quality education I have received and an appreciation for all of the stress I caused my teachers, kinder through college.

A little bit of home...

It shouldn't go without mentioning that my awesome little brother, Chuck, came out to LA for a visit over his spring break. He flew in on Sunday and left last night. It was hard to see him go.

A quick summary of his trip:

Sunday: Picked him up at the airport. Drove around Venice for 2 hours looking for parking. Gave up and went to Santa Monica to cruise around the 3rd Street Promenade and eat some din-din.

Monday: Headed up to Griffith Park and Observatory. Walked up a very steep hill to find that the Observatory is closed on Mondays. Ate at Yogurtland. Twice.

Tuesday: Read Bibles in front of the Scientology org. When we were done, went back to where we left the car to find that it was gone - got towed. Rode with two other ladies whose car got towed in the tiny cab of another tow truck to the impound lot. Pay $207 to get the car back. Still have to pay the $148 parking ticket. Ate dinner with the men of the Guadalupano Homeless Project at DM. Chuck discovered a general dislike for stuffed peppers.

Wednesday: Went to the Getty. Awesome place. Amazing art and beautiful gardens. Ate dinner at Teresitas (local Mexican restaurant) - tortilla chips and tacos, yum! Went to a presentation by Leslie Gelb about American foreign policy (not as boring as it sounds!)

Thursday: Stopped by the Museum of Natural history, where Chuck's dream of seeing a T-rex in person was realized. Also starred in the documentary they were filming - twice! Enjoyed El Pollo Loco for lunch, tried to find the La Brea Tar Pits (where they found a bunch of dino fossils) but just wasted a bunch of gas in the process. Drove 15 miles ( = 60 minutes in LA traffic) to Griffith Park again. Walked down a hill. Then back up it. Took a third trip to Yogurtland and brought Chuck to the airport.

I cried the whole way home.