Saturday School

Yesterday as I was tweeting about it, I realized maybe not everything knew/understood what a Saturday school program was or could look like, so I thought I'd share.

I first encountered Saturday school when I taught in Brooklyn. It was held 9a-12p, we were a free lunch school, so students could get breakfast, and Metro cards. Teachers signed up for it, and it was pretty much just a place students could work. Get caught up. Get tutoring help. We were one school out of three in our building (they'd broken up 1500 school into separate schools on each floor) and we regularly had 20-40 kids on Saturdays.

When I moved to North Carolina to teach I suggested, started, and ran, our Saturday school program. I ran it 9a-12p, and the kids ran the gamut. I would have AP kids who were overscheduled who just wanted three hours of peace. Some who were behind and came to get caught up. I had kids I taught that would come in so I could tutor them in APUSH (AP US History). Parents, especially my freshmen parents, delighted in dropping their kiddos off to raise their grade.

It was mostly my students at first, but then the program grew, and was pretty successful. In a school of 400 something, we would have 15-20 kids regularly, swelling to 40 or more as the end of marking periods approached (and deadlines for turning in/making up work).

In North Carolina, admin would also suggest/assign it for students who had been suspended, and as punishment. I pushed back against this, because to me, it wasn't about punishment. It wasn't The Breakfast Club, it wasn't detention. To me, it was about an extra opportunity, it was about providing a different environment for students, a different relationship, interaction. It was for kids who maybe didn't do great in the weekly school environment, or needed the extra help.

Last year, I suggested and started Saturday school at my current school. I became the most successful intervention we ran. We alternated math and me, English. We added ACT prep the weekend before the test. In the spring, art teachers added a weekend for students to come in and have access to materials and the studio. Every Saturday I worked I brought donut holes and juice. We hold it in our own rooms, and one of the things I've always liked is that it's a totally different interaction with students and learning environment. It's not about compliance, or telling kids what to do. It's support. I have Saturdays when I don't do anything other than supply colored pencils, paper, and glue sticks. Some weekends I sit right next to kids the whole time and teach them Algebra. Some days I answer questions.

We start about halfway into the first semester, and run every Saturday except for breaks. We start again in the spring, three weeks in. Last year we had anywhere from 5-30 kids each Saturday, with the same pattern I'd noticed- more attending as the end of the marking period approached. This year math regularly has 10-20 kids and the weekends I'm there I have about that.

At the end of last year, I had big plans to grow the program. We have a lot of portables, and I wanted one for Saturday school, a dedicated space with computers, copies of textbooks, materials. The ball got dropped on that despite me emailing and checking in over the summer. I had also proposed, based on feedback last year from staff, that other departments would sign up for weekends- one weekend a month, teachers who wanted rotating. We have staffs of 10 for most departments, so it wouldn't be onerous. It would also allow students to get more help. That idea got dropped too.
When we started this year, there were two new math teachers alternating, so they were there every weekend. And they decided to hold it in the library. I balked, because I live 20-30 minutes away. After the gas, the donuts, the juice, I make zero money out of my Saturday school pay, so one of the bonuses is I get to hold it in my room. The program was also taken away from me, with no notice. I just got an email that said another person would be running Saturday school. I wasn't talked to, no one explained why. And I decided it just wasn't worth fighting about.

So I decided that this semester would be it for me.
I ensured there would be a replacement in the spring, to cover English. They'll work out of the library too.

Also, this week I got the ball rolling on providing breakfast for all our kids who come since we are a free lunch school. I figured it'd be relatively easy to get milk and cereal or whatever and store it for Saturdays and just give back on Monday any extras. The person running Saturday school now looked into it, and it seems like we'll be able to start doing that soon, which is cool.

So I feel good about the program, and how I'm leaving it.
I guess I realized that, I can care about things, start programs, but if it became apparent I wasn't being valued, it was okay to walk away.
The program is up and running now, and it's still incredibly successful. I am a little worried, because my kids have been a big part of this, I email and call parents to get kids there, my kids know I'm there (although I always joke they come because I buy donuts).
But there is only a finite amount of energy.
And I have to learn to not feel guilty about prioritizing. But I do.

Anyway. It's a really cool program, I've seen it succeed in three different environments.
In case you're interested, below are some links to other programs:

• Saturday School in Montgomery helps students achieve more
• This is the actual site for the Montgomery Program
• This program is more arts/gifted enrichment

Dump the Expectations, Let Go of the Weight

Today I got rid of my dining room table.
I bought it for $30 from Goodwill last fall because I had people coming into town in December, and figured I needed a table.
Since then, I have used it for its intended purpose exactly once.

I eat my meals either at my desk, or on the couch watching TV.
The table became a place to dump stuff. Put things on.

In 2010, friends of my dad, sold everything they owned, including a thriving business, bought a boat, and sailed around. Tammy documented the process of downsizing, determining importance. While I did not start doing this until a few years ago, reading her posts, following along, is what introduced me to the idea, and got me thinking the big ideas that led to my own downsizing. One post in particular struck me, was this one, about how easy it was to WANT things, be convinced you NEEDED it, and how so many things became just things to put other things on, other things in, and then you need to buy things to put on that table, in that shelf, and suddenly you have a bunch of crap again.

For me, my process of downsizing began with giving myself permission to let go of things. Not the actual things, the clothes, the furniture, the stuff, but what those things represented. The expectation that because I am a woman I should like skirts and heels. I never have. And yet I owned a bunch. The expectation that you need certain things- end tables, chairs, dining room tables, bed frames. Some of these things were easy to let go- when Nehi had to have stomach surgery a couple of years ago, the mattress went onto the floor and never came off. After a while I realized I was fine with that and gave away the bedframe. This last year as I packed up my academic books from the PhD, I put a bookcase in storage. I got rid of the living room chairs because I rather have room to play with Nehi and do yoga. I got rid of my first dining room table, which was my favorite This End Up furniture, and which I'd restored, because it was 6' long, and ate my apartment. And, as I said above, I never used it.

I have said again and again that I have lost count of all the truckloads of things taken to Goodwill, given to friends. I have said again and again that so often it feels like my crap is like Tribbles, multiplying.

I want to move to a house with a garage, mainly because I really want to box everything up, label it well, and put most of it in the garage, unpacking only what I need. I imagine it is very little. Kitchen stuff. My record player and albums. Nehi's toys. If I ever got a college teaching job, most of what is in my office would go there.
I admit that I have these thoughts mainly because of my mom's death. When I die, there will be no one to care, to clean up, to notice. Living simply makes my life better now, but it also will make it easier for the executor of my will to ship things off to Goodwill in the end. Tidy up. Close up shop.

Every thing that leaves my house frees me.
I've learned that thinking something is cool, or pretty, or neat, doesn't mean I need to own it.
Like Tammy suggested, making shopping lists I never buy is fun. Often months later, I just delete it.
When I do buy something, it's usually because I've spent months, years, thinking about it. I spent years arguing with myself over whether or not I wanted a toaster. I liked toast. I liked BLTs and toasted PB & J. I told this story to my godmother, and she laughed. Then got me a toaster for Christmas. Missing the whole point. When I gave up most bread this past spring, the toaster because REALLY irrelevant.
It's taken me years to find the perfect tan sweater. Cargo pants with JUST the right pockets, that are super soft before you even watch them.
I have learned to wait. To enjoy.

And I acknowledge here, as many have noted, that there is a privilege in this. In being able to do this. To wait to buy something. To have money to replace something you regret giving away. To buy good quality. Comfort.
For me too, much of this is tied into the belief system my mother taught me, but didn't really live, in my growing up years. The lessons of the commune house, of living simply. Of making life about life and experiences and people and not things or keeping up or living up.

But also, one thing I've learned with all this is a narrowing down, a reduction, of who I am. I don't like skirts and heels, but I love eShakti dresses with pockets. I wear them every Monday to work, it's like PJs! I love cargo pants. I have three pairs that fit great, are so soft, and I wear them all the time. I have a small closet, far smaller than a capsule, but I love every single thing I wear. Soft, comfortable. My splurge is my t-shirt collection, but even that I've winnowed- gotten rid of so many shirts bought as parts of campaigns. I wish places like Represent and Tee Spring would have a button to support campaigns without having to buy more crap.

As fall has approached, I've been thinking a lot of holidays. My small storage room off my apartment holds Halloween decorations, Christmas decorations, Thanksgiving decoration to fill the gap. And this year I'm not pulling any of them out. This year, it just seems like so much stuff. No substance. I just don't see the point. Me liking the supernatural and horror isn't tied to the holiday. I no longer in good conscience can celebrate Thanksgiving. Christmas is just me and Nehi, and so much capitalistic crap- it's buying things. Not magic, or family, or love.
So at least for this year, it'll all stay in their boxes.

The thing is, like my things, my downsizing, once you realize what the motivations behind things are, really consider them, you see the cracks, the flaws, what you've bought into.

All of these thoughts like a blender in my head, bring me to teaching. The super smart people I follow on Twitter, and conversations like #ClearTheAir and #DisruptTexts and We Need Diverse Books make me think of applying these same thoughts to my teaching.
To think, honestly think, and consider, why am I teaching this thing? This book? This skill? This way?
Am I doing it because it is what best serves the students sitting in front of me? Or am I teaching to shadows of students past? Myself when I sat in a classroom?
Am I listening to my students when they tell me what they need? Or am I mimicking and reproducing structures that actively harm them?
Am I being conscious and reflective in my choices? Or am I just replicating what I know? Was taught?

My classroom this year looks radically different than any other classroom in the 18 years I've taught. I gave up a lot of control. I threw out teaching the canon. I lesson plan loosely, and now have the experience and content knowledge to teach on the fly based on what the children sitting right in front of me need.
My classroom is not compliant. Students have phones out. Earbuds in. Hoodies up.
But they are engaged. Reading! Writing. Listening, and talking.
I have  let go of misconceptions on what teaching has to look like, and actively get in people's faces about WHY they teach the way they do. Asking them over and over- what pedagogical purpose does X decision serve? My assistant principal uses the phrase "cognitive dissonance" a lot when talking to me, and describing my conflicts with other staff members.

These things have not been any easier than letting go of gendered ideas of how I should dress and act.  Or not accepting that for me to be happy, to live my life, I have to buy into the capitalistic propaganda. But I am happier now. I serve my students better.

Change is hard. But so often, it is oh so necessary.
And once you do it once, it gets easier each time.