Dictators.

It was a new day; it was a sun-rise over mountains, car fumes in the lungs, and a dirty blonde street dog.
Era un nuevo día; era un amanecer sobre las montañas, el humo de los coches en los pulmones, y una perrita rubia y sucia. 

I was told to walk with purpose, to cross at the corner with as many people as possible. To avoid the small park at night, and not to eat anything spicy or too rich for at least 5 more days.
Me dijeron que caminar con un propósito, y cruzar en la esquina con la otra gente...evitar el parque más pequeño en la noche, y no comer algo picante o rico por lo menos 5 días más.  

Give yourself time to adjust.
Necesitas tiempo para ajustar.

Adjustments. It seems that adjusting just what we do, isn’t it? We adjust to new climates, new cultures, new people, new jobs. All the time we’re just shifting in our own skins, trying to find the most comfortable position.

Los ajustes. Parece que el ajuste es lo que hacemos, no? Ajustamos a nuevos climas, nuevas culturas, nueva gente, nuevos trabajos. Todo el tiempo estamos moviendo debajo de nuestros propios pieles, buscando la posición más confortable. 

It was a new week; it was another language, a bitter drink, and dancing until the early hours of the morning. We represented – at some points – 8 different nations. We spoke of jobs and journeys and one by one, and in various ways, we slowly admitted we were running. Running from oppressive things and closed minded thinking, towards being alive but being afraid. If you don’t adjust in the expected ways, then you really don’t know what is supposed to happen next.

Era una nueva semana; era otro idioma, una bebida amarga, y bailando hasta la madrugada. Representábamos (a veces) 8 países distintos. Hablábamos de trabajos y aventuras y uno por uno admitimos que corríamos...de cosas opresivas, de mentes cerradas, hacia la esperanza de vivir vidas completas...pero con miedo. Si no ajustas a la vida como la mayoría de la gente del mundo, no puedes saber lo que va a seguir. 

And so we created our own realities, we chose the next chapter in the book.
We lived by the dictates of our own consciousness.
Por eso, estábamos construyendo nuestras propias realidades. Elegimos el proximo capitulo del libro. Estábamos viviendo por los dictados de nuestras propias conciencias.

Sometimes, a collective conscious. Other times, we were 8 nations living individually side-by-side. In camionetas. In the streets. On beaches.
A veces con una conciencia colectiva. Otras veces, estábamos 8 naciones viviendo vidas individuales pero lado a lado. En las playas. En las camionetas. En las calles. 
 
It was a new perspective; it was remembering how – who – I was before I forgot.
It was a regeneration.
It was a right decision.
It was all smiles, human contact, and summer skin.

I was told to walk with purpose – and I found one.

Era una nueva perspectiva; era la memoria de cómo - quién - era antes de que se me olvidó.
Era una regeneración.
Era la decisión correcta.
Era sonrisas, contacto humano, y piel de verano.
Me dijeron que caminar con un propósito...y lo encontré. 

Will They Know?

As a teacher in a city-school, I have my bakers dozen of kids that make me cry. They make me cry for different reasons. I cry when they exasperate me. I cry when they distract the class from learning. I cry when I think about the system that is failing them. I cry when they fail. I cry when they succeed. I cry when they cry.

Tonight, I have one young man in mind. I knew 5 weeks ago that this would be a student who I would cry over.

The first days, he was hesitant to do anything. I could see his frustrations with schoolwork boiling up into his eyes and spilling out in a variety of ways: tears, dancing and singing, throwing stuff, fighting. Everyday with this young man has been an absolute battle.

Two weeks ago, we had an open-notes quiz. He had all the notes in his binder, but they were so disorganized he didn't want to look through them. Slowly, we went through and pulled them all out and when he realized he had enough notes to get a B on the quiz, the biggest smile came across his face and he looked at me and said, "Oh. I can do this."

Yes, I thought. Yes - you can. You've always been able to do this. But for him to recognize that in himself was the key. It was a pivotal moment in our teacher-student relationship, and his relationship with his schoolwork.

Over the course of the next few days, he handed in all of his assignments. The effort he'd put into them was obvious, and he beamed at me as he handed them in.

"I bet these ones will be as good as my quiz!"

This young man is tender-hearted, but he's impulsive. Like most 12 year old boys, he acts before he thinks. He sees a friend in the hall, he's going to go to the hall. He feels like chatting with his buddy 6 rows over, he's going to get up and chat with his buddies. He hates the girl behind him? He is going to tell her, and when she comes back with "Boy, I'mma slap the shit out of you" he stands up and meets her request for battle.

This week, his impulsivity got the best of him.

5 weeks of piecing together the puzzle of this young man - so, so delicately - has been shattered. His eagerness and desire to please - to be included, to be heard in this world....those things took over.

He brought a knife to school. Kids were threatened.

It's heartbreaking. Just as we were making progress. Just as he was beginning to believe in himself, just as he was starting to understand that you can play the game of school without getting played yourself - that classrooms can be a place where we learn and grow and laugh and love and cry and live...

Over. Before it even started.

So I worry. I cry for him. I wonder - will there be another teacher in his future who will give him the time and space he needs to grow? Will they keep him in the classroom and let him know that he belongs there - not in the office? Will they let his behaviors keep him from learning?

Will they let his behaviors keep them from trying to teach him?