My teaching philosophy (and how it's changed)

For my Gifted endorsement, I was charged with writing a teaching philosophy, and I thought I'd share it with you all (all 4 of you) in honor of the school year ending.

            When originally tasked with the assignment of writing my teaching philosophy, I immediately thought I’d grab a copy of something I wrote two short years ago as a college senior, when I was bright-eyed and ready to tackle the world of public education. People told me it was hard, and I “knew” it would be, but surely with my fresh attitude and innovative ideas, I could attack anything! My students would be bright, intrinsically motivated, and ready to tackle anything I threw their way. I could, indeed reach every student and captivate them with my sense of humor and quick wit. After all, teaching is a lot of people’s “back up plan,” and this society tells us that *anyone* can teach.

Fast forward two years, and with a bit of a heavy heart, I realized that I’m not that person anymore.  

            Two years into teaching and my vision for changing the world through education has dimmed. I look back on these two years and understand why so many of my peers leave, and why so many young, capable, innovative teachers quit before their fifth year of teaching. The system, starting on a national level, is indeed broken, and this job jades you.

Reflecting on these two years, I realize how much this job has taken from me. It has taken my time- this job is hardly forty hours a week, and if I ever meet a teacher who works strictly forty hours a week, I’d like to clone them. I can’t sleep at night because I’m thinking about my students’ well-being, their understanding, their successes, their failures. This job has taken my sanity- at any given moment you have at least seven different students asking things from you, from bathroom passes to extra credit, all while you have important emails to answer and heaven forbid you actually teach something. This job has taken my vision for being wonder-woman teacher, with an uncanny ability to make copies, answer emails, prepare lessons that cater to EVERY student, make phone calls to parents, deal with discipline problems with ease and grade assignments in less than twenty four hours. The job has taken away my self-assurance as I lay awake at night wondering if I handled that classroom disruption correctly, if little Johnny will pass my class, or what was bothering Suzie today. I’m constantly thinking of what more I could do, how much more I could give, and how there never seems to be enough of me to go around.

I am tired. I am worn, much like the rest of the teachers in this very broken system. But, there is one thing this job can’t take from me- my love for building relationships. If I’m honest with myself, my students won’t remember much of what I teach them, and that’s OK. They won’t remember The Giver’s character or the analysis they did of Jonas. They won’t remember all of the subordinating conjunctions or how to make a sentence in active voice. They will, however, remember one very important piece of information—that I cared. I cared about what happened in their lives. I cared about their successes and their failures, and more importantly, I asked. They’ll remember “High Five Friday” and #lifelessonswithMsRivard. If I think about my life as a student and the teachers who made the biggest impact on me, I don’t remember everything about Honors Anatomy or AP Language, but I remember that those teachers pushed me, and I was willing to work for them because they cared. I strive to be the teacher who cares. My prayer is that they’ll know that whether they’re the brightest child in the class or the one who reads on a 4^th grade reading level. I pray they’ll know that information whether they’re the quiet child who likes to observe, or if they’re the child I get onto every day. I strive for them to know that I care. Humbly I know that I can’t reach every student, but at least they’ll know I tried.

On the days when this job is hard, it is evident that these students know I care by the countless “goodbyes” I get at the end of the day, or the hugs in the morning, or the way they eagerly come back from a break to tell me about it. They share things with me that they wouldn’t normally with an adult. My primary goal in teaching is to be a role model. I apologize when I mess up, I cry at sad parts of books, and I laugh when things are funny. I “do life” with these kids. I want them to know that I do not, under any circumstance, expect perfection, but I do expect their best. I work every day to give them my best, and expect that in return.

            So to that college senior version of myself who just knew this system wouldn’t beat her- keep on chugging, my friend. Love the kids, and love the journey.          

P.S. Find out who has the candy stash and ALWAYS have extra pencils. 

Learning to love yourself

*long and personal post ahead*

When 2016 started, I was not myself. I haven't felt like myself in quite some time. I would typically describe myself as an upbeat, glass-half-full kind of person, but somewhere in my almost 2 years of real adulthood, I lost the Victoria I knew. I still found myself acting the same, but I just didn't feel like me. 

As I sat thinking about what I wanted to accomplish in 2016, the word persist came to mind. I give up easily- not so much on others (I am a teacher after all), but on myself. For years I've convinced myself that I can't do things or that I don't deserve them. I don't deserve to be happy; I don't deserve to love my body; I don't deserve love from other people. Cognitively, I know these things aren't true, but emotionally, they felt very real. So, as I sat thinking about how I would tangibly persist in things, my sister, Jackie, texted me about a half marathon (something I vowed I'd never be able to do). On a whim, with persistence in mind, I said I wanted to train with her. 

The experience was...brutal. Neither of us were runners, and we started out running 2.5 miles. The furthest I had ever run in my life was 2 miles. I *attempted* a 5k my senior year of college, and I couldn't run the whole thing. Our first long run was 4 miles, and I remember thinking, "If I can do these 4 miles, I might actually be able to do this." During the last half mile of that run, I cried. For the first time in probably most of my fitness life (even though I was a dancer, I let fear keep me from working to my potential), I pushed through a wall. The rest of training was rough- it was met with a minor hip injury. Jackie definitely had it worse- strep, runner's knee, stomach bug. And if it weren't for her, I would've given up after about 3 weeks. We crossed the half marathon finish line hand in hand in a full cheese-ball moment. We vowed we'd never do it again.

**We're already researching more half marathons and are thinking about a full. Crazy, I know.**

During this half marathon training process, my goal wasn't to lose weight, although I did lose a few pounds and noticed my clothes fitting differently. I just wanted to finish something that I'd started. It was as much a mental break through as it was a physical one.

I've shared my struggles and journey with anxiety before. When I went through the darkest days in 2012-2013 I was very open and honest on here. I had always said it started with a break up, but it didn't have as much to do with the boy and broken heart as it did things I hadn't dealt with. I never really felt like anyone had believed me, though. I'm not sure I even believed me. I spun out of control, contemplating suicide, and barely keeping it together. God did incredible things in the darkness, though, as He tends to do. 

This semester has been rough at work. January and February especially. I hated my job. I hated my kids. I hated teaching. Yes, working in public education is a constant uphill battle, but I can usually let the little victories outweigh the cons. I really started questioning if I could do this. I didn't feel like a good teacher. I didn't feel like a good person, really. I noticed some behaviors creeping back up again- eating my feelings, zero desire to do anything but stay in bed, and some dark and twisty thoughts. I cried on the phone to my mom just about every day. I told her this was ridiculous, "normal" people could handle this. I didn't feel normal anymore. My poor teammates witnessed more than one emotional break down in the afternoons. 

Finally, I decided I needed professional help. I chose a therapist who's helped my friend a lot the last few years. If you've never been to a counselor, the first session is typically a "tell me your struggles" type thing, and I felt I'd been letting anxiety dictate my life. I let it determine if I'd hang out with friends. I'd let it determine how I acted in social situations. I let it determine what I ate, how active I was, and what kind of teacher I was that day. Upon listening to me, my counselor stopped me. I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder when I was 13, but she had a different diagnosis for me- Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD. After she said the words I felt a flood of relief. I could experience freedom from these thoughts and emotions that have dictated my life for almost 20 years. That dark time in my life? It really was more than just a break up. It was a trigger. G's death was a trigger. Maneuvering my way through adulthood was a trigger. My therapist explained that my PTSD has been manifesting itself as anxiety and depression because, as a child, I didn't have the emotional maturity or the life experience to verbalize anything else. 

It's only been about 3 weeks, but I have started to feel like me again. I've made some discoveries. I vowed I would NEVER teach middle school. I was offered jobs at both middle and high school. Something in me chose middle school and 8th grade. How old was I when Grandma died and I was diagnosed with GAD? 13 and in 8th grade. It was a weird "aha" moment, and explained my frustration with my students. I'd walked through hell and back at 6 and then again and 13, and my kids can't even remember to do their homework or take ownership of their mistakes. This week at work has been so much better now that I'm aware that a portion of it is me. Last week, my therapist kept asking me how I got through the grief and loss at 6 and 13. I kept talking about my support system- mom, sisters, grandparents, neighbors, family friends (I firmly believe it does, in fact, take a village to raise a child). She stopped me and asked me how I got through it, and I couldn't answer her. I didn't know. I'd never thought about it before.

I was talking about my students and my frustrations with them in general. Again, cognitively I know it's all relative- what is a big deal to them is a big deal. I think sometimes I cut them more slack based on what's going on at home, but I explained that it gets to a point where I want to shake them and tell them to get up, dust themselves off, and keep moving. I then was describing how I persisted through half marathon training. I knew that if I kept putting one foot in front of the other it meant I hadn't stopped, and that I was still moving, even if I was slow, even if my forward motion seemed imperceptible, I was moving, and that's what kept me going. My therapist stopped me right there. She said, "Those two things. Those answer my question. That's how you got through it." 

And isn't that how we all get through it? I'm sure it's how my mom did, alone with 4 girls to raise. I'm sure it's how my sisters did. Heck, two were in high school and one was in middle school. Their stories and their journeys carry just as much weight as mine does. Whatever any of us- not just my family- are going through- the forward motion is what keeps us going. We know the sun will rise and another day will come. We know work and demands will be there. We just. keep. moving.

I know my road ahead won't be easy. If I really do work through this PTSD, I know it will be ugly. I'll be forced to recall some things I've suppressed for almost 2 decades. But, I do know it'll be worth it. I'm learning to love myself- my body included. After I proved to myself I could finish the half marathon, I'm treating my body with the respect it deserves, and listening to it. I feel so much better when I treat it like the temple it is- imagine that! 

Here's to more persistence in 2016- to moving forward, to keeping our feet moving, and to breaking through walls and obstacles we were sure would stand taller than us. 

Smile, God loves you! (and thanks for sticking through this novel of a post)

And I tell you, ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. - Luke 11:9-10

The Dummies Guide to Classroom Management

In my 2 years of teaching experience, I've learned more about classroom management that I ever thought possible. For those of you who aren't in the education field, classroom management means managing the 30+ bodies that are in your classroom. At any given time, I have a student trying to sneak a peek at their phone, someone who forgot a pencil, two students arguing, a young man dancing, two people "making eyes" at each other in a silent language (that they think I don't notice), someone who needs an excuse to go get a tissue, another student asking to go to the bathroom, oh and all while I'm trying to embark wisdom upon the youth. 

Poor classroom management would mean I didn't have control over all of these things. Good classroom management would mean that by a daily Christmas miracle, I've figured out how to grab everyone's attention. 

***Disclaimer: I haven't been teaching for very long, so I still have much to learn. Also, I am NOT perfect and fall short of glowing classroom management on a daily basis.***

Here are my newbie tips for managing a classroom:

1. Know your kids. This is the most important piece. This way you can tell them about their behavior with a "look." I have different "looks" for different kids. And they know. They know...

2. You're going to feel like you spend your entire first year yelling, and that's OK, but to avoid that, establish a call and answer format to get attention. I say "Marco," my kids say, "Polo." Others say "Class, class" and the kids say, "Yes, yes." 

3. Don't be afraid to reach out to parents. I'll be honest- not all parents are super supportive, but also know that not everyone wants hear that their baby angel is actually a semi-devil at school. BUT, reach out to parents when their child has a good day; it'll make them more likely to support you when their child acts out. Also, a parent can tell you if a medication changed, something is going on at home or in a sport, etc. Parents also like to know what's going on with their child while they're in your care.

4. Make nice with the ring leader. S/he will be able to put kids in their place and say things you wish you could "SHUT UP," "Y'all, she's talking," etc. 

5. You may mentally smack a kid upside the head. Normal.

6. Don't let that student acting out get you off track. Address the situation, and move on. A lot of the time they just want you to get mad and get a reaction (this is a daily struggle for me).

7. You say you'll never be the "I'll wait..." teacher, but you will. Oh, you will.

8. Give a student a chance to redirect their behavior, but make sure they know it's their last chance. 

9. Make your expectations clear for EVERY situation- walking to the cafeteria, going to the Media Center, etc. I will also ask students what my expectations are if it's been awhile since we've done an activity or gone to the MC. 

10. Start strong. It's easier to let up on the reigns than to try to reel them in (pretty much every first year teacher learns this the hard way). 

11. Extend grace. Kids are human, just like we are; they'll make mistakes, but every day is a new day. Just like you don't want to be remembered for the mistakes you've made, start each day with a clean slate, especially with students who don't get in trouble every day. 

There you have it, 11 of my tips for classroom management. I still have a lot to learn!

What are you leaving behind for the Kingdom?

There are moments in life that stop you in your tracks. I've had a lot of those moments in my 23 years, but this story isn't about me. 

A friend of mine from high school, John Michael, passed away a few months ago. When his best friend dated one of my best friends, we spent a lot of time together. Those that knew him knew he had an innate capability to make people laugh. His sense of humor and love for Jesus drew people in. 

As with a lot of people from high school, I lost touch with JM, but got to watch from afar as his life went on, thanks to social media. He and I ended up in the same profession- teaching English Language Arts to young adults. Upon hearing of JM's untimely death, I couldn't get the thoughts out of my head about his widow. I've never met her- which is what makes it feel strange to write this. I've prayed for her and his family these last couple of months and watched as a community mourned for one of their own. She wrote a post recently on JM's blog about her journey that made me once again stop in my tracks. Her faith in God is inspiring. 

Since hearing of JM's death, I keep finding myself asking myself this question, "What are you leaving behind for the Kingdom?" John Michael touched and influenced countless lives, which was evident as our community rallied behind his friends and family. I should rephrase that- God touched countless lives through John Michael. 

I always think of Steven Curtis Chapman's song "Do Everything." It goes "Do everything you do to the glory of the One who made you." I fall so unbelievably short of that every. single. day. My job as an educator requires A LOT of patience. I care for my kids. I care deeply  for those kids, and I know most of them know it. But I have to ask myself- they know I care for them, but do they know He cares for them through my actions? And about 90% of the time, I honestly feel the answer is no. I snap. I made a student cry the week before the break because I put my giant foot in my mouth. I hurt their feelings (usually unintentionally). I get frustrated when they're disrespectful or fail to turn in an assignment on time. I have high expectations and often ask myself if they're unreasonable. I made rude comments to my mom & sisters. I snap at them too. I mutter things under my breath at other drivers on the road. I judge people. 

A week before John Michael died he requested to follow me on Twitter. I hadn't seen the request until after his passing. Would you know that even if I click the "X" on the request, it won't go away? Every time I look at my notifications JM's face is there with his bride, asking for permission to follow my crazy antics. It's a daily reminder to concentrate on what I'm doing for Him. 

I fall short. Continually and constantly. I don't glorify God when I should. I've been reading 1 John lately and the continual theme is to love people, and that's what the basis of Christianity is- love. God is love. If God can love me through my constant shortcomings, than I can love my students through their 13 and 14 year old mistakes. I can still give them consequences for their actions (or lack thereof) and give gentle reminders of what they can and cannot do while trying to mold them into productive members of society. When I get upset, angry, frustrated, or feel beaten down, I need to ask myself "What am I doing for Him?" "What can I do to point to Him?" "How can I show Him and His greatness in this situation?" 

Although I didn't know John Michael very well, even when we were in school together, I can say with confidence that he did more for the Kingdom in 23 years than a lot of people can dream of doing in 80. He left behind a legacy- Love God and love people. 

Work-life balance from a 20 something.

Now that I'm almost (AH!) halfway through my 2nd year of teaching, I feel the need to make myself take a step back and establish some semblance of work-life balance. This is also something that God placed on my heart recently. When I'm so caught up my many aspects of work, I don't take time to focus on Him and the blessings He's given me in life in terms of people and opportunities. I feel like over this past year and a half I've learned so much about people, how to "adult," and myself, but I haven't taken much time to devote to the things that truly make me happy. 

As a teacher, I can't really fathom what it's like to not bring work home with you at the end of the day. I know from seeing my brothers-in-law and sisters' careers that it's not uncommon to bring work home. I just feel like that with my job (and others in public service), you come home with not only the material aspects to work on, but also the emotional baggage that comes from working with young minds all day- did Johnny get a good meal tonight? How is Susie's parents' divorce affecting her? Edward doesn't have internet access; will he be able to get the work done that I assigned, or am I asking too much? Has Alexis stopped fighting with her mom? (Obviously these are not exact scenarios OR students' real names.) I come home so emotionally and physically drained that thinking about opening my computer for 2-3 hours makes me want to crawl into bed. Shout out to all of the parents out there- I don't know HOW you work all day and come home to take care of kids, or how you stay home and take care of kids for that matter. I don't sleep well because I'm so worried I forgot to do something or I'm worrying about how to make content come alive or that I didn't send that email. And yes, I do all of the things that you "should" or "should not" do if you're someone who struggles with sleeping.

Anyway, last year I really lost sight of the things that I enjoy, and that make work seem less stressful. God is encouraging me to take a step back and re-evaluate some things and how much of work I let leave the school with me. 

One thing I've realized is that student work doesn't have to be graded right away. If I'm allotted and expected to take 2 weeks to grade projects and tests, I can most certainly take those two weeks, and I don't have to feel guilty about it. Before I was killing myself trying to grade projects and other large assignments in 2 days. To be honest, I don't do my best grading like that, and then I end up being Oprah- "You get an A! You get an A! Everybody gets an A!" and that certainly isn't an effective way to teach students. 

I've had to sit back and ask myself, what are the things that make me happy?

1. My family- I got to spend this past weekend with my sister, her husband, their 4 kiddos, and my mom, and it was just what I needed. I needed to get plugged back into [some of] the most important people in my life to remind me of who I am as a person, not a teacher. It was nice to get away and not have to have tunnel vision walking through the grocery store in fear of hearing, "Ms. Rivard!" 

2. My friends- I'm heading back to my stomping grounds this weekend- my beloved Athens. I can't wait to just be with my friends and again be reminded of what's truly important.

3. Exercise- I may complain to no end when the alarm goes off at 5:30, but in the end I'm glad I've done it. I used to dance 15-20 hours a week, and then for the first 2 years in college I was in a good rhythm of exercise and walked everywhere. That's when I was truly happy. 

4. Blogging- I know it's cheesy, and I know I don't act like your average 23 year old, but it's always a time to dump my thoughts and often re-connect with God through what's on my heart. I've really lost sight of it in the last year and a half. 

5. My cat- Lord am I going to get crap for this one. I HATED cats, and I still do in general. I just happen to love my cat. He keeps me company and makes me happy.

6. Reading- It's always been an escape and coping mechanism for me. Luckily, when you challenge your students to read 20 books, you need to read them, too, so this isn't something that's fallen by the wayside. 

There are certainly more things than this, but I feel like 6 things is more than enough to concentrate on right now, alongside my daily quiet time with the Lord. I'm finding that when I'm plugged in with God and the things on my list, I'm a better person with more patience and understanding. In turn these things make me a better employee, co-worker, and teacher. Obviously I'm a single, non-parent 20-something, and I don't mean to be whiny, but these are things God has placed on my heart. I pray that in a couple of months in focusing on these things, I will be a happier version of myself. And really feel like me.

Smile, God loves you!

A letter to my first year teacher self (and other first year teachers)

Tomorrow is back-to-work for teachers, and as I start my 2nd year of teaching, I've been very reflective about the things I wish I knew or could have told myself as a first year teacher.

Dear first year teacher,

I know right about now everyone is telling you not to be nervous, but I'll be honest- be nervous. It's a good thing, and starting your career is intimidating. It's ok to be nervous, but don't be intimidated. You're as prepared as you'll ever be. Don't let anyone intimidate you. A teacher on their 20th year is no better of a person than you are in your 1st. 

Speak up in meetings. People are expecting you to sit back and absorb more than participate. Don't be that person. Don't try to impress people, either- no one likes a show off. However, you are just as qualified as the person sitting next to you. You both have degrees behind your name and your fresh opinion on certain areas is needed. Your year of student teaching counts as a year of teaching- use those experiences to your advantage. 

The people you work with can make or break your job. Teaching is hard, no one can deny that, but if you're surrounded by people you enjoy being with, it makes it easier. Plus, you'll always know who has a secret stash of advil or chocolate- both necessary for surviving this first year. You'll sit in hours upon hours of professional development, meetings, conferences, etc. If you enjoy the people you're with, it won't make it so bad. The occasional dance party will help relieve the pressures of teaching. 

Find positive people and hold them close. Like I just said, teaching is hard. There are countless issues in education, and it's easy to be negative. So easy. But, you won't get through the long days if you're with negative people and are negative yourself. Sure, you'll have bad days and need to gripe/complain, but those positive people will bring you back to reality and remind you of why you do this. 

If a coworker invites you to grab food/a drink after work, go. You never know what friendship you will form, and nobody will understand you like another teacher (or former teacher).

Respect your administrators. It's easy to get caught up in the moment with a student, and sometimes you need a 3rd party opinion of someone who isn't directly involved before proceeding with discipline. At the same time, don't go to your administrator (or push the white button) every time a student acts out. Once an administrator is called, the situation is out of your hands. Consulting your administrator is different that asking them to take over. PS- it's never a good idea to talk poorly about the person who gave you your job. Stay classy. 

Find a mentor. Most schools put you with a mentor, but in case it isn't a good fit, you need someone you can go to with even the most trivial issues. (Fortunately for you, you got a good one!) 

BE HUMBLE. Just because you're given a correction/suggestion does not mean you're a bad teacher. Teaching is an art, and the world of education is constantly evolving. People won't correct you if they don't think you're worth it. Remember that. Plus, TAKE the suggestion. Don't just let it go in one ear and out the other. Most of the time, the people observing you and giving a correction know what they're saying. 

Be observant and listen to your gut. If you notice a student never eats lunch, or only eats lunch every other day, say something to your counselor. If  a student wears the same shirt every day or never is prepared for class, say something. If a student's behavior changes, say something. Oftentimes this is a cry for help, and some of these kids are just looking for someone to notice. 

Love a kid despite how much they drive you crazy. They notice when you care. Even if you feel like a complete failure, they notice.

Don't take everything a parent says personally. Most of the time they're embarrassed that their child acted like an idiot in your class. Keep in mind that they're sending the best they have into your classroom. Be patient and KIND. Once a parent feels like you're their ally and are truly looking out for their child's best interests, they'll be on your side 90% of the time. Take time each week to send out 2 positive emails. Some parents only hear negative things. 

The first 6 weeks of school and the last 3 weeks will be the hardest you've ever worked. I'm serious. Work hard. Be dedicated. It will not go unnoticed. People notice the teacher who stays later and comes in earlier. At the same time, teaching is your job, not your life. In the beginning and the end you'll spend long hours in your classroom, but your students will survive if you take 2 weeks to return an essay instead of 1. It's also fully acceptable to dance to Destiny's Child's "I'm a survivor" on the toughest days. 

Find something for YOU. And this doesn't mean coming home and binge watching Netflix with a bowl of ice cream and a glass of wine. The occasional night is OK, but take it from me, your future self 10 lbs heavier will thank you for your hobby that doesn't include binging. 

I hope this helps, but chances are, you'll probably have to learn this for yourself. Until next time,

Your second year teacher self. 

A Teacher's Perspective...

I remember the first time I realized that race "meant" something to people. I don't like to use the term "color blind," but I have always noticed race the way I notice that the sky is blue or cloudy, and that the grass is green- it's just a part of life. I was 6 and in the 1st grade, and my Girl Scout Troop was headed to our meeting place for our weekly meet-up. We met in a neighborhood club house that was across the street, so we walked most of the time. In true Girl Scout fashion, we utilized the buddy system and were all told to grab someone's hand. Growing up in West Cobb County in the 90s and 2000s, the demographic consisted mostly of white, middle-class families (although this demographic changed over the course of my time in school). We had one African American in our troop, I'll call her Sally. I knew Sally was black, but I knew I was white- it was just the way things were, and I liked Sally just the same. When it was time to pair up, Sally went to grab another girl's hand as her buddy. This young lady turned away from Sally, looked at our troop leaders and said, "I don't hold those people's hands." One of our leaders quickly stepped in without missing a beat and said, "Well Sally is such a sweet girl, I'd like to be the one to hold her hand today."

In my 6 year old brain I went through the reasons someone wouldn't want to hold Sally's hand- she didn't smell funny, she wasn't mean, she didn't say things that were "weird." The only difference was that Sally was black.

I grew up in a home where race was discussed, but I had never heard of white privilege until I went to college. I'll start by saying that I consider myself conservative politically, but I'm more of an "independent." I always tend to vote for the lesser of two evils because I never 100% agree with everything a politician stands for, especially when it comes to education reform. There are some things I'm more liberal about, and some I'm conservative about. This concept of white privilege kind of threw me for a loop- I've faced adversity. My dad died when I was 6 (I was there), I found my grandmother dead Christmas morning when I was 13, I knew we sometimes struggled financially as a single-parent household, I was putting myself through college, and I felt I had rightfully earned everything I had accomplished in life. I had no idea that many of these things came easily to me because I was white. When these discussions started I was kind of hurt and felt like anyone could pick themselves up by their bootstraps- it was the American way.

It all started to make sense when I read a list of products that are catered toward white people that people of color are not given "access" (for lack of a better word) to. This list included things like the fact that people of color couldn't find their favorite foods at the grocery store, or that it was found in the ethnic foods aisle, that hair care products were found in the ethnic hair care aisle- as if everyone who isn't white is labeled as "ethnic." I had noticed these things, but it all came down to a band-aid.

Yes, a band-aid. I had never thought about the fact that band-aids are marketed as "flesh toned," and they all come in various shades of peach. As if the only color of flesh there is has a peach undertone. This is where it hit me- I can go out and easily find something to match my "flesh tone," but not everyone else can. This was my "ah-ha" moment, if you will.

My next big wake up call came when I was student teaching in Rockdale County. I was in a Title 1 area, and out of 180 students, about 15 of them were white. I remember noticing this, but again, not thinking anything of it. It wasn't until a fellow RA, who is black, asked me if I felt like I was able to connect with all of my black students. I had been at the school for about 6 weeks at that point and thought that my lack of connecting was because I was timid and learning the ropes. I didn't think about the fact that I was a young, white, middle class college student and to many students I didn't "get" them. I can also say this freely because as I got to know these students, many of them told me this information. It wasn't until I took the time to connect with them, which one day came in the form of me singing the Fresh Prince lyrics, or telling them that I'd lost my dad at a young age, that they realized they could trust me. At times this has nothing to do with race, but mostly the fact that many of my students had been let down by adults in their lives and now knew they had an adult who loved them and valued them.

This last year as a first year teacher was tough. Amidst me trying to figure out what I was doing, topics came up such as Ferguson, Eric Garner, and more. It's difficult to figure out where I'm crossing the line as an educator- are these things their parents intentionally don't want them to know about the world? But then I think that they're 13 and 14 and see more on social media than I ever thought possible. I remember reading an article about the impact of social media- we were discussing Michael Brown and how the media took to his Facebook immediately after the shooting and showed pictures of his underage drinking, but also how his family posted a picture of him in his cap and gown. Two very different pictures of the same young man. In order to put my toe in the water of these class discussions, I chose to focus on the social media presence of it rather than race (call it a cop- out, I was trying to get to know my students and see if I received parent back lash). However, obviously race came up, and I discussed it the best way I knew how. It all came home when a student raised her hand and said, "What's going on in Ferguson? I thought racism stopped when the Civil Rights Movement ended." I should note that this came from an African American student and that I currently teach in a more affluent area than during my student teaching. Many of my students are fortunate to not have personally experienced side effects of racism, which became evident when a student made a snarky comment to another student and I said, "Well aren't you the pot calling the kettle black?" and they told me that was a racist comment. This then spurred a discussion about what racism truly is.

Now, as I watch with sadness in my heart over the recent events in Charleston, I think of how I could make that a teachable moment. Events like these aren't going to end. I watch with sadness as people fight back and forth with each other on social media about white privilege and race. These events such as Ferguson, Eric Garner, Baltimore, and Charleston are crimes committed against humanity. We are all human, regardless of skin color. This hatred comes from generations of ignorance and the lack of evolving in ideals and morals. I had a student this year tell me I should apologize to him because my family owned slaves. I looked at him and told him that half of my family was still in Europe until the 1900s and hadn't yet immigrated to the US, and the others lived in the north. My aunt recently did an ancestry search and we were never slave owners (we executed Native Americans instead- note with irony). He told me it didn't matter and I was white and should apologize. That student also displayed ignorance in that comment because he was raised to believe that most white people were out to get him and that he was owed an apology from me and other whites. This student was an absolute pill and one I am glad is gone (he also announced to the class that I grew up poor because we didn't have internet prior to 1997, despite the fact that I told him NO ONE had the internet, but I digress). Ignorance isn't one-sided.

My hope as an educator is that I can have constructive conversations with my students because racism and privilege DO exist. My students and I discussed white privilege and I flat-out told them that some things came more easily to me because I was white and unfortunately that was the way things worked, but that we can change things. It starts with a refusal to be ignorant. The issue with many of my students is that they were never given the platform to ask questions about race without it getting hostile. We remain ignorant when questions aren't asked. Issues such as these involve intense emotions, but nothing will ever change or get accomplished if we refuse to listen to each other's concerns and ideas. I think we need to let Ferguson, Baltimore, Charleston, and countless other cities be examples of teachable moments. It's difficult because we will never know what really happened in any of these situations because human error exists- people lie, get confused, and make mistakes. It's hard to know the news when we have different perspectives coming from so many media outlets. We're doing an injustice to all of the people who fought in past generations when we refuse to listen to each other. My favorite line from Martin Luther King, Jr.'s "Letter From Birmingham Jail" is "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere" (my emphasis added). I look at what's happening in America and can make a list of a hundred different teachable moments, but I'll never be able to reach each of my students, or all of the students in my school, for that matter. We all have demons; we all have baggage; we all are fighting battles no one knows about. If we could just take the time to sit down and have honest conversations with ourselves and others without getting hostile and defensive things might be different. I only hope and pray that by providing an environment such as that for my students, that maybe a spark with occur and some change can happen when they go throughout their daily lives.

But for now, I hope I can make this yet another teachable moment.