We End at the Beginning

When I started at Henry Clay twelve years ago, I was a “traveling teacher.”  That means, succinctly, that I was not given a classroom, but instead a cart, and had to take my belongings and lesson materials long with me in the hallway.  No desk, no wall space, and often no blackboard space.

A year later, UTLA decided this was unfair to new teachers, and the contract was changed to prevent first years from “traveling.”  A year after that change would have done me any good.  My problems with UTLA were aborning even then.

However, as I prepare demo lesson for job interviews, I find  myself using the same strategies that I needed to as a “traveling teacher.”  Short works that can be easily brought with me.  Giant sticky notes that have my lecture concepts emblazoned in large letters, easily visible, and additional blank ones for scribbling notes upon.

At the end of things, ironically, I am a travelling teacher again.

Monday Morning at the End of Clay

So, I begin my final week here.  As does everyone else.

It has been a dozen years, and closing the doors is something of a chore.  It is also mildly depressing, although for me, moving always has been.  The week is punctuated by strange leaps into the world to come.  Tomorrow, myself and a team member have an audition for a school that we would sincerely like to teach for, and on Thursday, we both have individual interviews at other schools.  This is stressful, as closing out the school year is normally a rush of paperwork, packing, and security.  In this year, the packing up is more or less for good, and needs to be done by Friday.

I have been at Clay the longest of my team, and contrary to what many may think, the overwhelming trend of thought that I have for this place is positive.  As I pack, I find myself considering the things that I had built here, that as a result of various decisions, will be no more.

I think of the obstacles that will be in Green Dot’s path, as they try to enact the reform that I wanted to.  I don’t envy them their challenges.  There are elements in the nearby community that are vehemently opposed to them…a small but unyieldingly vocal group.  Their road will be a hard one, and I respect Marco Petruzzi and his team for being willing to take up the challenge.

My classroom is increasingly empty.  Because of the way that I have divided my tasks, it is a wave of emptiness that proceeds counterclockwise around the room, heading for my desk.  That in itself will be an Agean Stables-like chore.

I hope that the schools come together for these students.  It is all that my team and I ever wanted, and why we have sacrificed so much.  Even with my vast knowledge of tactics and probability, I can’t say what the future will hold for this place, or my students.

The change, however, must be for the best.  I must have faith in that.  Further, I have hope that the Union, and the more vocal opponents of change will see that at this time, right now, the students of Clay…who are in fact the point…need less infighting, and more direction.