The Worst 30 Minutes of my Life

Last night, one of the most awful events happened. Here is the official report of what transpired.

_______________________________________________________________________

Event Occurred On December 13, around 5:30
Event Documented on December 14, 2008

I had sixteen children in my care on December 13, 2008 for the after school field trip to the movies. Fifteen were 3rd graders and one was a 1st grader. The trip there went relatively smoothly. On the way back, however, it became clear that a blizzard was coming. We drove home on roads with very poor visibility and bitter cold winds. Before the children arrived at school, I gave all access to my cell phone to allow them to notify relatives on our location and predicted arrival time.

We pulled into the back school parking lot around 5:30. The children were anxious to get off the bus and be reunited with their families. However, I made all of them remain in their seats until I checked for trash around their area. I then dismissed them one by one. I did this from front to back.

My first failure was not explicitly telling students to inform me before they left. As a result, by the time I had dismissed the last student and had gotten off the bus myself, some students were already getting into their cars. At this time, three of my students told me that they really, really, really had to go to the bathroom. I knew this to be true as they had told me this much earlier in our journey home. The tutoring trailer was not open as the director couldn’t locate the teacher, who had the keys. I therefore walked these three students halfway to the school (about fifty-yards from the general crowd) and gave them my keys to get into the school to use the bathroom. I instructed them to come back quickly. At that point, the uncle of one of the girls, who went to the bathroom, drove up to fetch her. I told him that her father had called me not fifteen minutes ago asking me to take care of her for an hour until he could fetch her. He therefore called him and cleared up the matter. The little girl came out of the bathroom and I gave her to her uncle.

After she left, I put a student had been holding my hand the whole time in my truck with the heat on so she would stay warm. Her niece soon joined her, as did her sister. I was taking them all to the church at the request of their parents when all the other kids had left. Finally, the last girl to come out of the bathroom. She told me that she couldn’t find her cousin, Crazy M, and was worried they had left without her. I told her that I doubted that her family would just leave her, assuming that Crazy M would have said something if she had left her cousin. At this point, I began to worry about where M was, as I could not see her with the remaining students. I told her to wait with the girls in the truck as I looked for M. After a few minutes of asking around, it became clear to me that I had lost M. The only students remaining were the four in my truck. The rest had gotten into cars and left when I had walked the children those fifty yards to go the bathroom. I got really worried at this point and told the director. She was clearly alarmed and upset with me, with good reason. I asked around, the students, etc. The kids in the truck had seen her running towards the tutoring trailer, but since that had been locked, she couldn’t have been in there. After about ten minutes of searching for her, the girl's aunt arrived, looking for her, M and their other cousin. I asked M's cousin to go and see if M was in her aunt'scar. She wasn’t. At this point, I became very anxious. I asked the director if we could call the bus driver to check to see if she fell asleep on the bus. The director became very very angry with me and told me that M was my responsibility and that I needed to go over to the bus garage and pound on the door myself. I didn’t know the buses were at the bus garage, or I would have done this without asking. As I was running towards the garage, M’s aunt got out of the car with a clearly worried expression. I told her I was running to check to see if she fell asleep on the bus. I pounded on the bus garage door and one of the bus drivers allowed me to check the bus. No M. I then ran back, terrified at this point. I found that Maria’s aunt and her cousins had left. I then tried to check the school I asked one of the 3rd graders who was with us if she had seen her. She had not. I then ran back into the parking lot. Another teacher was now with the director. She told me that she had seen two girls in the store with their grandmother, one of whom she thought was M, but she didn’t know their names. I asked her if one of the little girls was wearing a pink shirt, as M had been. She said that she was. This was the first bit of good news. Until the news was confirmed, the director told me to quickly run the three girls in the truck to their parents in the church parking lot. I did so and returned within five minutes. When I came back, the other teacher was gone and the director was in her car on the phone. She rolled her window down and then told me that M had been found. She was indeed with her Grandmother the whole time.

I naturally take 100% responsibility for not knowing where my students were at all times. I love my students and no one was more distraught that I lost M than I was. With the terrible weather and her propensity to wander off, last night’s saga could have ended tragically. This is a very sobering reality that has weighed heavily no my spirit. After much thought, I have concluded that as a first year, first semester teacher with no background in education and very little familiarity with the policies of Little Wound Elementary or the community at large, I am not qualified for the position of 3rd grade tutor. I therefore will not seek to renew my contract for the spring semester.

Sincerely,

BB

The Blues, Lulu and The Blueberry

Today was a very difficult day. I think it was one of the first days of the year where I spent a large portion of the day disliking my children. They seemed surprisingly disrespectful today.

I woke up this morning exhausted and in a foul mood. I was seriously mad at God for making me get up. I was even more peeved because my foot is really, really sore today. And so, my energy level was very low today, which the kids can always sense. I really had the blues.

My negative sentiments were directed towards the children when S, my little attitude girl, was caught sucking on candy. The children know the rules and when they purposefully break them, it annoys me. However, I got really annoyed when I got her again not ten minutes later with another piece in her mouth! We soon transitioned into silent reading where they read silently for 50 minutes. Today, however, they chose not to be silent. To make matters worse, little W, the daughter of my best friend out here, was one of the people talking. I almost never have to remind her to be on task, so today was an off day for her. Because the talking continued, I had to send all three kids back to their desks. At that time, I caught M (who was late today), chewing gum. I was very annoyed because she had just seen me rebuke the girl across from her for her candy. But things got all the more tense when not five minutes later, a student comes up to me and says M is chewing gum. I made her come over to my desk and open her mouth. I saw her quickly swallow the gum before opening up. That irked me all the more. But I really got tense when I realized not five minutes later that she had started to pretend she was chewing stuff just to get a rise out of me and the other students. I took her out into the hallway and had a firm talk with her. I took away her recess and P.E. privileges and made her spit out the paper she was chewing. I think she liked playing games with my head, which frustrated me all the more.

I wasn't the only teacher stressed the day. A fellow TFA corps member was so frustrated she had someone cover for her for 5 minutes while she vented in the bathroom. Her and I moaned and complained in Spanish for awhile, but it didn't make me feel too much better.

By lunch time, I purposed in my heart that it was time to change my attitude. I made myself repeat over and over again "I love my students." Love really is a choice, not a feeling. When W came in from recess because she was wearing slippers in the snow, I watched her circle the classroom and make an effort to tidy things up. Her little gestures were just precious. Finally, I asked her to come over to me and give me a hug. I wrapped in my arms and held her their until I remembered why I love my students so much. From that moment on, the rest of the day was much better.

My heart really softened as my kids stood in line to rotate classes. One of my boys said that Lulu, one of my favorite students, had threatened to beat up another kid. Surprised, I asked if this was true. She quickly denied it. I then asked her, "Are you lying to me?" I was shocked when she threw her arms around me, buried her head in my stomach and cried, "Yes!" She clung to me and wouldn't let go, clearly remorseful. (I think the remorse was in part a result of my lecture earlier in the day about our class' problem with lying). I later found out that Lulu had made that comment only after a boy had declared he was going to beat someone in our classroom up. She saucily had replied, "I will beat you up then!" I didn't punish her.

In addition to Lulu's reminder of why I love my kids, little M was up to her hilarious ways. I noticed early on in the morning that she had a blue streak on her face. Upon closer examination I realized that there were blue marker marks all over her face and completely covering her ears. When I asked her what happened, she told me that her sister gave her beautiful earrings. I roared with laughter after this comment. With her purple coat and blue face, she truly resembled a blueberry. I tried to wipe some of the marker off, but school started. Therefore, she pranced around the entire day with blue smears all over her face. She look 100% ridiculous and I loved her all the more for it!

I have included some pictures of the infamous little M and myself on our last field trip to Rapid.

Projector Blues

Nearly every day, I marvel at home I am still alive. I am one of the most clumsy people that I know. Today, I did some very foolish that wasted learning time and endangered my students and myself.

It all started with a twelve inch by twelve inch sheet of glass that was given to me by a fellow teacher. One could write on it with dry erase markers rather than directly on overhead transparencies--it is easier to erase, you see.

Because transparency technology is really outdated, I use it only when my school's curriculum requires it. Today was one of those days. I used the projector and the glass in the morning and left it where it was sitting until it was time to rotate classes for our respective departmentalized subjects. In my hurry to move the projector in time for the incoming class, I completely forgot about the glass. As I lifted the projector into the air, the glass slid off and headed towards the ground, almost in slow motion. Out of sheer reflex, I stuck my foot out to 'break' its fall--a rather painful habit that evolved from my days of playing soccer. The very corner of the glass penetrated my skin before falling to the floor in a million pieces.

My first concern was with the broken glass. I ordered my students to stay back as I surveyed the damage. It was then that I noticed my foot. Though the gash was only about two inches wide, it was extremely deep. Blood was just gushing. Soon, my tights were saturated and my blood was literally pooling on the floor. The children looked on in horror, each asking me what they should do. Trying to clear my head, I asked one of them to ring the office and ask them to send down a janitor to clean up the blood and the glass. Then I sent one of my students to go and get a fellow teacher. She stepped into the classroom, took one look at the pool of blood and the stunned children around me and ordered everyone to their seats. Meanwhile, I thought it best to go to the office and out of the line of sight of my kids. When I arrived in the office, the school secretary had a very worried expression on her face--especially after she saw that my tights were literally saturated with blood. The school nurse was nowhere to be found so I waited in the office with my foot up as people who passed by gathered to see me bleed. Finally, the nurse arrived. She took one look at it and told me that I needed to go get stitches. And so, the school's security officer was commissioned to take me to a town an hour away for treatment. (I couldn't go to the clinic across the street because I am not Lakota). Lamenting the loss of learning time, I gave my the librarian my lesson plans and asked her to teach my class for me. As a former TFA corps member and Middle School Teacher of the year last year, I knew I could trust her. After I gave her some parting words of advice, I hobbled towards the exit.

My trip to the clinic was uneventful. However, I was a teeny-weeny bit annoyed by the fact that one of the staff workers kept commenting on how young I was to be a teacher. I told her I was nearly 23, but this didn't seem to impress her...

The doctor came to treat me soon after I arrived. It did not take long and only required two stitches (it was deep, not wide). I got a bit nauseous when he lifted up my skin with a needle in order to numb it. Other than that, I was a trooper.

The entire trip to took about three hours. I got back just in time to show my children that I was okay. Many of them looked genuinely concerned. In fact, when I stepped back into my classroom, a gaggle of girls rushed up to me and threw their arms around me. It was precious.

I ran into M, who is not in my homeroom, in the hallway. She shouted, "Miss Prenzill!! You're back! Are you okay?!" As I began to assure her that I was just fine, she cut in, "Can I borrow 50 cents?" When I shot her a look, she beamed up at me and said, "Josh!" You got to love little M.

Yours truly,

B

Meet Martha Stewart...Or Not

I think that I have sort of earned a reputation around the school as a sort of a Grinch. It is no secret that I detest the way holidays are commercialized, that the school spends a ridiculous amount of money on decorations and wastes way too much precious learning time for parties, parades and assemblies. However, in all fairness, I have had a complaining spirit of late. I really wanted to make today better..and it was my big chance.

Today was the first ever learning-circle run family craft night. At Little Wound family craft-nights are a really big deal. School administrators set up tables where really nice crafts can be made (scarves, wreathes, etc.). Dinner is also provided. As you can imagine, the combination of the two really draws in the crowds. Well, they decided to try a craft night run by the elementary school staff. Each teacher, K-5, was responsible for doing a craft in their room. Now for those of you who know me at all, you know that crafting is the antithesis of what I am good at. I hate crafts and the idea of doing a craft night was appalling. Nevertheless, the teachers around me remained gleeful, despite my melancholy.

Yesterday, we found out that the craft kits we ordered from a catalog never were actually ordered. That meant that the night before craft night we had no crafts and no supplies. One of the third grade teachers left so it was up to P and I to dig rummage through the closets of other teacher's classrooms to find Christmas supplies. In the end, we threw together a hodge-podge of stuff for tonight.

If my day only got more hectic this morning. I woke up exhausted and was expecting a delay start because of the snow. There wasn't. I dragged myself to school and tried to pretend to be excited. A few hours into the day (seemed like decades), my college professor (and high school principal) came by and told me I needed to take my grad class semester final after school. I had expected to take it tomorrow after studying. So no studying...

I survived to the end of the day (miracle). The minute the kids were on the bus, I ran over to my professor's office and grabbed the test. I ran back to my class only to find that one of the cars didn't have a driver to run some kids home. As a result, I had about eight kids in my classroom while I was trying to finish my semester final. I was typing like a maniac while trying to keep an eye on the kids. I finished with enough time to grab some food from the cafeteria and literally wolf it down as I frantically tried to prepare for craft night.

The first family arrived thirty minutes early--of course. By the time 6:30 rolled around, the room was extremely hot and overcrowded. My family friends were there--the ones I had Thanksgiving with. That made things a lot better. I think most of the families enjoyed the craft. We made flower pens. I admit that I felt so foolish modeling how to make the craft. I looked ridiculous. My family would have died from laughter.

We had a drawing for gift cards. The minute--nay, the second--I finished drawing for winners, the entire classroom emptied like the rapture had come. I was left sitting with a classroom that looked like a tornado went through it and a child who needed a ride home. I currently sitting in the eye of the storm, wishing the cleaning fairy would come and clean my room for me. Lord preserve me!

P.S. Our flower pens were cooler because we used Christmas flowers.

Let the Healing Come

In a few short weeks, I will arrive upon the one year anniversary marking my acceptance to Teach for America. At about this time last year, I was in the final stage of the interview process. I remember how nervous I was riding the train to Philadelphia by myself-my first time in the city. I remember how the cold stung my cheeks as I walked to Temple University, how clammy my hands were in the office and how ironic I thought it was that the receptionist was a Christian. All that day, the hand of God was leading me--showing me that He was with me. I remember crying during my interview, asking a veteran corps member how she dealt with the challenges, my heart already breaking for my children. I remember leaving that interview knowing that I was going to be a teacher.

Shortly after I got accepted, I decided that for the first time in my life, I was going to chronicle the journey God was taking me on. It is so easy to forget where we have come from--how faithful the Lord has been. I am so glad that I did. From this humble little blog, I believe that God has broken my heart and the hearts of His people for my babies here at Little Wound.

For some reason, I felt like God wanted me to take the time today to explain the title of my blog "Lakota Rapha: Let the Healing Coming." Names have always been very important to me (maybe because I dislike mine so much). As I mulled over many possibilities, I felt God leading me to choose the current title. In a way, it describes my purpose here. "Lakota" of course refers to the Oglala Lakota--the people I am serving here. "Rapha" is Hebrew for "heal" or "healer". I am sure many of you have heard the term Jehovah Rapha"-God the Healer. Fused, Lakota and Rapha become my prayer: the healing of the Lakota--not just any healing but the healing power of God. Government aid won't heal them, anthropologist won't heal them, medicine men won't heal them. Only the transformative power of God will redeem the Lakota people and use their beautiful culture for His glory. That is my prayer, that they may know the healing I and believers before me have come to know. This is a healing that can come from God alone.

In case you didn't know,

B

Margaritaville

Last night was a really, really long night. I went to my first TFA event in a long time. We were having a corps/staff wide celebration in Rapid at a fancy Italian restaurant. Though I am not really close with anyone of the corps, I decided to join, just to try to be social. Since no one had called offering to car pool with me, I planned on driving myself. However, while I was asleep yesterday morning, a fellow teacher and corps member here at LWS offered me a ride in. He and his fiance are always very considerate of including me. Drowsy and not-cleared headed, I agreed. I would later very much regret the choice.

The ride down was really pleasant. It was a nice change to speak with adults. We first went to Wal Mart where I was able to use the $200 given to us by the after-school program to buy a Tag Leap Frog system. I am pretty stoked about it. I also got six books to go with it (pretty pricey).


After that, things went downhill. We went over to the restaurant where I proceeded to be permanently awkward. I have never done well in large group settings--especially when I don't know/like anyone really well. It didn't help that everyone else--and I mean everyone else--either had a roommate present or a significant other. Furthermore, the fact that I have almost nothing in common with the majority of the corps, aside from our classrooms, made conversation very difficult for me. I realized that all was hopeless when the only other Christian there asked me "So, what do you do to socialize?" When I replied that my social life mainly included 8-10year olds, the school's custodian and the family of one of my students, he was speechless. I believe that my response solidified in his head his belief that I am a complete social pariah and likely a holier-than-thou type Christian. Perhaps that is why of all my teammates, he and I probably talk the least, though we have Jesus in common. It was a real bummer.

After the mortifying lunch, things got worse. I wasn't sure they could, but they did. My ride had a meeting at 5:00pm so his fiance and I waited around for nearly two hours. She wanted a hair cut so we walked around Rapid in the freezing wet cold, but to no avail. When J was finally done with his meeting, it was 7:00 and really time to go. I had planned on being back by 6:00, so I really was behind in my work schedule. As we said our goodbyes and prepared to head home, a corps member warned him to be careful of the icy roads. It planted a seed of fear in his East-coast head. After about seven minutes of driving, he decided we would spend the night. I was horrified.

I immediately proceeded to text another friend from Kyle and ask if she would take me home. She agreed, but the catch was that she was at the bar. And so, my ice-fearing friends dropped me off at the bar and the next nightmare stage of my evening began.

I have always felt uncomfortable around heavy drinking. I do not like how it makes people act. I especially do not like when people who have authority over me and whom I respect, make fools of themselves drinking. As I looked around from face to face, my ears recoiling against the sound of too-high-pitched laughter, I was deeply saddened. The room was filled with some of the most intelligent people in the nation. These individuals had attended the best colleges in our country and earned grades many would die for. They would no doubt become leaders of our nation one day. And they also were passionate about ending educational inequality. These were exceptional people. But tonight all that was forgotten. They were simply drunk young adults, making passes on one another, egging each other on and attempting to drown the pain they simply couldn't cope with. It was all too much for me.

After we finally left (my driver does not drink), my sadness only deepened as I was privy to all the gossip of the corps. I will not go into details, but I was horrified by the unprofessionalism of the corps and some of the staff. It also made me angry. Where did these people find time to have Days of Our Lives-type lives? These kids need us--all of us.

But then I remembered something my big sister once told me: "Brittany, you can't expect darkness to produce light." My younger sister added, "Be Jesus." This reminded me that I am here night only to serve and love the children in my school, but to be Jesus to my team, for it is He alone who can drive out darkness.

Please pray for my team,

B

My Cup Runneth Over

Can joy be felt? I am so joyful right now, that it is no longer just a sentiment or an emotion. It is palatable. I feel as if a stranger could almost touch my joy. Allow me to share with you some reasons why.

First, if you could just meet my babies, you would understand. I have the most wonderful children. All day long, they do things that make me love them more. Even when they do wrong, I better realize how much I love them because I know that the consequences I give are to make them better people, not just to get them to obey.

Today, two of my students did something that nearly brought me to tears. I was sitting down in a chair beside a student when she threw her arms around my neck and gave me a huge slobbery kiss, as only little girls can give. Another baby--the hilarious one that is on a kindergarten reading level, though not in my homeroom--also gave me a huge hug and a big kiss before leaving. She squeezed me real tight and I almost cried as I hugged her back. She has had a horrendous life, yet is like a bubbling brook, overflowing with life. She calls me "Miss Prenz-ill" because she can't say my name. Physically and intellectually, she is very much like a first grader. I call her Crazy M and I am extremely fond of her. In fact, as she stood on her tip-toes to give me a hug, I couldn't help but think that this is what it feels like to have a daughter. These children, they are not just my students. I honestly love them as if they were from my own flesh. And can you believe that they actually pay me for this?

God also has continued to show me amazing favor in this place. I was observed by three very important people: the Little Wound literacy coach and former Middle-School-Teach of the Year, my principal and my Teach for American program director. Thanks to our Father, I receieved really, really good reviews. They think very highly of me as a teacher, to which I just shake my head in disagreement. In terms of executing lessons, I am simply average, if that. But I am so passionately in love with my kids, that a lot of my flaws are glossed over. The children sense and embrace my affection and in turn are willing to work extremely hard. For example, yesterday my principal was to observe my class. About two minutes after she came in, a staff member told me I had to attend a special ed meeting. My principal, TM, told me to leave and said that she would watch my kids. I put T in charge and instructed the class to share their writing with Ms. Mendoza as well as what they were learning. When I came back, TM was extrememly impressed. She said that she was just in awe of my kids. In fact, when one of my students shared about what she would change in the world and ended by looking her in the eye and telling her she loved her, TM said she nearly cried. As she was leaving, I asked her when she planned on observing me as I had not been in the classroom. Pausing, she turned to me and said, "I observed your kids. It's all I needed to see." I left that day praising God for His incredible favor.

So I just wanted to thank all of you for praying. God is answering our prayers and using me for His glory.

So much love,

B