Standford Freshmen Retreat

I am so utterly overwhelmed, but at the same time too tired to have my usual high intensity freak out. So instead I sit with the anticipation of failure brewing in my mind in front of my computer, waiting D Day (first day of school) to approach. I have so much to do before the first day, that it could not possibly be done. I have this horrible (which used to be good) habit of putting too much time into the little things and details. I never would have called myself a perfectionist (compared to the other UCLA-psycho-anal students), but now I realized that to get by, I have to half-do everything and realize that some things (like figuring out a curriculum) are more important then others (decorating my classroom :). Prioritizing was never my strong suite.

This week I have had a legitimate excuse for not opening up my computer and getting things done. All week I was in Standford with 70 9th graders (who act like 7th graders) and 10 upper classmen on the LPS freshman retreat. It was 3 days of summer camp with very little structure or rules for the kids to follow. Just like my favorite instructor from summer Institute always said, "If you don't make a plan for the kids, they will make one for you." That is what happened the first day. I ended the night feeling like a failure to these kids, even though I had nothing to do with the planning of the retreat. If anything, I learned what you SHOULDN'T do with kids and what practices to avoid.

The second day came around and things finally turned around. A group called "Odyssey" came to help led a day of bonding games and trust activities. Kids were doing trust falls off of picnic benches, working together to complete puzzles, and helping each other up a 20 ft black wall. It felt like I was back in Unicamp :)

The third day was one of the most exhausting days of the summer. A group called "Challenge Day" (you may have heard about them from Oprah) came to led activities to help the students bond, but also talk about serious things in their lives that they pent up inside. We did this activity called "The Power Slide" that was extremely intense and emotional. The instructor says a comment, if it applies to you you step across the line, and then turn around to see all of the other people who did not cross the line. Or even more importantly, all of the people who crossed the line with you. The activity was powerful. Comments like, "Cross the line if someone close to you has died," and "Cross the line if you were not born in this country" were particularly powerful for many of my students who broke down into tears thinking about all of pain or hate that is associated with these memories or experiences. It is when they called out, "Cross the line if you are from Asian-Pacific, Chinese, etc. dissent," that I knew it was my turn to feel the power of this activity. I slowly crossed the line with my head down and tears welting in my eyes and turned around to face the 80 eyes staring at me. I was standing with two other students, one who looked predominantly Latino and the other African American. I felt so isolated. Never in my life have I lived in a community where I was the only obviously Asian person. At my school in Oakland and in Teach for America, Asians are an extreme minority with strong stereotypes and social stigma. This is something I am going to have to deal with for the next 2+ years.

After the tears dried and the students went home, I quickly realized that I have 4 classes on Monday and no curriculum for either one of them. OH crap. While other teachers were preparing for Monday, I was herding freshmen from one activity to another as they whined that their Baby Phat shoes were getting grass stains. This year is going to be rough.

Here are some lasting thoughts lingering in my mind:

My school is so unorganized I want to scream. Every one of my students are amazingly strong. I do not know what I am doing the first week of school. I absolutely love my TFA friends (who strangely are all guys). My roommates are my best friends here. I love Berkeley. Traffic = anger. Waking up to chickens clucking feels like home. Dance parties make my world go round. Uptown is my homeboy. Organic is the way to go. I loose waterbottles too quickly. Don't smile until November. What is irony? Playing home is fun. California is the best state in the country. Oakland is scary. But Richman is worse.

I start school on MONDAY. FML

<3 Ms. Quane