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Breaking The News

dadler85 — Wed, 19 Jun 2013 04:56:31 +0100

Day 177: Today, I finally told my kids I was leaving. To prepare, I did two things. First, I made brownies. I figured if my kids were going to take it poorly, at least they’d have brownies. Second, I made a slide explaining the new city I would be teaching in – Lawrence, Massachusetts – and specifically explaining that it was a city and a school that could use a real teacher-leader. First and second period, the reaction was pretty much the same. A smattering of “What?!?” with one, maybe two “The teachers always leave this place.” Students by and large listened to me respectfully. I got some hugs and requests for my gmail address as they left. Fourth period, my homeroom had a pretty muted reaction. A couple of students, as is the norm, drifted into class in the middle and immediately began talking. My usual requests for eyes and no speaking limited the gravitas. Oh well. I’ve got those folks for another three days. They’re not done with me yet. More importantly, we nailed the catapult lesson. I will remember that during their last science class, we stayed on task and focused, despite flying marshmallows. I’ll also remember that for the first time since October, AM gave me props. I found her after class and told her how proud I was of her growth as a respectful leader, and made her promise to keep doing her best next year. It was eighth period that really killed me. I gave out the brownies, told the students my age – something I’d promised all year. The atmosphere was pretty joyous. And then I dropped my bomb. Immediately, GC shouts, “All of the teachers leave.” Someone else: “Are you going to a better school?” I use that as the segue into explaining that it’s not a better school, but a school that might need more help, and teachers who are willing to step up. When it comes time to read the Big Goal for the last time, I offer that everyone can say it. SE and a couple of other girls ask me to instead. I finish, and ask what it means to “put your money where your mouth is.” A student answers: “You have to back up what you say is important.” I explain that if I’m going to talk about leadership all day, I’d better be prepared to be a leader myself and take on a new challenge, somewhere I’m really needed. I tell this class that I’ve loved teaching them, and I’ve loved their enthusiasm, and I’ve loved seeing their hard work. I dismiss them, and I think I’m in the clear, when I see SBA is crying. And not the loud, look-at-me crying sixth grade girls can do sometimes. This is silent crying – legit crying. I find myself repeating to her, “I’m sorry … I’m sorry …” before I finally hug her and say, “I am so proud of your hard work this year, and I’m so excited to see what you do next year. Please remember that.” She nods and walks out, leaving my heart broken. An hour later, I find JV crying in the stairwell. I gave JV a consequence nearly every day this year. We’re not exactly besties. I ask what’s wrong, and HG, walking by, says, “She’s sad because you’re leaving.” I say I think that’s not true. JV says, “I’m sad because you’re leaving.” Well … damn. I’d talked myself into believing students wouldn’t care much, that they were leaving the campus, that they wouldn’t see me anyway. Turns out they did care. For some, it’s for the negative reasons; they’re used to seeing teachers leave, and this validates their perceptions. For others, though, it seems like they were really and truly sad to see me leave their lives. Maybe they’d been planning to come back and visit next year. Maybe they just wanted to have the chance, and now they couldn’t, even if they wanted to. Either way, my worst fears came to fruition – that I was disappointing my kids by leaving their lives and their community too soon. A few months ago, I ultimately decided the personal and professional reasons for leaving outweighed that risk. Now, I can only hope I’ll really stay in touch, remind myself that I’ll still be doing good work with students next year, and prepare for a heavy-hearted final three days.

Institute Week 2

jessi — Tue, 18 Jun 2013 23:15:20 +0100

Last week was a whirlwind of sessions and preparations for our first days in class. I have never felt so overwhelmed in my life (and I have lived/moved to another country). It was really strange for me to go to sessions after being a teacher and learning about all of the TFA teacher stuff. I am trying to merge the two views so that I can become a more well-rounded educator. Anywho! I love my students. I have not taught officially, yet. However, today we did some goal setting work in small groups and I got to spend time with individual students. It was amazing. I cannot wait to get to know them better. This is going to be short because I am super-busy. Tonight we have open house, and tomorrow I teach literary analysis! Wish me luck!

Meh, They're Kids

dadler85 — Tue, 18 Jun 2013 03:35:03 +0100

Day 176: My last Monday at my school is over. It felt, unsurprisingly, like pretty much any other Monday. Kids riled up in the morning, having completely forgotten how to be focused during Morning Meeting. The joys of recess and lunch duty. The inability of my homeroom to get into class in an orderly fashion, followed by us eventually pulling it together and getting some work done. About six minutes into sixth period, I heard a student quickly shout, “Ow!” and grab his cheek. The girl behind him, the infamous AM, was giggling. I waited for the next possible break to investigate, and discovered that AM had in fact shot AB in the face with a rubber band. She hadn’t meant to shoot him in the face, per se, but she’d absolutely meant to shoot him. I took a step forward and nearly opened my mouth to send her out, ream her out … something. And then, I didn’t. In that moment, I decided that nothing I did would be at all productive. They were both fooling around, so it’s not like AB would feel slighted if I didn’t come to his rescue. And given that AM was already apologizing, I was fairly confident me getting high and mighty wouldn’t make her any more contrite than she already was. Rationalizing inaction? You betcha. Letting something slide with five days left to go that I wouldn’t have tolerated a month ago? Absolutely. Sitting here kicking myself for letting a student get hit in the face with a rubber band? No chance. These are kids, folks. They’ll be fine.

One Last Shout-Fest

dadler85 — Sun, 16 Jun 2013 20:04:39 +0100

Day 175: As I’ve explained before, I have my students do a call and response chant before every quiz and test. I yell “work hard” and they respond “get smart.” I wonder if they actually remember this is supposed to remind them about the value of persistence and growth mindset, or if they just like yelling really loudly. In the event that it was more about yelling loudly, I decided to make our last time a bit more special. Before we started the final, I told each class something unique about them – something that I was proud of them for. I told 6A I appreciated how on task they had stayed all year, and how impressed I was with how much work we’d completed as a result. I told 6B I appreciated how much energy, enthusiasm and positivity they had brought to class this year. I told 6D I appreciated how hard we’d worked to stay focused, even when things threatened to slip toward the end. And I told 6C – my darling homeroom – that I was proud of them for all of their hard work, and how much we’d persisted through struggles together. And then I opened my door. I told my kids I didn’t know when the next time was that they’d be able to scream out loud in school, so we had better make the last one count. I stretched in over-the-top fashion, preparing my vocal cords, and said, loudly: “Work Hard.” Students responded, loudly: “Get Smart!” I shouted: “Work Hard!” Students shout: “Get Smart!” I screamed, with a pause between each word: “WORK. HARD!” Students scream back: “GET. SMART!” As expected pretty much no class brought it back super fast from that last one. MB, the king of the loud shout, went on for a good five seconds. I couldn’t care less. I called the office, made sure the receptionist heard us – she did, every time – gave my kids the OK sign, and told them to nail the final. Which, by and large, they did. I’ll miss these guys. One week to go …

"Justice is what love looks like in public": The End of Induction

houstonheart — Sun, 16 Jun 2013 14:57:34 +0100

This quote, courtesy of Cornel West, was shared in one of our final sessions of Induction. The session - entitled A Vision for Teaching As Leadership - was one of the more tangible, specific sessions we're had throughout the past few days. I loved it. But more on that later. The end of Induction has gone much, much more smoothly for me than was the beginning of Induction. I'm meeting more people, starting to branch out, and am feeling more comfortable here in the TFA environment. Yesterday, a few of my friends and I did the Insanity workout in one of the dorm rooms. It was the first time I've felt like a real person since I've been here; it underscored the importance of maintaining my non-TFA self throughout the rest of Institute. I finished the workout and headed back to my own dorm feeling refreshed, energized, and truly happy. It's something I want to feel again. So I'm going to make it happen. The theme of yesterday was D&I (Diversity & Inclusion). I'd heard mixed things about TFA diversity sessions. People I've talked to always feel strongly about them, yet have vastly differing views on the effectiveness and ease of these sessions. I've had my fair share of awkward, superficial diversity sessions in the past so I walked in not quite sure what to expect. At this point, I will note that this is only my experience and does not in any way reflect the experiences of any other corps members, or the messages elucidated by TFA. It's just what I saw and heard and felt. TFA's outlook on diversity is best represented by its diversity core value (which you can look up on the TFA website). It grounds its outlook in the research of Dr. Beverly Tatum (author of Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria?) and basically discusses the basics of my sociology classes at Rice - institutionalized racism, white privilege, power structures, racism vs. prejudice, etc. One of the more controversial aspects of Tatum's research - or at least the one of the more controversial aspects in the TFA diversity session - was the idea that all white people are racist, since they inherently benefit from a white-dominated power structure. It is therefore impossible for people of color to be racist. On the other hand, both whites and people of color can be prejudiced. This idea caused quite a stir in the room and was incredibly uncomfortable for many of the people present. I'm honestly still grappling with it myself. I am often quite aware of the various ways white privilege affects my opportunities in life - buying a car, getting car insurance, visiting/renting an apartment, etc. Yet, many of the individuals in the room had not fully realized the impact of their involvement with the white power structure, and had not contemplated the full weight of Tatum's research. The session ("D&I til I die," a nod to 3,6 Mafia) was structured such that we were split into small groups, given norms/definitions, given discussion questions, and allowed to discuss in groups for ten minutes. The total session was three hours long. The ten-minute time frame, in true TFA style, was helpful in structuring the discussion and keeping things focused. However, many people I talked to afterwards said that most of the contention and disagreement in their discussions stemmed from the ten-minute limit, as it prevented participants from fully developing and articulating their ideas, thus leading to misunderstandings. My group, however, had a fantastic discussion. We were all honest, open, and mutually respectful. I didn't feel an uneasy or contentious dynamic at all. Though other groups seemed to have varying experiences, I thought our group made a lot of progress in both understanding TFA's diversity core value, understanding what it means to teach diverse students even if you come from a background that means you can't necessarily identify with your students' backgrounds, and learning how to mesh aspects of your identity when teaching. The D&I session was pretty intense and after a workout and dinner, we headed to drink some wine, eat frito pie (a Texas fixture), and enjoy each others' company. It was a good way to debrief from the discussion and make some stronger ties heading into Institute. Today has mainly been a discussion of diversity - this time in the way TFA handles recruitment/selection/support of corps members - and a variety of interactive presentations about Teaching As Leadership. TAL is the way TFA approaches teaching and transformational leadership. There are a lot of commentaries about it online so I will leave you to look those up if you so desire. Basically, we rotated through three sessions in which high-impact TFA teachers shared the ways they developed their classroom visions and executed these visions. I appreciated the sense of individuality and personality the teachers conveyed. I feel like there are many stereotypes about TFA teachers out there: that TFA teachers are robots, they only teach to the test, they have absolutely no life outside of TFA, etc. Every one of these stereotypes was proven incorrect by this session. We talked a lot about the importance of being genuine, establishing a from-the-heart vision, bringing elements of your personality into your work. It certainly gave me a lot to think about and I really enjoyed out. We spent the next four (!) hours reflecting in our TTL groups on our identities, race/class/privilege, and the week in general. We shared our Stories of Self and then our group did a really meaningful activity where we wrote messages to each other. I feel very lucky to have such a warm, supportive TTL group and I know that we will still be supportive once Institute starts, even when we end up in different CMA groups. We finished up the evening with a cheer battle/pep rally in the quad, and though many people went out afterwards, I decided to stay in and just take some time for myself. I'm definitely an introvert and as I'd been social/around people all of Induction, I resisted the temptation to go be with people more because I knew I needed time alone. I went for a run around campus and then laid on my back in the grass and just looked at the stars, thinking about Induction and all we'd said and done and heard. I'd forgotten how re-energizing time alone can be. As I walked back to campus I felt eager to tackle the challenges ahead and grateful to be in the company of so many inspired individuals. So, that's it! I register for Institute today and then will spend most of the afternoon running errands, finally getting my room set up, and seeing some non-TFA friends. Starting tomorrow we'll spend the week learning (attempting to learn?) how to teach, by which I mean we will listen to a ton of information and grab as much as possible of it. The week thereafter is when we actually head to summer school. Things about myself I learned this week: 1. I need to keep doing the things that make me function - exercise, time alone, an early bedtime. 2. I can be very social and extroverted if necessary. 3. I'm getting better at taking risks and meeting new people. 4. Though adjusting to life after college is hard, it is a process and it is definitely doable. 5. Balancing my TFA life and my non-TFA life is something I need to start working on now. Decisions become habits. As I head into Institute, I hope to keep all this in mind as I try new things and greet exciting challenges.

One Last Marathon Thursday

dadler85 — Sat, 15 Jun 2013 19:21:47 +0100

Day 174: When we last left our brave hero, he was up too late on Wednesday writing a Science final. We find him now, Thursday morning, desperately trying to finish said final, and then print it before first period. Never a dull moment. As usual, Thursday was a long day. Given the last-minute nature of the final-writing experience, I found about 10 typos, which I had to then fix while the first classes took the test. Third period, I reduced AC to tears because – gasp – I actually called her out on her empowered, but-I-need-it-now-ness. She tried to leave to go to the bathroom without permission, and when I told her to wait until after the directions, called out at me in the middle of said directions, “Can I go now?” I’d said no interrupting nor speaking once finals were on desks, so I had her stand in the hall for a conversation. She refused to admit she should have waited and raised her hand, with lots of sniffles and crossed arms, so the conversation lasted well into recess. On the plus side, I’ve discovered yet again I’m OK being the bad guy. Sixth and seventh periods were about surviving two final games of Trashketball, which I’m about 80 percent sure I never want to deal with again. And eighth period was the unfettered joy of managing students watching the school play. When I told JP he could sit with his friends if he committed to not talking, he responded, “We’re going to have fun.” Five seconds later, he was sitting alone, behind me. Again, OK being the bad guy. My day ends around 10 pm, perched over a laptop, eyes clearly not up to the task of staying awake. For once, I call it a night early. Only a day later do I realize that will be my last-ever Thursday marathon. I won’t miss them.

Limping, But Still Standing

dadler85 — Sat, 15 Jun 2013 17:53:32 +0100

Day 173: So, as it turns out, students near the end of the year struggle to handle Trashketball. I suppose I should’ve guessed that one. My homeroom got through a whopping six rounds; 10-12 is typical. Oops. I have a very bad TFA admission to make. Wednesday night, once I was finally done with grad school, I was up late writing my final. Yes, that’s right, I did not backwards plan from a final exam this year. In my defense, I did use a large chunk of last year’s final. And what I did change, I generally made harder. Muah ha ha. The common theme here is that it’s the home stretch. I’m not phoning it in. I could have just used last year’s final. But what’s going on doesn’t exactly feel like a well-oiled machine. T-minus 7 days …

"Everyone you see was once someone's student."

houstonheart — Fri, 14 Jun 2013 04:12:21 +0100

I am at a complete loss for words to describe the past day and a half. It has been an experience unlike anything I could have ever imagined or prepared myself for. I went to an event today with a few Rice friends and I was asked, over and over, "How's TFA going?" I didn't know what to say then. And I still don't know what to say now. If there's one thing I've done a lot of, it's reflection. So. much. reflection. After every community engagement activity, after every discussion, after pretty much everything. I love it. I wish we did more of it. We reflect in something called TTL groups, which are Transition Team Leader groups. There are five people in my group and when we combine with a second group, we make a group of nine. It's like a little family as we make our way through Induction. I've had barely any time to myself, with just my thoughts, to try and process all I've been seeing and doing and feeling. For an introvert like me, this is a little bit of a struggle. Induction is basically an introduction to the city of Houston, to the unique problems Houston faces, to the unique assets Houston possesses. A lot of it is kind of brainwash-y (or maybe I'm just a bit jaded after living here for the past four years?) but it's fun to see my peers start to get a better feel for their new hometown. Today at 8 AM we had the official kickoff ceremony (despite the fact that things all started yesterday afternoon) and heard from a variety of speakers: TFA corps members and alumni, Houston leaders, the chair of the TFA Houston Board of Directors, the Executive Director of TFA Houston, and - most inspiring, for sure - a student who'd been taught by a TFA teacher in the audience. I don't think there was a dry eye in the room. I don't really remember much of what was said, possibly because it was so early in the morning, but the message hit home: this is our hometown, and we have a responsibility to it. A highlight of the past two days has been the emphasis on community engagement ("community experiences", they're called). Last night, we (myself and two other girls) had dinner with a 2012 corps member and one of the students he taught. This was by far one of the most enlightening dinners I'd ever attended. To begin with, the corps member was incredibly vibrant, dynamic, and honest. He had some incredible advice to offer and it was such an honor to hear what he had to say. The student he brought along was also incredible. He was quite insightful and talked a lot about what he believes a good teacher says/does, and how to become a teacher like that. I really appreciated the chance to hear from both of these amazing individuals. Something that really stuck with me from the experience: At one point, we drove through an extremely low-income area of Houston. There were so many people outside - loitering, dealing drugs, or just passing time. The 2012 CM said to us, "everyone you see was once someone's student." Every adult in this world struggling to be self-sufficient and struggling to lead a healthy lifestyle was once someone's student. And for whatever reasons, societal or in-school based, structural factors or individual factors, circumstances didn't align such that that student was able to succeed. There is so much wasted potential in this world; if students do not have even one person who cares about them and won't give up on them, it becomes so easy for them to just give up on themselves. This morning, we worked at a local community agency (which I won't give too many details about because it would probably be recognizable) and then after reflection and some downtime, we went to dinner with another 2012 CM. I won't say more about that but it happened and I appreciated the chance to hear someone else's perspective. Though I've definitely been feeling better about things since my previous post, I am still unsure and anxious and worried and all of those things. There's beginning to be a definite culture of not talking about feelings and not admitting our own insecurities. I went to a Rice event this afternoon and it was just so wonderful to be around people who understand me, who I can be comfortable around, who know me at my deepest level. And it made me sad, too, because I don't know if I will ever find that again, and it just reminded of how far I have to go here to make those same sort of friendships. In the midst of all this angst and worry, I finally hit my breaking point tonight and reached out to a new friend I'd made; we had a life chat over froyo and I am super grateful to have gotten to know her better. She offered me some awesome life advice and didn't freak out when I cried in front of her after knowing her in person for less than 24 hours. haha. That's one thing I love about my experience so far: I'm meeting so, so many incredible people. There are some people who I've really clicked with and some who I really haven't, but there's still lots of time, and I'm trying to be open-minded. Once Institute itself starts and we start working in smaller teams I think things will get better. God, there are so many things I want to say here but I'm so un-eloquent because it's late and I'm overwhelmed. I'll wrap it up with the guiding acronym for the week: Look in the mirror Embrace the climb Act boldly Develop yourself Support one another I've been trying to act boldly. To be self-confident, to reach out to people, to speak up in reflection sessions, to meet new people at breakfast and make new friends. It's hard to be an introvert here. There are 189 other TFA Houston 2013s here with me and it's so overwhelming sometimes. I like deeper, one-on-one conversations, but it's hard to have those here because there's no time or space. and we spend so much time talking about teaching. it's hard to find the emotional capacity to talk about other stuff too. I guess I will sum it up by saying it's a huge, huge transition. Change hurts but it's the natural way forward. The highlight of my day: the woman who interviewed me for TFA is an MTLD (Manager, Teacher Leadership Development) for one of the TTL groups so she accompanied us to our community activity. I wasn't sure if she remembered me (because both of us were wearing suits that day, and now we were in running shorts and t-shirts) but she did. She congratulated me on being a TFA corps member and gave me a huge hug. And that alone has made the day worth it. Tomorrow is a new day. I'm exhausted just thinking about it. I can't remember the last time I've gone to bed at 11 PM but that's what I'm about to do. We have a five-hour diversity discussion tomorrow. Here's to conversations, honesty, openness, and new experiences.

Might Be Going Senile

dadler85 — Thu, 13 Jun 2013 20:57:27 +0100

Day 172: This is the first time I’m two days late to write about Tuesday. My brain is oatmeal. If I were a runner, this would be the point where you’re nearly at the end of a marathon, muscles desperately craving oxygen. I do remember one happy moment. NM was in my room for lunch, as usual, and telling me how her class was a hot mess all day. Then they showed up for 8^th period … And they were completely fine. Granted, it took an initial blitz of sub-par citizenship grades and hard-line warnings to set the tone, but hey, the ends justify the means. With a few minutes left of class, I sidled over to NM and said, “So, I thought you said your class was having a bad day?” NM: “Well … we were.” Me, smiling: “Not anymore.” Again, brain = oatmeal. So I’ll take it as a very good sign that the only thing I can remember is positive.

blurred edges

houstonheart — Wed, 12 Jun 2013 14:10:04 +0100

I've found myself completely and totally blindsided by the difficulty of attending Induction & Institute on the same campus where I graduated from college. Graduation was pretty tough for me. I was completely and totally in love with my college experience, and it took time for me to be able to part gracefully with a a community I'd come to love so dearly. so I tried to make a clean break. I said heartfelt & tearful goodbyes, in person and in writing. I accepted the fact that life as I knew it was moving on, that it was now time to start a new chapter somewhere else. I went on memory strolls with my friends around campus, I self-reflected, I did all the things you're supposed to do to prepare yourself for a big change. But now I'm back, and things feel awful. I suppose it's kind of like a breakup. With time and distance you think you're okay, but then you see your ex walking around, or you find yourself in a chance interaction, and the memories come rushing back. I was completely blown away by how strong my Rice memories still are, prompted by the places that were so formative for me over the past four years. It's like my brain is on overdrive and I can't stop it. Sewall Hall, where I spent so many hours in sociology classes and meeting my thesis advisor. The path leading away from the Rec Center. Long workouts on winter afternoons. Keck Hall. General Chemistry (hell). West Lot. Where I got my one and only Rice speeding ticket for going 32 in a 25 zone. Anderson Hall. Where I said goodbye to a close friend as we both walked back from the same area, and he headed to his architecture studio. Shepherd Hall. graduation fireworks. Founder's Court. Bagpipers and the O-Week closing ceremony. It's like my brain is on overdrive and I can't stop it. The worst part, though, is that I'm living in the same dorm where I experienced three year's worth of O-Weeks, which are Rice's Orientation Weeks. I was an O-Week advisor at a residential college that was not my own (we'll call it Building X) and here I am, living in Building X. There are two other buildings the TFA Houston corps members are living in and I deeply wish I was in one of the other ones. Every single corner of this building holds memories for me. Baking cookies in the study lounges. Afternoons lying in the sun in the quad. So, so many O-Week lunches in the Commons. That time the patio was built. My O-Week goodbye party on the fifth floor. Running across the sundeck filming an O-Week video one year. Tailgates in the covered patio area. O-Week games under the archways. What's even weirder is that every year, I'm moving into the building (and experiencing O-Week) amidst the thick humidity of a Houston summer. As in, exactly how it feels right now. The weirdest part by far is that according to my schedule, Induction will be very similar to O-Week itself. Community engagement activities, dinners off-campus with alumni and current students/parents, diversity sessions, lots of reflection and processing sections with my Induction group, fun social activities at night, lots of presentations during the day. The incredible similarities - the physical ones, plus the activity-based ones - make it extraordinarily difficult for me not to compare the two experiences in my mind. And that sort of comparison is just not fair. I'm comparing the end result of my four years at Rice - deep friendships, a strong sense of attachment to nearly everyone in the building, lots of carefree days, a very distinct academic & social culture - to the end result of less than 24 hours here - where I feel kind of disoriented, confused, overwhelmed, and lonely. I know it's normal to feel that way after being in such a new environment. But I tear up anytime I remember something that happened in this very building over the past three years, because it feels like lightyears away from where I am now, and I worry I will never again feel that same sense of happiness and true belonging. It's like the lines between my Rice and TFA experiences have blurred and bled into each other, each contaminating the other. I don't want my time at Rice to color my time here with TFA. I need to stop constantly comparing the two experiences, being sad that my Rice one is over, wondering why my time here doesn't feel as good yet, all of that. But - and I know this sounds awful, but it's how I feel - I also don't want my TFA memories here to replace my Rice ones. I know Institute will be incredibly difficult. And Induction already feels hard, just in the sense of being in a new environment and making all new friends and being around so many people I don't know. And I don't want to remember Rice like that. I spent a lot of yesterday crying in the company of various Rice friends, and I felt so much better being around them, except then I went back to campus and was confronted with all of my old feelings all over again. I hate feeling this way because I honestly want to just be positive and optimistic and live in the moment here. It's hard to make my brain now feel things it feels, though, and I don't know how to stop this train of negativity and comparison and loneliness. So that's kind of where I am right now. I've been so impressed by the efficiency of TFA, and I really like the people I've met so far, but things still feel new and weird and overwhelming. I know that'll be better once I meet my Induction Group and I feel more connected to more people. I also know it'll get better once Institute itself starts; I'll spend most of my days teaching off-campus, plus my fellow corps members and I will be focused on something specific and difficult (so I won't have the emotional energy to spend my time reminiscing about my Rice experience). My action plan for now: 1. Only go to the places on campus I need to for TFA - my dorm, the rec center, the parking lot. I don't want to blur the edges of my experiences any more than I already am. And I want other places on campus to remain how they are in my memories as just that. Memories. I know this sounds absurd and juvenile but it's honestly what I think would make me feel better right now. 2. Do my best to recognize that these are two entirely unique and different experiences, and all I can do is try to separate the two in my mind. Whenever I catch myself comparing I need to consciously stop before I get too far into the comparisons. 3. Interact as little as possible with non-TFA Rice people I happen to see on campus, because that only accentuates the feeling of being at home but not-being-at-home. 4. Be very focused on being present, in terms of both making friends and thinking about teaching/TFA in general, because constantly depending on my non-TFA Rice community is not a long-term feasible solution. Plus, I'd be robbing myself of the chance to meet some really awesome people here. I just realized the perfect comparison for what things feel like right now. The part in Harry Potter when the Resurrection Stone brings back a lost loved one, but it's only a shade of that loved one. The person is stuck between the past and the present, and the living person goes crazy because their loved one isn't fully in this world. They're just a ghost - a relic of what used to be. That's what this feels like. I'm back on the same campus but things are only a shade of what they used to be. Not fully the same, not fully different, just somewhere awful in-between. What's harder is that so many people are telling me Induction is the fun part. So of course I feel odd feeling so miserable about things right now - is there something wrong with me? Why is it fun for everyone else? Does this mean Institute will feel even worse? And there's my brain again, worrying over things I can't control, doubting myself. It's not productive and I really need to stop. So that's where things stand. I think writing things down here makes me make sense of them in my mind, and will hopefully help keep my mind focused on just being emotionally present here. It's difficult but I'm trying my best. I will be sure to keep you updated on how my action plan progress goes. And in the meantime, I'm just praying that I'll be able to get over this initial adjustment period and start to feel more emotionally settled in over the next few days.