My MTC Experience...

Two years ago I was 22 and not yet a college graduate. When I arrived in Mississippi I had 3 suitcases and no idea what to expect. I knew I was assigned to teach somewhere called Greenwood. In my head, I pictured a quaint little town like the one I grew up in, in Alaska, with one or two local coffeehouses and maybe even a used bookstore. In a word, I was clueless.

The first summer was fantastic. I fell in love with Mississippi and Ole Miss, spending my days eating catfish and hush puppies at Taylor Grocery or perusing the beautiful selection at Square Books. Summer school was exhausting, but it was the type of exhaustion that you’re happy to put up with – you’re putting so much energy into something that you know is totally worth it. By August, I was excited and ready to begin. By September, I was ready to quit.

They constantly prepare you during the first summer for how difficult the first year could be – but it really doesn’t sink in until the first few weeks. I pulled at least one all-nighter every week for the first quarter. I was so tired and depressed that I made myself physically ill, which I loved because it meant that I had an excuse not to go to school. When I did have to go to school, I woke up at 6:15 in order to leave the house by 6:20. The school I taught in my first year was actually a thirty-minute drive from my house, and I spent the whole trip thinking of the other people on the road who were going somewhere that wasn’t school, and wishing I could be them. As miserable as I was each morning on that drive to work, I was also grateful for being able to experience it. For those of you who have never driven through the Mississippi Delta, its like no place that I know of on Earth; and on those early mornings, when the sun rose over the catfish ponds, it was the most beautiful and memorable image of the South that I have been lucky enough to capture.

As my first year rolled on, the experience got better. Each day was a challenge, but a little less so than the one before it. Looking back, my first year in MTC was the most difficult year of my life. There are a huge number of factors for that difficulty, but I think the largest factor, and the one that hurts a little bit to admit, was me: I wasn’t grown up.

Of course I was an adult when I joined MTC, and my maturity level was light years ahead of those of my students (and even some faculty members), but I was still this little college girl who didn’t know how to live on her own and take care of herself. I wanted to blame everyone and everything outside of me: the school, my students, the system, my roommate – everyone except me. Granted, this is a very difficult program and, as an outsider, the community can be extremely scary; but a person shouldn’t stay an outsider forever. My largest regret about these past two years is that I never integrated myself into my surroundings the way I have seen others in my class do. A new place can be stressful and difficult, but if, after two years, Mississippi is still a new place – there’s no one to blame but myself. I am an outsider here, not because others have left me out, but because I have kept myself out.

After that first year, I moved to Jackson and made an effort to allow myself to be open to the possibility of enjoying teaching in Mississippi, just like that first summer after college. I still have my moments of getting so worked up and stressed out that I close myself off to the community around me, but – overall – I think I have made a real change. I am no longer wishing I was someone else; I don’t pull all-nighters; I’ve made, for me, a large effort to become more involved in my school, my students, and my staff; and, I’ve even started waking up earlier than five minutes before I have to be out the door.


The assignment was to write about our MTC experience, and I feel like I didn’t write about anything. I have a million stories, good and bad; there are people I’ve met that I will never forget; I have learned things that will remain with me forever. There is too much to say about this place and this program, but there is no right way to say it. For the rest of my life I am willing to bet that some of my worst memories will be of teaching in Mississippi. Of course, these are my favorite memories as well.

Spring Break in the South

My birthday happened to fall during this year’s Spring Break. Robert and I planned two trips – Monmouth Plantation in Natchez, and The Peabody Hotel in Memphis. We visited Monmouth first, and old plantation made famous by General Quitman. It was a beautiful mansion house, filled with history and old-timey relics. The grounds were lovely – gardens, ponds, statues, a croquet course, and a variety of walking trails.

The one complaint I had about Monmouth, which maybe I should re-label as a discomfort instead of a complaint, was the particular history that was so awkwardly being displayed. On the particular day that we chose to visit and eat at Monmouth, every other guest we ran into was white. During our five-course dinner – which was incredible – in the mansion, the bartender and two other servers were all black, and the same was true of each server and busboy at breakfast the next morning. Most likely, the servers’ race had more to do with the demographics of the area than anything else, and it may have just been a coincidence that every person we saw visiting the plantation was white. Although we both managed to forget about this awkwardness for the better part of the trip, it was still a very bizarre dynamic to experience.

After Natchez, we drove North to Memphis. Even though we both live in Jackson, driving into Memphis we agreed that driving into a real city was such a nice and missed experience. Jackson is certainly a city, but it doesn’t have loopty-loops on the interstate and the downtown isn’t bursting lights and excitement, AND, in Jackson there isn’t a movie being filmed when we walk into the lobby! That’s right, Soul Man, starring Bernie Mac and Samuel L. Jackson just happened to be filming in The Peabody the night we arrived. We think we caught a glimpse of Bernie Mac on set, but – alas – Sammy J was nowhere to be seen.

For those people who have never been to The Peabody, GO. You don’t need to get a room there, but you do need to see it. It’s overwhelming. Referred to as “The South’s Grand Hotel,” and “Where the real Delta Begins”. It is a beautiful sight. Plus, there are ducks. Yup… Ducks. They march to the lobby fountain every day at 10:00 and they march back to their rooftop palace, via elevator, every evening at 5:00. Awesome, right?

Needless to say, I had a great Spring Break. It’s amazing how much my love for this place can swell when I have a week off from teaching.

Growing Up

The day of the third term district exam, every math teacher was asked to administer the test to an Algebra I class that they didn’t normally teach – not a big deal, unless you happen to be assigned to the class where 3 major fights had broke out in the last month – which, thank my lucky stars, was assigned to yours truly. Luckily, I gave myself a large pep-talk on the way to work, “you WILL NOT raise your voice; you WILL address every student in the room as Sir or Ma’am; you WILL NOT hesitate to make use of the hall monitor and write-ups.” It worked. As stressful as the situation of dealing with this unknown class almost got, they all seemed to appreciate my politeness, and after the test, I allowed the i-pods to come out and the “respectful” dance party to begin.

It’s amazing that I often forget how far a calm voice and a respectful address will take me in terms of classroom management. There are so many days that I become fed up with students to such a great degree that I begin raising my voice, slamming my door, and calling them anything that comes to mind, “you disrespectful, ignorant, mean, blah, blah, blah…” After having such a nice time working with the seemingly dreadful Algebra I students during third term exams, I have made a much larger effort to give myself that same pep-talk every morning on the way to school, and to continue it in my head as often as I can during the school day. Not only does my new demeanor seem to affect my students, but it is helping me to realize that so many of the actions that were getting me riled up in the past are minor incidents, most of which turn out to be silly high-school experiences. When a student imitates me to the class, instead of getting angry or imitting him, I calmly say to myself , “You can either choose to smile and move on, or calmly call security and have the student removed.”

It’s a little sad that, as a teacher, it has taken me this long to grow up and not let the student’s bother me. However, walking around the school, I see 5 teachers every day who are acting childish and immature. I don’t want to reprimand these teachers, though. Most of them, including me, are doing a good job. Sometimes students are just assholes, and when you work with them every day you’re bound to let it get to you. We just have to keep breathing.

Normal

In Jackson, the district creates and administers the final exam at the end of each term for all State-Tested classes. I teach two Algebra I classes – which I love – and, unfortunately, have to deal with the pressure of preparing my students for not only a state test, but a district test as well. Never knowing what the test looks like until the day I am administering it to my students is stressful, especially when one takes into consideration the amount we are required to teach each term (the JPS pacing guide is a joke), and that each teacher must constantly be reinforcing everything covered in previous terms, since what was tested in the first term, may reappear in the test for the fourth term.

My first two district tests – first term and semester – were “interesting.” It is always a bad sign when the term “normalized” is brought up in terms of grading. Normalized is the districts way of saying, “since everyone scored so poorly on our test, we are going to add 38 points to each student’s original score.” Teachers are not allowed to turn in any grades until the district has “normalized” each student. As report card time rolls around and the question floating around the faculty meeting is, “do you know if the scores have been normmed, yet?” it’s difficult not to crack a smile and giggle at the ridiculous of the question. It’s as if to say, “tests are not an adequate instrument of measuring learning, unless you erase all the incorrect answers and replace them with the correct ones.” Umm… wouldn’t I get fired for doing that in my own classroom? Hmm?

Lucky for me, though, the scores are normalized. Otherwise, the sight of all those 20s and 30s might be enough to make me quit. After normalizing, I at least have some students who passed the first term and semester exam.