5:40.
Bum-buh-dum-dah-duh Dee-ba-buh-dum-dah-dum.
Bum-buh-dum-dah-duh Dee-ba-buh-dum-dah-dum.
Bum-buh-dum-dah-duh Dee-ba-buh-dum-dah-dum.
As I sit here writing and thinking back to my alarm, I am lucid, but can’t remember exactly what it sounds like; at 5:40 am, I was quite the opposite: fuzzy-headed and thinking of nothing but that jangling, tinny tune playing all-too-loudly from the speaker in my phone.
I snooze until 6. Then I pick my legs out of bed and carry myself to the shower. I’m groggy but excited; I think it’s the time of year: I can feel the anticipation building every day.
At 6:30 I am in the kitchen. Face? stubbleless. Hair? coiffed. Tie? navy. This morning, I eat a breakfast of Grape Nuts (whole grains are high octane fuel for that rush of social interaction that is every morning at the High School) with a cup of café au lait, or espresso with steamed milk. It’s the simple pleasures that make the morning count. I prepared my lunch the night before, so I have some time to silently meditate and reflect. I remember hearing that Henry David Thoreau thought morning was the most special time of day. I know why. It is the morning when thoughts are the clearest, ambitions the most resolute, and tempers the lowest. Mornings here are so great because they provide a looking glass for the day to come. I find myself pondering the question, “How will I best serve my students today? How will I be my best self?” These are questions I am grateful to ask. I love contemplating what I do and how I can do it better: I try to walk away from each day feeling like I’ve done something that mattered.
It’s 7:20 and I’ve arrived at school, set down my things, put my lunch in the fridge, and checked in. As the fellows file in and begin to chat, I begin to notice the bond that we’ve created and the alacrity that comes with it. In only three and a half months, we’ve been together so much – at school and after school, working long hours and then decompressing with movies or nights on the town – that interactions are now easy and stress-free. I can’t wait to see what the rest of the year brings.
7:35 on a Monday means morning circle-up. Today, Ms. Kendall-Turner is leading the charge into the week, and this, apparently, means energy, energy, energy! I trudge into the “garage,” a building adjacent to the school where math tutorial is held, to find the staff stratified into four lines: that’s right, we’re doing the Cha-Cha Slide. “Oh, my God,” I think to myself. “It’s too early for this.” But wouldn’t you know it, by the end of the dance, my heart is thumping, my face is glowing, and I, like everyone else in the room, am grinning from ear to ear. Just as we thought it was over, Ms. Kendall-Turner puts on another song: The Wobble, as I soon learn, is not the beginners-oriented step dance that was the Slide. This one’s rules are more abstract, and I content myself to watch the other staff and their obvious mastery of this strange but fun-looking dance.
7:45. As students pour into the school, I notice an almost random assortment of facial expressions. There are those who act cool and aloof, like Marlon Brando or James Dean, and there are grins, scowls, bouts of gut-busting laughter, and sleep filled eyes searching for free table real estate upon which to lay down heads and rest. But arrival is an enchanting time for the students, who for the most part socialize outside the realm of academics and chillax in a laid-back environment with their peers. Most staff catch the dancing bug at this time, too: Frank Ocean and Destiny’s Child are frequent patrons of the morning playlist. When the Dean of Students grabs the mic and asks for level zero, headphones come out of ears and voices quiet themselves on cue: students are interested in hearing what the dean has to say.
Aside from it being the most relaxed part of the day, the morning is also a time when we as fellows can facilitate meaningful relationships with our students. At the High School, where scholars are on the cusp of adulthood and independence, small gestures like chess go a long way. There’s a senior named Doryan who’s precociously talented – he and I have been playing chess in advisory almost every morning since September, when I asked if he was interested in joining Chess Club. Although none of his peers can match his skills on the chessboard, as we continue to play, I sense a creeping curiosity among the other seniors that betrays a geekiness in even the “coolest” among them.
9:35 marks my first tutorial of the day. I tutor 10th grade ELA – English Language Arts – and the subject matter is interesting to both my students and me. This group – second period – I call my Ravenclaw scholars. They exemplify the predominant traits in that house; indeed, I sort of lucked out in getting four groups that so easily fell into the four houses from Harry Potter. Their wit and intelligence shine through all their multitudinous questions.
At 10:32 I greet my Hufflepuff scholars as they sit down for tutorial. They look eager to learn today, but as I’ve learned, the trick with them is not to overthink it. They work at their own pace and sometimes work better independently. Today I take a step back, answer questions and encourage students through the text, and try not to engage with the off-task behavior that I see. In so doing, I tacitly reward the positive student behavior by motivating it with points and praise.
I should pause to explain what RISE UP points are. Our network of charter schools—the GOL network, which has campuses in New York City, Bridgeport, CT, Wilmington, DE, and Newark—has for its core values R.I.S.E. U.P.: Respect, Integrity, Self-Discipline, Excellence, Understanding, and Professionalism. Each day, students repeat, out loud, our core values to a team member, as they shake hands. The purpose of this daily interaction is to build an invested and passionate relationship between our students and their education. At a certain point we see scholars’ attitudes change from disengaged to committed to their futures. RISE UP points are little incentive that we can use to track students’ progress: throughout the day in any given classroom, you might hear, “That’s a well-supported and insightful answer, Plus 4,” or “Please pick your head up, Minus One.” These motivators strongly influence student behavior.
By 11:42 I am ready for lunch but will have to wait another thirty minutes to reheat my chicken tenders because I have hallway duty. My lunches usually consist of some protein, a piece of fruit, and a bottle of water. Sometimes I eat in the Fellows’ Lounge, but today I’m eating in the “Nest,” a popular place for students to hang out and get help on homework.
In the second half of lunch I’m helping with the Outdoor Adventure Club Bake Sale. Bake Sales are wildly successful; last time, we made a huge profit and sold out in five minutes. Having staff volunteers is necessary, and we were even lucky enough to have a fellow donate some chocolate cream pies. I wasn’t there last time, so I’m excited to see the process in action.
2:12. After seeing my Gryffindor scholars, who are rambunctious and absolutely hilarious, I have a free period that allows me to plan for the rest of the week. It’s during this time that I fill in packets that I have to do, complete readings, and plan for club meetings after school. With only one subject to tutor, I am able to focus all of my energy on making the subject matter as interesting as possible, which includes doing extra research, deep diving into the material, and exploring the Web for extra resources to show in tutorial. As tutorials take place in a small group setting, I like to make extra time for students to discuss subjects that might interest them – although we have to complete the packets, tutorials can be sort of improvisatory as well.
4:39. After Slytherin’s tutorial and dismissal duty, Outdoor Adventure Club meets to discuss future trips (a President’s Day ski trip topped the bill) and to put up flyers for our upcoming movie night fundraiser. I live for this kind of club: getting outdoors is my bread and butter. This past Saturday, we walked over the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s so inspiring to see our students having a great time outside of school. At the high school age, they are just beginning to experience the joys of being individuals who are unique in their own ways. Being outside is also an awesome form of self-expression.
6:30. I’ve been home for an hour and I’ve already changed out of work clothes and gone to the gym (I’m writing this well before I go to motivate myself: after a sickness last week, it’s going to be hard to convince myself to get back on the bike). Now, I’m going to Shoprite. One of the perks of living in Teacher’s Village is the courtesy shuttle. It takes us to Shoprite, the train station, and the school, if the weather is unfriendly.
8:00. Time for dinner, football, and then practice. I make some mashed potatoes with garlic, butter, and a little paprika. I turn the Eagles game on but turn it off at halftime after the score first half turns into 17-3, Giants. I’m going to play guitar because there’s no better way to unpack the tension and energy of a long day at work. Right now, I’m learning Bing Crosby’s “I’ll be Home for Christmas.” It’s such a gem, and it totally gets me in the holiday spirit. What a perfect way for the day to end. Quiet, relaxing. Unwinding reading a good book or review always gets the eyelids heavy, too.
10:00. The last step in any successful day is to prepare tomorrow’s pot of coffee. I spoon in the espresso and pour in the filtered water. Sitting on the stove, the coffee maker is a sentinel protecting those 7 fragile hours where I go from happily drained to fresh and recharged every night. Where would I be without it!
John Kane is a native of South Jersey. In 2018, he received a bachelor’s degree in Comparative Literature at Brown University. After his fellowship year, Mr. Kane is pursuing a masters in French Studies.
Education Fellows 