On saturday morning, my student who is 7 months pregnant will take her second, and final ACT. Next to her, or perhaps in a different classroom, will be the student who didn't take the test in June because his father was in the hospital and, soon after, died. Finally, my only student who never took the ACT, the one whose house I drove to and whose family I woke up at 7am one day, will take the test after battling months of crippling depression and absence from school. And still, a few seats away, will be my students who opted to take the test for a 3rd time and who are currently paying me back for the $49 registration feel in installments from their pay checks.
Each day, this job humbles me.
A new school year has begun, and it has taken no time at all to feel overwhelmed, under-rested, and as though I will never be able to do or give enough to my students. Although, I suppose, that is the nature of the service that we do: to realize how incredibly vast and deep the gap is between the options and achievement of low income students and their higher income peers in our society, and to commit to battling it day after day until more people and more institutions take notice and commit to change.
I have already experienced my first celebrations and my first disappointments. My first student was accepted to college, and my first 7 students were not awarded a scholarship that I nominated them for. I know that this year will be full of such ups and downs, and my hope is that the ups overwhelmingly outweigh the downs.
Briefest of brief updates: check
More posts to come: hopefully!