First days of classes. . .

It is that time again. . . first day of classes. I felt like today was equivalent to one long workout. My students are wonderful but the classes are so large.  Because of budget cuts throughout New York City, schools have suffered greatly when it comes to resources for books, hiring enough teachers for the number of students and in classroom supplies.  Textbooks were not a problem for us as the principal was able to include the cost of books when he was appointed two years ago.  However, the number of students allowed in a general education high school class is 34 maximum.  One of my classes had 39 and another class had 36.  It was such a tight fit that we had to acquire chairs from other classrooms!

Another issue that has arisen this year is the whole school bus thing.  Our high school has a later end time, therefore the students on school buses should not be picked up before 4:00 pm.  It is appalling that the bus arrived at 2:50 pm to pick up the students to take them home.  They miss an entire hour of instruction.  Bussing has also been affected by the budget cuts, so that you have elementary age students on a bus with high school students.  This is ludicrous.  The conversations and behaviors exhibited by teenagers may negatively affected the grade school students who are less experienced.  In addition, they can be exposed to "things" that are inappropriate for their age level.

Despite all these negative aspects, I plan to have a wonderful year.  I am the coordinator of an inclusion program, special education students who are fully participating in a general education curriculum.  I want to move my students at least one grade level in their reading and math skills by January.  I plan to have two seniors graduate with an advanced Regents diploma.  I have one junior and one sophomore who are also bound for a Regents diploma.  My freshman I do not know well yet, but I see promise in them.  All in all, I plan for a good year!

New Beginnings

Well, summer has come to a close. Tomorrow, I begin the new school year. I am anxious to start anew but also apprehensive since I do not know what is in store for me this school year. I plan to teach Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, Orwell's Animal Farm, Weisel's Night, Remarque's All Quiet on the Western Front, and if time permits Achebe's Things Fall Apart. I know. This is quite an ambitious undertaking for 10th Grade English but I have faith that my students will step up to the plate.



I am hoping that by revisiting the classics, my writing will have more imagery, conflict, contextual relevance and great character development. Perhaps, situations experienced during the school year itself will provide the "meaty" material needed to kick start the creative juices when I get stumped.



On a side note, I am planning to go back to school for the 2010 spring semester. I have a master's in Education but am looking to study something different. I am interested in development disabilities and would like to study the neuroscience behind it. Another ambitious undertaking. Yes. As a special education teacher, I want to know how the minds of my students tic so that I can design a curriculum that best suits their way of thinking, processing and communicating information. I have wanted to go back since I graduated in 2008. I almost get butterflies in my stomach just thinking about it.

First Kiss

I wrote this four years ago. It was an early memory of a difficult time in my life. Here we go . . .


Bronx Tales: First Kiss


The kiss itself was not all that memorable. It was the consequence of the kiss that I will never forget. Apparently, a boy named Kemone in my second grade class, wrote a note about kissing me after school. I remember happily skipping home from C.E. S. 90x (Community Elementary School) on Sheridan Avenue in the Bronx. My building was only half a block away, but I felt as though I was gliding in slow motion. I could feel my heart beating underneath my blouse and that sudden elation of giddiness one gets when you‘ve acquired what you have been waiting for. The world seemed bright and the possibilities endless. I was thinking, “Does he really like me? Is he my boyfriend now that he kissed me? Does it matter that he’s not Puerto Rican and doesn’t speak Spanish? Will he ask for another kiss?” While all of this ran through my mind, I hadn’t realized that I was only seven years old and shouldn’t be kissing boys.

My grandmother lived on the second floor and my mother often told me to go there after school. I was busily doing my homework at grandma’s kitchen table. You could smell the fried chicken, rice and beans permeating the entire apartment. I left everything at the table and went to use the bathroom. When I returned, to my horror, my nosey cousin read aloud the note which said “Shaharizan, do you like me. Check yes or no. If yes, meet me after school for a kiss.” My mother just happened to come into the kitchen. She had a look which was a mixture of exhaustion, shock and anger. I was rooted to the spot. I calculated how long it would take me to reach the front door of the apartment and escape into the street. I took too long. My mother grabbed me into grandma’s living room. She spanked me so hard, I couldn’t sit properly for two days. I didn’t kiss another boy until fifth grade. Oh and my cousin . . . Well let’s just say her hair was mysteriously cut one evening and she ended up with a short page boy rather than the long locks she was accustomed to.