Brave New World

In You've Got Mail, Meg Ryan says, "So much of what I see reminds me of what I read in a book, when, shouldn't it be the other way around?" I remember being momentarily stunned by this. First, because I don't really have common sense, and it took me a minute to suss out the meaning; and then, because I didn't understand why she seemed forlorn about her question. It rings true for me, and I've never thought there was anything wrong with my bookworm status, other than it's slightly expensive. (For example, my mom instituted a moratorium on the purchase of new books when I was 14 and instead presented me with a library card. To this day, I insist on owning my own books. Hardbacks and library books are for those who are self-disciplined enough not to bend and write and eat and bathe whilst a book is in their hands.)

In fact, it was a book that made me face an ugly truth about myself: I am not brave. I am sure of this. I just read Freedomland by Richard Price. I can only describe it as detective fiction having sex with The Wire. It is about a black detective who gets the case of Brenda, a white woman who claims that she was carjacked by a black man in the projects and that her four-year-old-son was in the car. At some point, Brenda states, "I am not brave. I've always known that about myself." I was struck by this because I never actually admitted my own cowardice, but instantly recognized the truth of it in Brenda's statement. I don't mean it in a daring-do sort of way (although it applies), but more about everyday decisions. I hate change, mostly because I'm scared of the new and like the path of least resistance. I avoided becoming a teacher because I was paralyzed by my own fears -- that I would be ineffective; that I wouldn't be able to explain content in a way that was understandable; that the students would see right through me.

Well, I am knee-deep in my teaching credential program and on the cusp of taking over a classroom full time. Although there are days when I feel effective, my fears remain -- the successes yo-yo with the failures. I am constantly questioning myself. How do I know which battles to fight (with and for my students)? How many times can I say the same thing before my students or I go crazy? How shrill does my voice sound right now? How many times can I wear the same pair of khaki pants in one week? Why don't they just shut up? This week, I had a kid say "Fuck you" to me because he was mad he had to wait for the bathroom pass and because I told him he had to apologize to the girl he made cry. The best part was he tried to waltz back in class after he said it, like it was a normal farewell, "Fuck you Ms. Ludwig. Have a great weekend!"....On the other hand, I managed to get a student who hadn't turned in any work for 3 months to write an entire essay. You win some, you lose some.