I told a student that he would "make my blog," and I intend to hold fast to that.

Last weekend, I had tonsillitis. I was miserable and was struggling to breathe because my tonsils were so swelled up. So when we started school on Monday, I began a whole new cleaning regiment with every single class wiping their desks with disinfectant at the end of the hour. Most classes appreciate the three minute distraction but my fourth hour has now taken to calling me a cleaning nazi. In that 4th period I have a student who undeniably likes to be the center of attention, for the sake of privacy, lets call him Joe. While the students were set to working on their independent practice Monday, he asked loudly into the silence "May I go to the bathroom." "Only if you wash your hands before coming back," I replied, scribbling a pass for him. He left and re-emerged a few minutes later, making a big scene of not touching the doorknob with his hands, and holding them up like a doctor waiting to be gloved before surgery. Everyone looked up as he loudly managed to get the door open. As he finally entered the room, he announced loudly and proudly, "I am now sterile!" Then sat down. I cracked up, and then continued to crack up as my class, including Joe, looked at me bewildered. When pushed to explain what was so funny I delivered the patented dodge of "I'll tell you when you're older."

Reason #546 I like teaching high schoolers: unintended double entendre.

It has been pointed out that I do not post here often. Not pictures of my classroom. No pictures of my house. Not pictures of my beautiful face.

Unlike working in Detroit, where one could depend on my blog for a story a week. Either a story of my amazing housemates, the terrible and terrific kids of the outpost, or at very least a story of something I was noticing in my own backyard. I'm sorry dear readers, for not being a more active bloggers as my travels take me to educating America's youth in South Dakota. It isn't that there aren't stories. There are stories. Some are great stories of students who blow me away with their brilliance and curiosity, and staff members who floor me with their commitment to student achievement. (TFA is in good company in Mission, South Dakota-these teachers love their students.)

There are other stories too. After a month, there are already stories of days I'd prefer not to think of every again. Stories of faces I'm still trying to forget, of students who sat in my class for one hour, because I failed to engage them and have yet to see them again. There are students I'm trying not to think about because their lives have taken turns that have pulled them out of my sphere of influence. And to worry about what will become of them would do nothing but make me feel more powerless. Oh yes, there are stories, the good, the bad, and the haphazard.

Part of the reason I'm not telling these stories is that there is no time. In between planning for 2 different classes, coaching, grading, taking a masters class and doing the things I need to do to survive (like cooking, dishes, and laundry). There's just no time to tell these stories the way I'd want to tell them. I'd want to tell them in a way that makes you see and feel exactly what I was seeing and feeling. I'd want you to be on this adventure too.

The other part of the reason that I'm not storytelling is that I'm carefully negotiating how to best accomplish that feat, while still maintaining my professional anonymity. One of the things we commonly forget is that while we assume these blogs are being read by family and friends, putting things on the internet means putting them out there to be read. So for the safety, well-being, and pride of my students and their families, I'm still negotiating how to tell these stories that have made me laugh and cry so much in the last 28 days.

So that's where I am. I have not forgot you dear readers, all 6 of you. I'm just measuring my time, and my skills to find the best way to relate my little world to the great big world. But never fear, I'll be back.

-K

Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good.

-Romans 12:9