Wheelchair Bound

Finally, the New York Times got it right! An article 1/30/07 in the Metro section focuses on the accessiblity (or rather) the inaccessiblity of the New York subway system. The article reports that there are a mere 54 "working" elevators in the system. The article uses the term "working elevators" very loosely, simply because of the fact that they usually are NOT working. The reporter interviews Michael Harris a 22 year old student.

The real difference I find in the article is the use of the term "person who uses a wheelchair" versus the more prevasive "wheelchair-bound." When I worked at WeMedia (media for PWD) I learned that a "person who uses a wheelchair" is the prefered language -- and the reasoning makes sense. The wheelchair is merely a mode of transportation. Think about this...would you say car-bound, bicycle-bound, or perhaps the incredible sexy Heather Graham in Boogie Night -- roller-skate-bound. That would make my favorite bartender, Dino, skateboard-bound (which he kind of is...). People use wheelchairs to walk. They are not tied to them. They (usually) do not shower, have sex, sleep, or poop in them. They do not use them when they drive, and probably don't sit around the house in them.

What is it about people with disabilities that particularly freaks people out? I think it's different than many kinds of prejudice (racial, religious, and so on). I think people with disabilities shove in the face that the body is fallable. We cannot control it. And this is a society that struggles so hard to control the corporeal -- through obsessive diet, excercise, make-up, plastic surgery, and so on. My disability reminds others that they too might be disabled one day. They see it as a loss of control. They want to look a way.

Reminder!

Jim and I will be reading this Sunday @ 2PM
Art-o-Mat
46-46 Vernon Blvd.
Long Island City, NY 11101

From Manhattan:
Take the 7 to Vernon-Jackson
and walk up Jackson

From Brooklyn:
Right over the Pulaski Bridge

Art-O-Mat is a really quirky, cool art gallery in Long Island City.
After, we'll head down the street for cocktails!

More New Poems

I've been lucky enough to have Bruce Covey publish "The Field Guide to Flight" at
www.coconutpoetry.org

Quiet

I haven't been writing much lately. The silence first started as a trip to New Mexico, into the landscape, and a way from the computer. It was then followed by a bit of a depression. I get depressed or anxiety every so often. The other day I was thinking about this. I think the body -- all bodies -- have a need to close down at certain times. I think this is why people get physically ill or depressed. The body has to go into winter.

New Poems!

I have new poems up Womb Poetry (wombpoetry.com)!

Reading Schedule

I have a few reading coming up:

Feb 7th, 2 PM at Art-O-Mat with Jim Stewart
46-46 Vernon Blvd in the heart of Long Island City, NY

EarShot
May 11th, 2007 @ 8 PM
Mónica de la Torre, Jennifer Bartlett, Art Banias, Gregory Crosby, Denise Burell-Stinson

Issue Project Room
Thursday, May 10

ALSO:
New poems coming VERY soon in two online magazine: Womb (any minute now) and Coconut
(around 1/27/07).

Note:

Nothing ever came of my communication with Matt about Bronx Letters. Such is life. In reality, an employer should never have to defend the reason they chose not to hire someone. ALSO. In reality, an employer should hire the person with the best credentials, not based on race, sexuality, or disability: yet prejudice is (obviously) still rampant in the employment community.

Along these lines, this was part of an email I sent to my friend the great poet/activist Jen Benka:
But what I was getting at was that as a person with a
disability just living my life has been more effective than marching in the
streets. Something like 75% of PWD so not work, so having a job, for me, is
a revolutionary act. Especially, since I taught high school. All my
students, collegues, and employers who thought handicapped people were
uncapable meet me and change their minds. Also, having a child is political.
Normal people don't believe handicapped people can have healthy, active
kids. So just by walking down the street with Jeff, I change minds (and
numerous people ask me - is he yours? Is your husband disabled?) I'm not
saying I'm the all powerful Wizard of Oz! But, I just wanted you to
understand were I'm coming from. Of course, community power works too. But,
I sometimes find it hard to find enough like-minded people. We went to EVERY
anti-war demonstration, but they always made me uncomfortable because
everyone was pushing their own adgenda instead of focusing on the war!

Is NYU Journalism in the cards for me?

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Here's a new thought!

More Bronx Letters (School)

I have been having an email exchange between a really nice guy named Matt regarding the position at Bronx Letters High School. Matt has been very kind to forward my email to an employee of the school. I highly doubt that anything will come of it. But, this is a great oppotunity for a potenial employer who was nearly hostile to me to explain themselves and iron things out. Am I a complete, boring nut? I know that people are turned down for jobs daily. I know that interviewing is like dating. You get all pretty. You go on a first (or even second date). Then, the guy never calls you back (or is rude when you call him --or her). And I think that everything is much more pronounced in New York City. However, you have to understand, EVERYTIME I interview I feel as though I have to prove myself far and beyond any other applicant. I can't help but think that I have been turned down for about 70% of all jobs I applied for, not because I was unqualified but because the employer only saw my disability -- not me! I think with Bronx Letters, this was definitely the case. I know that there was no one else with my qualifications that was interviewed. There was also the strange situation of being interviewed (and rejected) by ninth graders. Of course 9th graders are not going to want a crippled teacher - duh! It's up to the adults to set 'um straight. The school could have been more savy and said - we hired someone in house - which DOE schools often do. It was the "our students don't think you're right" that raised the red flag. If anything, I'm glad to have this blog - and the five people that read it - to blow off frustration. I think my husband's getting bored!

Transition

Today, when I woke up I realized that last night I became Vice President at Jeff's PTA. As the wild-woman Beat poet Anne Waldman once told my father.

This house, these kids. This is not what I expected!

Bronx School of Letters 2

These problems are no reflection on Will, the teacher who formerly held the position. He was actually very lovely.

Bronx School of Letters

This job came down the pipeline today. At the end, you will see my response.

Hello all,

I hope the new year finds you all well. I'm writing to let you know about an exciting, part-time opening at the Bronx Academy of Letters ( www.bronxletters.org).

With poet Elana Bell, I am one of two writers in residence at Bronx Letters, a small public high school in the South Bronx dedicated to writing. Once a week I teach a journalism workshop to three small groups of young writers, and then at the end of the day I advise the student newspaper, The Raven. It has been a wonderful experience.

Unfortunately, due to a family emergency I will be unable to continue my residency in the second semester. I am disappointed to have to leave, but I am confident that we can find someone who can fill my shoes and then some. This is a great opportunity for a freelance writer or editor who wishes to work with bright young people who have terrific stories to tell.

More details follow. Please forward this note to those who you think might be interested.

Curriculum: Students must apply to the workshop, so the kids you're meeting with want to be there. I have the foundations of a good unit plan, road-tested during the first semester, that I would be happy to pass along. It's not perfect, but I think it would be a helpful start: The students each wrote and revised four pieces (an opinion article, a news article, a review, and a feature) and shared their ideas and drafts in a workshop-style setting.

Certification: Writers in residence do not have to be NYC certified teachers, but they must be fingerprinted at Department of Education offices before they can be paid.

Skills: For after-school newspaper meetings, knowledge of page-layout programs such as InDesign or Microsoft Publisher a plus.

Time requirement: Once a week for three small journalism workshops (4-7 kids each) and advising the school paper after school, then once every other week for office hours and check-ins. So three times every two weeks.

Duration: Four months, roughly Feb. 1 through June 1.

Stipend: $1,200 per month, paid 3/15, 4/15, 5/15, and 6/15.

Dear Matt,

I just wanted to let you know what people applying for a job at Bronx Letters might go through. I applied for a job there last Spring and was treated very poorly. First of all, the school requires applicants to be interviewed by 9th graders, which I believe is against DOE rules. I went on two interviews there. They were very nice, and I was sure I had the position. I was told to touch base after spring break. After the break, the administrator would not return my calls or emails. When I finally spoke to her she was extremely rude and told me "The students don't feel you are right for our school." I have no idea what happened. I feel that ultimately I wasn't hired because I have cerebral palsy and the staff let the students' opinion of my disability rule their decision.

Upcoming Interviews

I'm very excited about the interviews I'm doing for the next issue of SES. So far, I will be interviewing Kate Greenstreet, Jen Benka, Andrea Baker, Adam Clay, and Bruce Covey. It promises to be splendid.

NEW WEB ADDRESS

Saint Elizabeth Street (the magazine) had a slight mishap. However, we are now back in business at www.saintelizabethstreet.org. We will soon be lauching an interview issue.

New Mexico

We have been in New Mexico for 11 days. Albuquerque has just had its biggest snowstorm...well...ever. It is so beautiful! Despite the snow, the birds are relentless!

I fought the supervisor and won!

As I mentioned before, my relationship with the Supervisor was a constant source of stress during my first year of teaching. This all came to a disasterous point. Our relationship was getting increasingly negetive. As I said before, she allowed me to leave school early each day because lunch was my last period. This was complete against the rules, but I didn't know this. One day, she doubled up my class again as there was a teacher out and we didn't have money for subs. Instead of my usual class, I was faced with double the amount of kids with no warning. As before, many of the kids didn't have seats, and I didn't have an emergency lesson plan. I somehow got through the period and prepared to leave. The Supervisor appeared at the door. She told me that she had had it wrong. I wasn't allowed to leave early and she needed me to stay with the kids longer. This was with no warning and no assistance. I told her that I was leaving and she blocked the door. We started having a confrontation in front of the kids. I finally got out into the hall. We continued to argue heatily. I then went in the office to calm down and left school soon after. That day, I felt completely out of control. I felt like I was trapped in a box. I refused to leave teaching. I had put a lot of time and energy into it and I was close to many of the students. But, I could not get away from this woman's constant barrage of criticism. I contacted the Fellows numerous times and they would not or could not change my school. I was starting to get physically and mentally ill on top of being exhausted and pregnant. I went home and called the prinicipal (the one who never stepped foot in the school.) He was sympathetic and told me that I could take the next day off as a personal day. Then I went back. I was a glutin for punishment.

Note: I also forgot to mention, when I joined the Fellows I was given a $2000 stipend for the summer. Because I was new, the DOE took forever to process my paperwork. I started working the day after Labor Day. I got my first paycheck on Nov. 15th.

O. was a Fellow too. Finally, she was the one who got a representative from the Fellows to take a trip to the school. A few weeks later the Supervisor was replaced. The rest of the year was okay. I was distracted by the fact that we were buying a condo and preparing to move. The only problem I had was that I was supposed to go on maternity leave as of September (the Fall semester). I tried for two months to get the paperwork sorted out, but was never able to accomplish this simple thing. Actually, the DOE's slowness in this case would later work out to my advantage.

Interlude:

Back to poetry for just a moment.

I am anxious awaiting the publication of WOMB at http://www.wombpoetry.com
This is Michelle Detorie's new online journal which should be online on 1/1/07. I am lucky enough to have Michelle publishing fragments from A Natural History of California.

Throughout my teaching career my students have shown me various kinds of hostilities. They have called me bitch, retard, stupid. They have critized my teaching. They have told me they were bored, I was boring, the lesson was boring, and I couldn't teach. I have had students tell me that they were not going to do any work no matter what I did or said. I have had students do major drug deals in class, harrass girls, fight verbally and physically with other students. I had a student steal my purse. I have had students throw books out the window into a rainy parking lot. I have had students who turned the conversation to drugs and sex no matter the topic whenever a disscussion was started. I have had students answer their phones and start talking openly in class. Some students were 1/2 late to school day after day. Some never arrived at all. One student bragged about a robbery he had recently done to the entire class. I have had students tell me that the only reason they were in school was because their grandmother or parole officer made them come. I have had students who came to class and beligerantly stared into space while the hour passed.

But, my kids the first year were not that bad. They were pretty young - although sadly, older than they should have been. They were technically in the 8th grade and between 14-16 years old. We weren't supposed to take 17 yr olds, but a few near this age slipped in. As a reference point, I was 17 my Freshman year of college, which is pretty routine. The law in NY is that a youngster is able to attend school until their 21st birthday, 22 if they are special ed. The common graduation age seems to be getting pushed back and it is perfectly normal for a 19-20 yr old to graduate from high school.

Christmas came and we had our first graduation ceremony. My favorite student Carlos graduated with a few others. Again, these students weren't too bad. They were just exhausting and most of them weren't preforming THAT low, not compared to students I would have later.

When the semster turned, they took away one my literacy classes and gave me social studies. Now I had to prepare for 3 classes, I was going to college which was an 1 1/2 commute each way, and I was pregnant. I want to make a point about this because I really struggled to make my teaching career happen. I think I've struggled and stuck in there longer than most of the people who wanted me to stop or doubted my ability.

I had some social studies books, but they were really old. I liked teaching SS though because it was fact driven and easier to teach than literature. I had to study a lot though. I finally decided to rely on the two easiest subjects for me: geography and civil rights. I could teach anything because my students had little history training. I taught them a long series on Emmit Till. I went to the NYPL and rented photographs of the race riots and had the students write responses. Then, I decided to show Do The Right Thing by Spike Lee and have a lesson around it. I got permission to watch the film through my assistant principle and the parents. Most of the students had seen the film anyway. The day I showed the film, the infamous supervisor came into my room (as usual) and flipped out. She turned the film off and started screaming at me "who told you that you couid play this?" This woman's attacks on me where so out of hand that the students were starting to rebel against her. I told her that the AP gave me permission. Luckily, the AP was across the hall and she backed me up. The "supervisor" actually had no real power at all. She was a teacher put at the site to run things. The AP visited about 3 times a week. The pricipal came to the building once in the entire year.

Introduction to M.

The main problem at 8 Plus was the supervisor. She decided she had it in for me and there was little I could do. It is hard to remember specifics. I think I've blocked most of them out. But, she just harrassed me constantly. And harrassing is not an exaggeration. She never smiled, she never helped, she never said anything positive. She critized my lessons and teaching technique endlessly. She would come into my class DURING my class and start critizing me in front of students. She would stand with a student and me while trying to resolve a conflict and dispute everything I told the student. When she was told to back off and stop coming into my class while in it was in session, she starting writing me notes and have people bring them in and put them on my desk.

I was supposed to have a mentor for my first and second year as a teacher. This never happened. They decided I could have a paraprofessional but all he did was come in and read the paper. When I asked for him to help with discipline, he made a big fuss. Then, he stopped coming.

What were the kids doing? Actually, this group wasn't that bad and I liked many of them. Actually, my first year teaching is the only year that I can remember all of my student's names! I live in their neighborhood too, so I know what happened to many of them.

The best way to describe my students is that they were completely HYPERACTIVE. They didn't sit in their seats, they talked incessently. It was exhausting to quiet them to get a one word sentence in. They bickered with me and each other. They threw things. One student that I didn't like pretentded to go shit in the corner. There was plastic shit there that I didn't know was not real. He had actually simulated going poop in the corner. I was stupidly horrified and they burst into laughter. They ran around the room. They cursed like truck drivers. Shortly after I got pregnant a boy and girl were fulling around while I was bending down helping some kids. The girl threw a dictionary at the boy and it hit my stomach.

My First Fight

I apologize for all of the grammar/spelling errors. After all, I am an English teacher! However, I am trying to write this fast....

Finally, everyone's schedule was made and we had kids in the classes. I actually don't remember there being a math teacher and there was some talk of assigning math to ME - someone who can barely make change. Ultimately, I was given a schedule of two 90 minutes literacy classes and a creative writing class. I had about 15-18 students. My literacy class was horrible. First of all, it's impossible to keep the attention of even college students for ninety minutes. The DOE still has such classes. Also, remember we had NO books. The only books I had are old ones I found in the closet from the previous teacher. The creative writing class was better. I came up with a list of daily tricks to keep the students occupied and they wrote a fair amount. Their writing was very good.

My life was this. I arrived at school at 7:45. Miraculously, I was never late. I lived two miles away and it was a short bus ride. We were reguired to have a meeting before school. This was the Supervisor's idea. The problem was that the supervisor never came to the meetings. She was always late. Usually, it was me, O, and the counselor having coffee. Then, I taught (or had a prep) for about 8-1:30. Then, I went home. I went to sleep for 1 1/2 to 2 hours the moment I got home. I watched Oprah at 4 for an hour and then I lesson planned for 1-2 hours before my husband arrived home. I was in bed by 9. This is the thing that people don't understand about teaching. There are layers and layers of work. People think teachers work 6 hours a day and then galavant off to happy hour. They forget the following:
1. Maintaining order in a class is physically and emotionally exhausting. You have to be "on" for certain hours of the day. It's like being in a play really. When you eat, drink, rest, or go to the bathroom are all pre-scheduled for you and you can't get away from that schedule. If you have a class at 1, you have to walk into a room at teach at 1. It doesn't matter if you need to poop or want a cup of coffee or have the flu. I cannot think of many other jobs like this. Also, the audience is literary hostile. They don't want to be there and hate you just for who you symbolize. So, not only are you perfoming, but you are also managing the audience and forcing them to pay attention to you.
2. Lesson planning. Teachers cannot walk into a classroom and just wing it (although I often did). You are supposed to/ required to have a play-by-play lesson plan. This usually has to be devised at home. We do get 1 "prep" time a day, but this is an hour filled with all the aforemetioned necessities: resting, coffee, bathroom, and an endless pile of phone calls to students houses.
3. Emotional impact. Endless you are a rock, you cannot go home and "forget" your students. I had students with dead fathers, fathers in jail, kids from jail, drug dealers, kids who were probably abused and it's hard to go home and shed that all like a coat.

My introduction into the true violence of the city came two weeks after I started teaching. I had my class. There was a teacher absent and the supervisor "doubled" my class without warning. This means in the middle of my lesson she brought in 15 other kids for me to teach. All the students didn't even have chairs. I was completely disoreinted and the class fell apart. There was comotion in the back. On of my kids and an African-American started a vicious fight. They started fist fighting. The African-American (who I did not know) really slugged my student who was white. I bring this up because I hear later that it was a recial issue. I also heard that these two boys had had a history of being enemies at another school. The supervisor put them into my class with no warning. I did not see it coming at all. My student was bleeding all over and I was freaking out. The supervisor came in and started yelling at me!

Welcome to school!