Some Recovery School District "highlights"

Many of the teachers that I worked with over the summer are assigned to the NOLA Recovery School District (RSD), these operate on the state budget and are managed within New Orleans. James' school is a charter school run by the University of New Orleans, so he is not considered an RSD employee - though his sch0ol is a part of the larger heading of schools in recovery. (It's extremely complicated to sort out the differences.

What this means to James is that he actually is working with a school system that is functioning, even though he is struggling with classroom management issues and other new teacher problesms, the administration of UNO could be considered somewhat reasonable at this point.

The RSD in general is a mess. I hear horror stories from my friends about how the administration is causing daily uncertainty, confusion, and overall chaos in their lives. Examples follow:

Some terminology used by the RSD:

Surplus– This is the term used for teachers who are deemed “extra” and removed from their existing classrooms and schools and placed in a different school without warning or their or their principal’s approval.

Ms. A's story -
Jenny A. or Ms. A, my co-teacher this summer, was given notice on last Friday that she was a part of the “surplus” – for the past six weeks she had been working hard at Dibert Elementary where she taught 6 classes in Science, Social Studies and Reading – she had approximately 19 students in each class. Because she did not have a minimum of 23 students in each class and she was the newer of the two teachers in her subject matter, the RSD deemed her unnecessary in her school. They called her on Friday morning and told her to report to the RSD office – she did not know why. When she arrived they explained that she was no longer a teacher at Dibert and she, instead would be a teacher at Banneaker. She was instructed to return to Dibert, finish teaching that day, pack up her room, and begin teaching at Banneaker on Monday morning. When she asked what would happen to her students, she was told that her students would combine into the other classes meaning that those classes would have as many 39 students in them.

After much confusion and a horrible day of telling her students goodbye, Ms. A called Banneaker and asked for instructions for Monday morning. She was told by the principal that because she was a new teacher, Banneaker was most likely not interested in having her as a teacher. Ms. A explained that she was given no choice in the matter - the principal told her that she was sympathetic and that Ms. A could come and interview on Monday morning, but she was not guaranteed a position.

On Monday morning, Ms. A showed up for the interview and was given little hope that there was a job at that school. She returned the RSD office and explained the situation - she was informed that she had to be on a school site in order to be paid for that day, so she need to go back to Banneaker. More discussion ensued. The administrator finally told her to go back to Dibert and teach her classes there until they worked out the problems with her placement. Ms. A returned to Dibert and to her very confused students, and tried to explain that she was just there temporarily until they located another school for her.
Ms. A is heartbroken. She is a new teacher; she previously was a social worker. She is just trying to learn lesson planning and classroom management. She has just learned all of her students’ names and is learning things about them. She liked her school, her principal, and her peers. Her work was hard enough and now she is in completely uncertainty – as are her students.

Schedule change – These occur as often as needed until the school’s administration determines that students are equally distributed among teachers and that they are in the “appropriate” class for their learning level.

Mr. Anderson's story -
At Reed (the school I taught in this summer) schedules have been changed no less than four times for each teacher since the beginning of the school year. School started has officially been in session for 6 weeks, which means that another member of my teachNOLA cohort , Mr. Anderson, has not had a consistent class of students for more than one week at a time and schedules are still not set.

He cannot, therefore, learn students’ names, maintain classroom management, or create a positive classroom culture (all things we were taught during our summer training). He has no ability to teach students anything, because they know that the situation will not last. In a few days, they will be rearranged again. His hope is to make it until January as a teacher.
Mr. Anderson is a retired college professor who came to New Orleans to help kids who needed him. He has so much to offer and no defined set of students to which to offer it. When asked what his plan was at this point, he answered, “To show up every day until January. Maybe by then I’ll have the classroom management issue down, if I can’t manage them by then, perhaps I’m in the wrong field.” When asked if he wanted to get together one night soon (he is our neighbor), he replied, “You can always find me at the bar on Magazine and Jackson, I go there every day after work.”

neighbors

Yesterday, I had three little helpers when I was working in my yard. They each dug a bulb from their yard and carried it over to my yard to help transplant them (with their dad's permission, of course). We happily walked to the flowerbed, where in the next 5 minutes, complete chaos ensued. Huge holes were created, bulbs were twirled around by their leaves, rocks were found and thrown. The garden adventure ended quickly but will not soon be forgotten....

60th birthday party

Our neighbor had a party to celebrate his oldest sister's 60th birthday. He invited all of his relatives and some of the neighbors. During the party, a second line band played, and he grabbed an umbrella and started to dance New Orleans style.

The band leader came out of retirement after Katrina because he felt that the school system still needed help.

A series of unexpected events

• James came home whipped after Friday's pizza party


• As he pulls up, he hears free ticket info on the radio, dials and wins!


• We discuss our evening plans, the show isn't until 10pm, and it is 5


• He says "ferry" and within 10 minutes, we have grabbed some $$ and our bikes and are riding the Jackson Street Ferry across the Mississippi to Gretna for Happy Hour


• After a fantastic, ferry excursion we bike to Gallatusas for 1/2 price appetizers and drink specials - there just happens to be a guy with a guitar doing some great covers, we enjoy the outdoor seating and the setting which feels like a different world


• We catch the 8:30 ferry back to New Orleans proper and bike along the river to One-Eyed Jacks in the French Quarter (where are free tickets await us) though we're quite early and decide to tour around a little


• As we lock our bikes and look around, James is surprised to see a 1st grade student from his school and her mother, he recognizes her immediately, because she is the only white student at Capdau and she could pass for Alice in Wonderland.


• We chat for awhile and then set off on our walk
  


• Immediately, after rounding the corner, we are suddenly surrounded by folks dressed up as pirates in front of the Absinthe bar. We are informed that it is National Talk Like a Pirate Day.


• The Absinthe was purported to be "real", but we tasted it and do not believe that it is


• We left the pirates and returned for the show at One-Eyed Jacks, where the opening band Clockwork Elvis was playing


• They were continuously interrupted by a mad-scientist and a Eminem-wanna-be (all part of the weird show they created)


• Clockwork Elvis was followed by a surprise burlesque show - where Roxy LeRogue, Stormy Gayle and Perle Noire shimmied and shook and removed many layers of fabric (but not too many). This portion of the evening was entertaining for a few minutes, but they each did multiple performances so we or (maybe just I) was over it.

• The main band finally came to the stage around midnight - Conspiracy of Geniuses or something like that. They dressed as mad scientists and played really loud, really bad hard rock music. We left during their first song.
• We called it a night and biked home - smoky and sleepy, but happy
  

Friday at Capdau

On Friday, I visited Mr. McDonald at Capdau. His sixth grade won a pizza party because they designed the best poster on the floor (he claims to have had nothing to do with their victory). He invited me to stop by at lunch and be an on-looker in his world, but he made it clear that I must not let them know who I was. So, I was ready with my Tulane badge and my "you should go to college and become a doctor" lecture. I was very excited, but arrived much later than anticipated because it was hard to get away from Tulane.

After arriving at Capdau and signing in, a student walked me to his classroom, where he was standing outside looking perplexed. Just as he saw me, a female student saw him, and ran up to him exclaiming "Mr. McDonald, I have to change clothes. I spilled juice all over myself." She was absolutely correct, she had a bright red stain that began at her neck and covered her shirt and her pants all the way down to her knees. He looked from me to the student, and asked her "Okay, do you have something to change into?" Of course, she did not. He sent her to the office to ask for help.

He quickly told me that things were not going well - the pizza was an hour late, so the students had numerous meltdowns while waiting. I was following him into the classroom when a student spotted me and yelled "Oooh, Mr. McDonald - Is that Heather?" She looked from him to me - I was surprised that he told them my first name, so I didn't respond. She asked again, "Are you Heather?" Mr. McDonald tried to recover, "No, this is Ms. Barrett." The student, Brianna, saw my name-tag and moved in for a better look. "It IS Heather! Everybody this Mr. McDonald's girlfriend!" She invited me in and offered me pizza and something to drink. After which, she and some of her friends did little dances around me while asking me a variety of questions. They seemed extremely pleased that he had a partner and that I was willing to come to school to meet them. They invited me back on another day and told me I should come earlier before all of the pizza is gone and maybe we could watch a movie together.

Mr. McDonald was certain that the day was a dismal failure, but I thought it was pretty great.

Snow day

I've never seen a man happier than JFM when he was granted freedom last Friday due to Hurricane Ike. He dropped me off at work in the pouring rain and wind at 7am and trudged off to school, grumpy. However, upon arrival, his principal waved frantically from the door telling him to go home - school had been canceled! He actually still went to work for about an hour before they kicked him out officially. During which time he had already called me three times to tell me about different lunch specials around town that serve .25 martinis....

So, Mr. McDonald enjoyed a free day. He convinced me to leave a little early and we had a late lunch at Eleven 79, a fancy-pants Italian restaurant in our neighborhood with great lunch specials. We dined next to congressmen and business people and giggled a lot (though, maybe that was due to the chianti).

Pinky, Pinky & more Pinky

Pinky's tuna cocktail

Evidence that Jill & Pinky were sad when we left...

After returning to our New Orleans neighborhood, I was biking home when I noticed a beautiful lab-type puppy in the street. The dog bounded toward me - happy - dirty and neglected looking. I continued on my way home after chatting with the puppy but couldn't stop thinking about it. Maybe it was lost due to the hurricane. Maybe it needed me. I mulled over a potential plan for the dog's capture and taming, so it could become my pet. (All while James was at UNO taking night classes.) I didn't have any good dog treats, but my mom's dogs like carrots, so I put some carrots in my pocket and headed out. I couldn't figure out the best way to entice the dog, should I drive my car and grab it and put it in the jeep? That seemed dangerous - and the dog was wet and filthy. Should I ride my bike and try to get it to follow me? If I walked would I need a leash? All questions I pondered as I walked down the block near the Walmart where I had seen the dog earlier. Once I arrived to the spot, the dog was no where to be found, no neglected puppy to take home, I wandered home defeated. The next day, on my way to work, it was there again! Still dirty, but not so skinny as I thought it was the day before (maybe it was drying off). I couldn't rescue and tame it and take it home since I was biking to work, so I decided to do so on my way home. That afternoon, it was missing again. The next day was Saturday, and I convinced James to bike by the area on our way to the Tulane football game to see this sad, neglected creature (secretly plotting for him to fall in love with it, so we could tame it and take it home.) I was overjoyed when I saw the puppy gallup toward us, but was surprised to note that it was clean and fluffy and kind of chubby-looking and that it had run out from underneathe someone's house (which was pretty much the same spot I'd seen it everyday). James liked the dog very much and agreed that it was beautiful and wonderful and very nice, but he did not agree that it needed to be rescued and tamed and it definitely did not need to come and live with us. Sigh. I e-mailed Jill to tell her about the dog ( I thought I'd get some sympathy since she is so in love with Pinky) - her response was - 'OMG, it's just rude to rescue a dog that already has owner.' Personally, I think 'rude' is a bit strong. In any case, I've given up my rescue mission for the moment.

Neck-n-Neck

Just after I biked from Tchoupitoulas onto the service road that runs along the Mississippi this morning, a tugboat came into my view heading along downriver toward the gulf, following my same path. I wondered to myself as I looked over at it, if I were going the same speed, because it seemed to be really throwing up some waves and moving quickly. It was moving a little ahead of me. I saw a barge about 1/2 mile down and reasoned that the tug was headed for it, so I started really pedaling. Soon, we were neck and neck, and I felt like I was flying. We made it to the barge - the tug kept going and so did I. We raced past the warehouse containg mardi gras floats, past the silent cruise ship port, under the bridge - where I pulled into the lead, past the civic center where people were lined up yesterday receiving emergency food stamps due to Gustav, past the few remaining military vehicles in town until we reached Riverwalk - I must have been 20 yards ahead by then(and I was getting a few stares at this point) when, suddenly, and much to my dismay, the tug was no longer in my sight due to the large mall with no windows on the first floor. Sweaty and laughing and possibly a bit crazy-looking (none of which atypical of a NOLA resident), I arrived to work in about half of the time it normally takes me. I love biking to work.

Back in the Big Easy

We returned on Sunday in the late afternoon to find a pretty normal-looking New Orleans. Yes, trees were down all over, so were fences and signs, and there were broken windows. But in comparison to Katrina damage, this was pretty minimal. There aren't that many trees left, and, honestly, in a lot of cases, it is hard to tell if the fences, windows and signs were a result of this storm or left over from three years ago.

It wasn't easy to come back on Sunday with Ike looming, but we arrived anyway and started to slowly make the rounds through our neighborhood to find out where people went when they evacuated and what their projections were for the next storm. Most said they wouldn't leave again, no matter how bad the storm.

Mayor Nagin calling Gustav, "The mother of all storms," in an attempt to get everyone out of town, was effective in emptying out the city, but left a bad taste in the mouths of those who left. Some went to Baton Rouge where the storm hit hard, others went to shelters. We saw nearly 300 evacuees at a shelter in Birmingham and talked with a couple of them who said that they couldn't sleep because there was too much noise and they didn't feel safe with their eyes closed on a cot surrounded by strangers. The shelter itself was clean and cool and meals were served with great regularity, but it was, in fact, still a shelter.

Two giant televisions were blasting the current news throughout the civic center while children ran in circles squealing and throwing things and too tired adults were curled up on cots with small, white pillows over their heads. The center was a sea of red-cross blankets and suitcases. Bathrooms were port-a-potties and showers were huge outdoor tented enclosures. Outside, other evacuees wandered about or sat in the nearby park staring blankly - waiting to be told if they could return home soon or if they had a home to return to.

Still, they survived and did have homes to come back to - and so did we. Yesterday was tough getting started, but once we got to work, I think James and I both felt great relief to moving forward in our lives here. Even if only for a few days until the next big event.

Here are some current articles that might be of interest:
Nagin sees response to Gustav as success

Ike makes landfall in western cuba

Mr. McDonald

James' homeroom class on the first day of school....

Mountain time

As of Wednesday last week, James and I decided it was best to get to the woods. We weren't especially pleasant - due to all of life's uncertainties- and we couldn't stop watching the Weather Channel and Intellicast and NOLA.com and CNN and Tulane's emergency website + anything else we could find. We knew we couldn't return to NOLA for a few days at least because of electrical outages and water and sewage issues and so forth.

We escaped to the first mountains we could find - Cherokee National Forest in Tennessee. It wasn't our intention to stop as soon as we encountered a little nature, but we saw the Ocoee River and a sign that said Cabin Rentals and immediately pulled over. The forest ranger didn't know about the cabins, but he did point us to the Chilowhee campground. We went to check it out and promptly parked in a spot and didn't leave for three days. With no cell phone access, we were able to spend time resting and walking and looking and remembering what the easy life is like. We cooked over campfires and took countless walks in the woods. Our only contact human interaction was with each other and the campground host who pointed us to the groceries and ice that we needed. She granted us 30 days free camping due to our evacuee status; which was an unneccessary kindness, but greatly appreciated.

Today we are in Birmingham again, where we will gather our things and head back to New Orleans. School will start for both us tomorrow - hopefully, we will be able to return to some state of normalcy. We'll be really relieved to see the end of hurricane season this year.

Hurrication

As we wait for Gustav to make landfall, we are distracting ourselves by touring Birmingham. Jill lives in downtown Birmingham right next to the University of Alabama (UAB), which is also where she works. James and I tooled around on foot visiting a park about two miles away and trying to get a look at the infamous rear end of the giant Vulcan statue. The statue was quite impressive though we never actually got around to the back side, because of some frustrating logistics involved with being on foot and not actually arriving at the correct location for viewing.

Still we had a nice time and sat in a shady spot enjoying the view of the city and the nice Gustav-induced breezy afternoon.

News from Tulane stated that it won't reopen until next Monday (the 8th) due to the mandatory evacuation of the city. Even if the storm is not that bad - the logistics of getting everyone back into the city are too complicated to make it reasonable to anticipate reopening any sooner.

So, we wait for storm news - watching it build - hope for the best, because it is pretty obvious that it is hitting our new home in some fashion.

Thanks to Jill and Pinky again for being fabulous hostesses.

Jill's place (or Pinky's place)

We arrived to Jill's place after quite a long trip along I-59. Jill is our previous and current friend, now she and her very small and vicious chihuahua, Pinky, who is a genius, are our hosts in semi-lovely Birmingham, which may or may not turn out to be better than we think. We've been invited to a party, and there's a bar downstairs to which we are on our way, so it's all good for now. Especially now that Jill has taken over the blog. She'll check back later. We're fine for now. TaTa.

Gustav - 3:30pm

Tulane is closing at noon tomorrow and will not reopen until Wednesday at the earliest. I'm waiting on James' status. We may head out of town tomorrow afternoon.

12:30pm
We are watching Gustav as it moves toward the Gulf Coast. Tulane and the UNO Charter schools are updating us frequently on evacuation procedures, but it is doubtful that a decision will be made today. Potentially, Tulane will close on Tuesday in order to allow the storm to pass and to give students, faculty and staff the wiggle room they need to go away for the weekend prior to a mass city evacuation and return on Wednesday if the storm isn't bad.

We'll keep you posted as to our whereabouts. As of now, the storm is disorganized and the track is not aimed directly at New Orleans. Flooding is a major concern, but we live on the highest ground in the city - so try not to worry! Send your positive thoughts toward New Orleans - this city could use them!

Bicycle commute

I don't think I've mentioned, but I ride my bike to work. Three miles each way and I love it. I ride from our house on Philip along the river wall road, in between the railroad tracks and the Mississippi. I follow the road under the bridge which leads to the east bank until I reach Canal Street. Canal is a major historic downtown New Orleans street.

Each morning, along the river I pass a huge warehouse where Mardi Gras floats are built and housed, followed by a huge port that isn't really used much anymore, and the convention center until I reach an area called River Walk, which is a really pretty pedestrian/ bike path (unfortunately, it begins at Canal, which is where I turn off). There aren't many people along that portion of the bike ride, so it's pretty quiet. Every now and then I'll see a security guard or a train will pass and lots of whistle-blowing and waving ensues.

Canal is totally different, I pass Harrah's Casino, where there are always people milling about and loud, happy music playing. The morning is pretty low key - I ride down the center of the street in between the two street car lines. School is back in, so I see lots of tidy students in a variety of uniforms waiting to ride the car to class. I pass many hotels and restaurants and shopping places and Lucky Dog vendors (read Confederacy of Dunces for details) trudging off to work.

Sometimes it rains and I get a little wet, but I can usually time it pretty well. Today was nice - it is hot and sunny, so I left at 7:30 to get to work by 8:00 before it gets too terribly hot.

pickle boy

Yesterday (while looking fabulous in his striped shirt and paisley-ish tie ensemble) James noticed a disturbance in the back of the room. A generally quiet student yelled out, "Mr. McDonald it really stinks in here!" At exactly that moment James described a tidal wave of stench that blew through the room. He did a quick visual assessment - along with other frantic students - and identified a "problem" student who was leaning backward in his chair, arms outraised, expression of shock on his face as he looked himself over - somehow unsure of what had happened. He was covered from dripping fingers to soggy feet in slimy flourescent green liquid - more of which was dripping off the surface & down the legs of the desk and puddling on the floor.

Students were squealing frantically while trying to escape the area. "WHAT IS THAT?" James demanded - fearing toxic urine would be the answer. The boy didn't speak. Someone else called out, "I think it is pickle juice."

James proceeded to investigate. Pickle boy did not own up to the allegation and instead sat in the puddle miserably. Amazingly, during his investigation, James could find no remnant of a pickle or jar or baggy or anything slightly resembling a pickle anywhere. None of the students saw the boy with the pickle either before or during the incident. It was as if he had been slimed by some greater pickle force.

James sent the boy away to get cleaned up and pull it together while he tackled the responsibility of removing the pickle stench from the room. The smell didn't leave and this was his first period, 6th grade class (his 'good' class), so the odor became worse as the day continued. "Pickle ass," is how he described it while repeatedly shaking his head. He had no idea when deciding to come to New Orleans to teach that this could be a possibility. There is no protocol for a situation such as this one, no guidebook, no advice. "What do you with a pickle boy?"

fancy

Very soon I am going to purchase a digital camera simply because I want the world (or the 17 people who visit this blog) to see James Francis in his teacher clothes. He is a sight to behold!

He has a fine selection of second-hand clothes that he has acquired in recent months (because, as you may know, we rarely enter a mall and instead spend our $$ at consignment shops and thrift stores). Because of his tendency to hoard and the tendency of the rich folks in New Orleans to cast off some really nice clothing, he now has at least 50 "new" dress shirts. That might seem excessive, but you should see the shirt, tie, slacks, shoes & belt combos he pulls off.

My favorite part of each morning is watching him stroll out as if he just threw the outfit together.... as if it were an accident that he coordinated so perfectly.

He may return from Capdau Elementary looking beaten and bedraggled, but he enters each day making a fantastic-ly fashionable statement.

It was worth moving to this town just to learn that he has not lost his ability to accessorize (photographic evidence shows a childhood filled with enormous belt-buckles, bell-bottoms, embroidered vests, and hats whenever appropriate).

Finally, he is in the right town with the right attitude and he exudes all that is good in the world. I love it!!!! Photos will definitely follow.

Trouble the Water

YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS FILM!

Thanks to James' sister, Kathy, we went to the New Orleans preview screening of Trouble the Water at NOCCA last weekend. We had no idea what to expect - we only assumed that the film was about Hurricane Katrina, and Kathy seldom leads us astray, so we went. We were surprised to see the crowds of people lined up, and the red carpet laid out in anticipation of the arrival of the filmmakers and stars, Kimberly Rivers Roberts and Scott Roberts, directors Tia Lessin and Carl Deal (past films include Bowling for Columbine and Farenheit 9/11), and producer Danny Glover (co-producer Joselyn Barnes, did not attend).

It was an overwhelming experience to sit in the theater and watch this film with Katrina survivors. Trouble the Water shows what other documentaries have not about the storm and the recovery since; yet, it isn't hopeless and you cannot take your eyes away. Kim Roberts is the filmmaker and the star, and she is amazing. When she isn't on-screen, you are waiting for her to come back. She isn't an actress, she was a drug dealer in the 9th ward of New Orleans, who bought a video camera for $20 a week before the storm. She had no idea what she would use it for, until the morning before the storm, when watching the weather, and hearing stories from her neighborhood, she decided that if Katrina was going to be what everyone projected, then she was going to get it on film. The storm and the experience changed her, and essentially, you watch it happen.

We were lucky to meet her afterward. She is a real person, with real concerns, and real tragedy in her life, and she is determined to overcome poverty and to bring New Orleans with her. She is a powerhouse. She has agreed to speak at James' school to talk about her life and her transformation, and to, hopefully, encourage kids to stay on track.


Go to the website - read about this film - Go to the film - Tell your friends to go!

Sundance Awards: Mine

by Peter Travers, ROLLINGSTONE.COM, January 27, 2008

". . . this indelible portrait of New Orleans before, during and after Hurricane Katrina through the eyes of a force of nature named Kimberly Rivers Roberts and her husband Scott Roberts. Gifted filmmkers Tia Lessin and Carl Deal stick it to our absent government and in Kim - who raps her feelings in a voice that demands and deserves a record contract - they have found a human face to put on a national tragedy. Superb in every department."

Sundance: A Star Is Born

by Peter Travers, ROLLINGSTONE.COM, January 25, 2008

. . . the behind-the-camera artistry is handled by the extraordinary team of Tia Lessin and Carl Deal. Trouble the Water is a documentary that will pin you to your seat. It's an account of Hurricane Katrina from the inside.

The best of Sundance

by Andrew O’Hehir, SALON, January 25, 2008

“The romping, stomping, electrified-house vibe at the premiere of this New Orleans documentary was one thing…a transformative story about passion, resilience and heroism among the poorest residents of America’s most downtrodden city.”

Capdau Elementary

Last Wednesday, James started teaching 6th and 7th grade Science at Capdau. He leaves for work every morning at 6:30, because he has hall duty as the students arrive for breakfast. His classes start at 8:00am. He has two 6th grade classes and one 7th grade. On the first day of class, he was surprised to find that he was also teaching reading for the first hour of the day to his homeroom (also 6th grade). Luckily, he is resourceful and had stacks of science-related short stories that we had collected before leaving Gainesville, so he hands those out each morning. He has approximately 22 students in each class and the classes are 90 minutes long.

The first day, he wanted to start a simple exercise that would lead to another exercise for each of his classes, so he handed out rulers and asked them to mark an inch on their paper. He waited for a minute, and when they seemed to not be finishing up quickly enough, he began walking around the room to see what was going on. He was shocked to look at each students' idea of what an inch was. Some had a cm, some had 6 inches, some 3, etc. He wasn't sure if they were joking around, or if they really didn't know. After some questions and some very confused student responses, he confirmed that the kids didn't know what an inch was.

The lessons that he had planned up to this point, are much too advanced. So, he is back-tracking. Assessing students' knowledge and trying to give them a base to move forward from.

Also, on the first day, he had students complete an info worksheet - their 411, so he could get contact information, learn about them, and assess their reading and writing skills. Only one of the over 60+ students listed a father as the major caregiver, and only a few more listed an adult male living in the home. The majority loved experiments but none could spell the word correctly - spellings ranged from espimens to esparimints. The students were to list their favorite personal trait and one thing they wish they could change. "Hair" and "everything" were popular favorites. The answers for what they might change, were more varied - "nothing - I'm perfect", "I have a big head", or "My feet are giant" "people say I talk too much". The one that resonates most is "The color of my skin."

Tulane's School of Public Health and Tropical Medicine

Prior to my arrival in New Orleans, I submitted an application to Tulane's School of Public Health and Tropical Medicine. I applied with the idea that this would be my fall-back plan, since I hadn't received my Praxis scores (required test scores to teach in certain states) and wasn't confident that the teaching thing was going to happen. Over the following weeks of my move and my teachNOLA training, I went through a series of interviews and was offered a job as Program Manager in the Maternal and Child Public Health Leadership Training program (it's a mouthful, I know ). I attempted to work out a deferment with teachNOLA, because the position is grant-funded and, if the grant is not re-newed, will end in fall 2010. After much discussion, it was determined that I could not defer and that my choice was to either continue with teachNOLA or resign. The Tulane opportunity was one that I wasn't willing to pass up at this point in my life, so I accepted.

The program is exciting and the challenges are many; the job offers opportunities for me to teach and travel, and to do significant community outreach. A major focus will be enhancing the program in order to reapply for the next funding cycle of the grant - 2010 - 2015. I'm currently in the process of designing a public school component in which Master's and PhD students will visit science classes to teach about their professions and possibly mentor students. My envisioned focus is to lead students of NOLA public schools toward careers in public health and master's training at Tulane.

Many students I taught over the summer felt like they wanted to go to college but had no idea which college or what they might study or how to begin to figure those things out. How exciting would it be for them to have a mentor who helps guide them toward that goal with the possibility of a master's degree and a meaningful career at the end!