Hozho (Good Morning)

(Saturday)

The burning morning sun oozes out fiery oranges and yellows as it peaks its head around an aged, faded brick will in this sleepy Northwest New Mexican town that quietly, but assuredly becomes my home. To the left, historic Coal Street emanates the quaint, small town charm of Gallup in each shop window. Stuck in time, this downtown area and the city itself draw visitors from across the world, who long for the city’s scenic beauty but also, I think, a life more simple, perhaps more innocent then their own. To my right, the McKinley County Courthouse adds a hint of modernity to an otherwise old-fashioned city center. In the evenings, Native American tribes from around the area descend upon the performance circle in front of the building and delight admiring onlookers with traditional dances and musical performances.

The juxtaposition of old Coal Street and the more grandiose, new-age courthouse provides an appropriate portrayal of life throughout New Mexico and many parts of the Southwest as regions creep reluctantly, yet desirously into the future, while striving to maintain a beautiful attachment to the past. Stepping into this push-pull provides newcomers with a fascinating invitation to a persistent cultural seesaw, a wrestling match of old and new that makes one question what one has to hold on to in her or his own life in terms of culture. It also makes one happy to be in a place that does have such a strong sense of the place from which it comes, even if it is not exactly certain of the place to which it hopes to go.

Yes, this Saturday morning, up with the sun, I reflect upon the many entreaties that make life and the world at once bastions of change and repetition. People grow, areas change, but similar, oft-tragic challenges continually face humanity and persist, all too often, unaddressed. Technological innovation surges forward without restrain, yet the world’s knowledge of, and commitment to making similar advances in enhancing equity does not follow suit. Areas such as Gallup, reach out for the niceties of a modern world but long to preserve a historic way of life. Others, ravaged by the effects of devastating poverty, do not have such a convenient position. For many places, the need for food, medicine, and survival make the choice between modern and historic less than meaningful.

Week two of teaching provided similar exhilaration to week one, but I feel it necessary to add another word to the adjective tree used to describe the job: real. This profession puts people directly into the lives of young people who have, ever since entering the classroom, faced substantial obstacles in advancing themselves academically. In fact, their families have faced similar obstacles for generations. The continual system of inequality that I have observed in this regard here in Gallup represents, I think, something of a modicum of similar injustices taking place across the world. I dare say that more people experience them than do not- in this sense, working to combat it is real indeed.

(Sunday)

Morning came early again today, Sunday. I watched the sun creep slowly over the horizon from the top of Pyramid Rock. The early morning dark turned to light, and I watched the earth come to life before me. Scenes like this characterize the Northwest corner of New Mexico, in lands cherished by inhabitants for millennia. Do I know how to properly value what I have seen or the deep, rich tradition of thanking and using the land that came before me? This is an important question, and the answer at present is probably no. For now, however, I am overjoyed, and strangely content, to have the opportunity to take part in sharing in the land’s beauty.

The morning cool and quiet of the landscape reminded me of previous mornings spent while on trips in Peru and Nicaragua. Thoughts crept into my mind this morning of the former, wherein an 8-point earthquake earlier this week wrought havoc on the land and lives of persons across the country, particularly the rural south. I thought as well of communities wherein land provides life. By life, I mean more than sustenance or things dealing with nutritional intake. I mean land providing a way of looking at the world, a way of existence, survival. In the Andean region, for example, papas, or potatoes represent more than just a staple. The land preparation and utilization entailed in growing and harvesting this beloved crop represents far more than habitual agricultural practice; it represents a way of life. For thousands of years, inhabitants have given thanks to, and performed ritualistic ceremonies for the cherished root. Indeed, the potatoes history in the Andean Region offers an endearing example of how, in places across the world, people and land often become one.

I thought, also, of my host family in Nicaragua, the Vidals, whose recent experience with a serious illness in the family, of which I knew little until very recently, ushered in a sense of melancholy and longing into my otherwise optimally content mind as I ascended Pyramid in the lightning morning expanse. When can and will I go back? I want to be with these people I love, show them how much I care for them, and thank them for all of the perspective and strength time spent with them now provides in my own life. There is no way to know, for sure, when I will return. For now, I suppose, I will just send my thanks and sincere recompense through the airways in hopes that the quiet, invisible connectivity binding every human being picks it up and plants it firmly in the minds of each member of the Vidal family.

Rudolfo Anaya is the literary pride and joy of New Mexico. His classic text, Bless Me, Ultima captures the intense battle currently waged between modernity and traditionalism in this, the country’s 5^th biggest, state. We look around, searching for things of value. We want these things to fill our hearts, provide us joy. Often, it is hard to see that in many ways satisfaction is a choice. Learning to love and value those things already in our lives can prove difficult. However, as I looked around me, perched happily atop Pyramid Rock, watching the rising sun emanate brilliant oranges, reds, pinks, and violets, life’s challenge of finding happiness in the natural could not have been simpler.

Cheers from Earl’s on Route 66 in Gallup, NM,

--DB

Week 1 of teaching: an 'exhilerating' experience!

Well, week one has come and gone. While the rigors and demands of teaching at in my own classroom at Church Rock Academy in many ways resemble those I experienced while a summer school teacher at Browning Elementary in Houston during institute, my first week in NM definitely has its own flavor. There is something very comforting about knowing that, for better or worse (I know it is 'better'), my 75+ students and I are in it together for 180 days. I'd like to use today's entry to share a few observations I have after one week in the classroom.

Millions of people in the U.S. wonder what it will take to fix our country's educational system. Admittedly, I am very new to the profession of teaching, which renders my observations cursory and my prescriptions for reform anything but a silver bullet. What I want to share are some things that I found challenging and some things that I think would have helped my students and I perform better within the context of the classroom.

• Reducing class size critical to differentiated learning
  

It is very difficult to lead 25+ students at one time. First and foremost, every single student I met this past week has the ability to achieve great things academically (EVERY ONE OF THEM). The argument that some kids just can't learn is hogwash (I'd use a harsher term but mom and pop read the blog, too). Still, the variation in terms of academic skill level in my classroom is both real and substantial. On one hand, I have a handful of students who excel, fly through the material we cover in a very short amount of time, and are ready for more instruction right away. On another hand, there are some students who, after a couple of repetitions and questions, understand things quite well and are ready to move on to more content. The bulk of my students, however, require quite a bit of time and attention for the overwhelming majority of material I introduce. This situation makes it extremely difficult for me to meet all of the needs of my students while, at the same time, keeping everyone engaged. With that being said, after one week on the job, I am a big proponent of reducing class sizes to allow for more individualized attention. I have tried to compensate for my top students' thirst for more, quicker instruction by assigning out of the class, extra credit assignments, but they need more personal attention within the context of the classroom to push their abilities to the test. Similarly, students who may currently be at a lower level also need individualized instruction. We have a special needs program at my school, which is great and will begin this coming Monday. However, I truly believe that these particular students are at a point so far behind where they need to be that nothing short of extremely personal, individualized lesson plans is required to bring them up to speed. These students, remember, ALL HAVE THE ABILITY to do great things in school. Unfortunately, many come from disadvantaged backgrounds that prevented them from staying on par early in their educational careers. If we truly believe in this country that every child deserves an equal opportunity to achieve educationally, then we must allow students who have fallen behind to be victims of insufficient and misguided resources. Smaller classrooms and more personalized attention for all studentws is a step in the right direction.

• Longer school years needed
  

I hope none of my colleagues at Church Rock read this entry because they might kill me after reading this recommendation! The achievement gap in our country's educational system is so substantial that those on the bottom end of performance simply cannot receive a sufficient amount of instruction within the confines of a typical school year. In New Mexico, students go to school for 180 days. A friend and mentor suggested to me this morning that this number should be lifted to 210, at least. I'm all for it. For many of those at the bottom end of the achievement gap, not only would this increase critical time in the classroom, but it would also provide low-income students, who constitute the majority of 'under-performing' learners, with a safe environment and, through discounted and free breakfast and lunch programs, guaranteed meals (though we've got a long way to go in ensuring our students have healthy options while at school) and a more secure environment in which to exist for more of the year. To parents working two and three jobs, moreover, longer school years would also serve a vital role, allowing them to avoid paying costly daycare bills while working to support their family. Longer school years represent an important component to any viable educational reform policy.

• Increased funding for Pre-K, arts, and afterschool programs

Children need to start learning earlier, and they need to be given an opportunity to excell in things outside the classroom. One of the things I believe limits most of my struggling students' skills is that they did not enter into a serious academic environment early enough. The odds of achieving academic greatness are stacked heavily against those born into situations of economic disadvantage. To give these students an equal shot at meeting their academic potential, which, again, is limitless, instruction simply cannot begin early enough. At Church Rock, we have a phenomenal 3-year-old and 4-year-old Pre-K program headed by loving and committed instructors. There is no doubt in my mind that theyoungsters who pass through these classrooms are better for it, and the time they spend in this program will pay dividends in terms of their educational performance down the road. However, across the country, limited funding constrains the ability of schools and school districts to have these types of programs, which means that those students most in need of early, extra instruction are being denied a critical opportunity to achieve. Policymakers should address this reality and divert more funds to Pre-k programs in low-income areas.

Arts and afterschool programs can provide under-performing students with incredibly empowering tools. If one's experience at school consists only of discouraging grades and lectures they do not comprehend, who could blame them for not being invested in their own education. Arts and afterschool programs, however, represent an opportunity for struggling students to have a positive experience at school. Perhaps a students struggles in math and is several years behind in reading but can sing like the dickens. If her school has a strong music program that hones this talent, for example, she or he might come to view the process of going to school in a more favorable light. Once this occurs, the fear and intimidation one takes to the classroom with them every day start to erase. We need to find ways to empower our young people, and this is done by helping them recognize their talents. If this process of recognition is done at school, whether through arts or afterschool programs, then students will look to it as a place where they can succeed. I believe that this new-found comfort will improve their performance in the classroom. More funds for arts and after-school programs also constitute a key component of educational reform.

• Teachers not necessarily to blame

I believe that teachers are accountable for the performance of their students. This premise leads, logically, to the conclusion that students struggle because of sub-optimal performance by teachers. However, during my time so far at Church Rock, I have yet to experience an educator who I did not feel was totally committed to improving her students' academic performance. I'm at school with educators who've been at it for 30+ years and are ready for thirty more! These people are not in it for the money. These people are not in it because they've nowhere else to go. These are committed public servants dedicated to improving the lives of their young people. While it is easy for many folks to cast the blame for our country's struggling educational system on teachers (and surely there are some teachers who do not do a good job and are not truly invested in their students' lives), I posit that the majority of these individuals do not understand what it is like to live and exist in a low-income area where myriad factors lead to underperformance in the classroom. It is extremely difficult to teach a student who has not had enough to eat and is distracted by hunger in the classroom? It is extremely difficult to teach a student who has no bed on which to sleep at night (and must get up at 4 in the morning so there parents can take them to work and, later, drop them at school). It is extremely difficult to teach a student who has no support from parental figures in the home and does not feel valued. As teachers, we are leaders, and we need to be many things to many teachers, which is one of the main reasons that I got into this profession. However, to simply argue that teachers are to blame for failing students and schools ignores a larger societal issue that is rooted in economic inequity. By all means, hold teachers accountable, but do so while keeping in the mind the unique challenges they face when teaching in low-income communities.

O.K., so there is it. One week on the job, and I'm loaded with thought and steam. I love my job in a perverse and altogether strange sort of way. I love the 'hard'. I love the highs and, yes, the lows. There will be plenty more of each. For now, after an 'exhilerating' week on the job, I am excited about week two. I have much to teach my students, and they have much to teach me. The most important thing is that we are in this together, and together we WILL progress.

Cheers from Albuquerque,

--Daniel

Day One: Reflections

Day one is in the books! It was, first and foremost, a great day. It was great in the sense that for three months, which has seemed more like three years, I've been training to become a teacher in the State of New Mexico. Today, finally, I began this process, and oh was it sweet.

I have three groups of kids every day. One of them is my so-called 'home room' class with whom I spend more time than the others. I started with these students in the morning. From 7:20-8:00 students eat breakfast, which is delivered to the room. My daily agenda began here and went as follows:
1. Hello, and welcome to class!
2. Who am I?
3. Who are you?
4. 'Classroom Code' (rules)
5. Leadership jobs (assigning responsibilities to students- line leader, etc.)
6. Where in the world is....? (a game in which students divide into teams, send a representative to the board and are asked to find a specific country- fun fun!)
7. Writing Activity #1 (I had students write about a fun trip they had been on, or one on which they hoped to go- I prefaced this by discussing my trip to Peru and Machu Picchu last summer)

I enjoyed discussing from where I was coming to the kids. I told them that I grew up in Las Cruces, but was born in California and that my family lived in Michigan. I told them that I recently graduated from college in Washington, D.C. and played tennis there. Throughout the discussion, I kept two tennis balls close at hand, often juggling them in one hand to spur interest (worked like a charm). I spoke of studying international relations in school, explaining it by using a globe and pointing to countries from around the world and also mentioning my love of travel.

I told students about one of the most important parts of my life- my family. I told them about my mom and dad, their jobs, background and (sorry mom and pop!) their ages. I also told them about my brother Patrick, reflecting on how interesting it is for me to think that this 'little guy' is now 13 and on his way to high school (actually, he began tryouts for his high school tennis team today!)!

After telling them about myself, I told them why I want to be a teacher. I told them that I had always great teachers and this had given me a wonderful life and strong love for learning. I told them that I wanted to provide them with the same. I also told them in no uncertain terms that I believe in their ability to learn anything they want if they follow the 'Classroom Code'.

The Classroom Code is a set of rules, though I tried to use that particular term as little as possible. The code itself is written on large posterboard in my classroom, divided into two sections: "Student will..." and "Students will not...". Section one is followed by the following 'rules':
1. Students will always do their very best.
2. Students will believe they can achieve anything.
3. Students will contribute to class learning by participating.
4. Students will be kind to themselves and others.
5. Students will be kind to their teacher.

I had left #5 blank in order to let students come up with one of the guidelines themselves to help promote buy-in. Imagine my delight when this is the rule they chose! How cool are these kids?

The second section contains the following:
1. Students will not talk without raising their hand.
2. Students will not leave their seat without permission.
3. Students will not interfere with their classmates' learning.
4. Students will not disrespect or be mean to their classmates
5. Students will not talk back to the teacher (also class-created- amazing!).

So, after having student copy down the code to take home to their parents for signatures, I moved into 'Rewards' and 'Consequences' for following and breaking the code.

Rewards:
1. Verbal congratulations
2. Add to class points (if the class reaches a certain amount, we have a celebration and prize)
3. GAME TIME! Students create a fun, educational game to play and do this in place of a lesson (clearly, the idea is that the game would be a lesson in and of itself)
4. Field trip at the end of the year (to an awesome amusement park called Uncle Cliffs in Albuquerque- the achievement of this reward is directly correlated to meeting our class' 'Big Goal', which is still in the works.

Consequences:
1. Warning
2. Take away class points
3. Written letter home to parent/guardian explaining misbehavior
4. Visit to Principal Schuster's office (unfortunately, these kids love Mr. Schuster- still, he knows how to discipline, and this will serve, I hope, as an effective deterrent.

We then assigned classroom responsibilities. Everyone, in time, will have a job. For now, roughly 1/3, 1/4 does, and they consist of tasks that truly will help me out: paper collectors and passer outers; line leader; pencil sharpeners (this is a real issue; students constantly want to get up and sharpen pencils; these students' jobs will be collecting pencils at the beginning of class from anyone who needs it and sharpening them so we do not have to stop during the lesson.

From here, two of my classes moved into the writing activity directly, whereas my home room class also played 'Where in the world is...?'. I was very impressed with the ideas expressed by students when writing about where they had been and would like to go. It takes some effort getting them writing, but once it starts, ideas flow quite well amongst my students. Still, the grammar, spelling, and syntax is, we'll say, a LONG way off. We've much work to do. I knew this coming in and am stoked to attack these lacking skills and help students become great writers.

With one of my courses, we actually moved write into a lesson. I gave them three vocab. words before lunch and was prepared to head out when a few said excitedly that they wanted one more word, "a hard one!". We went with civilization and cruised to the cafeteria. I love this enthusiasm and am searching for an extremely challenging word for them to take on tomorrow!

After one day on the job, I can say this: I made the right choice. Was it a perfect day? No. Will any day be perfect? Probably not? Might I leave school questioning what I got myself into- also, probably not! I know, in my heart, that my pseduo-organized classroom, my pseudo-organized (yet improving) lesson plans are not what's going to make the difference in unlocking these students' academic potential. What is going to do this is an unwavering love, drive, and commitment to their progress as students and human beings. They must know I care. They WILL know I care. I will stop at nothing to make these kids believe in themselves, nor will I stop at anything to bring them the resources they need to overcome the disadvantages into which low-income brings them.

I'm a teacher now. I know that my classrooms and others like it around the country are the trenches in which the future of our country is going to be one or lost. If we success in bringing low-income and otherwise disadvantaged students up to, and beyond par in terms of academic performance, our country will experience a new era of equity, and our world a new day of progress. Day one has come and gone. I can't wait for tomorrow.

P.S. I arrived in Gallup at 2:05 yesterday morning after an incredible, and incredibly beneficial weekend with fellow Front-Line Leaders Academy in Washington, D.C. Our training was held at the National Education Association headquarters, which, of course, seemed particularly fitting. I have a better idea, coming out of the conference, of the place in which I hope to start my service and the steps I need to take to put myself in a place to win a race. It was a great weekend, and even when I was sitting at The Frontier restaurant in Albuquerque, New Mexico at 11:55 p.m. Sunday night, seven and one-half hours before the dawn of my teaching career, I knew that everything would be just fine.

Travel Irregularities: Charming Quirks at the Outset of My Weekend Journey to Washington

Everything was going perfectly according to plan as I hit the acclerator and started out on I-40 headed east from Gallup toward Albuquerque. This trips is becoming something of a routine for me, and I grow more enamored with the beauty of the landscape on this 130 mile trip each time I pass through. Yesterday morning's environs were nothing short of magnificent as a rainbow, surely the largest I've ever seen, stretch in a perfect arch across the horizon. Heavy rain made the trip difficult at times, but I always enjoy the scent and scenes of a desert rain.

Moreover, political talk radio, specifically that found on 770 AM KKOB, made the trip an intellectual delight as caller mulled recent comments from former Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich regarding the sorry state of presidential debates, in which candidates typically offer focus-group tested and largely meaningless answers to critical policy questions....anyway, it was an enjoyable drive down to Duke City.

The fun continued at 'The Fying Star', an awesome and awesomely hip coffee shop and restaurant on Central Avenue within a hop, skip, and a jump from the University of New Mexico's Campus. I've become something of a regular at the Flying Star, visiting it the last two times I've passed through Albuquerque. The exciting atmosphere of a young college crowd couples with an older crop of intellectual patrons who take in the joint's rich magazine collection, infnite coffee supply, tasty food, and free wireless makes stoppin in a real treat.

After a great dinner and reading my daily share of online news and other writings, as well as checking e-mail, I left the Flying Star around 11 p.m. and set out for Albuquerque's 'Sunport' to catch my 12:55 a.m. flight for Atlanta. This is where the fun begins!!! Upon reaching the terminal, I learned that my flight had been canceled and that I had been reticketed for a flight the following morning (i.e., today), at 6:05 to Salt Lake City. This new plan put me in D.C. Reagan around 4. No problem, I thought, though very much disappointed that I would not be able to join my friends and fellow Fellows in the Front-Line Leaders Academy for our community service project at a large homeless shelter in D.C. at 11. Even better, the Delta rep. with whom I spoke, Chaz (an extremely nice and helpful individual), informed me that Delta would put me up in a hotel and send a shuttle to pick me up. Fine. I'd get some much-needed rest, albeit not too much, be up around four and make it out to D.C. by mid-afternoon on Friday in time for part of the afternoon's activities. After missing the first Courtyard shuttle to pass through (due, I must admit, to having my head buried in a book I'm trying to finish this weekend, 'The Four Agreements'), I caught the next one, checked in, and was in my room and in bed (just a bit more comfy than the floor on which I've slept for the last two weeks in Gallup but without the character!) just before one. Now, in the lobby, the Courtyard rep., also an extremely nice person, who was plugging away furiously to get 'distressed travelers' from the canceled 12:55 Delta Flight squared away with their rooms, assured me that my 4:00 a.m. wake-up call would be made. Imagine my surprise, then, when I opened my eyes, glanced at the clock, and saw that it was 5:49!!! "Darn!", I said, when asked by the shuttle driver who took me to the airport about eleven minutes later what my first thought was upon seeing that I had overslept. O.K., o.k., the exact term might have been a bit different, but let's not bog ourselves down in technicalities (by the way, the shuttle driver was an interesting young man who is actually from Gallup, but currently studying in Albuquerque. On the way to the airport, we spoke of this weekend's 86th Annual Inter-Tribal Ceremonial taking place in Gallup and lamented that, probably, neither of us would be able to partake in the activities- next year, we said, next year!).

So, I got to the airport, checked in for my flight (for which I am currently waiting- 11:15 to Atlanta; you may wonder why I, given the extra time, decided to come to the airport so early? Good question, but the answer is that, with all the craziness of the night before, I figured it best to just get to the airport and my gate as quickly as possible so as to alleviate any doubt that my scheduled arrival time in D.C., now set for 6:59 p.m., would indeed prove accurate), and made my way over to sit down, drink some coffee, and read the Wall Street Journal I picked up free of charge at the Courtyard (I guess a free paper settles the score for forgetting to make the wake-up call; square deal in my book!).

However, upon passing through security, I hit a snag. I placed my beautiful Tweety Bird keychain, which holds the metal passages to Sophie (my delightful red minivan) as well as my house, into a plastic bin to pass it through the x-ray machine. In brutal consistence with the strange occurences of the previous ten hours, the Tweety Bird keychain that arrived on the other side of the machine was devoid of all keys. What?! I asked a security guard if, perhaps, she knew what had happened, to which she responded with a question. "Did your other items in the bin make it through?" she asked. "Yes," I replied. She asked another guard to rummage through the x-ray machines internal organs, which he did, and, after a half-minute or so and a barrage of questions that raced through my mind regarding how the hell I was going to get home to Gallup Sunday evening and drive to the first day of school on Monday, my keys popped up! Just another quirk on the journey, I figured and moved happily along to sit down with some coffee and my paper, which, by now, was looking incredibly attractive.

About halway through the first article, an interesting piece on recent global market volatility in response to fallout in the U.S. subprime lending market, I glanced up briefly and saw a familiar face sitting at a table diagnoal from me. A young woman named Pree, with whom, I went to high school was sitting there along with two others, Emily and Ellie, who I also new from my time at Las Cruces High School. "Pree," I said, still not quite convinced that I was actually awake. She looked up and, after a few moments, let out a "Daniel", which put to rest my persistent doubts about consciousness (or lack thereof). After exchanging surprised and happy greetings, as well as chatting about the craziness of seeing each other after so long, at this time, and in this place, we had a nice chat, and they explained to me they were on their way to see a friend's graduation in Austin. I told them I was on my way, although quite slowly, to Washington for a conference. Life seems to have a funny way bringing friends together. It is comforting to know that, wherever one wonders, one cannot outrun her or his true friends. Time and life always bring you back together. As I hop around the country and long to see friends and loved ones again, this becomes an extremely calming thought.

So, it is now 9:44 a.m. Mountain Standard Time. The charging station in the B Terminal of the Albuquerque Sunport makes a happy home for a sleepy, slightly delirious travel, anxious and excited to get to his next destination. With the interesting and, in retrospect, not all that serious obstacles of the last twelve hours behind me, I'm stoked to see what this weekend has in store. I'm excited, moreover, to reunite with the other FLLA Fellows, college chums and other good friends, and, hopefully, my dear Gaga. As we move crazily through planet Earth, it helps to keep in mind that things often do not go according to plan, but in these strange diversions from the charted path, we often discover new treasures that leave our experience better than we could have planned.

Cheers from Albuquerque,

--D.B.

Incomplete thoughts as I approach day one (hey, it's something!)

The big day has almost arrived, and with it, a sense of anticipation that could drive the calmest person insane. However, effective instruction seems to require sanity, though some may tell you differently, and so I’ll need every effort to gather my wits by next Monday. I’m thoroughly excited by my colleagues, who’ve been extremely welcoming and giving of their time and resources; my curriculum, which consists of New Mexico and U.S. history, as well as writing (which is a welcome exchange for the science I thought I was going to teach); and my new home and TFA family. Also, Sophie, the ’92 Mazda MPV minivan that sits proudly and charmingly outside the dining room window at 1705 Red Rock provides smooth, steady rides around the booming metropolis that is Gallup.

This weekend, I travel to Washington, D.C. to participate in the second of four conferences for the leadership program in which I am a fellow, the Front-Line Leaders Academy of the People for the American Way’s Young People For Network. I fly out early Friday morning, will participate in a community service project at one of the country’s largest homeless shelters in the late morning and early afternoon, attend a discussion session at 3, go for a nice, group dinner at 7, and spend time with friends from the college and around the area afterwards. I tell you all this to indicate that, basically, at times, my life feels like one giant conglomeration of action for which I am every grateful. I know I could, and would not want to live any other way.

Next week promises thrills. In addition to meeting my students and beginning the school year, I will take a trip down to Zuni, New Mexico (roughly an hour outside of Gallup), to meet an ’04 TFA Corps Member and discuss a program she initiated at her school to grow an edible garden. Students create and tend to the garden, which provides them with healthy meals, lessons in agriculture, and even a significant bit of money as the surplus is sold in local markets. I hope to replicate the success of this program at my school, as do some of my ’07 CM colleagues. It should be a good, enriching time down in Zuni.

Also, I spoke with a man today whose brother was a Navajo Codetalker. Navajo Codetalkers played a critical role in helping the U.S. win World War II by communicating messages for the U.S. military in their native language, which was indecipherable for Japanese codebreakers. The codebreakers had, up to the point that the Navajo Codetalkers began their work, broken codes of the Army, Navy, and Marines, but they couldn’t beat the Native American entourage, whose dedicated serviced proved critical in leading the U.S. to victory at the important battles of Iwo Jima and Okinawa, among others. In any event, the man with whom I spoke was a co-consultant for Navajo Nation for the movie “Windtalkers”, sharing his knowledge with the film’s producers and director. He agreed to come in and give a presentation to my class when we reach World War II in our social studies curriculum. He might even bring along his brother, who has, unfortunately, medical issues that typically prevent him from giving testimonials regarding his experience during the war.