An AmeriCorps Teacher Speaks Out - Ms.Amy Humboldt 

I wouldn't consider myself a very adventurous person. Nor would I consider myself a very patient person, but I took a risk upon graduating from college, gingerly accepting a job as a middle school writing teacher at Academy Prep Center of Tampa. This would test my patience undoubtedly. And yet this seems to be right. It seems right that I would end up here, amidst 102 brilliant, beautiful children smack dab in the center of Tampa, Florida.

"Miss Humboldt, I need your phone number!" says Renee, a spunky 5th grade girl whose favorite pastime used to be rolling her eyes at me, as we leave for Christmas break. "I need to call you on Christmas! I'm going to miss you!" she continued. "You're going to miss ME?" echoed my mind. What eleven year old child believes that she will miss her teacher, who makes her write agonizing five paragraph essays weekly, for the two week holiday hiatus? And yet that statement, that feeling, that belief encapsulates the magic that is Academy Prep.

I have never been to a place filled with so many dedicated people before in my life. The energy on this campus, be it positive or occasionally negative, pulses in and out of the three buildings, through the pavilion, and out towards the busy roads that surround this magical place. Energy. Energy from the staff, energy from the parents, energy from the students. And unfortunately, at times, too much energy in the classroom. Or is it ever too much? Is there such a thing as too much energy for the creative exercises of writing, story telling, and learning to understand how to communicate? That's not to say that at times the noise levels don't start to escalate and there isn't a whole lot one can do to rein it back in. Isn't it okay to, at some point, raise your hands in utter lack of control to the high heavens in the sky and say, "So, God, I know they are supposed to be learning right now. And I know I'm responsible for their minds at this moment, but I just can't seem to get a hold of anything." Some days I can't, but most days I can. On the days that I manage to successfully channel their creativity, you would not believe the incredible things that come out of these children.

Teaching writing to middle school aged children is no easy feat. I am primarily responsible with inspiring 5th and 6th graders to grasp the foundations of writing. These same 5th and 6th graders come from notoriously awful public schools. The same public schools which funnel kids through the system caring not whether they have the knowledge to think critically, the writing skills to move to the next grade, or the aptitude to go on. These young kids, underestimated by their public school system, are held to an incredibly high standard here. A standard of excellence I set not only for myself, but for my students as well! The transition to adapt to a rigorous schedule and increased level of thinking, not to mention the very long hours may not be easy for some. Believe me, I have learned. I have learned that common words such as "moss," a familiar term for green lichen that grows on trees, can be used in this all too unfamiliar context: "That football player just MOSSED the defensive tackle". I gently, or perhaps not so gently, had to remind my 5th grade boys that the English language cannot be simply manipulated at one's own will so as to change a noun to a verb. And though Randy Moss would likely be honored to know that his last name has spawned a new verb for escaping the hungry grasps of a defensive tackle, we simply must refrain.

Being the writing teacher is an incredible thing, actually. To see the progress that these children make is unbelievable. If you ever doubt whether or not human beings have the ability to rise to the occasion, take a step on this campus. This beautiful campus filled with 102 smiling faces that consistently rise to the high standards they are expected to meet for 11 hours a day, sometimes on Saturdays, and for 11 months out of the year. Such a schedule is demanding of adults, and our students continue to strive for excellence despite the pressure and rigors of our daily routine. They continue to amaze me.

My proudest moment as a teacher this year involved my 5th grade girls. Ending December, I was worried they would have a hard time completing their five paragraph expository essay final in the time allotted. So we had a practice essay. I remember carefully selecting a topic, hoping that they would be creative and diligent in their answers. As I passed out the papers, I was nervous. This was my test, too. Could these little girls show the Head of School what they have been working on despite the outbursts, meltdowns, tears, and frustration? Would they be able to do it? Do I expect too much? After all, they are only ten and eleven years of age. However, as I walked around the room, my energy started to ease. My classroom, the noisy bedlam of chaos, morphed into a scene as serene as silent study hall. Girls, bent over their desks, carefully choosing words, writing silently. Will they rise to the high standards to which I have held them? They silently handed in their papers, one by one. Students who had difficulty with time management finished with minutes to spare, and they smiled as they handed me their proud work of pencil and ink. That evening, as I looked over their papers, one by one, I was amazed.

I was amazed at how far I, as the teacher, and they, as the students, had come. I was amazed at the incredible quality of work they handed in. I was amazed that every single paper was worlds beyond the skills they had originally come to me with. As I handed back their papers, the following class period, my 5th grade girls smiled one by one. They high fived one another. Esme, a student whom I had worked with individually the week before on structure and format, did the Cabbage Patch in her seat singing softly, "Go, Esme- you got an A! Go, Esme- you got an A!" The pride was radiating out of their little eleven year old bodies. And as we munched on our cookies that I had baked to celebrate their hard work they shared their papers out loud impressing themselves and one another. I, however, was not especially impressed per se, for I was aware of their potential and capabilities all along. I was, none the less, extremely full of pride.

When I am having a long day, or feel as if I am not making a difference, I think back to Ammara, a hard working 6th grade girl, who has received the one and only perfect score out of any of my classes thus far. I picture her face when I show her how well she did on her last narrative. I recall her screaming, running around, with an enormous smile on her face, and showing all of her peers who look at her in amazement. Their faces read, "It's actually possible to get a SIX on one of Ms. Humboldt's papers?" I look back to that moment, and remind myself that I AM making a difference in these young lives. I know that little by little, piece by piece I am making my mark on the world. Although they may not remember much, past the time I quoted a famous singer, Fergie, when asked to spell the word "delicious," hopefully they'll remember, somewhere in the back of their minds, the fact that I missed them more than they would ever know over that two week hiatus for the holidays. I hope they can feel and understand how deeply they have impacted MY life, made MY world different simply by being themselves.