Stats

A little more than half of my job is spent working in the childcare office, where I have begun my new role as "Parent Coordinator." A huge percentage of the funding for our childcare and school programs comes from the Chicago Department of Health and the Federal Department of Housing and Urban Development, and it is specifically granted to SEAC because of the parenting program. The agency runs a program that about 95% of the families are enrolled in, and it involves a message of violence prevention, parenting meetings and workshops, referrals, conferences, and case notes/documentation like you wouldn't believe. Seriously- if you don't believe me come to visit, where I will show you the overwhelming piles of paper everywhere in my office.

If you know me, you know the disorganization makes me want to cry.

It really is a very cool program and it is doing some awesome things for our clients. But I honestly walked into a disaster of a situation. We are talking case notes backlogged from summer of 2010, parent meetings not recorded for months, four different lists of clients who have dropped and added, and two quarterly reports due next week. I worked and worked and worked today, and then went back after school and worked some more. I feel like I finally have a grip on the situation, and it is always good to have an accurate knowledge of the number of clients, right?

We are currently serving 118 families with 175 children. Roughly 60% of them are female headed households. There are 10 families that are ranked "low" income; the rest are "extremely low" income, meaning that they make less than 50% of the federal poverty level. That is, less than $11,000 a YEAR for a family of four. There are three families with adults who have gone to college. There are twenty-seven families with adults who have no formal education whatsoever. We have over 20 ethnic groups represented in our clientele, and parents ranging in age from eighteen to fifty five.

Sometimes I wonder if I am doing good work, important work. Then I look at these stats and I feel pretty okay with my current place in life.

In other (teaching) news, I think I had a breakthrough with one of my students today. He is probably the most difficult in the class- struggles academically, socially, emotionally young... the works. My favorite kind of kid, in other words. I tried going the firm route... no success. I tried the sweet route... not success. Today I just decided to mess around with him. We were talking about where the people in our class were from, and I asked him if his family was from Mexico. He told me they weren't. Now, remember that I spent five hours today looking through files... I could probably name the ethnicity of every child in the program by now, and I KNEW this kid was from Mexico. So I simply said "You're full of crap." He stared at me and then started laughing this incredibly infectious little boy giggle. He latched on and didn't let go for the rest of the day... he's mine. Should I have said the c-word? Probably not... but I made a convert today and I'm not apologizing for it :)

Perception

"Ms. Stephanie, how do you see with blue eyes?"

At first I thought my fourth grader was asking how it was possible that I experienced sight with my blue eyes. After questioning, my adorable little Hispanic friend explained:

"What do you see with blue eyes? Like... what color is this?"

I managed to keep a straight face while explaining that the colors of our eyes do not change the way we see the world- everyone sees the same things.

"So this is purple? And this is white? Wow... I didn't know it was the same."

We went on to talk about all kinds of physical differences between peoples of different ethnicity and background, but on the way home I had a chance to process this interaction.

1. My student has been so underexposed to Caucasians (living and going to school in a neighborhood surrounded by minorities) that he literally has never had the chance to have this conversation with a blue-eyed person. I can't decide if this is necessarily a bad thing.

2. How wonderful it is that this little boy still has curiosity and wonder and questions about the world. By the time you get to fourth grade in this city innocence is usually destroyed. It's quite refreshing.

Trenches

There is something cool about working at a social service agency like the SEAC. It has a feel of utter chaos and disorganization, and at times this isn't wholly inaccurate. However, it also feels real in a way that resonates with my soul. These people are slinging it out in the trenches everyday, doing important things for people who need a voice.

Housed in three different locations, the SEAC does not exactly have a professional front in any one location. The Ainslie site is basically a block long series of brownstones in a classic Chicago style, with filing cabinets and desks and makeshift classrooms everywhere. The Broadway site is a converted restaurant complete with an Asian-style front, and the social services office lives upstairs, as well as the adult daycare and a few classrooms. The Foster site is the only one that actually feels like the building was built for the purpose it is currently fulfilling, and it contains two school-age classrooms.

People here are warm and friendly and overwhelmingly Asian, which is a culture I am slowly getting used to. Our clients are mostly Asian as well (many from Vietnam, some from China, Thailand, and other parts of south-east Asia) but also Russian, Bosnian, African, Pakistani, Indian, and Latino. There are some beautiful colors in each group of students.

Things change and chaos sometimes reigns supreme, and I am balancing the need to be flexible with the desire to be rooted.

Day One

I slept for about 2 hours before going to work on Friday morning. I'm not sure if it was nerves or excitement or the fact that my kitchen wasn't totally clean... but I laid awake for hours.

It felt a bit anti-climatic walking to work after hauling my exhausted body off of the Red Line, and the extra large coffee from Dunkin Donuts was pretty crucial to my survival. It felt like it should be exciting because I was starting a new job, but in reality I was walking to the same place and clocking in at the same timeclock and picking up kids in the same room that was mine for three weeks. It was a bit difficult to be honest, but onward with the new kiddos, right?

Let me tell you, there is no better way to bond with some fourth, fifth, and sixth grade kids than singing karaoke. Especially when I could ROCK it with songs from the original N'Sync and Britney albums. "Ms. Stephanie, this was music when you were OUR age?!?" Um... yes.

Things got a little crazy after lunch when I was called over to fill in for a teacher in the kindergarten room... I was pretty upset about being pulled away from my kids, but emergencies happen, whatever. It ended up being pretty hysterical.

I was dragging by about 4 o'clock when I sat down with a little guy named Stephen so he could be my doctor. He checked my heart rate and my eyes and my ears and everything else. Trying to be a good teacher and not just be happy this little boy was settled and touching me, I started asking him questions.

One too many, it would seem.

With the most sincere expression on his face and right before he was going to give me a shot, he put his pointer finger to my lips and said "That's enough of that."

I shut RIGHT up.

Refresh

Sometimes life just gets a little bit frozen. You think you are somewhere and then the world comes crashing down in a moment and you realize that you are absolutely nowhere. You are a little girl lost in a big city with no job and no idea what to do.

And then somewhere, someone hits the refresh button. The first step is realizing that you aren't lost, and that sense of home you feel is unbelievably comforting and in a way sustaining. The second step is the inclusion of new people into your life, people who bring joy and happiness and above all a sense of safety. The third step is action, movement, productivity. The fourth step is waiting waiting waiting. The fifth step is getting hired back at your old workplace and realizing that getting let go in the first place might have been the best thing to happen to you.

It was on Friday, September 9 that I was told I no longer had a job. In the midst of budget slashing and disparaging funding cuts, my position was no longer sustainable at the South-East Asia Center. Go home now, and don't come to work on Monday... there really isn't anything for you.

And it was on Wednesday, September 21 that I was rehired at the South-East Asia Center as a school age teacher. I will be assisting with a social-work project in the morning and then taking over a classroom of fourth, fifth, and sixth grade students each afternoon. Thirty-two awesome kiddos are waiting for me after school everyday, waiting for the creativity and support and structure and mentoring and happiness I hope to provide.

The changes and tumultuous nature of the last few weeks has been coupled by beautiful new things and the start of something incredible and a deeply rooted sense of stability.

I discovered stability in the neighborhood I live in and feel at home in. I discovered stability in my family, the people I count on to carry me through difficulty. I discovered stability in my friends and their constant show of love. I discovered stability in my faith, in the God who constantly is revealed in the exquisite beauty of the people around me. Above all, I discovered stability in the person I am. Situation cannot knock down my experience, circumstance cannot quell my passion, and trouble cannot shake the foundation of who I am and what I have to offer the world. For the first time in my life I am truly stable... and this solid ground feels good.

Friday Fun- Vomit and Sword Fighting

Friday was NOT the best day of work I've ever had, just to clarify. Any day that has me sweating before I get on the bus at 7:45 just isn't going to be great. Gross. And as yucky as the commute TO work was, the way home was much worse... I promise.

A~ woke up from her nap kind of grumpy and a little quiet. She didn't eat snack and kind of just put her head down on the table. I should have known then to park her by the toilet. About 15 minutes after my co-teacher left she got up to run to the bathroom in the middle of storytime, at which point I decided our day was officially over. I should have made the smart choice then, but how do you NOT comfort an adorable and sick four year old? So yeah, I got puked on. And it was while holding A~ after cleaning up a bit that my dear F~ came seeking refuge in my arms, along with his vomit.

THAT was a fun train ride home. That handsome man staring at me? Yeah, not for the right reasons.

There was a pretty amazingly funny thing that happened on Friday though.

We have open bathrooms at school for a few different reasons, but one of them is so that I can intervene when I witness two boys sword fighting... each of them was holding his penis. After taking a minute to compose myself and stop laughing ("Miss Dephanie, why you shakin'?") I addressed the situation like a mature adult person. "Friends, you need to pull your pants up. That is not an okay thing to do in school." "We were jus' fightin'..." "Okay, there are two problems with that. One, we don't fight in school. Two, you are not allowed to touch people with your penis."

So despite the heat and the vomit and the vomit and the vomit and the train ride home with the vomit... I still love my job.

Wrong Number!

I have a student who is four year old, going on nineteen. She has this incredible attitude mixed with an amazing endearing charm- it makes for a fun relationship.

It was the end of a (LONG AND HOT) day today and I was playing bingo with this little girl and another little guy in my room, waiting for their parents to get there. When my phone rang with a Chicago number, I picked it up in case it was a parent or something. Dangerous move- it was a very engaging telemarketer from the Lyric Opera here in the city. He wanted to tell me all about the new shows coming out this season, and would I like to buy season tickets? I nearly choked at that (on this salary???) but politely tried to disengage him and hang up.

My darling A~ had other plans. "Is dat your boyfrien? Why you talkin to him Miss Dephanie? Is dat your husban? Miss Dephanie! Miss Dephanie- tell him wong number! Just say wong number Miss Dephanie! WONG NUMBER! Goodbye, man!!! GOODBYE, not boyfrien! Goodbye not husban! We are playin a dame!"

He had a sense of humor, luckily :) And I went home smiling, and season ticket-less.