Thursday, October 03, 2013
A Decade of Difference
Ten years ago today, at the end of a long and stressful week of teaching, I decided to start an online journal to reflect upon my experiences at Underwood High School.
At the time, I was a relative latecomer to the blogosphere. By the middle of college, several of my friends had already taken the plunge, including the Sleeper, the Snood Warrior, and Mathman. In the days before Facebook, the comments sections of these blogs joined e-mails and instant messaging software as venues for long-distance correspondence between old friends from high school. They were the birthplace of in-jokes, forums for political and cultural debates, and occasional sites for games and contests. Though public, they were not really intended for a general audience, but that was fine. The point was it was a permanent--or quasi-permanent--record of where we were and what we were doing in our far-flung residence halls, apartments, and dormitories.
Later on, the community expanded to include friends made in college, other members of that first generation of bloggers, who were figuring out all the potential applications of this strange new medium. In their hands, the Internet evolved from a technological construct to a showcase for creative non-fiction. I read and watched, and wondered whether it might be worth joining their number.
Finally, a decade ago, I found the motivation to take the plunge. I had entered the classroom hoping to make a difference and discovered that it could, at times, be a profoundly lonely profession. Looking back on those first few months, I remember late nights scribbling equations onto transparencies for the following day's physics lesson and stumbling to the shower in the inky blackness of 5 AM shadows. I recall cautious optimism being shattered by the brutal realities of an inner city education system, and I think back to brief moments of hope that would sometimes emerge during the most disheartening of circumstances.
Most of those moments are gone now. They are lost and will never again exist except in some hazy corner of the mind where old memories off to retire. It was to preserve a handful of them, both good and bad, that I started this blog. Early on, I established certain rules, avoiding the mention of specific names or places (though I did breach the latter on a handful of occasions) and omitting the comments that had, ironically, made my friends' blogs so appealing in the first place. The goal was to foster honesty through anonymity and thereby capture the essence of my teaching experience.
For the most part, I think it worked. I look back now on a decade's worth of journal entries, and I remember how it felt to be back in the classroom. Reading about the Sunday before starting a new week of teaching causes a long dormant worm to twist and tangle itself in my stomach, as does any discussion of professional development. Conversely, I recall the unbridled joy of the educators' snow day off and the few moments of pedagogical triumph I could legitimately cite during my educational career.
The blog continued during graduate school, though its relevance has wavered. I look at it now to see what news events I thought merited additional commentary or which movies I found fun to watch. There was less raw emotion associated with the torments of graduate school and more solitary monotony. Sure, there were breaks in this routine, but nothing that necessarily merited a broadcast to the world.
Fittingly enough, my shift from teacher to student coincided with the emergence of new outlets for communication. I kept posting here even as other friends simply vanished from my blog roll, which dwindled to a paltry few. A quick check tonight indicates that only Ramblin' Dave is still chugging along, mile after lonely mile.
An anniversary of this sort might be a fitting occasion to retire from the game, but I'm not certain I want to draw the final curtain just yet. Perhaps one day, but for now this site remains and I am grateful to it for helping me through some rather rough times, for preserving my impressions (both good and bad) of the past few years, and for serving as a link to real and virtual friends around the world.
Thank you for reading and making it all worthwhile.
(2) comments
At the time, I was a relative latecomer to the blogosphere. By the middle of college, several of my friends had already taken the plunge, including the Sleeper, the Snood Warrior, and Mathman. In the days before Facebook, the comments sections of these blogs joined e-mails and instant messaging software as venues for long-distance correspondence between old friends from high school. They were the birthplace of in-jokes, forums for political and cultural debates, and occasional sites for games and contests. Though public, they were not really intended for a general audience, but that was fine. The point was it was a permanent--or quasi-permanent--record of where we were and what we were doing in our far-flung residence halls, apartments, and dormitories.
Later on, the community expanded to include friends made in college, other members of that first generation of bloggers, who were figuring out all the potential applications of this strange new medium. In their hands, the Internet evolved from a technological construct to a showcase for creative non-fiction. I read and watched, and wondered whether it might be worth joining their number.
Finally, a decade ago, I found the motivation to take the plunge. I had entered the classroom hoping to make a difference and discovered that it could, at times, be a profoundly lonely profession. Looking back on those first few months, I remember late nights scribbling equations onto transparencies for the following day's physics lesson and stumbling to the shower in the inky blackness of 5 AM shadows. I recall cautious optimism being shattered by the brutal realities of an inner city education system, and I think back to brief moments of hope that would sometimes emerge during the most disheartening of circumstances.
Most of those moments are gone now. They are lost and will never again exist except in some hazy corner of the mind where old memories off to retire. It was to preserve a handful of them, both good and bad, that I started this blog. Early on, I established certain rules, avoiding the mention of specific names or places (though I did breach the latter on a handful of occasions) and omitting the comments that had, ironically, made my friends' blogs so appealing in the first place. The goal was to foster honesty through anonymity and thereby capture the essence of my teaching experience.
For the most part, I think it worked. I look back now on a decade's worth of journal entries, and I remember how it felt to be back in the classroom. Reading about the Sunday before starting a new week of teaching causes a long dormant worm to twist and tangle itself in my stomach, as does any discussion of professional development. Conversely, I recall the unbridled joy of the educators' snow day off and the few moments of pedagogical triumph I could legitimately cite during my educational career.
The blog continued during graduate school, though its relevance has wavered. I look at it now to see what news events I thought merited additional commentary or which movies I found fun to watch. There was less raw emotion associated with the torments of graduate school and more solitary monotony. Sure, there were breaks in this routine, but nothing that necessarily merited a broadcast to the world.
Fittingly enough, my shift from teacher to student coincided with the emergence of new outlets for communication. I kept posting here even as other friends simply vanished from my blog roll, which dwindled to a paltry few. A quick check tonight indicates that only Ramblin' Dave is still chugging along, mile after lonely mile.
An anniversary of this sort might be a fitting occasion to retire from the game, but I'm not certain I want to draw the final curtain just yet. Perhaps one day, but for now this site remains and I am grateful to it for helping me through some rather rough times, for preserving my impressions (both good and bad) of the past few years, and for serving as a link to real and virtual friends around the world.
Thank you for reading and making it all worthwhile.
