Why should I join MTC? (Ramblings)

OK, I've been sitting here for about 15 minutes staring at the words "You should join MTC because:" with a neat "1." awaiting a reason. I think the neatness is the problem. It's not a clean, easy thing for me to box and categorize. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m not used to watching TV, and I’m currently being drawn in by “Storage Wars” on A&E while at my brother’s house. 

Either way, I’ll try to be more casual and reckless with my musings. 

You should join MTC because:

...you like adventure and want to do something that will challenge you and alter you in possibly unpredictable ways. Sounds pretty fluffy and heartwarming. 

...you are interested in the field of education or are considering being a teacher. On the other hand, it’s a pretty brutal way to be introduced to the world of teaching. On your third hand, once you’ve taught in one of these schools, you can probably teach anywhere, right? On the fourth hand, do I feel qualified to teach anywhere else?

...you want to dig down deep into your self-resources and see whatchya got. You’ll have some pretty stern conversations with yourself at some times, and other times you’ll be your own consoler. You’ll need to pull out the best of yourself, redefine what the best of yourself is, and be able to see the worst. 

...you love Mississippi. This probably is not your reason. But for me, I felt the unending need of my  home state and did not want to just move on to my bigger, better life outside of Mississippi. I wanted to feel like I was giving back to a place that has given me much and shaped who I am. 

...you feel passionate about public education. You’re committed to demanding something more for our children. The catch is, you won’t know many times if you’re helping or if the fact that you’re there even matters. It might not. You know the drill, though; there are at least a few kids who will look up to you, who will learn from you, who will show their appreciation. 

...you want to realize your smallness and insignificance in the grand scheme of things. This sounds bad, but it’s actually comforting to realize that while you may not be helping in a grand way, you can’t really mess things up that much. 

These are all pretty emotional reasons, all about a certain personal pull or larger mission. They’re not necessarily practical reasons to join, but you know the poster book draw: Join the Mississippi Teacher Corps. Get a Master’s degree and a free laptop. Teach  kids. 

A few of my favorite things in Holly Springs

I consider myself a Mississippian. I've been in the Magnolia State since sixth grade, and I've had struggles with this place, but it is undeniably home. I'm married to someone steeped in Mississippi by about 10 more layers. We like to joke, however, that Holly Springs is "more Mississippi than we've ever known." We've come to relish in our life in Holly Springs. Of course, it doesn't hurt that it's our first year of marriage. Here are a few of our favorite Holly Springs comforts and adventures:

1. Thursday nights at Michael's Country & Creole
Michael's is the Holly Springs MTC crowd watering hole on Thursday nights. It is food for the Corps and the core. We are regaled with Louisiana-country cuisine and talk of weekend plans.
There is really no going wrong when ordering from their menu. My staple is the shrimp and crawfish etouffée, but the gumbo comes close behind. The sandwiches are delicious, especially the salmon with red onion relish and the pork tenderloin, and the fries on the side are more than plentiful. As far as appetizers go, the spinach and artichoke dip and the salmon flatbread are our favorites. They are easily reheated at home without compromising quality. The wine and cheese dressing complements both salads and onion rings. The portions at Michael's are almost twice as large as a single meal, and pretty much everything is under $10, much of the menu under $8.

2. Afternoon ice cream cones at Tyson's Drug Company
The Holly Springs square is not bustling. It's no Oxford. A regular stop on the square, however, is Tyson's Drugs, which was established in 18-something. On a school day afternoon, there is nothing more delight-inducing than walking up to the old-fashioned pharmacy counter and ordering a cone of black walnut ice cream for about $1.75. Well, maybe a strawberry cone or butter pecan may be better depending on the day and your mood. We then sit outside on a bench and watch passerby or take a little stroll around the square.

3. Walks at Hillcrest Cemetery

There are some pretty impressive graves at Hillcrest and a section of Confederate soldier graves. Several Confederate generals, congressmen, and senators were buried there, including the first black citizen to be elected to the U.S. Senate. It's quite a beautiful place and features the most popular sledding hill in days of snow. 

4. Playing in the fields at Marshall Academy

We like to rub shoulders with our private school neighbors by playing with our dog in their practice fields and playground.

5. Scoping out antebellum homes for sale

We've made a sport of house hunting. We usually take a Sunday drive after church, and this often turns into peeking in the windows and backyards of vacant old homes for sale.

6. Sunday dinners at Annie's Restaurant
Fried chicken. Tender baked chicken. Sweet potatoes, greens, dressing, butter beans, gravy, corn bread, pecan pie, peach cobbler. Enough said.

Other favorites: Victor's Pizza, Philips Grocery
No-no's: Graceland Too

Mrs. Gray, in the eyes of a student...

A Day in the Life

5:00 a.m. Alarm clock sounds. Husband tries to do 20 push-ups by the time I turn off the alarm. This is not the land of "snooze." No no no. If I gave myself the option to think twice about getting up, it would not be happening. I try to not trip over a dog, cat, or human before reaching the alarm clock in the dark.

5:10 a.m.-6:30 a.m. Shower, yoga, lounge, eat breakfast. I like some quiet time in my morning. I like my day to be bookended by something that resembles human life so that I don't wake up working and go to bed working. In the morning I shower and drink some coffee on the couch while reading Tupelo's Daily Journal or Internet roughage. These days I usually check the weather to see if there's any chance of snow. Some of my co-workers have started calling me their meteorologist because they know if they catch me at the copier in the morning, I will be able to give them a report of today's predictions. I've also added about 15-minutes of yoga to my morning routine in the past week. Before I leave the house, Lloyd and I have breakfast together at the table.

6:35 a.m. - Leave the house and begin the north-ward trek. It's about 18 miles to Byhalia from Holly Springs. At the beginning of the year when I had a functioning CD player, I would usually sing along to some mix of Lady Gaga, Arcade Fire, and Neutral Milk Hotel. Channeling the maniacal diva and painful anthems of growing up were pep-up talks to myself in August. Now I listen to WEVL 89.9 out of Memphis.

6:55 a.m. - Arrive at school. Battle the copy machine and take my post in the cafeteria for duty. Make kids take off hoods and hats and try to elicit "Good morning"s from students in a world of nods and "What's up."

7:30 a.m. - Homeroom. Sustained silent reading time. Sometimes this is the best part of my day. A sea full of quietly reading sixth-graders: beautiful.

8:05 a.m. - First period. This is like my honors class. They are my editors and my reference point for the day. They help me correct mistakes and loopholes in my lesson. I can often gauge how the rest of the day will go based on what happens first period.

9:05 a.m. - Planning period! Time for lunch with Mr. Gioia and making amendments to my lesson if necessary. This hour is also known as pointless meetings time and subbing for other teachers.

10:05-1:05 I'll just lump third and fourth period together. I'm in the thick of things. This is the toughest time of my day. Kids are frenzied and hyped-up in the hour leading up to and the two hours after lunch. What ever happened to post-lunch sleepiness? For me, it's like each of my students grows another head and two more arms after lunch. Post-lunch farting also becomes a significant issue in fourth period. (Sixth grade, go figure).

1:10-3:00 Glory glory hallelujah! The homestretch of my day is fifth and sixth period. I get a little bit lighter in mood and crack some jokes with students at this time of day. My homestretch kids see a much weirder me than my morning and lunch kids.

3:00-3:30 Class is over, and babysitting begins. I hold second load bus students this semester. If kids are in their seats and the room is relatively quiet, we're good. I put on BBC's Life, and students become mesmerized by a screen.

I usually get home around 4:30 after assessing classroom damage from the day and packing up. My home afternoons consist of some variation of ice cream at Tyson's Drug Store on the square in Holly Springs, petting a cat and dog, speaking in strange voices, talking to Lloyd, and e-mailing/Facebooking. Around 5:30 it's time to start working again. I flush out my lesson for the next day, call parents, and grade. I take a dinner break, and then work ends at 9:00 or so. Then it's time to dance and jump around the house.

9:30 p.m. - I write for 10-minutes in a journal and then Lloyd and I say Compline, ending our day peacefully and with prayerful focus. Then I crash.

What kept me here through dark months

I have never seriously considered quitting the program. I've thought, "Wow, this really sucks. Do I really have to do this another year?" I've thought, "I am not naturally engineered for this kind of stress and turbulence. I do not like this pace of life one bit." I've thought, "I'll put in these two years. After that, no question, I'm out. This is in no way sustainable for me." I've thought, "If there were any way for the way I feel now to have been implanted in me at the time I decided to join MTC, I would not have decided to do this." 

Why did I never consider quitting? These factors come to mind. 

1. Commitment to community - I have a lot of respect and faith in what my school and administration are doing. I do feel like like we are a team and like progress is being made at my school. I feel like MTC is a key player in that change. I knew that the conditions at my school did not compare to the scale of stuff that happens in the Delta, and my generally having a distaste for what I was doing and the considerable stresses involved were not enough of a reason to quit.  I knew going in that this would be tough. Many MTC folks said there was really no way to describe how difficult it would be. I took listened and decided to commit anyway.  I felt no considerable threat to my sanity and well-being, so I knew I could stick it out. 

2. MTC camaraderie in my school - This ties in to commitment to community, but having several other current and former MTC teachers at my school makes me feel fortified. Even if I do not communicate with most of them at length daily or even weekly, just seeing each other in the hallway or lunchroom while shuffling boisterous kids to lunch and out to the buses makes a big difference. Sharing knowing, empathetic glances with other teachers on a parallel mission during the day is comforting and helps foster loyalty to my school. I can't imagine being in a school on my own without other MTC teachers. Beyond the casual daily encounters with other MTC teachers at school, being able to collaborate with another first-year on grade-level business is invaluable. Matthew and I suffered through summer school together in the same classroom, and now we continue to troubleshoot together. Having a partnership has been immensely helpful pragmatically and spiritually.

3. Saturday reunions - Although Saturday classes are generally unwelcome, I feel like Saturdays generally give me a new boost for teaching. They make me reflect on why I came here in the first place, and I usually leave with those reasons renewed in a way. While a lot of Saturday is a vent session, I am often able to see a school problem I've been having with fresh eyes. 

I know I haven't offered any suggestions here for what MTC can do to improve. I've just been trying to unlock what has kept me here. One suggestion that comes to mind is not adding obligations and responsibilities to a class mid-year. We experience so much change and inconsistency in our work that I have found I cling to stability and knowing what to expect in other areas of life more than I ever have. While I was not opposed to call logs, I feel like that would have been better implemented with the next class and that it caused much anger and frustration among first-years. 

Turn this into a life that we can live

I'm becoming human again. Slowly. It starts with ten minutes each day devoted to writing. Add a little space for stillness in saying compline before bed each night with my husband. Mix in a neighborhood walk every other day or so. Even, dare I say, plan a weeknight dinner with friends. 


It's happening. Humanness returns. Little bits of self shine through even while I am teaching. It's becoming easier to see this time as plain ol' life rather than some sort of strange, glimmering torture I have committed myself to for two years. Each day is still a testament to the servitude of teaching, but it does not require forsaking all else. It does not leech energy from every corner of my selfhood. 


I've passed the threshold. I will survive. Scratch that. I will thrive. Let it not be said that I came here to wither. Let it not be said that I came here to surrender. Let it not be said that I came here with dreams and left with fears. 


This time is a heavy gift. I am a different person in many ways than I was in May. It was inevitable. My directness of communication at school has flowed into the way I communicate with family and friends. I'm not afraid to deliver words that I know people will not want to hear. I am more appreciative than I ever was before for the unconditional love of family and friends and the comforts of home. We were without heat and warm water at different times over the winter, and Lloyd and I became so grateful for those things afterward, keeping some of my students in mind who have neither heat nor warm water. 


Teaching could be an exercise in temporal acceptance. Oh, my husband has chipped nearly every one of our dishes in the sink? Not a big deal. I'm at home with someone who loves me, and no one is asking for a pencil sharpener or lead. Oh, we got locked out of our house at 11:00 p.m. on a Saturday night and have to break a window to get in? Not a problem. Nothing can mar the sweetness of Saturday, a day when no one will be saying, "Can you tell him to stop tapping his foot on my desk?" 


At times I have said that I never want to work again after these two years, that I have put in my working time. I have thought that I would make an excellent professional crafter. I could crochet and knit, quilt and make cards with sewn-on fabric and buttons and ribbons. They would involve a lot of bird and cotton boll images and things in the shape of Mississippi. I could make candles and mixed media clay sculptures. This would be a peaceful life. 


I have a sneaking suspicion, however, that home may never be such a place of sweet refuge and glorious play as it is now. I may never care less about broken dishes or smashed windows because I can't really afford to worry about these things right now. There's too much else to worry about. Ah, what am I saying? I'll always play. This time is just refining my play. 

Sometimes it is a wonderful life

Written 12-11-10: 

It was like all of Holly Springs decided to turn Christmas on at the same time. One school night Lloyd and I drove down Chulahoma Street and saw more wreaths and lights in succession than I can remember seeing in a long time. In past neighborhoods where I've lived, decorating was staggered from house to house, but here it seemed continuous and coordinated. 

Maybe it's because it's my first married (merry-ed) Christmas or maybe it's the stark contrast between stress and spirit, but Holly Springs is really the perfect place for the holidays. I became so overjoyed by the lights and the spirit of the town that we drove through the square and decided to go sit in the light-strewn, decorated gazebo on the square. 

Of course it couldn't be a Holly Springs Christmas without noticing that the city had strung the lights the wrong way in half of the gazebo such that there was no outlet within five feet of the plug. I guess they just called it a day and went home. I also plugged in one unlit strand. And the lights that they had taken so much care to string like a canopy from the top most point of the courthouse were also left dark! But Holly Springs cheered me more than it Grinched me. 

I went to a Christmas tree farm for the first time to pick and cut down a tree. It was a small farm with some true Charlie Brown varieties, but the air was crisp and the cider was steaming. Perfect. It also would not be a small-town Mississippi teacher's Christmas without seeing one of my students wandering around in front of a trailer on a country road on my way back from the farm. 

Having a tree in my living room sparkling with my late grandmother's lights and handmade family ornaments casts a much brighter light on my weeknights. It doesn't even matter how many ornaments our cat, Fenian, attempts (and usually succeeds) to swat down or how many chocolate truffles our dog, Eppie, tries to sneak. 

I think it's comforting to see that life goes on as usual for the rest of the world around me. It's convinced me that my life goes on untouched by school in ways, too. Seasons come and go, and "this too shall pass." For now, Of course, the imminence of a true break certainly helps bring the cheer.