I’ll probably never run a marathon again. I don’t need to. I set a goal for myself back in December, and I achieved that goal. I’ll find something else to strive to achieve.
I said that. Actually I wrote that here when I recapped my journey from out of shape to marathon man. Yet here I am, having completed another marathon. So why did I do it, how did it go, and what is next for me?
I will answer each of those questions individually, but before I answer the first question, I need to give some honest background as to why I ran the first marathon. In last year’s post, I openly discussed my weight loss, my newfound good shape, and my desire to rise to a challenge or lofty goal. Those weren’t the only reasons. There were two other reasons that previously went unspoken.
My preparation for the 2012 marathon coincided with my third year as a substitute teacher. The job market continued to get bleaker and bleaker, and I did not know what the future held for me. I felt like I had been treading water for years. I wasn’t a total bum, but I wasn’t progressing either. With my sister finishing up her degree and my cousin finishing up med school, I wanted to do something special, something that required a lot of effort and determination. Put bluntly, I wanted people (friends and family, not just one or the other) to have a reason to be proud of me. So I trained like a maniac. And it worked. People started to focus on my drive and tenacity, and that began to become what I was defined by.
I also wanted to do something amazing because I wanted to reward myself. As previously stated, I was not working a full time job, and I felt like it would seem foolish to go on a vacation with things the way they were. I decided to run the marathon so I could justifiably take a trip out west thereafter. I felt like it was the time to make a big move on the Jannelle front, and a trip out there was that big move. As things turned out, my trip got turned upside down and I didn’t make it to see her. But my desire to see her was one of the driving points for me to complete my marathon.
So why did I do it this time? I had a full time job, and an “admirable” one at that. I wound up meeting up with her later last summer in Chicago, and shortly after that things hit a bit of a snag. What made me decide to commit to another marathon?
I am the type of person who needs to have something to strive for or look forward to. Whether an exciting event or a long term goal, my life feels more worth living when there is a purpose. A marathon is a lofty, concrete goal that requires a specific amount of work and endurance. I knew what it took, and I wanted to do it again for me. Not for anyone else. Not for their approval either. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do this in the midst of the stresses of a full time job at an alternative school and without a girl I was desperately trying to impress.
I was also displeased by the way the previous marathon ended. I flew through the first 20 miles and then hit a wall. I wanted to end this race more happily than I ended the previous one.
So my dad I trained once more. This marathon was in Dubuque, Iowa, and ran along a trail. Unfortunately for us, there was a massive thunderstorm right before the race started. A couple inches of rain fell, and it delayed the start of the race by two hours. By the time the race began, the gravel trail was slop, and the weather was nasty and humid.
I was unhappy due to the conditions, but I was fine in the beginning. The trail was bad, but I toughed it out. Unfortunately, at Mile 16, I twisted my ankle in a sinkhole caused by the storm. As I braced myself to stop myself from wiping out completely, I strained the calf and Achilles tendon on my right leg. I gutted it out until Mile 18 when I realized that I would not be able to complete the race in a run.
At that point, I had a choice, and both of them were a bit humbling: call it a day due to injury, or physically drag myself to the finish? I had come too far to quit, and even though I had 8 miles to go, I dragged my body to the end. I couldn’t run by the time I got to the finish line, but I still had a smile on my face. It took me an hour longer than last year, but I made it. I didn’t quit when I could have and perhaps should have.
As I crossed the finish line, I knew that was the last marathon that I would ever run. It’s just not worth it to me to put forth that much time and effort in training and allow my legs to feel like junk for the better part of two months. I am not done running, however. It is my new goal to get my 5k time down below 19 minutes. Once my body is fully recovered from this marathon, I wouldn’t bet against me. I’ve got the drive to do it.
So what’s next? I don’t know yet. I don’t need to run another marathon. Every day life is a marathon. I’m sure I will set some lofty goal for myself. I’m happier that way. I don’t know where I’m going yet, but I’m looking forward to getting there. See you at the finish line.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
A Tale of Two Marathons, Part 1: I Survived (and actually enjoyed) a Year at an Alternative School
Greetings and salutations, my dear readers. I wouldn’t blame you if you forgot this site existed or if you thought that I forgot it existed. The last three months have been challenging for different reasons, but now that I have scaled some of these mountains, it’s about time I shared some of my life with you.
Most people know by this point that last August I accepted a teaching position at an alternative school. It was far from my dream job, but I was so eager to get into the teaching game after three years on the sidelines as a substitute teacher that I jumped at the opportunity. While I was excited for the new opportunity, I was more than a bit apprehensive as well. For those who are unfamiliar with what an alternative school is, it is a school for students who for one reason or another were expelled from their public school district. These infractions may include but are not limited to fighting, insubordination, possession and/or distribution of illegal substances, and possession of a weapon. Each of my students came to me for one of those reasons. That said, I never worked a day fearing for my own life or my own safety.
The first lesson I learned at this position was to never get too comfortable, because there is no such thing as a status quo. Everything is fluid and subject to change. When I was hired, I was placed in a classroom as an assistant to a veteran teacher who retired from the Chicago Public School System. About a month after that, I was given a classroom of my own. I started with five students ranging from fifth to seventh grade. The small group atmosphere really allowed us to create our own identity as a class and my own identity as their fearless leader.
As time went on, our class met with ebbs and flows. Due to the nature of our school, some students come, and some students go. As our class grew, I was blessed with two assistants: a female in the morning and a male in the afternoon. They really focused on the disciplinary aspect of the job and allowed me to key in on the academics (which, given my background, was more of my strong suit). We went from five up to seven before the holidays.
With our school being private, our livelihood really depends on strong enrollment. Unfortunately, our enrollment was below projections during the first semester, and by the time the holidays hit, we had to lay off a portion of our staff. I lost one of my assistants. When we came back from break, things still had not improved. I was called into my bosses’ office, and I was informed that they were going to have to lay me off at the end of the week. It was a really deflating feeling, and I had no idea what to do next. Fortunately, I was brought into their office again the next day and was informed that due to some shifts, I would be retained.
While I felt very blessed to still have a job, the next three months were some of the most challenging I have ever had. A number of my students stopped getting along, and given their volatile natures, I had to be on alert at all times. My classroom kept growing, and I started to feel overwhelmed. Without going into great detail, some of the kids decided to stop behaving, and it made things very difficult on me. Thankfully, due to steadily increasing enrollment, the school saw it fit to hire a co-teacher for me. We got along very well, and it eased a lot of my stress over the last two months.
Now that I am no longer a rookie teacher (and it took me long enough to shed that tag), I feel qualified to share some of my thoughts on the year, what I learned, and what worked. I have learned that adaptability is essential to success. It is important to be prepared, but in a place like this, things rarely (if ever) go according to plan. Therefore, I have to roll with it. Those who have known me for a long time know that this has not always been an area of strength, but as the school year progressed, I found myself getting better at it.
I also realized that it does me no good to complain about things. I will be the first to admit that at most of my previous places of employment I could be a bit of a malcontent at times. At this job I dug in, put my head down, and got to work. If I didn’t like something, I dealt with it. I must be getting older, because I realize that being the good soldier is not an option but instead a necessity.
The last major lesson I learned was that life is a marathon and not a sprint, and teaching is no exception. You can’t burn yourself out in September when you have to make it to the beginning of June. Always bring your A-game, but look at the big picture.
As I look back on this school year (and I intentionally waited a little while after the school year ended to write this so that I wouldn’t be clouded by emotion), I can certainly call it a success. Ultimately, Room 106 worked. And why did it work? There are two primary causes of our success.
The first cause of our success was the students themselves. I could be the best teacher in the world, and it would not mean a thing if I did not have students willing to work. Yes, my students were brought to me because of their poor choices, but they are merely kids. If people judged me for the things I did thirteen years ago, I would never have gotten this job. They bought into to this line of thinking: Poor choices brought you here; good choices will be your ticket out. They were not put in a bottomless pit. There is a light at the end of their tunnel, and the future is bright if they stay on the straight and narrow. Thankfully, most of them understood this.
The other cause of our success was that I don’t do things like normal teachers. Scratch that. I don’t do things like normal people. I can’t do normal. It doesn’t work for me. I don’t teach like Jakob Duehr trying to be a teacher. I teach like Jakob Duehr trying to be Jakob Duehr. We have Connect 4 tournaments. I play basketball with the kids in dress shoes and a tie (and can still dunk with those clothes on). I answer questions with song lyrics. Every day is a new opportunity to make another WWE reference. Most of these kids do not have good home lives. By not only seeing me as a teacher but also as an actual person, the students get actual enjoyment out of coming to school.
If the above paragraph came across as arrogant, that was certainly not my intent. I am merely saying that allowing students to see teachers for who they are (without sacrificing hard work or professionalism) creates a more welcome environment for the students. I also could not do what I do without the support of the administration. They give me the freedom to be me. If that means taking off my tie to let the students know I mean business, then so be it. All I have to do now is put my hands near my throat and students know that they better shape up.
To sum up a pile of text, it was a good year. I am ultimately pleased with how it went, but there is plenty of work left to do. I don’t see myself at an alternative school forever, but for this point in time, I am where I need to be. I hope to continue to grow as a person and as an educator, and I hope that next year is a success as well.
Most people know by this point that last August I accepted a teaching position at an alternative school. It was far from my dream job, but I was so eager to get into the teaching game after three years on the sidelines as a substitute teacher that I jumped at the opportunity. While I was excited for the new opportunity, I was more than a bit apprehensive as well. For those who are unfamiliar with what an alternative school is, it is a school for students who for one reason or another were expelled from their public school district. These infractions may include but are not limited to fighting, insubordination, possession and/or distribution of illegal substances, and possession of a weapon. Each of my students came to me for one of those reasons. That said, I never worked a day fearing for my own life or my own safety.
The first lesson I learned at this position was to never get too comfortable, because there is no such thing as a status quo. Everything is fluid and subject to change. When I was hired, I was placed in a classroom as an assistant to a veteran teacher who retired from the Chicago Public School System. About a month after that, I was given a classroom of my own. I started with five students ranging from fifth to seventh grade. The small group atmosphere really allowed us to create our own identity as a class and my own identity as their fearless leader.
As time went on, our class met with ebbs and flows. Due to the nature of our school, some students come, and some students go. As our class grew, I was blessed with two assistants: a female in the morning and a male in the afternoon. They really focused on the disciplinary aspect of the job and allowed me to key in on the academics (which, given my background, was more of my strong suit). We went from five up to seven before the holidays.
With our school being private, our livelihood really depends on strong enrollment. Unfortunately, our enrollment was below projections during the first semester, and by the time the holidays hit, we had to lay off a portion of our staff. I lost one of my assistants. When we came back from break, things still had not improved. I was called into my bosses’ office, and I was informed that they were going to have to lay me off at the end of the week. It was a really deflating feeling, and I had no idea what to do next. Fortunately, I was brought into their office again the next day and was informed that due to some shifts, I would be retained.
While I felt very blessed to still have a job, the next three months were some of the most challenging I have ever had. A number of my students stopped getting along, and given their volatile natures, I had to be on alert at all times. My classroom kept growing, and I started to feel overwhelmed. Without going into great detail, some of the kids decided to stop behaving, and it made things very difficult on me. Thankfully, due to steadily increasing enrollment, the school saw it fit to hire a co-teacher for me. We got along very well, and it eased a lot of my stress over the last two months.
Now that I am no longer a rookie teacher (and it took me long enough to shed that tag), I feel qualified to share some of my thoughts on the year, what I learned, and what worked. I have learned that adaptability is essential to success. It is important to be prepared, but in a place like this, things rarely (if ever) go according to plan. Therefore, I have to roll with it. Those who have known me for a long time know that this has not always been an area of strength, but as the school year progressed, I found myself getting better at it.
I also realized that it does me no good to complain about things. I will be the first to admit that at most of my previous places of employment I could be a bit of a malcontent at times. At this job I dug in, put my head down, and got to work. If I didn’t like something, I dealt with it. I must be getting older, because I realize that being the good soldier is not an option but instead a necessity.
The last major lesson I learned was that life is a marathon and not a sprint, and teaching is no exception. You can’t burn yourself out in September when you have to make it to the beginning of June. Always bring your A-game, but look at the big picture.
As I look back on this school year (and I intentionally waited a little while after the school year ended to write this so that I wouldn’t be clouded by emotion), I can certainly call it a success. Ultimately, Room 106 worked. And why did it work? There are two primary causes of our success.
The first cause of our success was the students themselves. I could be the best teacher in the world, and it would not mean a thing if I did not have students willing to work. Yes, my students were brought to me because of their poor choices, but they are merely kids. If people judged me for the things I did thirteen years ago, I would never have gotten this job. They bought into to this line of thinking: Poor choices brought you here; good choices will be your ticket out. They were not put in a bottomless pit. There is a light at the end of their tunnel, and the future is bright if they stay on the straight and narrow. Thankfully, most of them understood this.
The other cause of our success was that I don’t do things like normal teachers. Scratch that. I don’t do things like normal people. I can’t do normal. It doesn’t work for me. I don’t teach like Jakob Duehr trying to be a teacher. I teach like Jakob Duehr trying to be Jakob Duehr. We have Connect 4 tournaments. I play basketball with the kids in dress shoes and a tie (and can still dunk with those clothes on). I answer questions with song lyrics. Every day is a new opportunity to make another WWE reference. Most of these kids do not have good home lives. By not only seeing me as a teacher but also as an actual person, the students get actual enjoyment out of coming to school.
If the above paragraph came across as arrogant, that was certainly not my intent. I am merely saying that allowing students to see teachers for who they are (without sacrificing hard work or professionalism) creates a more welcome environment for the students. I also could not do what I do without the support of the administration. They give me the freedom to be me. If that means taking off my tie to let the students know I mean business, then so be it. All I have to do now is put my hands near my throat and students know that they better shape up.
To sum up a pile of text, it was a good year. I am ultimately pleased with how it went, but there is plenty of work left to do. I don’t see myself at an alternative school forever, but for this point in time, I am where I need to be. I hope to continue to grow as a person and as an educator, and I hope that next year is a success as well.
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