Slippery Downhill Slope

When I started Institute, I told myself I wasn't going to let it change me. I knew TFA was trying to test every fiber of our beings and break us down so that they could mold us into the type of people they wanted us to be. I was prepared for that. I'm mentally tough. I could take it. I would leave the Delta the exact same person I was when I got there, with 5 more weeks worth of memories and knowledge. I was wrong.
As I sit at my desk on the verge of week 4, reading over blog posts of mine from finals week, senior week and Induction, I'm realizing that I'm not the same person I was when I got here last month. I'm very different. And I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that. That one line from that famous motivational saying keeps popping into my head... "if something tries to change you, let it". I suppose I should embrace the idea that this experience is going to change me. In the back of my mind I always knew it would.
Then I stop and think about the conversation I had with Liz at dinner tonight. We were recounting our July 4th weekends to each other (I went to New Orleans, she went to Memphis) and she was explaining to me that people got up at 8 a.m. this morning to start doing work, even though we don't have anything to hand in until Thursday. And then she was telling me about an SLA corps member who felt the need to go into her classroom on Saturdays during her first year, just so she could make sure everything was perfect. I don't want to be that person. That person has no life outside of work. So the two of us made a pact that we would 1. definitely go on our cross country road trip next summer, 2. call each other if we ever felt the need to go into school on a Saturday and 3. remember that it is possible to have a life outside of TFA and refuse to let it become our only existence. TFA is what I do and, for now at least, it is a part of who I am but that does not mean that I will let it become the only thing in my life. I'm going to stay in touch with my friends from school, do things that do not revolve around closing the achievement gap and not let every other joke I make be in reference to TFA.
Last night, after the fireworks ended, I was sitting on the steps of a gazebo on the edge of the Mississippi River in the French quarter, with a frozen daiquiri in my hand and a brass band playing a mash up of Kanye West and the Backstreet Boys. As I sat there, I started thinking of last year's 4th of July and how I spent it in DC with Liz, Erin and Nick. At that point, on that weekend, I was as content with my life as I ever could have hoped to be. If someone had come up to me last year, while I saw sitting on the Mall with Erin and Nick waiting for the fireworks, and asked me, "Kaitlyn Boyle, where will you be one year from now on the 4th of July?" I would have looked them in the eye and, without a moment's hesitation, said "I'll be right here. On the Mall with my friends, waiting for the fireworks." Never, in a hundred years, would I have said that I'd be in New Orleans with a daiquiri and a brass band. Not that it's a bad thing. It just nowhere close to where I thought I'd be.
I also realized something else last night. At some point, I will move back to the District. I'm learning more and more that it is the city I belong in... it's my second home. I may not get back there right away, and definitely have things I want to do before I arrive, but before I turn 30 I will have moved back there. Maybe it's my time in the Delta thats talking, and maybe I'll move to Charlotte in 2 weeks and love it more than I can describe, but DC is a part of me. This spring, I would drive to Tangy Sweet, or to the bank or to Costco and I'd catch glimpses of the Capitol and Dupont and I'd realize that, for all the trouble and aggravation it causes me, that city is my happy place. I say all the time that my happy place involves 2 palm trees, a beach, a pina colada and an ocean breeze. That is my happy place, in my fantasies. Bu DC is my real life happy place. Hot summers, bad traffic, poor snow removal and annoying text messages included. I'll take it all.
I guess this post has kind of turned into a bit of a stream-of-consciousness reflection on the past couple of weeks and how I've been feeling about them. It's probably time I start focusing this blog more on TFA related items but, to me, it has become so intertwined with my life that it isn't possible to distinguish the institution (the organization, not the training) from myself. And, in the end, I think thats exactly how Teach for America wants it to be.

Delta Bound

Ever since I accepted my position with Teach for America, people have given me sad, pitying looks whenever I mentioned going to the Mississippi Delta for the summer. While I had my own reservations about going to a very rural area when I've never spent much time outside of the city, I was sure I'd be fine. Sure, its hot in the Delta. But I can handle heat. Ok, its humid there. But I went to school in DC, a city that was literally built on top of a swamp. Yes, it is very rural. But hey, there are 14,000 people in Cleveland and they need to live somewhere, right? 

So, I mentally prepared myself for a summer similar to DC in weather and somewhat like a movie in terms of the town dynamics. I had this vision in my head, fueled by 22 years of watching films like Sweet Home Alabama, that Cleveland would be some sort of picturesque archetype of small town America. It would have one main street that would have a couple of restaurants, a bar or two and a local general store. Off of the main street, there would be 10 or 12 blocks of houses and a small school. The people would all know each other and wave as they drove past. The town would be small, but I would find it quaint and charming and by the end of my five weeks, I'd have fallen in love with the area. I could not have been more wrong.

The word rural does not accurately describe the town of Cleveland. The word that should be used is isolated. There's nothing here. I mean nothing. Correction, there is a Walmart. Liz and I went this afternoon to get a few things and she was having some kind of panic attack about the next five weeks and being in the middle of nowhere. She grew up on a farm, in the middle of nowhere and she thinks this is bad. And it is more ungodly hot than I could have ever imagined. DC doesn't hold a candle to this place. Between the work, the strict eating schedule and the heat/constant sweating, we're all going to lose 15 lbs. I don't know how people live here with this heat all year.

All these things aside, I'm trying to stay optimistic about the next five weeks. I've very hesitant about the work load, especially after seeing the enormous manual that they handed us at check in today. B.B. King is going to be here next week and we have the opportunity to see him for only $20. Thats definitely something I would never have the chance to do anywhere else. Plus, its only five weeks. I'm going to take it one day at a time, learn as much as I can and I'm sure it will go by much faster than I ever imagined it would. Hopefully I won't have some kind of nervous breakdown before then, because right now I feel like it is a distinct possibility. 

Culture Shock

In exactly three months and one week, I have to be in Charlotte for Orientation. A week later, I have to drive to Cleveland, Mississippi for my five week summer institute. For those who don't know, Cleveland, MS is a town consisting of approximately 4,000 homes and 13,000 residents waaaaay up in the northwest corner of the state, by the Arkansas and Tennessee boarders. The closest big city is Memphis, which is over three hours away. This is where I'm spending the vast majority of my summer.
Now, being from northern New Jersey and growing up about 10 minutes outside of New York City, I'm clearly in for some kind of culture shock. I'll make no secret of the fact that I'm extremely hesitant to spend my summer in the backwoods, out in the sticks of rural Mississippi. A Northerner and New Jersey native (with all the attitude and outlook that being from the tri-state area brings) heading down to Southern, small town America. Talk about a fish out of water.
Naturally, my roommate is taking great pleasure in this inevitability. She finds the whole thing hysterical and can't wait for me to be metaphorically bitch slapped by rural living. It probably has to do with her growing up in the middle of nowhere and knowing exactly what I'm in for. Well, she just forwarded me this link that she found on www.teachfor.us. It's a website for TFA members to set up and keep blogs. Really cool idea, although I enjoy blogspot more. Here is the link I received. Let me just say, it does not help to ease my trepidations at all.
God help me.....

http://rachelplate.teachfor.us/category/institute/