Entry 7

Today, just a week since my first day teaching that ridiculous class, I was fired. The principal called me into his office once more and detailed what I did wrong in a very moralistic, droning tone. I failed to notice that one of my students was being abused at home and also failed to report it – how should I have known? I don’t understand this place. I miss living at home with my mother and her silly comments. At least she appreciated my skills in teaching and my intellect. I feel so unappreciated. After being unceremoniously fired from the job, I left the school thinking about how this journey had epically failed. I did not better my reputation as a teacher, but in fact, ruined it. All because of the students and that principle that thought they were ahead of me in morals! Just because I didn’t actually care about how they were doing. That wasn’t my job. This place has shown me unfairness. I’m done here; the entire journey was a waste of time.

Entry 6

Today, I went into my classroom prepared to ask the students how they were doing. My mother said that asking this simple question would generate positive responses that I assume would end up benefitting my reputation as a teacher. This seemed like the perfect plan, until I asked the student who always plays loud, bumping music through her tacky headphones. The girl looked up and I saw bruises all over her face, her eye yellowing as if fading from an aging bruise. I wondered what this could be from, but still brightly asked him how she was doing. The student’s lips suddenly puckered angrily and his eyes watered in indignation – what was her problem? This is exactly why I don’t listen to my mother’s advice. So much for bettering my reputation. All I got was sullen anger from this kid who looked battered. She was probably some dumb jock. Her classmates began to whisper, shooting angry glances my way. Was I being insensitive now? This class confused me to no end. 

Entry 5

My mother just called me with more doting comments and trivial advice about being more careful and heeding her cautious advice. I’m beginning to think that I’m missing something, but I decided to brush that doubting feeling away because my mother’s words are too irritating to listen to. As she droned on about how I should think of my students growing up in an environment like inner city Los Angeles, I chose to think about how I could impress my students on Monday. My mother kept mentioning that I should ask my students how they are doing; she says that the simple question would soften them to me and make my lessons more effective. I kept that in the back of my mind because if they see that I ask them that question, they might realize how caring I am in addition to intelligent. But enough of my mother, I must continue to prep for class on Monday. 

Entry 4

I am currently at home trying to process the unnecessary events of today: I was mugged in Koreatown, Los Angeles by a scraggly homeless man trying to reclaim his seat on the bus stop bench. This city is really odd in how random things seem. The thin man grabbed for me as I left the Coffee Bean patio, lunging for my satchel. I thought him so out of place and so audacious to do so, so I struck back! I could not help it. The skinny fool faltered enough to be unable to strike me back and run with the bag – I gained the upper hand. As he saw how unrelenting I was and how able I was to fight back, he threw the satchel back to me hastily. I caught it but could not let him go – I was too angry! People around us began to stare at the commotion and presumably with indignation at the homeless man’s insulting rudeness. I spat once down onto the ground and left. I’m home now nursing the bruise I obtained from the scuffle.

Entry 3

The day finally came to have a talk with the principal of our school, and it went a little awkwardly in my opinion. After a week of emphatically talking at my students about how they could transform into scholars with the proper education I am willing to provide, it was nice to have a chat with the principal. He mentioned complaints from students about how unapproachably pompous I was. I decided to take that as a compliment. After all, I did go to a very good graduate school for my Masters in English literature and Education. He asked me to understand why the students could be discouraged by how I addressed them, but I chose to focus on what was wrong with them. The principal’s wizened face revealed resignation for some reason and I left his office confused. I just don’t understand why he would be so upset with how I was teaching when everything seemed to be going well. I politely declined his advice to humble myself before these underserved students. To think that I change my meticulous teaching plans to cater to them! Preposterous.

Entry 2

Today, I went to class and the students decided to play a classic prank: not one of them showed up. Imagine my surprise! I felt an emotion that felt very close to doubt. I have not felt doubt in a very long time, not since my mother faltered while explaining why she did not want me to leave Davis. My father was apparently a professor there, but she glanced over details and explained something about an affair…but it was not of importance to me at the time, so I disregarded what she said. She dotes on me so much, worrying about little, unnecessary things like how dangerous inner city Los Angeles is. How little she knows! I’m getting along just fine with the people here – even my students feel comfortable enough to play jokes on me! Their little joke did leave me behind on my teaching schedule and the old, wizened principle called me to make an appointment for this Friday. I wonder if he’s heard about my success in graduate studies. Regardless, he wants to speak to me about my teaching methods – I doubt anything he says could change my track though.