"Do you know why I hate summer school?"

Sometimes most of the time, they're a smidgen preposterous.

INT. CLASSROOM - MORNING

We just finished discussing an excerpt about a young woman who nearly got raped. My students are packing up to mosey along to their next class.

STUDENT 1
He tried to have sex with her.

STUDENT 2
(shoots Student 1 a glare)
It's intercourse.

STUDENT 1
Sex.

STUDENT 2
Don't say that. Say intercourse.

STUDENT 1
No. Because it's S-E-X.

STUDENT 2
Intercourse. INTERCOURSE.

STUDENT 1
(incredulously)
C'mon. Just call it sex.

STUDENT 2
(turns towards me)
Ms. Wong, shouldn't we say intercourse?

HELEN
(trying not to show that I'm slightly amused by shuffling a stack o' papers)
You can say it either way. There is no need to argue about it.

STUDENT 1
(triumphantly)
See! Sex!

STUDENT 2
(dismissively)
It's intercourse, thank you very much.

STUDENT 1
(defiantly)
I can say sex if I want.

HELEN
I said there's no need to argue about it here. I don't want to hear you guys debating about this again. (pause) Do I make myself clear?

STUDENT 1 & 2
Yes.

Nonetheless, they are endearing - all the time.

INT. CLASSROOM - MIDMORNING

STUDENT 1
Ms. Wong, do you know why I hate summer school?

HELEN
Why?

STUDENT 1
Because you get addicted!

HELEN
What??

STUDENT 1
(dramatically)
You get addicted to the teachers, and after 4 weeks, they leave you. And they're gone. Forever.

STUDENT 2
(nodding fervently)
Yeah!

STUDENT 1
(imploringly)
Can you come teach at our school this fall, please?

One more week in the merry midst of my blatantly brilliant and awe-inspiring Ninja Star Scholars.One more week to muster up my very best to push 'em, by God's grace, closer to achievement, 'cause they deserve the very best. One. More. Week. Of. Institute. Left!!! Thank you all so very much, guys and dolls, for your interminable support, uplifting encouragement, and fervent prayer throughout this entire training in the trenches. God is so good to bestow upon me such amazing people en mi vida. I am ever grateful for y'all.

Ms. Wongton

Yeah, one of my students called me Ms. Wongton.

You can bet 'twas a singular occurence. There shan't be addressing me as Ms. Wongton no way, no where, no how, no matter how adamantly you attempt to convince me of your love for wontons.

But that hindered not the subsequent inquiries that reeked of presupposed curiosity about Asians.

EXT. SCHOOL BASKETBALL COURTS - MORNING

STUDENT 1

(lining up in front of me for homeroom)

Ms. Wong, Ms. Wong.

HELEN

Yes?

STUDENT 1
Where are you from?

HELEN
I grew up a little outside of LA, not too far from here.

STUDENT 2
No, really, where are you from?

HELEN

(looks at him quizzically)
What do you mean?

STUDENT 3
You're from Tokyo, huh?

HELEN
Oh, you think I'm Japanese?

STUDENT 1
Yeah!

STUDENT 2
Or Korea.

HELEN
So you think I'm Korean?

STUDENT 3
I mean, you can't be Chinese.

HELEN
Why not?

STUDENT 3
(shrugs)

HELEN
Actually, I am Chinese.

STUDENTS 1, 2, 3
WHOAAAAAA!!!! NO WAY!!!!

INT. CLASSROOM - MIDMORNING

STUDENT 4
Ms. Wong, do you play chess?

HELEN
Do I look like I play chess?

STUDENT 4
Yes.

In blatant honesty, I found these situations a tad humorous, 'cause, apparently, they haven't encountered many Asian-Americans in their 13-year-old lifetime in their neck of woods, so there've been some teachable moments in that regard thus far. And they've indubitably been teaching me buckets, too. I'm humbled by the matter-of-fact madness they oft confront, as they impart to me tales of domestic violence, rape in their families, frequent imprisonment, and nearly getting shot by gangbangers in a drive-by. They are such characters, particularly this week, whence one student dropped his pants down amidst instruction for all attention to hone in on him whilst another student stabbed himself (or something equally ridiculous) to the point where he wriggled his blood-swathed hand in the air as a request to shimmy to the john, a request I denied for we allow 'em never to gallivant to the bathroom during instruction. 'Tis so difficult to maintain a deadpan teacher face and implement classroom management strategies in such hilarious and incredulous moments.

All in all, I love my students so. They've limitless potential and I am thrilled by their passion to get on the college track despite the challenges they face, as they rattle off their imminent futures, "USC! UCLA! Harvard! Princeton!" - paths to traverse as stepping stones to change the world. After testing them the first week of summer school, my 8th graders were reading on a 5th-6th grade level, comprehending what they're reading at a 2nd grade level, and half cannot scribe complete sentences - overwhelmingly appalling anger-inducing data that connotes the achievement gap.

We are currently at the midpoint of summer school - the need is great, and the time is short. We haven't a second to dilly dally into nonexistence and I pray the reading comprehension and writing strategies we're teaching aid in getting 'em on track. 100% of my students are currently passing the class, with 72% as the lowest, and 99% as the highest - a thrilling statistic. But there is still much work to be done. I'm increasingly discerning that how effectively I teach an objective directly correlates with their daily assessment scores. Whence I pummel over the allotted time or fail to guide them through mastering an objective competently, their assessment scores are substantially lower, which is a frustrating burden on my part. In essence, 'tis truly the teacher's responsibility to get every student to achieve via lesson planning and executing, classroom managing, and building classroom culture. I want to be a better teacher for my students, so they can be better achievers, for they are absolutely capable of so much more than anyone can imagine, so much that only God knows. I've so much to learn to be an effective teacher. All of which has been, is, and shall be due to God's abundant grace. He is way too good for articulation.

And, oh yeah, behold the champs of yesterday's Teacher Olympics. What?

Oh, dear Sleep, you elusive friend, I know I've neglected to set aside time for you lately, but make a hasty return into my life, pronto. TFA is a maniacal machine. Two more weeks of Institute await us still. Let's rock it.

Let's change this jazz

A recent RAND survey showed that based on standardized tests, California ranks 48 out of 50 states, scoring better only than Mississippi and Louisiana.

California students ranked 7th lowest in math, 3rd lowest in reading, and 2nd lowest in science in the country.

All public schools in California are ranked on a scale of 1 to 10 called the Academic Performance Index (API), 10 being the best. Half the schools in the LA Unified School District received failing scores of 1, 2 or 3.

Of graduation rates of the 50 largest cities in America, Los Angeles ranked 44th, with a 44% graduation rate from high school.

And the most horrific statistic of all: California spends more money on the construction of new prisons than on education. Future prison population is determined by the rate of literacy in third graders.

This must change. Lord, there is no limit to the work You can do. Use me somehow, some way, all for Your kingdom's cause while I'm here where you've strategically placed me, with educational equality as the primary step, and the salvation of lives as the ultimate goal.