On a recent Thursday morning, I sat down with Steve O’Connell at the Neighborhood House Charter School (NHCS) to discuss teaching, City Year and working with youth. Steve is himself a City Year alum; he served for two years at the Agassiz Elementary School in Jamaica Plain, first as a corps member and then as a Team Leader. After graduating from the University of Delaware, Steve decided to join City Year because he was tired of living in the college bubble. “I wanted my time to matter,” he says. “I wanted to come back [to my hometown] and do something.”

Now, Steve is a first year teacher and ELA (English) specialist at NHCS. He teaches Non-Fiction Skill Building to sixth graders and provides academic support to 7^th and 8^th grade students on Individual Education Plans (IEPs). When he is not teaching, Steve enjoys reading and playing basketball; if you go to one of the school’s basketball games, you’ll see him up front, watching the game intently and keeping score.

How is being a teacher different from being a corps member, and how is it similar?

According to Steve, teachers and corps members build very different types of relationships with students, although both relationships are equally “necessary, effective, valuable and fun.” As a teacher, he told me, your relationship with the students is based mainly on your “ability to teach,” as well as your ability to show students that while you hold them to the highest academic expectations and standards, you also care about them as people. As a City Year corps member, you come into your students’ lives with a “history of other corps members” behind you, and your red jacket is your “ticket” to becoming a person who can be trusted automatically and unconditionally. When a student sees your City Year jacket, he or she knows, “I can trust that person, that person is safe…that person—no matter what I do right now—is going to come back in tomorrow and still care about me.”

What do you like most about working at NHCS?

“I think one of the most amazing things about this school, which I was totally shocked by when I started, is the attention that every student gets.” At NHCS, educators and administrators take each student’s individual abilities and learning styles into account. They regularly come up with new and different ways to reach through to students, and they constantly change and reassess the methods they are using. They never stop asking themselves, “what do these students need, what does this student need…what have we been doing and what is working?” If something isn’t working, then it’s “changed right away.”

Where do you see yourself going in the future?

“As I get deeper and deeper into this job and learn more about what it means to be a great educator, I’m recognizing how much I need to learn and really want to learn,” Steve said. This year, he is gaining valuable wisdom from the skilled and experienced educators around him. His goal, he said, is to become “an amazing teacher”: “I hope that five to ten years down the line I can be a teacher who has a corps member, who the corps member can learn a lot from and who can make a huge impact on students.”

Do you have any advice for current City Year corps members?

As we wrapped up our interview, I asked Steve to share some advice for current corps members. “When I was at City Year,” he said, “the most valuable thing to me was the other people. There’s this culture, there’s this uniform, there are standards, there are routines, there’s the service, there’s the work—there are all these things that make up the organization. Out of all of that, the most important thing for me was the people that I met.” So for anyone who walks into City Year, his advice is this: “talk to as many people as you can, and learn from as many people as you can, and build relationships with as many people as you can because when you’re done, all the other stuff is gone—the uniform’s gone, the culture is gone, the day-to-day grind of the service is gone, the stipend is no longer—but you’ll have spent the time and the care to really build relationships with people. There’s no better place than City Year to find amazing people.”

City Year has founding stories that resonate into the work we do as corps members. The Starfish story is about a young girl who stands up for what she believes regardless of her situation by saving washed up Starfish. Addressing the many challenges that our students face are at the heart of the Starfish Morning Enrichment Program at the Dever-McCormack Lower School. So every morning we enthusiastically greet our students with a power greeting, we teach them about social justice, and we lead games where students can enjoy being kids. Some of the joyful moments at Starfish:

Some of my most interesting conversations with my students at the English High School happen in the most casual of settings. Many of these discussion inspire my writing. I thought it would be appropriate to share an original poem I have written from my students’ perspective. It largely centers around the outcomes I hope to achieve with my students this year.

 
High School,
The beginning of Our freedom,
Freedom to choose,
Freedom to be who we want to be,
Yet we find ourselves,
Waiting.

Waiting to be granted the choice-
No, the opportunity to choose.
We are waiting for the moment,
When we are treated
Like the adults we are waiting
To become

When we wait, we fail.
Losing precious time,
Time, time we do not have,
Have, remembering we are the “have-nots.”
Have-nots, but we do have patience.
Patience derived from a lifetime of waiting.
Waiting.

Waiting for Superman?
No, no waiting for exaltation.
Waiting for our chance.
Our chance to prove we are worth a first chance.
A first chance we have never received.
But so deeply need.

We are Waiting
For expectations
For standards
For belief

We are Waiting
For a Reason
To stop waiting

5. The day I asked our principal how much it would cost for our team to buy school sweatshirts; he gave them to us as a gift.

4. When I made a bet with Orlando*, one of my 8^th grade students, that he couldn’t stay completely silent for five whole minutes. He ended up winning a Twix bar from me! He actually stayed quiet for 11 minutes because I left the timer running.

3. Attending the 6^th grade independent reading campaign kickoff after Dearborn purchased $5,000 worth of new books.

2. The moment that one of the 6^th graders I am most fond of told me I was his favorite “City Year person.”

1. Receiving a thank you note from one of my most challenging 8^th grade students right before winter break. He wrote that he appreciated me for working with him, even when he was rude to me, and that he would miss me if I were to leave.

*Name changed for privacy.

Whenever I wake up in the morning, the first thing I see is my City Year uniform. Keeping all the parts laid out on my bed – dress shirt, khakis, belt, and bright red jacket – save me a lot of time in getting dressed. But besides being generally awesome, the uniform also symbolizes what City Year stands for. Even though it’s a uniform that we’re all required to wear, it’s also representative of the unity we all feel. And despite the fact that we each come from different backgrounds and serve at different schools, we are all committed to City Year for the same reason – to serve full-time for a school year in communities that need it the most and to make a difference in the lives of others.

Two of my favorite aspects of City Year culture are “Ripples” and “Joys.” A “Ripple,” like a ripple in water, is when an aspect of City Year is passed on to someone who is not affiliated with the organization. A “Joy” is a story or experience that brightened one’s day.

One of the most difficult aspects of my service year so far is not knowing whether or not my students appreciate my presence. I signed up for City Year being well aware that instant gratification would be something that I may have to sacrifice, but I have learned that receiving even a minor appreciation is sometimes the difference between a negative and positive day for me.

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I serve in a cohort of all male 9^th grade boys, making it even more difficult to receive the feedback I yearn. The classes at English High School are separated by gender and the boys aren’t exactly willing to express their gratitude or feelings on many matters.

Every morning, I start the day off with my team cheering on our students as they enter the building. It is a way to show how happy we are that they came to school and to give a little energy boost to all parties involved. After our morning greeting, I walk into first period, English class, and am greeted by a few grunts, some drooling heads accompanied by sleeping bodies, and a couple of head nods. There is barely any acknowledging that I have entered the room. I will attribute a portion of this behavior to the fact that, yes, it is first period, thus energy levels are not high, but sometimes I guess I would like a little energy from my students in order to wake myself up too.

When I walked into English class on our first day back after break, I was actually quite surprised to see my students’ welcome. My partner Terry and I walked into the classroom and were greeted by cheering, handshaking and high-fives from majority of our students, some even stumbling over each other to get to me first. I think that my smile, in some way or another, may have lasted through the entire day. For the first time in my service at the English High, both my students and I performed a powerful morning greeting.

Through the sea of students I pass on the way to our team space, I spot his movie star smile and call out to him in excitement: “Mi amigu!” It’s Cape Verdean Creole for my friend. Juan* reaches out to shake my hand as I recite one of the many phrases he has taught me in his native language this year. Juan holds back a laugh as he listens to me struggle to properly pronounce gosta dibu sorisu (I like your smile) and tells me that he likes mine too. My days are never complete without a conversation with this energetic 6^th grader who makes even my best days at school remarkably better.

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My first interaction with Juan was during our after-school program when I saw him sitting alone. I sat down across from him and asked if he would teach me Creole.  He enthusiastically pulled out a sheet of paper and began to write out various words in his native language. Every couple of weeks I ask Juan to teach me a new phrase and I practice whenever I see him in the hallway. Even though I repeat the same phrases to him over and over, Juan is never frustrated or impatient with me, a quality that is not too common among 12-year-olds. Juan’s openness and inclusivity is truly inspirational!

Although the holidays are now over, the adventures continue as one Corps member reflects on 12 days of new experiences serving in a City Year uniform:

Day 1: Seeing kids at the Elihu Greenwood Leadership Academy have a real playground to use, enjoy and act like real kids in.

Day 2: Watching Steven* attempt to telepathically move the ball closer to him during a game. He thought that strategy would beat going to pick it up himself. Smiling every day at things kids do or say.

Day 3: Kids in our Starfish Extended Day Program starting to take initiative and help their peers or younger students with homework. Some of the fifth graders are becoming a routine part of my third graders’ lives. It is inspiring to see them take on challenges.

Day 4: Watching 20 kids devour 8 very large cartons of ice-cream during our Perfect Attendance Party. One teeny kinder-gardener had four helpings and nearly finished an entire carton by herself!

Day 5 (and every other day): Teaching kids a concept and seeing them have that ‘Ah-ha!’ moment. Watching the ‘Ah-ha’ moment develop into a regular learning strategy.

Day 6: Waking up at 3am to make 70 pancakes, 10 packages of bacon and 7 dozens eggs among other food for the CSX team Teacher Appreciation Breakfast.

Day 7: Having two kindergarten girls pose for about ten minutes at the end of our runway for our Attendance and Uniform Fashion Show. We had to prompt them off the stage.

Day 8: Getting to teach your students aspects of life that you find yourself passionate about in translatable elementary school terms during our Starfish Extended Day Program.

Day 9: Watching with pride as 20+ students from our program execute City Year Physical Training moves with gusto during our Starfish Open House in front of their parents.

Day 10: Getting the chance to talk with students during our Behavior Lunch Buddies Program about their future goals and aspirations. Natalia* wants to go to Harvard so she can be close to her parents. Molly* wants to go to MIT because the school has her initials. She’s been informed that she will have to work very hard to achieve this. Fortunately, she says she is up to the challenge.

Day 11: Having a “dougie-off” with my kids. Watching them prove they have better dance skills than I do.

Day 12: Having the opportunity to hear about and see all the different individual backgrounds of my students.

*Names of students have been changed for privacy.

“Danny*, that’s a demerit.”
“Danny, go sign in.”
“DANNY…I’m calling home.”

Danny is a name that I often hear spoken – or shouted, more likely – in the halls and classrooms of Neighborhood House Charter School (NHCS). Danny* is a 6th-grade student who has trouble staying quiet or sitting still. Multiple times a class he’ll get up. He’ll sharpen his pencil, grab a drink of water…sometimes he does a little dance when he thinks the teacher isn’t looking. One of Danny’s teachers promised to award him 100 merits if he can go an entire class without getting up; needless to say, he still hasn’t made it.

That Danny is a math whiz is a lesser-known fact. He finishes his worksheets faster than almost anyone. He is also funny, whimsical, curious and kind. I have gotten to know Danny particularly well because I often sit next to him in math class; he can handle the numbers on his own but, without someone to help him focus, he can go entire class periods without getting anything done.

For Danny, it helps to make math class into a game. Can he predict which numbers the teacher will write on the board? (Sometimes, eerily, he can). And how many flips will it take us to find the right page in the book? Fractions can be solved to the tune of “Teach Me How to Dougie” and a loose thread can become a wig or a mustache (I have pictures to prove it).

I had no idea whether or not my relationship with Danny is as meaningful to him as it is to me. On our last Friday of service before the new year, however, my program manager and team leader presented my teammates and I with the best holiday gifts that we could wish for: letters from our students. One of my letters came from Danny and, when I read his message, I knew I must be doing something right; “Thank you,” he wrote, “for being there when I need you.”

*Name changed for privacy.

In addition to serving as the central hub of knowledge passed down to their students and taking on all the demands and responsibilities of being in loco parentis, educators function much like doctors in their classrooms.

From my experiences so far at Orchard Gardens, I have been fortunate to gain many enlightening opportunities that have helped me unravel this enigmatic healing characteristic within the art of education. One recent incident in particular has provided me with significant insight. On a crisp, rather cloudy Thursday morning in November, in the last half hour of a double-block period, I asked a student in the classroom I serve to follow me to a table in the back for a guided reading session. At the beginning of the school-year, the teacher of the class expressed to me her concern about the overall progress of this child, whose language skills were one of the lowest in the class. Consequently, we decided to establish a weekly one-on-one routine in order to practice and build the student’s reading fluency.

At the back of the classroom, the two of us switched back and forth in reading an  R.L. Stine thriller novel out loud. Although I could tell the story had been especially captivating when we first started reading the book , for some reason over the previous few weeks my student appeared somewhat preoccupied and melancholy. About halfway into the session, at the end of one of my turns to read, a faint image flickered into corner of my eye, momentarily diverting my attention. I glanced beyond the book and found that the left sleeve of my student’s navy blue sweatshirt had slowly crept upwards over time. Hiding underneath had been an array of thin red lines diagonally streaked across a pale forearm.

My heart plummeted. Thoughts raced through my head as my throat began to dry up. I could feel my ears burning from all the blood surging through my body at a faster and faster pace. For a few fleeting moments, the child’s voice blended together with all the background noises of the brightly lit classroom until all I could hear was a muffled hum. Silently, I took in a deep breath and tried to settle my nerves as best as possible, making sure I could be fully present to help guide my mentee through the remainder of our time together. Although I managed to collect my bearings, I could not stop my eyes from darting back towards the tapered scars whenever there was a pause to switch turns reading the book.

My heart plummeted. Thoughts raced through my head as my throat began to dry up. I could feel my ears burning from all the blood surging through my body at a faster and faster pace.

Time seemed to fast-forward as we walked back to our seats before the bell rang at the end of the period. Immediately after everyone filed out, I hurried toward the office of my Program Manager. With my limbs trembling, I stumbled through my words while trying to inform him about what I saw. My body began to relax when he promptly reassured me that he would speak with the appropriate school authorities right away.

Nearly two weeks flew by as a whole series of events followed the report I made. At first, I would repeatedly see my student walk in and out of the main academy office to meet with the middle-school directors. Then, all of a sudden, the child disappeared for a few days without a trace. When my student finally returned to school again, I learned that things at home had drastically changed. Now living with other guardians, the child had been caught several times trying to run away. In case the same was attempted at school, teachers were warned to keep a close watch at all times, especially while filing downstairs to the cafeteria. At first, when I saw my student in class that day, a pang of guilt stung me. I felt distraught for everything this child was going through. My student, barely even a teenager, coped with internal pain through futher harm, and now, all because of the report I made, it seemed as if I had only caused more trouble for the whole situation.

Nearly two weeks flew by as a whole series of events followed the report I made. At first, I would repeatedly see my student walk in and out of the main academy office to meet with the middle-school directors. Then, all of a sudden, the child disappeared for a few days without a trace.

Nevertheless, despite how I had initially felt about what consequently happened, I gradually realized that my decision had undeniably been the right one to make. Even though there were many new challenges in adjusting to a changed living situation, the circumstances that my student had been in before had led to a specific behavior that severely risked the child’s health and safety. As a result of what I reported, my student was now receiving the additional support that was urgently needed both within and outside Orchard Gardens. From a caring school administration to a City Year lunch mentor, this child has been blessed with many adults who are deeply invested and who will be there no matter what obstacles may arise in the months to come.

Perhaps the single most defining moment that helped bring everything together for me happened only a few days ago when my student and I began our one-on-one guided reading sessions again. Before we headed towards the back of the classroom, we talked about the progress that had been made over the absence. The book we had been reading was finished, and a new one was now well on its way. When I expressed how delighted I was to hear this, my student wondered if I knew how many books everyone in the class had completed so far. I went over to take a quick look at a chart posted in the classroom and returned with exciting news. Not only had this growing learner read five books already this year, but this number was the highest of anyone else in the class. For the first time in more than a month, my student looked up at me and smiled.

I went over to take a quick look at a chart posted in the classroom and returned with exciting news. Not only had this growing learner read five books already this year, but this number was the highest of anyone else in the class.

The classroom is an elusive setting. Through just my few experiences in education that I have had over the past two years, I have already started to sense the profound intricacies of this field. In particular, over the last three months at City Year, I have been amazed by the extensive impact of the restorative qualities inherent to the classroom. I am appreciative of the opportunity to help out in this practice of classroom medicine through the educator role that I have been placed in this year. I am incredibly honored to learn from this fully immersive experience during the early stages of my lifelong pursuit to improve the well-being of others in my surrounding community.