and he is a three year old boy.  Today was one of those days that changes your life.  I will look back on today and pinpoint the day Arizona made sense.  Why I was here.  

The past weekend I hit a low.  I hate Arizona.  Strip malls, churches and apartment complexes.  In between monsoons and the heat, I was lost as to why I up and moved my whole life to this god-forsaken place. After two months of TFA, my body and mind are tired.  I think I have a right.  I haven’t had a break since moving into my position as Site Supervisor at Head Start.  My job is more than overwhelming and I am still at a loss for why they chose me to fill that position.  They have never in the history of this county ever given a first year teacher this position.  Why me? And why did they think I was qualified.  I knew my co-teacher didn’t. My aide even admitted it seemed weird. I felt like I had to do a million things that nobody ever showed me how to do.  I felt like a social worker, but I never majored in that.  I never wanted to be that.  I want to teach.  How do you teach a child that turned three years old yesterday? I felt little ownership over my own class.  How do you share a class with two other teachers? I was frustrated.  I was sickened with missing Portland, my friends, my life there.  I haven’t felt stable in any aspect of my life since April and basically, I feel a little burnt out. I felt like I was failing in every aspect of my life. I spent the majority of the weekend in bed feeling miserable.  It was a low and everyone could tell.  I knew it would get better but I knew it wasn’t going to be soon…

I was on my fifth home visit today and pulled into a grungy trailer park.  I stood on the broken step, as I knocked on the door of the one bedroom trailer and I was greeted by four rambunctious children.  I entered and sat down at the kitchen table to review the paperwork with the mother.  As she starts to fill out the paper, I scan the room and smile at the kids.  It’s a good thing I have an “expressive” face, because my English doesn’t do me any good as a means for communication in this house.  I find out the oldest was a six year old girl.  She helped her three year old brother color a picture to go up in the classroom for the first day.  I observe her mother fill out the form. No father- incarcerated. I note on my paperwork to follow up on custody papers. I wonder how she makes it, with four children and no father.  I look around the house, as the two others slap each other and run through the house.  My eyes wander back to the paper, as she fills out her birthdate.  1988.  My age.  My heart skips a beat.  My age. Four children, welfare, living in a trailer, no male assistance and 22.  This is what TFA means when it says suspend judgement.  I carry on a conversation with her.  She is a very sweet girl and for a second I imagine her as one of my college friends.  Then I remember her life is so different than mine.  Before I leave her youngest boy runs up to her and whispers in Spanish, I love you mama.  Even with my non-existent spanish, I recognize those words.  She is a good mother.  She is doing the best she can. And poverty exists in the United States. And now it is real for me, because it is real for her and it is real for my student. 

FACT: I don’t love Arizona. I will return to the California or Oregon AS SOON as my two years are done, but today I realized what these two years will mean for me.  I knew this would be difficult and I know I want to make a difference.  This is where it starts for me.  Maybe I can’t change the world, but the world can change me.  I know my experiences with these three and four year olds will change who I am as a teacher for the rest career.  More importantly, I know that my interaction with these families over the next two years will change me for the rest of my life.