fourteen-year-old kids. When theyâre adults, Iâll talk to them like adults.
Toward the end, it seemed like all-out war with her CMA and the members of her teaching team. Taylor got into a disagreement with one of her co-teachers and, unbeknownst to her, a meeting was called to hash things out. Taylor felt like sheâd been ambushed; the CMA justified the group therapy session by reminding Taylor that teaching can be emotional at times. Taylor thought it was supposed to be professional.
She went AWOL. She left the meeting in tears, and instead of returning to the TFA dorms in Long Beach that night, she drove to her grandmotherâs house. She needed to calm down and get some sleep. Taylor didnât want to be on anybody elseâs roller coaster; her own ride was rocky enough. But the conflict didnât end there. The CMA took the problem further up the chain of command. The institute director ended up taking Taylor aside and asking if he could do anything to help. She was embarrassed. And angry. The incident had been blown out of proportion.
Why am I getting into trouble over this?
The whole thing turned her off. She wasnât about to quit Teach For America, but she sure would have liked to leave its summer camp. She skipped the closing ceremonies, opting for a nap instead. She told herself she wasnât the typical TFA type anyway. The confrontation made her wonder:
What did I get myself into?
It was a question she would ask herself again and again over the course of the year. But as September crept closer, the thought rarely left her mind. She was nightmare scared. Again, she couldnât sleep.
Iâll quit. I wonât make it. Iâll die here at Locke High School. I know I will fail.
Her thoughts were terrifying. What made things worse was that she fully expected them to be realized; she expected to fail.
The night before the first day of school, she went to a barbecue at her brotherâs beach house. Evan had done well in the tech boom. He seemed to have it all going onâthe wife, the dog, and a big bunch of friends all making big bunches of money. Her brother Ryan was there, and he tried to talk her out of going through with TFA, arguing that she couldnât handle the stress. She was the youngest of four; the whole family saw her as the immature baby sister.
But she was not backing out. Before she went to bed that night, she checked her stuff three times. She had already been to Kinkoâs, where sheâd made hundreds of copies of handouts. When she arrived at Locke at 6 a.m. after a sleepless night, it was still dark. She stopped at the main office and discovered a few other insomniacs roaming the halls, then made the long walk back to the bungalows and her own classroom. When she got to A22, she concentrated on breathing.
In and out, in and out.
She put her desk where she wanted it and waited.
Though Taylor was expecting to teach ninth-grade English to the kids who streamed though the door, she spent that first period helping students with their schedules. All the ninth-graders with last names beginning with âRoâ through âRuâ had been sent to her room. They came in, sat down, and were stone-cold silent. They just sat there and stared. They looked as scared as she was.
Teach For America began basically as a garage start-up; as it grew and matured, it took on many of the characteristics of a successful, results-driven corporation. As TFA rounded the corner into financial and programmatic health in 2000, it embarked on an ambitious growth plan. In order to support the expansion, TFA reorganized its management structure. The vice presidents of the various arms of the organizationâfrom program to developmentâreported to a new chief operating officer, Jerry Hauser, a 1990 alum who returned to TFA after Yale Law School and a stint at McKinsey. Hauser took over daily operations from Kopp. TFA set organizational goals, tracked progress, and
Toward the end, it seemed like all-out war with her CMA and the members of her teaching team. Taylor got into a disagreement with one of her co-teachers and, unbeknownst to her, a meeting was called to hash things out. Taylor felt like sheâd been ambushed; the CMA justified the group therapy session by reminding Taylor that teaching can be emotional at times. Taylor thought it was supposed to be professional.
She went AWOL. She left the meeting in tears, and instead of returning to the TFA dorms in Long Beach that night, she drove to her grandmotherâs house. She needed to calm down and get some sleep. Taylor didnât want to be on anybody elseâs roller coaster; her own ride was rocky enough. But the conflict didnât end there. The CMA took the problem further up the chain of command. The institute director ended up taking Taylor aside and asking if he could do anything to help. She was embarrassed. And angry. The incident had been blown out of proportion.
Why am I getting into trouble over this?
The whole thing turned her off. She wasnât about to quit Teach For America, but she sure would have liked to leave its summer camp. She skipped the closing ceremonies, opting for a nap instead. She told herself she wasnât the typical TFA type anyway. The confrontation made her wonder:
What did I get myself into?
It was a question she would ask herself again and again over the course of the year. But as September crept closer, the thought rarely left her mind. She was nightmare scared. Again, she couldnât sleep.
Iâll quit. I wonât make it. Iâll die here at Locke High School. I know I will fail.
Her thoughts were terrifying. What made things worse was that she fully expected them to be realized; she expected to fail.
The night before the first day of school, she went to a barbecue at her brotherâs beach house. Evan had done well in the tech boom. He seemed to have it all going onâthe wife, the dog, and a big bunch of friends all making big bunches of money. Her brother Ryan was there, and he tried to talk her out of going through with TFA, arguing that she couldnât handle the stress. She was the youngest of four; the whole family saw her as the immature baby sister.
But she was not backing out. Before she went to bed that night, she checked her stuff three times. She had already been to Kinkoâs, where sheâd made hundreds of copies of handouts. When she arrived at Locke at 6 a.m. after a sleepless night, it was still dark. She stopped at the main office and discovered a few other insomniacs roaming the halls, then made the long walk back to the bungalows and her own classroom. When she got to A22, she concentrated on breathing.
In and out, in and out.
She put her desk where she wanted it and waited.
Though Taylor was expecting to teach ninth-grade English to the kids who streamed though the door, she spent that first period helping students with their schedules. All the ninth-graders with last names beginning with âRoâ through âRuâ had been sent to her room. They came in, sat down, and were stone-cold silent. They just sat there and stared. They looked as scared as she was.
Teach For America began basically as a garage start-up; as it grew and matured, it took on many of the characteristics of a successful, results-driven corporation. As TFA rounded the corner into financial and programmatic health in 2000, it embarked on an ambitious growth plan. In order to support the expansion, TFA reorganized its management structure. The vice presidents of the various arms of the organizationâfrom program to developmentâreported to a new chief operating officer, Jerry Hauser, a 1990 alum who returned to TFA after Yale Law School and a stint at McKinsey. Hauser took over daily operations from Kopp. TFA set organizational goals, tracked progress, and
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