So I've been purusing the online materials about becoming a New York City Teaching Fellow, and it looks like I get to choose my district. The closest one to downtown Brooklyn is the Greenpoint/Williamsburg school district, and while Williamsburg isn't my favorite part of town, that's probably what I'll go with. Second place? Fort Greene/Clinton Hills/Prospect Heights/Bed-Stuy. Third? The all-Bed-Stuy district. Maybe it's foolish to want to stick to Brooklyn. I guess I dread taking the subway to the Bronx or Queens or something after late nights at the Gate and stuff. Plus, it's sort of my borough of choice. Queens has always seemed- forgive me, owl- too chaotic, too sprawling, not as intimate as Brooklyn; too much a thousand different neighborhoods and not enough a single borough. I suppose I could request Spanish Harlem or the South Bronx, but they're closer than I'd like to Westchester and much too far from the Slope.

That I even get to make decisions like this is the source of much amazement and elation.

And on the other hand a little bit of a sinking feeling. I've taught before, sure, but I've never had to negotiate the intricacies of dealing with an entire group of students with disabilities at one time. As it stands, at St. Pete College, my largest bunch of tutees consists of two jocular soccer fanatics who happen to have a little math problem. I will most likely end up with a couple students with pretty serious retardation; a few developmentally delayed; a few with severe emotional problems, like schizophrenia or OCD; maybe a few with Asperger's Syndrome or autism. And then there'll be the run-of-the-mill low IQs. The thought of walking into a classroom and teaching one group of such students for an entire year- and keeping them at least mildly entertained, and keeping their fingers out of wall sockets and stuff makes my palms sweat with fear. I'll be doing this after seven weeks of training.

I have monumental reserves of patience that I only ever seem to be able to draw on in the classroom. And I do truly like working with people with handicaps. It brings me immense joy to help them set and accomplish goals. So many people, and I include myself in here, benefit from a vast social expenditure of time, effort, and money, and create nothing, or at least do not appreciate what we have. I've found that kids with handicaps almost always find greater satisfaction in their accomplishments than the rest of us, and that satisfaction rubs off on you if you're teaching them. So that I look forward to.

What frightens me is: the parents, the banging-head-against-wall futility of trying to keep kids involved once they've hit their ceiling (and let's face it, that happens sometimes), and I dread, utterly dread walking into a room to find all those expectant (and simultaneously disappointed) faces.