I made an appointment for a doctor's visit this morning, only to arrive and discover that I didn't have the proper health insurance. I didn't realize that I have Medicaid now and will have HealthFirst (and also Medicaid?) starting November 1st. It has a been a learning process to get this whole thing set up and has taken a fair amount of time, not to mention the mistake that I made about coverage and the time it took to go to the office to figure it out. Eye-opening to be in these shoes.
The office itself was quite strange. The doctor was probably in her eighties, and although this shouldn't be an issue, I realized that for me, for this particular specialty, I was not so comfortable with it. How would I know that she was up-to-date on the latest medical issues? I decided to assume perhaps she was, and to just go with it, but the open Dixie cups of urine on the counter by the sink outside the bathroom just didn't breed confidence. And her rejection of me only pinched that much more for it. I couldn't help but feel a little low as a Medicaid-only patient in her midst, someone she wouldn't see. I've never been on Medicaid before. What a feeling to have the world see you in this way, to have to search for doctors that will accept you, when even the eighty-year-old-open-urine-cup doctor won't.
But I realized I was judging her, too. And perhaps we were both fair to do so. Maybe she has nothing against me, but for some reason she has to be defensive towards Medicaid patients. Maybe she was afraid I would desperately beg her and thus her reaction of trying to get me out of her office saying to the receptionist in her Long Island accent, "Just throw away her papers. If she comes back we'll make more," and walking out of the room. Maybe I'm a threat to her. And I have nothing against her really, but I don't want her as my doctor. So we can go on having our own lives now.
Later in the day I went to the Success Academy to observe a ceramics class. I'm very curious about how other teachers teach in this school, and it was suggested that I attend another arts class. And more and more I'm starting to appreciate this hard-lined approach, because I also see how much dedication and care there is in it. Two of my students were in this class, one of whom is challenging due to a very short attention span. But this teacher had made a deal with her that she could be her assistant if she got fewer than 5 corrections (for bad behavior) in the week. And she was a different girl in this class. She had so much loyalty, so much calm, respect, and relatively more focus. There is a real commitment to getting students to all be onboard, as one teacher said, "One hundred percent of students, one hundred percent of the time."
In the 45 minutes I was in the class she expected good posture from them all the time, expected them to track whoever was speaking all the time, expected (of course) complete silence, even making them stand more quietly so that their squeaky shoes didn't obscure the voice of one of their classmates. And I learned the difference between tint, tone, and shade, and how to mix colors to make different skin tones (orange and then gradually white or black) and that if the outcome is too green you can add magenta to fix it. And for about 10 minutes they all quietly focused on their own work, trying different color mixings, creating their art. In line, before they left the class, they talked about the challenges and successes they had in their individual time. One girl spoke of trying to perfectly match the purple in one of the room wall hangings.
They need a lot of disciplining, but there is a lot of learning and experiencing happening, too. It's so cool to see the relationship of trust being built between teacher and student and to see students seeing the world around them differently. It's inspiring and I still have a lot to learn from these teachers. But luckily, the other great thing about this school is that all the teachers seem really supportive. They give students points to take back to their main classes, they know one another, work together, and seem to be in constant contact about how all students are doing. Everyone knows everyone.
I'm trying to read more about charter schools and don't know the specific background of this one. But I can certainly see the appeal in having the teaching environment be so intimate and connected, and to having the teachers be so involved in their students.
And to (almost) end the day, I met with a fellow Tae Kwon Do member for a workout together. It is the second we have had and like the first, it was great to work out with another person and get feedback and modeling from a strong black belt. And especially the free sparring. It's something that cannot be done alone and so an area of training that can atrophy in solo work. We only did one match, but it was fairly long, and I found myself connecting more to him as I tried to find openings and tried to keep mine closed. Free sparring can be a very intimate thing. One gets very close to another as you put yourselves in one another's space and work with anticipations and reactions. And afterward we sat for a reflection as we always do in our Tae Kwon Do tradition, this time a silent one, being open to whatever came up for us personally. And I felt the strange and overwhelming feeling of love that seems to come from such an activity as free sparring. And I thought about my doctor's visit and the world of teaching a little differently.
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