Finding your Randell

He walked into my class with tears rolling down his face because he couldn’t read the sign on my door, and thus was 10 minutes late for the first day of school. I had heard people talk about love at first sight, but since I had never heard of a neuronal connection or chemical reaction supporting this idea, I found it repugnant to my premed sensibilities. That was until I met mine: 3-foot-7, had an affinity for Justin Bieber, enjoyed singing and choreographing dances—his endearing shortcomings included not being able to control his crying or tie his shoelaces.

Until this moment I had been struggling with my recent decision to join Teach For America. As I saw my classmates going to medical school, law school, and starting their incredibly linear 10-year plans, I questioned whether I was simply taking a detour on my safe path to medical school. When I was at Columbia, I had always felt uncomfortable with the fact that I was able to sit in my oak-paneled room learning more than what could fit between my ears, while just outside of the campus gates I knew there were kids growing up in poverty who were falling farther and farther behind. I joined Teach For America because I wanted to do what I could to stop that gap from widening, but I had begun to question whether I would have the impact I hoped for. Should I have just tried to get into medical school?

When Randell walked into my room, the statistics that I thought I had known so well suddenly stood in front of me, literally crying out for a fair chance at an education. When Randell entered kindergarten, he was already academically behind his wealthier peers. This gap in educational opportunity would only widen over time for him. Statistically, by the fourth grade, he would be at a first-grade level. Randell would have a 50 percent chance of graduating from high school, and an eight percent chance of graduating from college. It all became overwhelmingly real and urgent—I needed to do whatever it took to give Randell the chance at the education that he deserved. I spent my first year struggling to close the educational achievement gap in my second-grade classroom. I wanted, more than anything, to produce a room full of scholars who were ready for the third grade and knew college was in their future. Randell came in not reading, not writing, and having daily tantrums. I used every last tool I had to make sure that he would not become one of the statistics. My Columbia statistics classes became spreadsheets analyzing his progress as compared to national standards, my neuro-bio classes became a way for me to integrate new learning strategies specifically for his developing brain, and Contemporary Civilizations became a way for me to actually understand and apply the different philosophies of education.

Randell started reading. He started writing. He realized that he liked to keep a journal instead of cry, could read lyrics to the songs he loved, and was itching to go to third grade. Randell showed me it is not only possible to close that gap—it is both necessary and possible.

Teach for America put a face to the statistics. As a teacher, I found my mission and built many critical skills. It helped me apply everything I learned at Columbia. Somehow, by giving me 25 eight-year-olds, Teach For America taught me how to function in the adult world. I cared so much for the students in my classroom that I operated at the highest level in everything I did. I learned what it meant to interact successfully with coworkers, parents, and administrations. I learned what it meant to really want to work hard. I know now that Teach For America is the farthest thing from a detour—it was the most necessary step in becoming a professional. It gave me the skills I will need to be successful in a professional world, the connections to get there, and the actual passion and direction that I need to succeed. When I think about what I do next with my life, Randell (now with a dry nose and tied shoes) will be my motivation. There are millions of Randells out there. I hope that you will consider joining Teach For America and finding your Randell. Not just because he needs you, but because you won’t be the same if you don’t find him.

The author is a Columbia College ‘10 alumna.