Abstract

Eugenio and I began teaching in Harlem on Friday, October 22. Looking back on that fall, I remember mainly feelings and vivid incidents. Walking into the buidling for the first time, it was immediately recognizable as a school - the paint colors, the smell of the cafeteria, the white line down in the middle of the hall. The strangeness was outside the school, in the surrounding burned-out brownstones and the bottle-and-brick littered playground across the street. We were earlier than Dr. Moody, and found the aide's room for our wait; but soon enough we learned that we were not going to teach together. We would each teach five groups, identical schedules except that when I have a few first and second graders, Eugenio would teach special ed students.