Author: Camila Isopo

Hello World!

Hello world (and/or dark void I like to shout into, at times)! Here lie the ideas that wouldn’t die. This blog is my return to more consistent, meaningful, personal, creative writing. I’ve been away for far too long but I’m back, baby. Here, you will get glimpses into my experiences as a young, educated disabled Latina advocate/writer/educator/resident crazy person, exploring the world and living through the end of her “roaring 20’s.” You can expect stories of arte, cultura, vida, and everything else, as I navigate what it means to build and lead “an enviable life,” for myself and for others, a journey inspired by Ann Turnbull, her family, and their mission.

“Chicago Lakeshore” by Nick Le/ CC0 1.0

On Being an Educator, Post-COVID

The educator expresses the complexities of teaching adolescents, especially post-COVID, feeling both love and frustration towards her students. As a disabled Latina educator, she questions her place within a flawed system and grapples with the decision to leave her role, fearing her absence may deprive her students of needed representation and support.

How would I describe being an educator for adolescents and preteens? Near impossible, soul-sucking, liberating, and sickeningly sweet. Especially with it being post-covid and I love my nonbiological kids (the scholars) so much. I would die for any student in my class, literally.  But it’s so hard to teach. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Teachers are nurturers. And as nurturers, they are overworked and underrewarded. 

You get so invested trying to ensure your littles become kind, happy, well-rounded adults. It’s so hard to not feel like mistakes are personal failures. Like you’re a failure. You can, at times, take things personally. 

But at the same time, I have questions about the whole system. And if I were to ask them aloud, I wonder if people would accuse me of skirting personal responsibility? 

Can I, a disabled woman, really succeed in a field that was built for white able-bodied Americans? I mean, the system was built with the idea it can maintain white supremacy. And I’m a disabled Latina immigrant educator. Not that I’m saying me being Latina gets in the way of anything, though. 

Anyway, as the summer approaches and my third year in education comes to an end, it’s looking highly likely that I’ll be stepping away. It’s a bittersweet, terrifying, and exciting departure from what I had previously envisioned for myself. I feel bad for the kids though. Did I mention my students are also disabled? I feel like by having to step away, I’m failing them. I’m them from the future. Representation matters. If I can’t do it, can they? And of course I know they can, but they need someone around who knows that and stands in that truth. What does that mean if I can’t represent them anymore?