I have been trying to build meaningful connections with my students. I have been trying to impress upon them my genuine interest in their well-being, and earn the right to speak into their lives.
But sometimes, it works better just to moon walk.
Today I played the "Golden Deer" in Period 4's play. They'd needed an extra body for the part early on, and I agreed to do it temporarily-- but before I could stop them, they'd written my name into the script, and I was committed. In rehearsal, I'd done my deer-prancing with pointed toes. Viola had remembered my ballerina background and ordered me to do a leap-- and when this lady tells me to jump, I jump. Har har. Once I did the split leap.. It was all over. I was the hit of the play. The kids kept talking about how I was the BEST Golden Deer, and it was so cool when I did the leaping thing, and that I was their favorite part. I earned love and adoration for prancing around in gold lame.
Per. 6, the Swing Class, was won over when I did the moon walk. I did it as a joke one day at the end of class, and the kids flipped out. On Halloween, I tried to teach them-- I had extra slippery shoes on that day, so I figured out how to do it not only moving backwards, but staying in place. They couldn't stop talking about it. I was lauded and revered for my throwback to a Thriller dance I'd done in high-school, when I'd dressed up as a zombie and learned how to, you guessed it, moon walk.
How funny, you know? Who ever would have thought that playing a toothless zombie for a friend's senior dance project would set me up to be the Cool Teacher in town? Who ever would have guessed that ten years of ballet would prepare me, not to be the professional ballerina like I'd initially hoped, but the kick-a** Golden Deer for Period 4? I just think it's so funny.
But hey, if doing the moon walk gets me their respect, I'm not complaining. Wanna see my chaîné turns??
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Small Victories
Today, 3rd and 5th periods were supposed to perform their plays. These two periods have struggled more than any other; Viola even decided to cancel the audience she'd arranged for 5th period's play, since they were so behind. Regardless, today was the day to perform: ready or not, here they flounder.
5th period starting running through their scenes at the beginning of class for one last rehearsal. When it came time to run Isaac's scene, I watched for what he would do. On Monday, he'd been in a black mood and refused to take any of the direction we gave him. When I finally said, "What's going on Isaac??" he glowered, and said he didn't want to do the scene at all.
Viola told him, "That means you'll get a zero for your grade."
"Fine," he said, and walked off stage.
I watched him stalk off, and then stood up. "Come on Isaac," I said. We talked out in the hall. I finally told him to take a minute to just cool off and come back in. He ended up skipping the rest of the period, which ticked me off.
But teenagers-- especially the boys-- can be moody, and I hoped it would prove to have been a temporary "Black Monday" sort of thing. For all his attitude, I've got a soft spot for the footsie-ing, holstering twerp.
But when it came time to run his scene, Isaac came up to us. "They found someone else to do my part, so I don't have to do it," he said.
Viola was in yelling, wrangling, director mode. "That means you'll get a ZERO," she said loudly.
He shrugged, and his face got hard. "Fine."
"Then LEAVE. You can spend the rest of the class in the office," Viola said. "I don't want you here if you're going to take that attitude."
He shrugged again and started getting his stuff.
Viola sighed. "Do you want to talk to him?" she asked me. I followed him out into the hall.
Isaac is a little guy, and I've heard the other kids make fun of him for being so small. He compensates by wearing big sweatshirts, baggy shorts, and sporting a determined mustache. He has bright blue eyes that either twinkle or glower. I know he cares about his grades: he tries with the homework, and he gets super bummed over a bad test score. One day, he got a C grade on a packet he turned in, and ended up staying after school for an hour to improve it. He ended up getting a revised grade of 161 out of 165-- a high A. When I gave him the packet back, and he saw the new score, he was SO HAPPY. You should have seen it-- it was such an awesome moment for me. He was SO PUMPED that he'd gotten that grade up so high. On the first day that Isaac and his partner rehearsed their scene, Isaac played the king and his buddy Drew played the queen. K-- oh K...-- had scoffed from the audience. "Shouldn't ISAAC play the girl?? Kings are supposed to be GOOD-LOOKING." I chided K, but I saw that it stung Isaac. We've also heard from his little gal-pal that there's something going on with his family at home. I don't know how much of all this was a factor. I'm sure some of it was.
"Isaac... what's going on??"
He shrugged again and his face was sharp. "I don't wanna do it."
"But Isaac, that would mean the highest grade you could get this quarter is a C... And I KNOW you care about your grades."
"Viola's bein' stupid, she keeps yelling, she takes it so frickin' seriously... I don't wanna do it."
"Honestly dude, that's a pretty common mode for directors to take right before the show... I remember I once directed an assembly for the ASB officers when I was in high-school, and it was based on the Wizard of Oz... And I was in this big poofy pink dress, because I was supposed to be Glinda the Good Witch, and the middle-school boys could NOT get their part ready, and I just about lost it. I was like, 'FIGURE IT OUUUUT!'"
He didn't say anything.
I sighed. "I get that you don't agree with exactly how she's acting, but... That's kind of life, you know? There's always going to be someone that you have to toe the line for, and sometimes you'll like them and sometimes you won't. But... it doesn't hurt HER to give you a bad grade. EMOTIONALLY, it hurts us, because we care about you, and we want you to do well, but ultimately... You're the one that the bad grade impacts. And Isaac... I know you CARE about your grades. I still think of you coming in after school and working on that packet. You worked SO HARD, and that made me feel so good, like that was a good moment for ME, as a TEACHER. Because sometimes it's hard to get you guys to try. But you really did an amazing job with that packet."
He looked away, and his eyes were slits. I saw a water drop fall from the side of his face turned away from me.
"You don't have to ace this one, Isaac. I'm getting that the performance stuff isn't your thing. But... if you can just GET yourself through it... That would be really good."
He stayed silent.
"Is there something else going on Isaac...?"
He still looked hard at the wall, and narrowed his bright blue eyes, but there were tears coming out of both of them now. I sighed. "I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better." I paused. "Okay. Why don't you take five minutes, and just... think about it. And if you're not back in class in five minutes, then I'll go look for you in the office, and... we'll understand that you've made the decision to just not do it. Okay?" He nodded. I went back inside.
His friend Jessica asked to go talk to him, and she did. Viola asked how he was; I said he was upset. She went to go find him too. Jessica came back in and said, "I was starting to get him to laugh...! I think I could have maybe gotten him to come back in, but then Viola made me leave...!"
"It's okay," I told her. "Isaac needs to make his own choice, you know?"
Viola came back in. "He's coming," she said. "He's just going to do the crowd scenes."
And sure enough: Isaac did a crowd scene.
He got dressed in the Indian garb like everyone else, and even let our resident India-expert put a turban on him, and during the wedding scene he got up, and danced with everyone else.
And to me, that was a TRIUMPH.
As grad school interns, we're supposed to be collecting evidence of our students' work: evidence that will show we're impacting their learning. But most of the moments I'm most proud of have been when I've succeeded in just getting a kid to TURN THE WORK IN-- or in this case, to DO the performance. I can think of two boys that I hassled, and prodded, and encouraged, and spent hours working on drafts with so that they would TURN IN an essay. By the time they finally got them in, they were weeks late, and the boys only got between 25%-50%. But: they TURNED THEM IN. And that was such a great moment for me. We were only able to give Isaac 50% for his performance grade on this-- but he was IN the performance. He wore a green turban. He did the clapping dance in a circle. He came BACK into the classroom.
They're not much, but these small victories are seriously the moments that make me feel the best about teaching. I think of one of those two boys I'd mentioned, Adam, getting the paper back that he'd finally finally FINALLY turned in, and reading the comments that I'd written. His paper was ghastly-- truly-- but I'd written how proud I was of him for doing the work. Normally when Adam gets another failed assignment or test back, he crumples it up and throws it in the garbage. When I gave him that paper back, he looked at the comments for a long time, and then he carefully put the paper in his notebook. I LOVE that.
5th period made it through their performance-- and they had a small audience after all, of about 6 upperclassmen! They limped their way through, and during the last scene we all-- Viola, the kids, and me all together-- just cracked up because it was so haphazardly thrown together. But they actually did really well-- the play really came together pretty well! We had them all write their names on grading rubrics after class so that we could give them a score, and Isaac gave me his. "Thanks Isaac," I said, distractedly, collecting the others.
He started to walk away, but he looked back at the same moment I looked after him. "Thank you," I said. He gave a little nod of acknowledgment.
Small victories. But dang, do they make me feel good.
5th period starting running through their scenes at the beginning of class for one last rehearsal. When it came time to run Isaac's scene, I watched for what he would do. On Monday, he'd been in a black mood and refused to take any of the direction we gave him. When I finally said, "What's going on Isaac??" he glowered, and said he didn't want to do the scene at all.
Viola told him, "That means you'll get a zero for your grade."
"Fine," he said, and walked off stage.
I watched him stalk off, and then stood up. "Come on Isaac," I said. We talked out in the hall. I finally told him to take a minute to just cool off and come back in. He ended up skipping the rest of the period, which ticked me off.
But teenagers-- especially the boys-- can be moody, and I hoped it would prove to have been a temporary "Black Monday" sort of thing. For all his attitude, I've got a soft spot for the footsie-ing, holstering twerp.
But when it came time to run his scene, Isaac came up to us. "They found someone else to do my part, so I don't have to do it," he said.
Viola was in yelling, wrangling, director mode. "That means you'll get a ZERO," she said loudly.
He shrugged, and his face got hard. "Fine."
"Then LEAVE. You can spend the rest of the class in the office," Viola said. "I don't want you here if you're going to take that attitude."
He shrugged again and started getting his stuff.
Viola sighed. "Do you want to talk to him?" she asked me. I followed him out into the hall.
Isaac is a little guy, and I've heard the other kids make fun of him for being so small. He compensates by wearing big sweatshirts, baggy shorts, and sporting a determined mustache. He has bright blue eyes that either twinkle or glower. I know he cares about his grades: he tries with the homework, and he gets super bummed over a bad test score. One day, he got a C grade on a packet he turned in, and ended up staying after school for an hour to improve it. He ended up getting a revised grade of 161 out of 165-- a high A. When I gave him the packet back, and he saw the new score, he was SO HAPPY. You should have seen it-- it was such an awesome moment for me. He was SO PUMPED that he'd gotten that grade up so high. On the first day that Isaac and his partner rehearsed their scene, Isaac played the king and his buddy Drew played the queen. K-- oh K...-- had scoffed from the audience. "Shouldn't ISAAC play the girl?? Kings are supposed to be GOOD-LOOKING." I chided K, but I saw that it stung Isaac. We've also heard from his little gal-pal that there's something going on with his family at home. I don't know how much of all this was a factor. I'm sure some of it was.
"Isaac... what's going on??"
He shrugged again and his face was sharp. "I don't wanna do it."
"But Isaac, that would mean the highest grade you could get this quarter is a C... And I KNOW you care about your grades."
"Viola's bein' stupid, she keeps yelling, she takes it so frickin' seriously... I don't wanna do it."
"Honestly dude, that's a pretty common mode for directors to take right before the show... I remember I once directed an assembly for the ASB officers when I was in high-school, and it was based on the Wizard of Oz... And I was in this big poofy pink dress, because I was supposed to be Glinda the Good Witch, and the middle-school boys could NOT get their part ready, and I just about lost it. I was like, 'FIGURE IT OUUUUT!'"
He didn't say anything.
I sighed. "I get that you don't agree with exactly how she's acting, but... That's kind of life, you know? There's always going to be someone that you have to toe the line for, and sometimes you'll like them and sometimes you won't. But... it doesn't hurt HER to give you a bad grade. EMOTIONALLY, it hurts us, because we care about you, and we want you to do well, but ultimately... You're the one that the bad grade impacts. And Isaac... I know you CARE about your grades. I still think of you coming in after school and working on that packet. You worked SO HARD, and that made me feel so good, like that was a good moment for ME, as a TEACHER. Because sometimes it's hard to get you guys to try. But you really did an amazing job with that packet."
He looked away, and his eyes were slits. I saw a water drop fall from the side of his face turned away from me.
"You don't have to ace this one, Isaac. I'm getting that the performance stuff isn't your thing. But... if you can just GET yourself through it... That would be really good."
He stayed silent.
"Is there something else going on Isaac...?"
He still looked hard at the wall, and narrowed his bright blue eyes, but there were tears coming out of both of them now. I sighed. "I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better." I paused. "Okay. Why don't you take five minutes, and just... think about it. And if you're not back in class in five minutes, then I'll go look for you in the office, and... we'll understand that you've made the decision to just not do it. Okay?" He nodded. I went back inside.
His friend Jessica asked to go talk to him, and she did. Viola asked how he was; I said he was upset. She went to go find him too. Jessica came back in and said, "I was starting to get him to laugh...! I think I could have maybe gotten him to come back in, but then Viola made me leave...!"
"It's okay," I told her. "Isaac needs to make his own choice, you know?"
Viola came back in. "He's coming," she said. "He's just going to do the crowd scenes."
And sure enough: Isaac did a crowd scene.
He got dressed in the Indian garb like everyone else, and even let our resident India-expert put a turban on him, and during the wedding scene he got up, and danced with everyone else.
And to me, that was a TRIUMPH.
As grad school interns, we're supposed to be collecting evidence of our students' work: evidence that will show we're impacting their learning. But most of the moments I'm most proud of have been when I've succeeded in just getting a kid to TURN THE WORK IN-- or in this case, to DO the performance. I can think of two boys that I hassled, and prodded, and encouraged, and spent hours working on drafts with so that they would TURN IN an essay. By the time they finally got them in, they were weeks late, and the boys only got between 25%-50%. But: they TURNED THEM IN. And that was such a great moment for me. We were only able to give Isaac 50% for his performance grade on this-- but he was IN the performance. He wore a green turban. He did the clapping dance in a circle. He came BACK into the classroom.
They're not much, but these small victories are seriously the moments that make me feel the best about teaching. I think of one of those two boys I'd mentioned, Adam, getting the paper back that he'd finally finally FINALLY turned in, and reading the comments that I'd written. His paper was ghastly-- truly-- but I'd written how proud I was of him for doing the work. Normally when Adam gets another failed assignment or test back, he crumples it up and throws it in the garbage. When I gave him that paper back, he looked at the comments for a long time, and then he carefully put the paper in his notebook. I LOVE that.
5th period made it through their performance-- and they had a small audience after all, of about 6 upperclassmen! They limped their way through, and during the last scene we all-- Viola, the kids, and me all together-- just cracked up because it was so haphazardly thrown together. But they actually did really well-- the play really came together pretty well! We had them all write their names on grading rubrics after class so that we could give them a score, and Isaac gave me his. "Thanks Isaac," I said, distractedly, collecting the others.
He started to walk away, but he looked back at the same moment I looked after him. "Thank you," I said. He gave a little nod of acknowledgment.
Small victories. But dang, do they make me feel good.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
And... SCENE
This last week, we started trying to put together a play of The Ramayana, which is the Indian epic we just finished reading. Early in the week, Viola had mentioned that she might need to leave early. "That's fine!" I said. "I can take 5th period. It would probably good for me to get more face time with them before Matt observes me anyway."
But Viola hemmed and hawed, suggesting another teacher come lead the class, or that she get a sub. Finally, she said, "I'll just stay. It's fine." I admit I was a little disappointed-- I'm comfortable enough with our kids now that I'd love to start "stretching my wings." Plus, I was a theater major-- and we were running scenes! Obviously though, I respect Viola's leadership-- I'm her fourth intern, and she knows what to do with us.
I did ask her though, "I hope you feel comfortable leaving me with the kids... I want you to feel like you can trust me to do a good job with them!"
"Oh, absolutely I do!" she said. We left it at that.
Then I got my chance after all. :) When we started running scenes, I think Viola quickly realized that directing was something I'm very comfortable doing. I was giving the kids blocking (stage directions), and explaining that levels and placement on the stage can indicate more or less power, and I was giving them character directions, and all sorts of things. Working the scenes became very naturally shared between us-- she gave the kids a direction, and then I gave a direction, and us both supported the other. We only disagreed at one point: I encouraged the kids to build " the rickety bridge across the ocean" using chairs and tables, "And then, you know, just carefully traipse across them!" That was the only time Viola pulled rank.
"Liability!"
She was right, and we all knew it. We good-naturedly deferred, the kids giving me a, "Daaang," sort of grin.
Later at lunch, Jane the theatre teacher was complaining that our school sub wouldn't agree to cover her 6th period. "It's his birthday, so he's leaving early..."
"Greta could do it," Viola offered. "She was a theatre major! She was great working with the kids today."
Aww! "I wouldn't mind!" I said.
Jane paused, considering it. "Okay. That would be great."
So then I got to teach a theatre class all by myself! We ran the freshmen's mini-play, and then I worked with the seniors on their scenes. I got to direct almost every kid in some way or another, and I felt really good about how the scenes improved. Jane came in at the end and said, "So how'd it go?"
One girl, who had seemed frustrated that she hadn't gotten more attention earlier, said, "It was BORING."
Talk about raining on my parade. Jane reprimanded the girl, and then watched me finish giving direction to the seniors.
After class, I went to the student who had made the "boring" comment and I said, "Kaley, is everything okay? You seemed a little upset at the end of class."
She looked caught off-guard. "I'm okay."
"Okay. I just wanted to make sure you had a chance to talk to me, if you had anything on your mind. My feelings were a little hurt when you said the class was boring, because I really did my best to make sure everyone had a chance to perform, and that you all got feedback."
"Sorry," she said.
"It's okay. I want you to know that I value your opinion, and that I'm open to talking with you, but I also appreciate your respect."
"Okay."
"Okay. Have a good afternoon."
I finished up with Jane, telling her the directions I'd given the kids. She nodded enthusiastically and affirmed the notes I'd given them. The week culminated with me teaching almost ALL the classes on Friday, because Viola was getting grades in, and she figured I could do it-- that I could run the scenes. And I did it! Even with the hard classes! YAY!!
And what's GREAT about that is that the kids are starting to get used to me as Viola's co-TEACHER, not just her assistant.
I'm loving the one-on-ones, as far as dealing with "attitudes" go. There was a lot of 'TUDE on Friday so I had several more chats, and the kids are just SO much better to talk to and relate to when you're chatting with them one-on-one, than when they're just trying to be a spectacle in class. I haven't mastered the en masse classroom management yet (though I'm definitely getting better), but because I've built relationships with most of these kids, it is SO GOOD talking to them one-on-one about their behavior in class. The conversations are typically polite, and open, and I'm usually able to joke with the kids a little, or at least show them that I empathize with what they're dealing with.
"Okay guys, we're going to do a theatre warm up to get us all a little more energized. Let's start in the neutral position-- arms at your side, legs shoulder-width apart, weight evenly spread-- K? Can you drop your arms to your side?"
(K has her arms crossed, and is SCOWLING. She LIFTS her eyebrow in a challenge when I ask her to drop her arms.)
"Please?"
(Rolls her eyes and flings down her arms.) K was my main antagonist on Week One, but she's been great since then. The fact that she was being contentious over standing in the "Neutral Position" obviously indicated she was in A MOOD.
After the circle broke up and the kids were getting into their groups, I called her over.
"Hon what's up? You seem kind of off today."
"I'm having a REALLY bad day," she said angrily, and started to tear up.
"Okay... Okay. I know how a crappy day can affect... everything. I'll try not to ask too much of you today, but if you are involved in something we're working on... Can you give it your best shot?"
She nodded.
"Okay. Do your thing. Feel better."
And off she went.
Anyway: point being: I love the one-on-ones. And I love the teaching!!
But Viola hemmed and hawed, suggesting another teacher come lead the class, or that she get a sub. Finally, she said, "I'll just stay. It's fine." I admit I was a little disappointed-- I'm comfortable enough with our kids now that I'd love to start "stretching my wings." Plus, I was a theater major-- and we were running scenes! Obviously though, I respect Viola's leadership-- I'm her fourth intern, and she knows what to do with us.
I did ask her though, "I hope you feel comfortable leaving me with the kids... I want you to feel like you can trust me to do a good job with them!"
"Oh, absolutely I do!" she said. We left it at that.
Then I got my chance after all. :) When we started running scenes, I think Viola quickly realized that directing was something I'm very comfortable doing. I was giving the kids blocking (stage directions), and explaining that levels and placement on the stage can indicate more or less power, and I was giving them character directions, and all sorts of things. Working the scenes became very naturally shared between us-- she gave the kids a direction, and then I gave a direction, and us both supported the other. We only disagreed at one point: I encouraged the kids to build " the rickety bridge across the ocean" using chairs and tables, "And then, you know, just carefully traipse across them!" That was the only time Viola pulled rank.
"Liability!"
She was right, and we all knew it. We good-naturedly deferred, the kids giving me a, "Daaang," sort of grin.
Later at lunch, Jane the theatre teacher was complaining that our school sub wouldn't agree to cover her 6th period. "It's his birthday, so he's leaving early..."
"Greta could do it," Viola offered. "She was a theatre major! She was great working with the kids today."
Aww! "I wouldn't mind!" I said.
Jane paused, considering it. "Okay. That would be great."
So then I got to teach a theatre class all by myself! We ran the freshmen's mini-play, and then I worked with the seniors on their scenes. I got to direct almost every kid in some way or another, and I felt really good about how the scenes improved. Jane came in at the end and said, "So how'd it go?"
One girl, who had seemed frustrated that she hadn't gotten more attention earlier, said, "It was BORING."
Talk about raining on my parade. Jane reprimanded the girl, and then watched me finish giving direction to the seniors.
After class, I went to the student who had made the "boring" comment and I said, "Kaley, is everything okay? You seemed a little upset at the end of class."
She looked caught off-guard. "I'm okay."
"Okay. I just wanted to make sure you had a chance to talk to me, if you had anything on your mind. My feelings were a little hurt when you said the class was boring, because I really did my best to make sure everyone had a chance to perform, and that you all got feedback."
"Sorry," she said.
"It's okay. I want you to know that I value your opinion, and that I'm open to talking with you, but I also appreciate your respect."
"Okay."
"Okay. Have a good afternoon."
I finished up with Jane, telling her the directions I'd given the kids. She nodded enthusiastically and affirmed the notes I'd given them. The week culminated with me teaching almost ALL the classes on Friday, because Viola was getting grades in, and she figured I could do it-- that I could run the scenes. And I did it! Even with the hard classes! YAY!!
And what's GREAT about that is that the kids are starting to get used to me as Viola's co-TEACHER, not just her assistant.
I'm loving the one-on-ones, as far as dealing with "attitudes" go. There was a lot of 'TUDE on Friday so I had several more chats, and the kids are just SO much better to talk to and relate to when you're chatting with them one-on-one, than when they're just trying to be a spectacle in class. I haven't mastered the en masse classroom management yet (though I'm definitely getting better), but because I've built relationships with most of these kids, it is SO GOOD talking to them one-on-one about their behavior in class. The conversations are typically polite, and open, and I'm usually able to joke with the kids a little, or at least show them that I empathize with what they're dealing with.
"Okay guys, we're going to do a theatre warm up to get us all a little more energized. Let's start in the neutral position-- arms at your side, legs shoulder-width apart, weight evenly spread-- K? Can you drop your arms to your side?"
(K has her arms crossed, and is SCOWLING. She LIFTS her eyebrow in a challenge when I ask her to drop her arms.)
"Please?"
(Rolls her eyes and flings down her arms.) K was my main antagonist on Week One, but she's been great since then. The fact that she was being contentious over standing in the "Neutral Position" obviously indicated she was in A MOOD.
After the circle broke up and the kids were getting into their groups, I called her over.
"Hon what's up? You seem kind of off today."
"I'm having a REALLY bad day," she said angrily, and started to tear up.
"Okay... Okay. I know how a crappy day can affect... everything. I'll try not to ask too much of you today, but if you are involved in something we're working on... Can you give it your best shot?"
She nodded.
"Okay. Do your thing. Feel better."
And off she went.
Anyway: point being: I love the one-on-ones. And I love the teaching!!
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Classroom Observation Reflection
Write a reflection to synthesize what you have learned from your observations and conversations. Remember to be self-evaluative. Make connections between what you observed and other resources and/or discussions you may have had with your mentor teacher. Be sure to address how you plan to apply your findings to your teaching so as to positively impact student learning.
In a separate section, include a list of which observation instruments were particularly useful. You may also choose to include recommendations for improvement to these resources.
Observations*:
Viola, 9th/10th Language Arts, placement school. Conducted 9/9, 9/15
Patti, 12th Language Arts, placement school. Conducted 9/10
Stewart, 9th-12th Drama, Garfield. Conducted 9/25
Sarah, 9th/10th Biology, placement school. Conducted 10/21
Josh, 9th/10th History, placement school. Conducted 10/25
My first formal observations were conducted in my own classroom, observing my mentor teacher, Viola.* I was interested primarily in examining Viola's classroom management, her instruction style, and her rapport with the students; these three qualities have continued to be what I notice myself looking for in other class observations. Since my experience with Viola has established itself as the "home base," most of my observations include notes on the differences displayed between Viola and the respective observed teacher. In gauging what it is about Viola's style I hope to put into practice, and what to possibly alter when creating my own teaching "style," these comparisons are proving to be quite useful in reflection.
Several teachers had mentioned Viola's strict, "authoritarian" management style as effective, but perhaps not a style that would, or should, suit everyone. In my observations of Viola, and obviously in my regular experience alongside her in the classroom, I have witnessed firsthand the tight rein she keeps on her students. Talking out of turn is not tolerated, nor generally is it allowed when students are given individual work time. Although this keeps the class organized and calm-- a feat in a 9th/10th grade classroom!-- I have also seen a number of students express frustration that they can't ask one another for help during the individual work time. Although I appreciate and feel impressed by the controlled nature of the classroom, I sometimes wonder if such tight control hinders certain learning styles or opportunities for stimulating conversation. As I've observed other teachers' management of their classes, I've noted specifically how often students talk out of turn, behave disruptively, or cause distractions-- making mental comparisons as I do. I've now witnessed a fairly broad spectrum ranging from "control" to "chaos," and realize that my own comfort level resides far more on the "control" end-- but perhaps not quite as far to that end as my mentor. My personal classroom management style ideally will demand focused, controlled, calm behavior during instruction time, but allow for more interaction during work periods.
Viola's instruction style has proven itself to be standards effective: our 10th grade WASL test-takers made the greatest improvements on their scores among schools in the Seattle district for the last two years running. Viola is the only 9th/10th grade Language Arts teacher at our school, and has been teaching Language Arts at our school for the last three years. Clearly, she's doing something right. And she absolutely is: she schools her students on grammar, formatting, language use, and sets high-expectations for reading. The curriculum she chooses is interesting and well supported by supplemental information. Our books cover a range of cultures, and incorporate fun, interactive activities; for this unit on the Indian epic, "The Ramayana," we've had a woman come in to teach the students Indian dance and folk songs; this Friday, we'll be feasting on Indian food. Next, we'll be putting on a play of the same story! However, I have noticed that when instructing the students on a writing concept or reading element, Viola almost always does it the same way: she provides a handout for the students to follow along on, and teaches them from up front with little interaction with the students. To my impression, this does not always result in optimal student engagement. In my observations, I have enjoyed seeing teachers employ class discussion, hands-on activities, and group work to teach concepts. Through these examples I have realized that I would like to incorporate more styles of resources (for instance, not just written handouts, but graphic organizers, props, etc.) and would like to engage the students with hands-on activities as often as possible. I also hope to take with me Viola's high-learning-expectations, rigorous writing instruction, and engaging curriculum style.
Finally, regarding rapport with students: I hugely respect and hope to emulate the rapport that Viola has created with her kids. Without question, they know that she is in charge, and that she is their teacher. However, she often uses humor with them, and they in turn know that they can use it with her; she also communicates to the students that she likes them, and enjoys their presence in her class. Her students confide in her, and joke with her, but also show her immense respect-- and she walks that line with ease! Yesterday, a student with a history of skipping class came in late after being gone for several days, and Viola initially came down hard on him. Later on though, he came up to talk to her and explained a personal crisis that he had been going through the last week. Viola softened, took him out into the hall, and listened while he broke down about this situation. And at our Halloween dance, Viola was the teacher the students kept coming up to, and saying, "Come dance with us, Viola, come dance!" Her ability to maintain her authority as teacher, yet to also have a friendly and positive rapport with the students is incredibly remarkable to me-- and also provides a wonderful, healthy balance to her strict classroom management. I don't know if I've seen quite such a balanced rapport with any of the other teachers I've observed. Either they're quite warm and friendly, but don't wield much authority, or are ALL teacher, and not anyone the students would typically choose to confide in, or have friendly "life" conversations with. Therefore, if I can match Viola in this way-- I'll be doing something right!
Using Observation Tools:
Suzannah's "Active vs. Inactive Learning" has helped focus my attention on Instruction Strategies, specifically "teaching AT" time versus "teaching WITH." I have noticed the effectiveness of careful planning that she pointed out: one science teacher, Sarah, impressed me with her timed activities. (She literally uses a timer!) Her activities are so well planned from end to end that she is able to maximize every minute she has. Her students respect this, and have told me so.
Sarah Cool's handout on "Classroom Discussion" has helped me observe that particular Instruction Strategy as well. As an English teacher, I want to employ class discussion often, and her pointers have steered my understanding of what to look for, and to gauge the actual effectiveness of a discussion. When observing Patti's 12th grade English class, the students engaged in a heated discussion about the environment, based on a class reading. Although the class' conversation wandered from the original text, the students were fully engaged and passionately discussing important ideas. Furthermore, Patti kept a handle on the discussion, and managed it well. From Sarah's description of "best practice," I can identify that observed discussion as an effective one.
David's handout on "Employing Positive and Negative Consequences for Student Behavior" has given me a lot to think about as far as classroom management. It's helped me examine the effectiveness of both positive and negative reinforcement, and has given me ideas and philosophies to chew on as I observe teacher's selection of one over the other, depending on context, mood, and preference.
*Last names and the name of my placement school are not specified for privacy reasons.
In a separate section, include a list of which observation instruments were particularly useful. You may also choose to include recommendations for improvement to these resources.
Observations*:
Viola, 9th/10th Language Arts, placement school. Conducted 9/9, 9/15
Patti, 12th Language Arts, placement school. Conducted 9/10
Stewart, 9th-12th Drama, Garfield. Conducted 9/25
Sarah, 9th/10th Biology, placement school. Conducted 10/21
Josh, 9th/10th History, placement school. Conducted 10/25
My first formal observations were conducted in my own classroom, observing my mentor teacher, Viola.* I was interested primarily in examining Viola's classroom management, her instruction style, and her rapport with the students; these three qualities have continued to be what I notice myself looking for in other class observations. Since my experience with Viola has established itself as the "home base," most of my observations include notes on the differences displayed between Viola and the respective observed teacher. In gauging what it is about Viola's style I hope to put into practice, and what to possibly alter when creating my own teaching "style," these comparisons are proving to be quite useful in reflection.
Several teachers had mentioned Viola's strict, "authoritarian" management style as effective, but perhaps not a style that would, or should, suit everyone. In my observations of Viola, and obviously in my regular experience alongside her in the classroom, I have witnessed firsthand the tight rein she keeps on her students. Talking out of turn is not tolerated, nor generally is it allowed when students are given individual work time. Although this keeps the class organized and calm-- a feat in a 9th/10th grade classroom!-- I have also seen a number of students express frustration that they can't ask one another for help during the individual work time. Although I appreciate and feel impressed by the controlled nature of the classroom, I sometimes wonder if such tight control hinders certain learning styles or opportunities for stimulating conversation. As I've observed other teachers' management of their classes, I've noted specifically how often students talk out of turn, behave disruptively, or cause distractions-- making mental comparisons as I do. I've now witnessed a fairly broad spectrum ranging from "control" to "chaos," and realize that my own comfort level resides far more on the "control" end-- but perhaps not quite as far to that end as my mentor. My personal classroom management style ideally will demand focused, controlled, calm behavior during instruction time, but allow for more interaction during work periods.
Viola's instruction style has proven itself to be standards effective: our 10th grade WASL test-takers made the greatest improvements on their scores among schools in the Seattle district for the last two years running. Viola is the only 9th/10th grade Language Arts teacher at our school, and has been teaching Language Arts at our school for the last three years. Clearly, she's doing something right. And she absolutely is: she schools her students on grammar, formatting, language use, and sets high-expectations for reading. The curriculum she chooses is interesting and well supported by supplemental information. Our books cover a range of cultures, and incorporate fun, interactive activities; for this unit on the Indian epic, "The Ramayana," we've had a woman come in to teach the students Indian dance and folk songs; this Friday, we'll be feasting on Indian food. Next, we'll be putting on a play of the same story! However, I have noticed that when instructing the students on a writing concept or reading element, Viola almost always does it the same way: she provides a handout for the students to follow along on, and teaches them from up front with little interaction with the students. To my impression, this does not always result in optimal student engagement. In my observations, I have enjoyed seeing teachers employ class discussion, hands-on activities, and group work to teach concepts. Through these examples I have realized that I would like to incorporate more styles of resources (for instance, not just written handouts, but graphic organizers, props, etc.) and would like to engage the students with hands-on activities as often as possible. I also hope to take with me Viola's high-learning-expectations, rigorous writing instruction, and engaging curriculum style.
Finally, regarding rapport with students: I hugely respect and hope to emulate the rapport that Viola has created with her kids. Without question, they know that she is in charge, and that she is their teacher. However, she often uses humor with them, and they in turn know that they can use it with her; she also communicates to the students that she likes them, and enjoys their presence in her class. Her students confide in her, and joke with her, but also show her immense respect-- and she walks that line with ease! Yesterday, a student with a history of skipping class came in late after being gone for several days, and Viola initially came down hard on him. Later on though, he came up to talk to her and explained a personal crisis that he had been going through the last week. Viola softened, took him out into the hall, and listened while he broke down about this situation. And at our Halloween dance, Viola was the teacher the students kept coming up to, and saying, "Come dance with us, Viola, come dance!" Her ability to maintain her authority as teacher, yet to also have a friendly and positive rapport with the students is incredibly remarkable to me-- and also provides a wonderful, healthy balance to her strict classroom management. I don't know if I've seen quite such a balanced rapport with any of the other teachers I've observed. Either they're quite warm and friendly, but don't wield much authority, or are ALL teacher, and not anyone the students would typically choose to confide in, or have friendly "life" conversations with. Therefore, if I can match Viola in this way-- I'll be doing something right!
Using Observation Tools:
Suzannah's "Active vs. Inactive Learning" has helped focus my attention on Instruction Strategies, specifically "teaching AT" time versus "teaching WITH." I have noticed the effectiveness of careful planning that she pointed out: one science teacher, Sarah, impressed me with her timed activities. (She literally uses a timer!) Her activities are so well planned from end to end that she is able to maximize every minute she has. Her students respect this, and have told me so.
Sarah Cool's handout on "Classroom Discussion" has helped me observe that particular Instruction Strategy as well. As an English teacher, I want to employ class discussion often, and her pointers have steered my understanding of what to look for, and to gauge the actual effectiveness of a discussion. When observing Patti's 12th grade English class, the students engaged in a heated discussion about the environment, based on a class reading. Although the class' conversation wandered from the original text, the students were fully engaged and passionately discussing important ideas. Furthermore, Patti kept a handle on the discussion, and managed it well. From Sarah's description of "best practice," I can identify that observed discussion as an effective one.
David's handout on "Employing Positive and Negative Consequences for Student Behavior" has given me a lot to think about as far as classroom management. It's helped me examine the effectiveness of both positive and negative reinforcement, and has given me ideas and philosophies to chew on as I observe teacher's selection of one over the other, depending on context, mood, and preference.
*Last names and the name of my placement school are not specified for privacy reasons.
Friday, October 24, 2008
It Starts
Boy Student 1: "Is that a ring on your finger? Are you engaged??"
Me: "It's on my right hand, goof."
Boy Student 1: "Do you have a boyfriend?"
Me: "That's not really any of your business."
Boy Student 1: "Woah! Why you gotta be all offended?!"
Boy Student 2: "She's all offended now!"
Me: "YES, I have a boyfriend."
Boy Student 1: "How old is he?"
Boy Student 2: "Look, she's getting all pink!"
Me: "We're FOCUSING ON CLASS right now."
I was flustered for the rest of the day. I told Viola about it. She said, "Oh, Greta-- you have to be so firm with them! Don't smile, or joke, or anything-- just be clear that talking like that is INAPPROPRIATE. You are their TEACHER. And don't worry about them not liking you afterwards-- they'll get over it. You just have to be FIRM."
"Ack. I know. I knew what to do in my head, but when it actually happened, I just got all flustered! Did I screw myself over by not telling them that it was inappropriate from the get-go? I shouldn't have even ADMITTED that I had a boyfriend!"
"No, no-- you did nothing wrong. But you should talk to them tomorrow and be CLEAR that talking like that to you is crossing the line."
At lunch, with the other teachers:
Viola: "Did you hear what the boys said to Greta?? They're all in love with her."
Other teacher: "You're going to have to get used to that. You're kind of a babe."
Me: "Crap."
Later, talking to a friend.
Me: "This happened today. Ack. This is what I said. Ack."
Friend: "You should have said THIS!"
Me: "I KNOW WHAT I SHOULD HAVE SAID! And I've said it a whole bunch in my head...! But in the moment, you know- it's like on a game show! You just freeze! Aaagggh. Ackity ack smack attack."
Today:
Me, whispering to Boy Student 1: "Clark, I need to you stay after class for a sec."
Me, whispering to Boy Student 2: "Adam, I need you to stay after too. Adam? Did you hear me? Just for a sec."
After class:
Me, to Boy Students 1 and 2: "So... I know that you were probably trying to be funny and joke around yesterday when you asked if I had a boyfriend, or if I was engaged, but you need to know that talking like that is inappropriate. I am your teacher, and you are my students, and there is a LINE that shouldn't be crossed. Our lives meet when it involves your education, but NOT my personal life. Asking questions like that is crossing the line. Okay?"
Boy Student 2: "Yeah, we get it. You're our teacher, not our friend."
Me: "I am your teacher, first and foremost."
Me, to Viola: "This is what I said."
Viola: "That's perfect! Sorry I wasn't there to back you up-- I was trying to shoo everyone else out. And how did they respond?"
Me: "Clark seemed fine-- you know, a little awkward, but he'll get over it. But Adam seemed angry. Which is to be expected-- I knew that, if either of them were going to get angry, it would be him."
Viola: "He said, 'Bye TEACHER' on the way out the door to me."
Me: "That was probably in response to me saying that I was their teacher, not their friend. But I can't just be their FRIEND! I would be a pretty terrible teacher if I was only trying to be their friend."
Viola: "You did PERFECT. You were clear, but you didn't condemn them. Awwww, good job honey!!"
And that is the first story of flirting testosteroni teenagers. Curse my blushing tendencies.
Me: "It's on my right hand, goof."
Boy Student 1: "Do you have a boyfriend?"
Me: "That's not really any of your business."
Boy Student 1: "Woah! Why you gotta be all offended?!"
Boy Student 2: "She's all offended now!"
Me: "YES, I have a boyfriend."
Boy Student 1: "How old is he?"
Boy Student 2: "Look, she's getting all pink!"
Me: "We're FOCUSING ON CLASS right now."
I was flustered for the rest of the day. I told Viola about it. She said, "Oh, Greta-- you have to be so firm with them! Don't smile, or joke, or anything-- just be clear that talking like that is INAPPROPRIATE. You are their TEACHER. And don't worry about them not liking you afterwards-- they'll get over it. You just have to be FIRM."
"Ack. I know. I knew what to do in my head, but when it actually happened, I just got all flustered! Did I screw myself over by not telling them that it was inappropriate from the get-go? I shouldn't have even ADMITTED that I had a boyfriend!"
"No, no-- you did nothing wrong. But you should talk to them tomorrow and be CLEAR that talking like that to you is crossing the line."
At lunch, with the other teachers:
Viola: "Did you hear what the boys said to Greta?? They're all in love with her."
Other teacher: "You're going to have to get used to that. You're kind of a babe."
Me: "Crap."
Later, talking to a friend.
Me: "This happened today. Ack. This is what I said. Ack."
Friend: "You should have said THIS!"
Me: "I KNOW WHAT I SHOULD HAVE SAID! And I've said it a whole bunch in my head...! But in the moment, you know- it's like on a game show! You just freeze! Aaagggh. Ackity ack smack attack."
Today:
Me, whispering to Boy Student 1: "Clark, I need to you stay after class for a sec."
Me, whispering to Boy Student 2: "Adam, I need you to stay after too. Adam? Did you hear me? Just for a sec."
After class:
Me, to Boy Students 1 and 2: "So... I know that you were probably trying to be funny and joke around yesterday when you asked if I had a boyfriend, or if I was engaged, but you need to know that talking like that is inappropriate. I am your teacher, and you are my students, and there is a LINE that shouldn't be crossed. Our lives meet when it involves your education, but NOT my personal life. Asking questions like that is crossing the line. Okay?"
Boy Student 2: "Yeah, we get it. You're our teacher, not our friend."
Me: "I am your teacher, first and foremost."
Me, to Viola: "This is what I said."
Viola: "That's perfect! Sorry I wasn't there to back you up-- I was trying to shoo everyone else out. And how did they respond?"
Me: "Clark seemed fine-- you know, a little awkward, but he'll get over it. But Adam seemed angry. Which is to be expected-- I knew that, if either of them were going to get angry, it would be him."
Viola: "He said, 'Bye TEACHER' on the way out the door to me."
Me: "That was probably in response to me saying that I was their teacher, not their friend. But I can't just be their FRIEND! I would be a pretty terrible teacher if I was only trying to be their friend."
Viola: "You did PERFECT. You were clear, but you didn't condemn them. Awwww, good job honey!!"
And that is the first story of flirting testosteroni teenagers. Curse my blushing tendencies.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Letter Writing to Ligia
The highlight this week occurred when I won over the Latino posse. Not sure if the boys named themselves that or if it came from another teacher, but there is a fantastic group of Spanish-speaking boys that are all buddies, and for the most part, are all doing terribly in Language Arts. These boys are some of my favorites; a couple of them are downright adorable, but: they don't turn their work in. What else is new.
Last weekend, I received in the mail a new picture of a little girl I sponsor in Nicaragua, through an organization called Plan USA. I immediately felt guilty when I saw her picture, because I'm a rotten pen-pal and never say hello to this cutie. I was bemoaning this fact to a friend, and he said, "Well, write her a letter."
Then I got a GREAT idea. "I should have some of my Spanish-speaking kids help me write her a letter!"
And thus was conceived the brillianto fabuloso plan to win over my floundering Latino posse.
I targeted Andre first, because he's failing the worst, and he's also projected the toughest exterior. I've had my eye on him and his girl friend (as opposed to girlfriend- they're just pals who sit together and mutter things about the class) for a while now, because they both just have up walls-- I haven't been able to connect with either of them yet. And I'm normally really good at working out connections with people-- I, ahem, shoulder brush, supposedly have the gift of "WOO," which for the Strength-Finders-Test-uninformed, is an acronym for "Winning Others Over." I think I've realized that WOO is going to be my best chance at classroom management later on this year. (She rubbed her hands together and cackled conspiratorially.) I'll make them all love me so that they rally to my requests for attention. It's been going well actually-- I have lots of kids on my "team" now, and I've connected with a lot of them on life-related stuff. But not yet Andre. I'd tried a couple times with little luck; the armor hadn't come down yet.
My other target was Eduardo. Eduardo is affable and sweet-tempered; he's also an incredible poet. He's taller and big boned, and I think he gets a hard time for not looking "Hispanic enough"-- he's Honduran and has light skin and reddish hair. He's also another one that just never gets his work in though, so his grade could definitely use a boost.
After 3rd period ended, I gave it a shot. "Andre. I'm wondering if you'd help me with something. I sponsor this little girl in Nicaragua through a kind of charity program, and I wanted to write her a letter, but I wanted to try to write it in Spanish. But I don't speak Spanish. Do you think you could help me write her something? I was going to talk to you and Eduardo both."
His eyebrows jumped up half a centimenter. "Sure. I could do that. Like a letter in Spanish? I could do that."
"I could talk to Viola and see if we could give you extra credit."
"I would love to help you with that." He nodded with those slightly raised eyebrows, and before I could make my way over to Eduardo through the current of departing students, Andre had already made a beeline to him, and told Eduardo about the idea.
"Hey Greta! We're going to help you write a letter?"
"Yeah! If you don't mind. I can see if I can get you extra credit."
Eduardo scoffed and grinned. "We'd help you anyway!"
Viola loved the idea, and approved the extra credit. Andre couldn't stay after school, so we had a one-on-one work session during 6th period, when I would normally be in Swing Class. We worked for a little while on the letter, and he made adorably tentative translations to my suggested phrases. In the letter, we told Ligia, my little Nicaraguan girl, that the boys were helping me write to her. "If I was writing the letter myself, " I told Andre, "I would start saying good things about you and Eduardo, but I don't want to embarrass you..."
"What? Like what?"
"Like that I really enjoy having you two in class."
"What?? No you don't..."
"Yes I do! I really like seeing you in class every day. Sometimes I get annoyed with you and Sarah for talking all the time--"
"We don't talk ALL the time."
"True, you guys have gotten a lot better. But no, Andre, I really like having you in class. You're a good kid."
He told me he thought Language Arts was boring. I asked him why, and he told me about some of the other classes that he liked better. I'm genuinely interested when kids tell me why they do or don't like classes, because, hey: this is relevant. I think he liked that I was really listening to him, and he opened up more. I found out that the reason he never turns anything in is because he works for his family's restaurant as soon as he gets home from school; he literally doesn't have any time to do his homework. I wonder if this is partly because, when his parents have given him time, he hasn't used it. But regardless, this was a problem. "Dang Andre. We've got to figure out a way for you to do your homework. Don't you have an older sister? What did she do?"
"Yeah, she's like a success story. She has her own business now... She's doing good for herself. Not like my brother, he's-- man. I don't wanna talk about him."
"We won't talk about him. So how'd your sister get through school?"
"Well... she was into sports, so she had to keep her grades up."
"So she just made it happen?"
He shrugged. "My parents... You know, they need the help though."
I asked him what his afternoons looked like after school.
"I have to take the bus home..."
"And how long is your bus ride?"
He shrugged. "Maybe... an hour?"
"Okay-- so that's a hour of potential reading time, right? Do you think you could get any reading done while you ride?"
Another shrug. "Maybe."
"That would be awesome if you could. And then think of how good you'd feel on Friday, when we're talking about the reading. You'd know all the answers. You'd be like, 'Bam, know that one.' 'Bam.' That'd be good, right?"
He grinned and raised his eyebrows half a centimeter, thinking about it. "Yeah."
I wrote a note to his mom on his study questions: "Dear Mrs. A: Please sign off when Andre finishes questions 1-5. Thank you!" I told Andre, "Okay: hopefully this will help your folks know you need a little time to get your work done. But you're going to need to actually do it. I'm going to look for your mom's signature now." He raised his eyebrows that tiny bit, and let one corner of his mouth creep up, and nodded. The bell rang, and he took off to catch his bus.
We had been downright chatty. I felt like I was wearing anti-gravity boots. I had just had a heart to heart with Andre.
I looked down the hall and saw the posse rolling in, led by Mr. Eduardo. "Hey dude! Andre was just helping me! Wait-- are all you guys here to help?"
They-- Jose 1, Jose 2, Jose 2's twin Miguel, George, Juan AND Eduardo-- sat down around the little green table. "Yeah!"
And we just had a little letter writing fiesta.
And we all got to know each other! In the process of updating my little Nicaraguan chica, the boys learned that I lived with my Grandpa, and had to balance a full load of grad school classes on top of my student teaching.
"So you don't have much time for yourself?" Translated, translated, translated into Spanish.
"No, not really. But, tell her I really like what I'm doing."
They spoke to each other, throwing out suggested phrases. (In Spanish): "'I like what I'm doing.'"
"No, put, 'I love what I'm doing.'" They checked with me. "You love what you're doing? With the teaching?"
I grinned, "Yeah, I love it. That's good. Put that."
At times they ribbed each other in Spanish. "Hey now," I said. "Just because I can't understand you doesn't mean you can say inappropriate things."
Eduardo gave a half-hearted grin. "That's just how we talk to each other though..."
At times I tried reading aloud what they'd written, clunking my way through it. One of the boys would gently correct me on pronunciation, and another would rebuke him. "She's doing good, it's hard for her."
I heard them tease each other about girls, and about Eduardo getting challenged to fight all the time by Mexican guys who live in his same neighborhood, and they talked about life and school and asked me questions about Ligia.
When they were finishing up, they speculated about how to close it off. "Normally," George said, "In Spanish culture, you say something about God..." They looked at me carefully to see how I would respond to that.
I threw out one of the only Spanish phrases I know, one that has somehow managed to be retained since a high-school mission trip to Mexico. "Que dios te bendiga?" I suggested.
They grinned. "God bless you? Yeah, that's good!"
Separation of church and state is no joke in the public school system, but if the students bring it up, God can move right on in to the conversation. Can I tell you how happy I am that "Que Dios te Bendiga" is one of the only Spanish phrases I know??
When we finished, we had a great, personal letter to send to Ligia. We had seven grades move up from failing to passing. We had a fun time doing something that was socially-justice-minded AND connected with the boys' culture.
And I now have the loyalty and affection of one fabulous Latino posse.
Last weekend, I received in the mail a new picture of a little girl I sponsor in Nicaragua, through an organization called Plan USA. I immediately felt guilty when I saw her picture, because I'm a rotten pen-pal and never say hello to this cutie. I was bemoaning this fact to a friend, and he said, "Well, write her a letter."
Then I got a GREAT idea. "I should have some of my Spanish-speaking kids help me write her a letter!"
And thus was conceived the brillianto fabuloso plan to win over my floundering Latino posse.
I targeted Andre first, because he's failing the worst, and he's also projected the toughest exterior. I've had my eye on him and his girl friend (as opposed to girlfriend- they're just pals who sit together and mutter things about the class) for a while now, because they both just have up walls-- I haven't been able to connect with either of them yet. And I'm normally really good at working out connections with people-- I, ahem, shoulder brush, supposedly have the gift of "WOO," which for the Strength-Finders-Test-uninformed, is an acronym for "Winning Others Over." I think I've realized that WOO is going to be my best chance at classroom management later on this year. (She rubbed her hands together and cackled conspiratorially.) I'll make them all love me so that they rally to my requests for attention. It's been going well actually-- I have lots of kids on my "team" now, and I've connected with a lot of them on life-related stuff. But not yet Andre. I'd tried a couple times with little luck; the armor hadn't come down yet.
My other target was Eduardo. Eduardo is affable and sweet-tempered; he's also an incredible poet. He's taller and big boned, and I think he gets a hard time for not looking "Hispanic enough"-- he's Honduran and has light skin and reddish hair. He's also another one that just never gets his work in though, so his grade could definitely use a boost.
After 3rd period ended, I gave it a shot. "Andre. I'm wondering if you'd help me with something. I sponsor this little girl in Nicaragua through a kind of charity program, and I wanted to write her a letter, but I wanted to try to write it in Spanish. But I don't speak Spanish. Do you think you could help me write her something? I was going to talk to you and Eduardo both."
His eyebrows jumped up half a centimenter. "Sure. I could do that. Like a letter in Spanish? I could do that."
"I could talk to Viola and see if we could give you extra credit."
"I would love to help you with that." He nodded with those slightly raised eyebrows, and before I could make my way over to Eduardo through the current of departing students, Andre had already made a beeline to him, and told Eduardo about the idea.
"Hey Greta! We're going to help you write a letter?"
"Yeah! If you don't mind. I can see if I can get you extra credit."
Eduardo scoffed and grinned. "We'd help you anyway!"
Viola loved the idea, and approved the extra credit. Andre couldn't stay after school, so we had a one-on-one work session during 6th period, when I would normally be in Swing Class. We worked for a little while on the letter, and he made adorably tentative translations to my suggested phrases. In the letter, we told Ligia, my little Nicaraguan girl, that the boys were helping me write to her. "If I was writing the letter myself, " I told Andre, "I would start saying good things about you and Eduardo, but I don't want to embarrass you..."
"What? Like what?"
"Like that I really enjoy having you two in class."
"What?? No you don't..."
"Yes I do! I really like seeing you in class every day. Sometimes I get annoyed with you and Sarah for talking all the time--"
"We don't talk ALL the time."
"True, you guys have gotten a lot better. But no, Andre, I really like having you in class. You're a good kid."
He told me he thought Language Arts was boring. I asked him why, and he told me about some of the other classes that he liked better. I'm genuinely interested when kids tell me why they do or don't like classes, because, hey: this is relevant. I think he liked that I was really listening to him, and he opened up more. I found out that the reason he never turns anything in is because he works for his family's restaurant as soon as he gets home from school; he literally doesn't have any time to do his homework. I wonder if this is partly because, when his parents have given him time, he hasn't used it. But regardless, this was a problem. "Dang Andre. We've got to figure out a way for you to do your homework. Don't you have an older sister? What did she do?"
"Yeah, she's like a success story. She has her own business now... She's doing good for herself. Not like my brother, he's-- man. I don't wanna talk about him."
"We won't talk about him. So how'd your sister get through school?"
"Well... she was into sports, so she had to keep her grades up."
"So she just made it happen?"
He shrugged. "My parents... You know, they need the help though."
I asked him what his afternoons looked like after school.
"I have to take the bus home..."
"And how long is your bus ride?"
He shrugged. "Maybe... an hour?"
"Okay-- so that's a hour of potential reading time, right? Do you think you could get any reading done while you ride?"
Another shrug. "Maybe."
"That would be awesome if you could. And then think of how good you'd feel on Friday, when we're talking about the reading. You'd know all the answers. You'd be like, 'Bam, know that one.' 'Bam.' That'd be good, right?"
He grinned and raised his eyebrows half a centimeter, thinking about it. "Yeah."
I wrote a note to his mom on his study questions: "Dear Mrs. A: Please sign off when Andre finishes questions 1-5. Thank you!" I told Andre, "Okay: hopefully this will help your folks know you need a little time to get your work done. But you're going to need to actually do it. I'm going to look for your mom's signature now." He raised his eyebrows that tiny bit, and let one corner of his mouth creep up, and nodded. The bell rang, and he took off to catch his bus.
We had been downright chatty. I felt like I was wearing anti-gravity boots. I had just had a heart to heart with Andre.
I looked down the hall and saw the posse rolling in, led by Mr. Eduardo. "Hey dude! Andre was just helping me! Wait-- are all you guys here to help?"
They-- Jose 1, Jose 2, Jose 2's twin Miguel, George, Juan AND Eduardo-- sat down around the little green table. "Yeah!"
And we just had a little letter writing fiesta.
And we all got to know each other! In the process of updating my little Nicaraguan chica, the boys learned that I lived with my Grandpa, and had to balance a full load of grad school classes on top of my student teaching.
"So you don't have much time for yourself?" Translated, translated, translated into Spanish.
"No, not really. But, tell her I really like what I'm doing."
They spoke to each other, throwing out suggested phrases. (In Spanish): "'I like what I'm doing.'"
"No, put, 'I love what I'm doing.'" They checked with me. "You love what you're doing? With the teaching?"
I grinned, "Yeah, I love it. That's good. Put that."
At times they ribbed each other in Spanish. "Hey now," I said. "Just because I can't understand you doesn't mean you can say inappropriate things."
Eduardo gave a half-hearted grin. "That's just how we talk to each other though..."
At times I tried reading aloud what they'd written, clunking my way through it. One of the boys would gently correct me on pronunciation, and another would rebuke him. "She's doing good, it's hard for her."
I heard them tease each other about girls, and about Eduardo getting challenged to fight all the time by Mexican guys who live in his same neighborhood, and they talked about life and school and asked me questions about Ligia.
When they were finishing up, they speculated about how to close it off. "Normally," George said, "In Spanish culture, you say something about God..." They looked at me carefully to see how I would respond to that.
I threw out one of the only Spanish phrases I know, one that has somehow managed to be retained since a high-school mission trip to Mexico. "Que dios te bendiga?" I suggested.
They grinned. "God bless you? Yeah, that's good!"
Separation of church and state is no joke in the public school system, but if the students bring it up, God can move right on in to the conversation. Can I tell you how happy I am that "Que Dios te Bendiga" is one of the only Spanish phrases I know??
When we finished, we had a great, personal letter to send to Ligia. We had seven grades move up from failing to passing. We had a fun time doing something that was socially-justice-minded AND connected with the boys' culture.
And I now have the loyalty and affection of one fabulous Latino posse.
Friday, October 10, 2008
The View from the Walls
It was another ice cream day. It was a rough day. But I feel like I've been complaining about the tough teaching stuff a lot lately, when in reality, I really love what I'm doing. It's stimulating, and exciting, and kicks my butt on days like today, but it's without a doubt what I want to do.
So I'm not going to talk about my school day. Instead, I'm going to finish telling you about the Epic of Gilgamesh. Did I ever tell you the end of Gilgamesh?
It's a great ending. In MY opinion, it's a great ending. I'll just tell you the story. I really like it.
So Gilgamesh starts off as this super arrogant, cocky king who keeps stealing his subjects' wives to have sex with. He's 2/3 god, and super handsome, but super lame. I sort of think of him as Brad Pitt in Troy:
The people pray to the gods, "Hey gods! Do something about this jerk!!" So the gods create Enkidu (ink-a-doo) to come and contend with him. Enkidu's half animal and supposedly has more "street sense" than Gil-- like, he's more connected with the earth. Supposedly. I kind of think of him as Wolverine.
Enkidu runs into Gilgamesh when Gilgamesh is about to steal a bride from a new hubby, and Enkidu says, "Excuse me homespice, I DON'T THINK SO," and they FIGHT, and Gilgamesh wins, but he decides that he likes Enkidu anyway. Because. Enkidu is scrappy.
So now they're buddies, and Shamash, the sun god, suggests that they go fight the gnarly scary Forest Guardian, Humbaba, to get immortal fame. Enkidu-- street sense, remember-- says, "That is insane, that is a suicide mission; YOU can do it if you want, and I'll go tell your mother that you're dead. Because that's what's going to happen."
Gilgamesh says, "No way, it's not my day to die, we are going to KILL this monster!" And he convinces Enkidu to fight. But as soon as Humbaba ROARS out of his lair, Gilgamesh runs away like a PANSY. I think of Humbaba like this:
So Gilgamesh runs away and hides behind a tree, and Enkidu says, "Dude?!! You can't leave me alone here! Remember your big boasts?!" So Gilgamesh comes out, prays to the gods; they send massive WINDS which make Humbaba all disoriented, and then Gilgamesh and Enkidu beat him. Humbaba begs for his life and Gilgamesh ALMOST lets him live, but smarty-pants Enkidu says, "Bad idea," and they kill him.
They take his giant head to the Earth god, Enlil. But Enlil-- the EARTH god-- is not so happy with the two of them for killing his forest guardian. Instead of blessing them, he curses them. Big bad curse. They get cursed a few more times by a few more gods, and Enkidu ends up taking the fall. The gods can't kill Gil, because he's 2/3 god-- he's part of the country club. So they kill Enkidu instead. BUMMER.
Gilgamesh freaks out when his best friend dies, not only because he's sad to lose Enkidu, but also because he's suddenly aware of his own mortality. He decides that immortal fame isn't good enough for him: he has to figure out how to REALLY become immortal. So he goes to the end of the earth and talks to this guy named Utnapishtim who is basically Noah-- Utnapishtim gained immortality by surviving a worldwide flood on a boat with his family and two of every animal.
Gilgamesh goes to Utnapishtim and says, "How did you become immortal??"
And Utnapishtim says, "I survived a flood that wiped out the rest of humanity several thousand years ago, and the gods decided to make me immortal afterwards."
And Gilgamesh says, "What?? I can't become immortal that way!!"
And Utnapishtim says, "No duh."
And Gilgamesh says, "Well you've lived forever-- don't you know of SOME way that I can become immortal?"
And Utnapishtim, who is this grumpy old codger by now, smirks and says, "Ummm.... SURE I do... If you can stay awake for seven days and seven nights: you'll be immortal."
But Gilgamesh IS mortal, and he can't stay awake. He fails the test. Big time-- he ends up SLEEPING for almost seven days, instead of staying awake. He finally wakes up, and tries to lie to Utnapishtim, saying that he never REALLY fell asleep. But Utnapishtim is a smart grumpy old guy, and had had his wife bake a loaf of bread for each day Gil slept. He shows Gilgamesh the loaf baked on the first day and says, "See? It's moldy now. THAT'S how long you've been sleeping!" Gilgamesh is totally despondent. "I couldn't DOOO it...!"
But Utnapishtim's wife feels kind of sorry for Gilgamesh and tells her husband, "Come on honey. Have a heart. He's traveled all this way, and he's really tired... Can't we give him SOMETHING to take back to his people?"
So Utnapishtim grunts and says, "Fine. There's a plant at the bottom of the ocean that will give you eternal youth. If you go and get the plant, and eat it... You'll be forever young."
So Gilgamesh says, "GREAT!" And he goes and gets the plant. And for the first time, we see him acting a degree less selfishly, because instead of just devouring the plant himself, he says, "You know what? I'm going to give this to all the old men in my city FIRST... And THEN I'll have some for myself."
BUT: as he's swimming, a snake comes up, eats the plant, immediately sloughs its skin and becomes a young snake, and swims away. And the magic plant is gone. And Gilgamesh ends up with nothing.
And that's how the story ends! The last picture of Gilgamesh is returning home to his city with NOTHING, standing over the walls of his city, and saying: "You know what? This is a great city. It's strong. The people are great. I can be content with this." And the narrator ends the story by describing him as a WISE king, who knew the countries of the world, and who brought back a story of the days before the flood.
I LOVE that.
I love that Gilgamesh doesn't get the magic gimmick to bring home-- he has to be content with being just a little wiser, a little more humble, and having a story to tell. I love that because we usually DON'T get the magic plant to take home-- we usually have to be content with the wisdom we've gained after a long, tiring journey. Modern hero stories don't give us that kind of ending-- modern heroes get the fame, they win the battle, they get the girl, or something similar. You have to WIN in the modern stories.
But this ancient epic ends with its hero-- its HERO-- simply surveying his city, and taking a big breath in, and heaving a big sigh out, and saying, "Okay. This is what I've got. I'm going to be a good king now. I'm going to take care of my people. And one day, I'm going to die, but so be it. I'll do the best with what I've got."
And the great part is-- we're still talking about him. He probably thought that he was a failure-- he never DID become immortal and that was what he was searching for, after all. But his story was enough to keep his memory around for thousands of years. He is still talked about as a HERO-- for only being a little wiser, and for having a story to tell. I love that. I love that our hero story ends with simply a big breath in... And a big sigh out.
And as I do the same, it helps me return to the classroom with new resolve. So many of the kids didn't turn in their essays today-- after I spent literally hours working one-on-one with many of them. They didn't get them done. So much for the magic plant; so much for the tangible marker of success. But I can't have gained nothing from this experience-- I know the kids a tiny bit better, I've had a few more quality conversations, I'm learning how to talk to them, how to GET to them, how to navigate their personal loads that they come in with. I WILL get wiser through these difficult days. And hopefully, as I do, I'll learn how to be a better "leader" to these kids that are shrugging and shuffling their way into our classroom, and shrugging and shuffling their way into my heart.
They matter. Their lives MATTER.
So I'll do my best to be a Gilgamesh type of hero... And keep trying.
So I'm not going to talk about my school day. Instead, I'm going to finish telling you about the Epic of Gilgamesh. Did I ever tell you the end of Gilgamesh?
It's a great ending. In MY opinion, it's a great ending. I'll just tell you the story. I really like it.
So Gilgamesh starts off as this super arrogant, cocky king who keeps stealing his subjects' wives to have sex with. He's 2/3 god, and super handsome, but super lame. I sort of think of him as Brad Pitt in Troy:
The people pray to the gods, "Hey gods! Do something about this jerk!!" So the gods create Enkidu (ink-a-doo) to come and contend with him. Enkidu's half animal and supposedly has more "street sense" than Gil-- like, he's more connected with the earth. Supposedly. I kind of think of him as Wolverine.
Enkidu runs into Gilgamesh when Gilgamesh is about to steal a bride from a new hubby, and Enkidu says, "Excuse me homespice, I DON'T THINK SO," and they FIGHT, and Gilgamesh wins, but he decides that he likes Enkidu anyway. Because. Enkidu is scrappy.
So now they're buddies, and Shamash, the sun god, suggests that they go fight the gnarly scary Forest Guardian, Humbaba, to get immortal fame. Enkidu-- street sense, remember-- says, "That is insane, that is a suicide mission; YOU can do it if you want, and I'll go tell your mother that you're dead. Because that's what's going to happen."
Gilgamesh says, "No way, it's not my day to die, we are going to KILL this monster!" And he convinces Enkidu to fight. But as soon as Humbaba ROARS out of his lair, Gilgamesh runs away like a PANSY. I think of Humbaba like this:
So Gilgamesh runs away and hides behind a tree, and Enkidu says, "Dude?!! You can't leave me alone here! Remember your big boasts?!" So Gilgamesh comes out, prays to the gods; they send massive WINDS which make Humbaba all disoriented, and then Gilgamesh and Enkidu beat him. Humbaba begs for his life and Gilgamesh ALMOST lets him live, but smarty-pants Enkidu says, "Bad idea," and they kill him.
They take his giant head to the Earth god, Enlil. But Enlil-- the EARTH god-- is not so happy with the two of them for killing his forest guardian. Instead of blessing them, he curses them. Big bad curse. They get cursed a few more times by a few more gods, and Enkidu ends up taking the fall. The gods can't kill Gil, because he's 2/3 god-- he's part of the country club. So they kill Enkidu instead. BUMMER.
Gilgamesh freaks out when his best friend dies, not only because he's sad to lose Enkidu, but also because he's suddenly aware of his own mortality. He decides that immortal fame isn't good enough for him: he has to figure out how to REALLY become immortal. So he goes to the end of the earth and talks to this guy named Utnapishtim who is basically Noah-- Utnapishtim gained immortality by surviving a worldwide flood on a boat with his family and two of every animal.
Gilgamesh goes to Utnapishtim and says, "How did you become immortal??"
And Utnapishtim says, "I survived a flood that wiped out the rest of humanity several thousand years ago, and the gods decided to make me immortal afterwards."
And Gilgamesh says, "What?? I can't become immortal that way!!"
And Utnapishtim says, "No duh."
And Gilgamesh says, "Well you've lived forever-- don't you know of SOME way that I can become immortal?"
And Utnapishtim, who is this grumpy old codger by now, smirks and says, "Ummm.... SURE I do... If you can stay awake for seven days and seven nights: you'll be immortal."
But Gilgamesh IS mortal, and he can't stay awake. He fails the test. Big time-- he ends up SLEEPING for almost seven days, instead of staying awake. He finally wakes up, and tries to lie to Utnapishtim, saying that he never REALLY fell asleep. But Utnapishtim is a smart grumpy old guy, and had had his wife bake a loaf of bread for each day Gil slept. He shows Gilgamesh the loaf baked on the first day and says, "See? It's moldy now. THAT'S how long you've been sleeping!" Gilgamesh is totally despondent. "I couldn't DOOO it...!"
But Utnapishtim's wife feels kind of sorry for Gilgamesh and tells her husband, "Come on honey. Have a heart. He's traveled all this way, and he's really tired... Can't we give him SOMETHING to take back to his people?"
So Utnapishtim grunts and says, "Fine. There's a plant at the bottom of the ocean that will give you eternal youth. If you go and get the plant, and eat it... You'll be forever young."
So Gilgamesh says, "GREAT!" And he goes and gets the plant. And for the first time, we see him acting a degree less selfishly, because instead of just devouring the plant himself, he says, "You know what? I'm going to give this to all the old men in my city FIRST... And THEN I'll have some for myself."
BUT: as he's swimming, a snake comes up, eats the plant, immediately sloughs its skin and becomes a young snake, and swims away. And the magic plant is gone. And Gilgamesh ends up with nothing.
And that's how the story ends! The last picture of Gilgamesh is returning home to his city with NOTHING, standing over the walls of his city, and saying: "You know what? This is a great city. It's strong. The people are great. I can be content with this." And the narrator ends the story by describing him as a WISE king, who knew the countries of the world, and who brought back a story of the days before the flood.
I LOVE that.
I love that Gilgamesh doesn't get the magic gimmick to bring home-- he has to be content with being just a little wiser, a little more humble, and having a story to tell. I love that because we usually DON'T get the magic plant to take home-- we usually have to be content with the wisdom we've gained after a long, tiring journey. Modern hero stories don't give us that kind of ending-- modern heroes get the fame, they win the battle, they get the girl, or something similar. You have to WIN in the modern stories.
But this ancient epic ends with its hero-- its HERO-- simply surveying his city, and taking a big breath in, and heaving a big sigh out, and saying, "Okay. This is what I've got. I'm going to be a good king now. I'm going to take care of my people. And one day, I'm going to die, but so be it. I'll do the best with what I've got."
And the great part is-- we're still talking about him. He probably thought that he was a failure-- he never DID become immortal and that was what he was searching for, after all. But his story was enough to keep his memory around for thousands of years. He is still talked about as a HERO-- for only being a little wiser, and for having a story to tell. I love that. I love that our hero story ends with simply a big breath in... And a big sigh out.
And as I do the same, it helps me return to the classroom with new resolve. So many of the kids didn't turn in their essays today-- after I spent literally hours working one-on-one with many of them. They didn't get them done. So much for the magic plant; so much for the tangible marker of success. But I can't have gained nothing from this experience-- I know the kids a tiny bit better, I've had a few more quality conversations, I'm learning how to talk to them, how to GET to them, how to navigate their personal loads that they come in with. I WILL get wiser through these difficult days. And hopefully, as I do, I'll learn how to be a better "leader" to these kids that are shrugging and shuffling their way into our classroom, and shrugging and shuffling their way into my heart.
They matter. Their lives MATTER.
So I'll do my best to be a Gilgamesh type of hero... And keep trying.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Try, Try Again
Yikes, it's been a while. I blame that on the increased busyness of recent days... And... well... Actually, that's really my only excuse. I'm very busy and important. Duh.
Back to the teaching stories then. Shall we?
The big thing this week was feeling frustrated about the kiddos just NOT TRYING. I realized when entering grades that at least a third of our kids are failing, and it just killed me. We give these kids all kinds of work time, we're super clear on what they have due and what their homework is, and we make ourselves available before and after school for help if they need it. The kids that are failing are failing because they're just NOT doing their work. Some of them are seriously intelligent too-- but they slack off during work time, don't show up for class, whatever-- and don't get their stuff in.
I told Viola I felt like we were watching these kids stand outside in a blizzard. We holler out to them, "Hey! Come on in! It's really warm in here, there's a fire, and a great spread on the table! Hot chocolate too! Come on in!"
They shrug and shuffle their feet on the snowy ground. "Meh. It's too far of a walk."
So we go out to them.
"Well, here then, take this coat-- I hate seeing you so cold, this will warm you up a little."
They gaze at some point in the distance and seem to ignore us altogether. "Naaah......Don't feel like putting it on."
Exasperated now, we try again: "Well take some SOUP anyway, that should do something to help keep you warm. Come on, all you have to do is lift the spoon to your mouth and swallow."
But they don't, they're not interested. So they do nothing to help themselves, and they freeze in the blizzard, and die.
Dying in the blizzard is the real-life equivalent of flunking out, or having an extremely short list of life-sustaining options after ruining themselves by not trying in school and getting Fs across the board.
Some of them may realize eventually that it's a good idea to walk 50 meters to get into the warm house, but by then, they may have already limited their options. They may have gotten frostbitten by being out in the cold for so long, and there goes a hand.
It just kills me.
Anyway: this week, we were working on writing our Epic of Gilgamesh essays. We gave the kids a work day on Thursday; in preparation for it, they were supposed to bring in a hand-written rough draft. As we guessed, only about 25% of our classes brought in a completed rough-draft, but we sent those kids to the library to work on typing them up. The rest, we let work on the drafts in class. One sophomore, Jeremiah, didn't have anything done, but he wanted to go to the library anyway. (To type up... what?) Viola let him go though, and I tagged along with the typing crew to supervise.
In the library, Jeremiah asked in his typically detached way, "So what are we supposed to write about?"
We have been talking about this assignment for the last several days. I tried to keep from sighing. "Well, did you get the paper about the assignment?" I asked.
He shrugged, and looked at a far distant point. I asked the boy sitting next to him if we could borrow his paper with the essay prompts.
"Here Jeremiah. So here are the different prompts-- pick out one that catches your interest--"
"Okay." He glanced at them. "Okay." And then he started typing.
"Oh... You know what you're going to do...? Okay. Um... great!"
I left him, not really thinking about what he intended to come up with after his disinterested glance at the paper.
At the end of the class, he raised his hand. "Okay, I'm done."
"Seriously??" I asked. He scrolled down on the computer screen, and showed me that he had the required amount. "Wow, great! Go ahead and print it off."
With his signature air of disinterest, he printed it off and handed it to me without making eye contact, then sauntered out the door.
I glanced over the first paragraph and was dumbfounded. It was GREAT. There were some fragments, and he didn't have a clear thesis statement, but his command of language was outstanding-- he used clever, unique descriptors, showed real wit and humor, and expressed himself elegantly. I SAW how quickly he had cranked that out-- to see him just bust out something of this caliber was incredible! And this kid is failing our class!
Yesterday, he came into class early and sat down. I went over to him with his paper.
"Jeremiah." I paused. "This... blew me away."
His eyes darted over at me to see if I was serious. "I'm not kidding," I told him. "There's some organizational work needed, but your grasp of language is outstanding-- there's humor here, your word choice is fantastic... I mean, Jeremiah, this is an area where you are GIFTED. You should be ACING this class, not failing it-- I mean you could do this professionally, the raw talent is there! You need to hone it now, and I want you to start bringing me your stuff so that I can edit it and help you get there... But dang Jeremiah. You're seriously talented."
As I was talking to him, he kept trying not to smile, and his TEETH were showing-- this is a kid that normally looks SO checked out! But he was grinning in spite of himself, and it felt so good to tell him that I believed in him.
I told Viola about our conversation and she said, "They love being told that they're talented. What they don't love is being told that they have to do work..."
That's true-- and it's very possible that Jeremiah is going to come in Monday morning with nothing. But now that I KNOW what he can do, I'm going to keep hounding him all year-- I'm going to chase him with that winter coat if I have to.
---------------
Amusing moment with "Gal Pal":
(Out in the hall)
"So Grace, how come you seem to be having trouble focusing?"
"Well-- it's just my friend is being so ANNOYING right now, and it's just like really GETTING to me... Like, I told her that I liked this GUY...And then, like RIGHT AFTER, she said that SHE liked him... And then she told me she would like DROP ME for him... And like, I knew that she talked about people behind their backs but then I heard stuff that she'd said about ME... And so it's just like so annoying, and it's really making me mad, and I just can't focus on the essay..."
"Oh man... I know that stuff can be tough. Well-- sometimes when I'm really dealing with personal stuff, I just take ten minutes to sort of PURGE it by either journaling about it, or sometimes I'll call a friend... Now, we're in school, so you can't call someone, but why don't you just write down some of your thoughts for about ten minutes and get it out... And then see if you can come back to the essay. Okay?"
(Nodding.)
I'm really sort of loving working with teenagers. :) Even if they drive me crazy. That's... what are we at, now? Week 5? We'll call it Week 5. By the way-- in case any of you had wondered-- all the kids' names have been changed in these blogs.
Back to the teaching stories then. Shall we?
The big thing this week was feeling frustrated about the kiddos just NOT TRYING. I realized when entering grades that at least a third of our kids are failing, and it just killed me. We give these kids all kinds of work time, we're super clear on what they have due and what their homework is, and we make ourselves available before and after school for help if they need it. The kids that are failing are failing because they're just NOT doing their work. Some of them are seriously intelligent too-- but they slack off during work time, don't show up for class, whatever-- and don't get their stuff in.
I told Viola I felt like we were watching these kids stand outside in a blizzard. We holler out to them, "Hey! Come on in! It's really warm in here, there's a fire, and a great spread on the table! Hot chocolate too! Come on in!"
They shrug and shuffle their feet on the snowy ground. "Meh. It's too far of a walk."
So we go out to them.
"Well, here then, take this coat-- I hate seeing you so cold, this will warm you up a little."
They gaze at some point in the distance and seem to ignore us altogether. "Naaah......Don't feel like putting it on."
Exasperated now, we try again: "Well take some SOUP anyway, that should do something to help keep you warm. Come on, all you have to do is lift the spoon to your mouth and swallow."
But they don't, they're not interested. So they do nothing to help themselves, and they freeze in the blizzard, and die.
Dying in the blizzard is the real-life equivalent of flunking out, or having an extremely short list of life-sustaining options after ruining themselves by not trying in school and getting Fs across the board.
Some of them may realize eventually that it's a good idea to walk 50 meters to get into the warm house, but by then, they may have already limited their options. They may have gotten frostbitten by being out in the cold for so long, and there goes a hand.
It just kills me.
Anyway: this week, we were working on writing our Epic of Gilgamesh essays. We gave the kids a work day on Thursday; in preparation for it, they were supposed to bring in a hand-written rough draft. As we guessed, only about 25% of our classes brought in a completed rough-draft, but we sent those kids to the library to work on typing them up. The rest, we let work on the drafts in class. One sophomore, Jeremiah, didn't have anything done, but he wanted to go to the library anyway. (To type up... what?) Viola let him go though, and I tagged along with the typing crew to supervise.
In the library, Jeremiah asked in his typically detached way, "So what are we supposed to write about?"
We have been talking about this assignment for the last several days. I tried to keep from sighing. "Well, did you get the paper about the assignment?" I asked.
He shrugged, and looked at a far distant point. I asked the boy sitting next to him if we could borrow his paper with the essay prompts.
"Here Jeremiah. So here are the different prompts-- pick out one that catches your interest--"
"Okay." He glanced at them. "Okay." And then he started typing.
"Oh... You know what you're going to do...? Okay. Um... great!"
I left him, not really thinking about what he intended to come up with after his disinterested glance at the paper.
At the end of the class, he raised his hand. "Okay, I'm done."
"Seriously??" I asked. He scrolled down on the computer screen, and showed me that he had the required amount. "Wow, great! Go ahead and print it off."
With his signature air of disinterest, he printed it off and handed it to me without making eye contact, then sauntered out the door.
I glanced over the first paragraph and was dumbfounded. It was GREAT. There were some fragments, and he didn't have a clear thesis statement, but his command of language was outstanding-- he used clever, unique descriptors, showed real wit and humor, and expressed himself elegantly. I SAW how quickly he had cranked that out-- to see him just bust out something of this caliber was incredible! And this kid is failing our class!
Yesterday, he came into class early and sat down. I went over to him with his paper.
"Jeremiah." I paused. "This... blew me away."
His eyes darted over at me to see if I was serious. "I'm not kidding," I told him. "There's some organizational work needed, but your grasp of language is outstanding-- there's humor here, your word choice is fantastic... I mean, Jeremiah, this is an area where you are GIFTED. You should be ACING this class, not failing it-- I mean you could do this professionally, the raw talent is there! You need to hone it now, and I want you to start bringing me your stuff so that I can edit it and help you get there... But dang Jeremiah. You're seriously talented."
As I was talking to him, he kept trying not to smile, and his TEETH were showing-- this is a kid that normally looks SO checked out! But he was grinning in spite of himself, and it felt so good to tell him that I believed in him.
I told Viola about our conversation and she said, "They love being told that they're talented. What they don't love is being told that they have to do work..."
That's true-- and it's very possible that Jeremiah is going to come in Monday morning with nothing. But now that I KNOW what he can do, I'm going to keep hounding him all year-- I'm going to chase him with that winter coat if I have to.
---------------
Amusing moment with "Gal Pal":
(Out in the hall)
"So Grace, how come you seem to be having trouble focusing?"
"Well-- it's just my friend is being so ANNOYING right now, and it's just like really GETTING to me... Like, I told her that I liked this GUY...And then, like RIGHT AFTER, she said that SHE liked him... And then she told me she would like DROP ME for him... And like, I knew that she talked about people behind their backs but then I heard stuff that she'd said about ME... And so it's just like so annoying, and it's really making me mad, and I just can't focus on the essay..."
"Oh man... I know that stuff can be tough. Well-- sometimes when I'm really dealing with personal stuff, I just take ten minutes to sort of PURGE it by either journaling about it, or sometimes I'll call a friend... Now, we're in school, so you can't call someone, but why don't you just write down some of your thoughts for about ten minutes and get it out... And then see if you can come back to the essay. Okay?"
(Nodding.)
I'm really sort of loving working with teenagers. :) Even if they drive me crazy. That's... what are we at, now? Week 5? We'll call it Week 5. By the way-- in case any of you had wondered-- all the kids' names have been changed in these blogs.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Run-Ons, Fragments, and Footsie
This blog is a deviation from paper grading. I've managed to get two done in the last two hours. Guys... they're SO bad. I mean, I know these kids are still learning to write, so that's fine-- but correcting them is just this insurMOUNTable task. No really-- look at this one climactic "sentence":
"then he found his mother she had a sword through her stomach but she was still alive but barly Nicky asked her "why am i able to kill a demon" she replied and said "because you are half human half demon, and your father is a demon and he lives in the castle in the sky in the outer rulem, Nicky you need to find him to learn to use your powers for good to get the villages crystal back."
That's fine to tackle as a sentence-- but papers and papers of this? I just took a look at my third paper-- "As I was boring in my room I thought about this news that I just got from my mom. It's really annoying me I cant sleep and even think about some think else." ...And I couldn't handle another one. That's only my THIRD! I'm going to need to figure out some method of tackling these that doesn't take 45 minutes apiece. Viola told me to use a timer. "No more than 15 minutes! Focus on SPEED for now! You'll burn yourself out if you take 45 minutes each." New on the grocery list: a stop watch, a red pen, and Advil for the pain of banging my head against the table.
The good news is: I'm sick. So I'll have all day tomorrow to groan over them while I drink hot tea in my sweats.
Other news from the classroom. Remember Isaac? Of the hostering the gun? Did I mention that he and his little gal pal shamelessly play footsie all through class? They sit at the front table, and I typically sit in a chair just a few feet in front of them. Now... THEY can't see underneath their desks, so maybe they assume that nobody else can, but my chair gives me PRIME spectator viewing. Today I watched the whole drama unfold: Gal Pal sneaks over her feet to Isaac's. Isaac enjoys it briefly then catches my evil eye and tries to discreetly withdraw his feet. Gal Pal sinks further beneath her desk to reach Isaac's slightly withdrawn feet. Gal Pal totally is rubbing Isaac's leg up and down! I walk over and whisper to Gal Pal, "Please sit up, Grace." Gal Pal withdraws her feet. Isaac is now lonely and creeps his feet back towards Gal Pal. More footsie-ing occurs. Finally, the big guy at the end of the table pushes his legs forward in between the two. THANK YOU JAMES.
After class, I pulled Gal Pal over first and had her sit in my chair. "Do you see what a great view I have of what goes on underneath the desks? ...If it's this distracting for me, I have to imagine it's distracting for the two of you. Let's maybe try to keep that to a minimum, yeah?" Then pulled Isaac over and told him the same thing.
"I feel like we've had this conversation before," he said. "I'm totally having deja vu right now."
"Probably because we HAVE had this conversation before," I retorted.
Oh-- and did I mention that Gal Pal has a boyfriend?? Who is NOT her footsie friend? Scandalous.
Doctors have soap opera dramas. So do lawyers and politicians. For goodness sakes, the most amazing show on television turns the mundane events of a paper distribution company into side-splitting hilarity. So where is the big drama around teachers and their students? I'm feeling like some Hollywood producer is missing out on some AMAZING comedic/dramatic potential by not harvesting the daily events of our kind...
"then he found his mother she had a sword through her stomach but she was still alive but barly Nicky asked her "why am i able to kill a demon" she replied and said "because you are half human half demon, and your father is a demon and he lives in the castle in the sky in the outer rulem, Nicky you need to find him to learn to use your powers for good to get the villages crystal back."
That's fine to tackle as a sentence-- but papers and papers of this? I just took a look at my third paper-- "As I was boring in my room I thought about this news that I just got from my mom. It's really annoying me I cant sleep and even think about some think else." ...And I couldn't handle another one. That's only my THIRD! I'm going to need to figure out some method of tackling these that doesn't take 45 minutes apiece. Viola told me to use a timer. "No more than 15 minutes! Focus on SPEED for now! You'll burn yourself out if you take 45 minutes each." New on the grocery list: a stop watch, a red pen, and Advil for the pain of banging my head against the table.
The good news is: I'm sick. So I'll have all day tomorrow to groan over them while I drink hot tea in my sweats.
Other news from the classroom. Remember Isaac? Of the hostering the gun? Did I mention that he and his little gal pal shamelessly play footsie all through class? They sit at the front table, and I typically sit in a chair just a few feet in front of them. Now... THEY can't see underneath their desks, so maybe they assume that nobody else can, but my chair gives me PRIME spectator viewing. Today I watched the whole drama unfold: Gal Pal sneaks over her feet to Isaac's. Isaac enjoys it briefly then catches my evil eye and tries to discreetly withdraw his feet. Gal Pal sinks further beneath her desk to reach Isaac's slightly withdrawn feet. Gal Pal totally is rubbing Isaac's leg up and down! I walk over and whisper to Gal Pal, "Please sit up, Grace." Gal Pal withdraws her feet. Isaac is now lonely and creeps his feet back towards Gal Pal. More footsie-ing occurs. Finally, the big guy at the end of the table pushes his legs forward in between the two. THANK YOU JAMES.
After class, I pulled Gal Pal over first and had her sit in my chair. "Do you see what a great view I have of what goes on underneath the desks? ...If it's this distracting for me, I have to imagine it's distracting for the two of you. Let's maybe try to keep that to a minimum, yeah?" Then pulled Isaac over and told him the same thing.
"I feel like we've had this conversation before," he said. "I'm totally having deja vu right now."
"Probably because we HAVE had this conversation before," I retorted.
Oh-- and did I mention that Gal Pal has a boyfriend?? Who is NOT her footsie friend? Scandalous.
Doctors have soap opera dramas. So do lawyers and politicians. For goodness sakes, the most amazing show on television turns the mundane events of a paper distribution company into side-splitting hilarity. So where is the big drama around teachers and their students? I'm feeling like some Hollywood producer is missing out on some AMAZING comedic/dramatic potential by not harvesting the daily events of our kind...
Okay Phew.
I'm afraid this blog is turning into, "So guess what I did TODAY...?" Which is what I, blog snob, have told myself I shall do my utmost to avoid-- because who wants to read about the mundane of the every day? Luckily, my life is the very definition of thrilling. In fact, I'm pretty sure it rivals Jack Bauer's.
Okay, not really, but I'm telling you about my day regardless.
Today started out pretty same ol,' with the minor exception-bonus of starting The Epic of Gilgamesh, our first focused text. The Epic of Gilgamesh is the oldest extant literary text EVER IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD (but really, in the whole history of the world), written by folks just one civilized step past the cave men. In keeping with our hero theme, Gilgamesh is a king that sets out on a journey to make a name for himself and create an everlasting legacy. In the segment we read today, he joins with a companion, Enkidu, to battle the Cedar Forest Guardian, who is this gnarly hideous scary demon ogre thing, called Humbaba. And of course in the meantime, there's lots of drama and squabbling amongst the gods about what the heroes are doing. Gilgamesh and his compadres were, to the Babylonians, what Harry Potter and his Hogwartsians are to us-- this was a MAJOR Mesopotamian hit, and was translated into a number of ancient languages. If they had been able to make Gilgamesh action figures... They probably would have.
Sorry-- this is maybe boring. I think it's cool, but I get geeky about stories.
Anyway-- I was excited to finally start our first work of literature because we'd been doing mostly set-up with the Hero stuff and grammar work. Viola taught the first three periods (we have first period prep, so she taught 2nd, 3rd, and 4th), but after her third "performance," she was exhausted. Our shortage of textbooks necessitates that we read Gilgamesh aloud in class, and in an effort to keep the kids interested, she had been reading it theatrically and providing lots of supplemental information. But after our fourth period, she was ready for a break. "Can you do it?" she asked me. "Do you think you remember the additional points I was making?"
"Yes! Definitely! And if I forget, just interrupt me," I said.
"Okay. Will do."
Goodygoodygoody.
"And make sure you do the grunting part, when Humbaba comes out of his house-- the kids like that."
"For sure!" Thinking to myself, "Oh you will not even be able to HANDLE the theatrics that will explode into this classroom!" I love telling stories. LOVE. IT. And I had been itching to give the lesson a shot.
Goodygoody.
She gave the intro. I watched Isaac and his gal pal play footsie under the table. I couldn't mime "Holster the footsie," so instead I just stood RIGHT beside them and raised my eyebrows. Finally it was my turn to launch into the taaaaale.
It was so. Much. FUN.
I seriously had a BLAST-- and the kids were so engaged!! And this is FIFTH PERIOD! The period that wouldn't give me the time of day the first week-- the period with a lot of the tougher kids! But I got really into telling the story, and I made comparisons to pop culture that they would understand, and I did different voices, and asked them lots of questions to make sure that they were with me, and they were getting INTO IT!
"So here comes Humbaba, HUH HUH HUH, and he's this NAAAASTY ogre, with fangs, and a mane, and this crazy spooky eye that will kill people just by LOOKING at them!"
"Like Cyclops!"
"Yes! Thomas, great, just like Cyclops! And Gilgamesh-- who we JUST heard bragging about himself, and how great he is, and how it wasn't his day to die, and how he was totally going to take down this demon-- runs away! He freaks out! And he runs away behind a tree!"
(Students laugh-- they laughed!!)
"And so then ENKIDU has to go convince him to fight after all..."
...
"And so Gilgamesh strikes! With the sword! On the giant's NECK! Bam, bam, and then Enkidu, bam, bam! Like they're cutting down a cedar tree! And then Humbaba faaaaalls, and the whole forest, for two leagues away, SHAKES. And-- I don't know if that's because the earth was mourning their guardian, and like, trembling in grief--"
"Or if it's cause he's so FAT."
"Right, Peter! Or if it's because Humbaba was so huge!"
...
"So here Gilgamesh comes, dragging this mammoth bloody head of Humbaba to the gods, and what do you think he's waiting for?"
"Gifts!"
"Money!"
"A reward!"
"Fame!"
"Yes! Good you guys, he's probably wanting all those things, he wants RECOGNITION. But-- he's bringing the head to the God of the Earth... And this is the guardian of the forest that he just killed. What do you think the God of the Earth was thinking when Gilgamesh killed the Guardian of the Forest??"
"Oh no he didn't."
"Yes, Janvier, that's EXACTLY the sentiment-- no he didn't... So do you think the gods blessed him or cursed him?"
"They CURSED him."
"They definitely did: [reading from text.] BUT-- who do you think, between Gilgamesh and Enkidu they're going to punish?"
"Um.... Gilgamesh?"
"Tell me why you think so, Tomas."
"Because... he was the one that convinced Enkidu to do it all in the first place, it was his idea."
"You're right, it was-- I think it makes more sense for Gilgamesh to get the punishment too, but who can give an argument for Enkidu? Evan?"
"Well, Gilgamesh is part god, so I think they would punish Enkidu before Gilgamesh, because Enkidu is human."
"RIGHT! And that's exactly what happens-- Gilgamesh is in the country club, right? He's part of this elite crowd, and they can't kill HIM without starting a massive god war. So who takes the fall?"
(Enkidu!)
"What?? That's not fair! It wasn't his fault!"
"Agreed Thomas, but he's the scapegoat. Does anyone know how the term scape goat came into being...?"
And then I told them about the SCAPEGOAT, and they were INTO it, and I just couldn't believe how ENGAGED they were (and there were obviously some exceptions), but for the most part they were INTO it, and I was having so much fun!!!
Afterwards, I had this huge adrenaline rush, and Viola told me that I did great, and I just remembered why I'm so excited about this profession after all, even with ridiculous things like PICTURE DAY, and it just made me so happy.
So yay. :)
Okay, not really, but I'm telling you about my day regardless.
Today started out pretty same ol,' with the minor exception-bonus of starting The Epic of Gilgamesh, our first focused text. The Epic of Gilgamesh is the oldest extant literary text EVER IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD (but really, in the whole history of the world), written by folks just one civilized step past the cave men. In keeping with our hero theme, Gilgamesh is a king that sets out on a journey to make a name for himself and create an everlasting legacy. In the segment we read today, he joins with a companion, Enkidu, to battle the Cedar Forest Guardian, who is this gnarly hideous scary demon ogre thing, called Humbaba. And of course in the meantime, there's lots of drama and squabbling amongst the gods about what the heroes are doing. Gilgamesh and his compadres were, to the Babylonians, what Harry Potter and his Hogwartsians are to us-- this was a MAJOR Mesopotamian hit, and was translated into a number of ancient languages. If they had been able to make Gilgamesh action figures... They probably would have.
Sorry-- this is maybe boring. I think it's cool, but I get geeky about stories.
Anyway-- I was excited to finally start our first work of literature because we'd been doing mostly set-up with the Hero stuff and grammar work. Viola taught the first three periods (we have first period prep, so she taught 2nd, 3rd, and 4th), but after her third "performance," she was exhausted. Our shortage of textbooks necessitates that we read Gilgamesh aloud in class, and in an effort to keep the kids interested, she had been reading it theatrically and providing lots of supplemental information. But after our fourth period, she was ready for a break. "Can you do it?" she asked me. "Do you think you remember the additional points I was making?"
"Yes! Definitely! And if I forget, just interrupt me," I said.
"Okay. Will do."
Goodygoodygoody.
"And make sure you do the grunting part, when Humbaba comes out of his house-- the kids like that."
"For sure!" Thinking to myself, "Oh you will not even be able to HANDLE the theatrics that will explode into this classroom!" I love telling stories. LOVE. IT. And I had been itching to give the lesson a shot.
Goodygoody.
She gave the intro. I watched Isaac and his gal pal play footsie under the table. I couldn't mime "Holster the footsie," so instead I just stood RIGHT beside them and raised my eyebrows. Finally it was my turn to launch into the taaaaale.
It was so. Much. FUN.
I seriously had a BLAST-- and the kids were so engaged!! And this is FIFTH PERIOD! The period that wouldn't give me the time of day the first week-- the period with a lot of the tougher kids! But I got really into telling the story, and I made comparisons to pop culture that they would understand, and I did different voices, and asked them lots of questions to make sure that they were with me, and they were getting INTO IT!
"So here comes Humbaba, HUH HUH HUH, and he's this NAAAASTY ogre, with fangs, and a mane, and this crazy spooky eye that will kill people just by LOOKING at them!"
"Like Cyclops!"
"Yes! Thomas, great, just like Cyclops! And Gilgamesh-- who we JUST heard bragging about himself, and how great he is, and how it wasn't his day to die, and how he was totally going to take down this demon-- runs away! He freaks out! And he runs away behind a tree!"
(Students laugh-- they laughed!!)
"And so then ENKIDU has to go convince him to fight after all..."
...
"And so Gilgamesh strikes! With the sword! On the giant's NECK! Bam, bam, and then Enkidu, bam, bam! Like they're cutting down a cedar tree! And then Humbaba faaaaalls, and the whole forest, for two leagues away, SHAKES. And-- I don't know if that's because the earth was mourning their guardian, and like, trembling in grief--"
"Or if it's cause he's so FAT."
"Right, Peter! Or if it's because Humbaba was so huge!"
...
"So here Gilgamesh comes, dragging this mammoth bloody head of Humbaba to the gods, and what do you think he's waiting for?"
"Gifts!"
"Money!"
"A reward!"
"Fame!"
"Yes! Good you guys, he's probably wanting all those things, he wants RECOGNITION. But-- he's bringing the head to the God of the Earth... And this is the guardian of the forest that he just killed. What do you think the God of the Earth was thinking when Gilgamesh killed the Guardian of the Forest??"
"Oh no he didn't."
"Yes, Janvier, that's EXACTLY the sentiment-- no he didn't... So do you think the gods blessed him or cursed him?"
"They CURSED him."
"They definitely did: [reading from text.] BUT-- who do you think, between Gilgamesh and Enkidu they're going to punish?"
"Um.... Gilgamesh?"
"Tell me why you think so, Tomas."
"Because... he was the one that convinced Enkidu to do it all in the first place, it was his idea."
"You're right, it was-- I think it makes more sense for Gilgamesh to get the punishment too, but who can give an argument for Enkidu? Evan?"
"Well, Gilgamesh is part god, so I think they would punish Enkidu before Gilgamesh, because Enkidu is human."
"RIGHT! And that's exactly what happens-- Gilgamesh is in the country club, right? He's part of this elite crowd, and they can't kill HIM without starting a massive god war. So who takes the fall?"
(Enkidu!)
"What?? That's not fair! It wasn't his fault!"
"Agreed Thomas, but he's the scapegoat. Does anyone know how the term scape goat came into being...?"
And then I told them about the SCAPEGOAT, and they were INTO it, and I just couldn't believe how ENGAGED they were (and there were obviously some exceptions), but for the most part they were INTO it, and I was having so much fun!!!
Afterwards, I had this huge adrenaline rush, and Viola told me that I did great, and I just remembered why I'm so excited about this profession after all, even with ridiculous things like PICTURE DAY, and it just made me so happy.
So yay. :)
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
You Know It's Been a Rough Day When....
... The first thing you do on your way home is buy a bottle of wine, and a tub of ice cream.
"Barefoot" Pinot Grigio, and a gallon of Java Chip, to be exact.
And yes. Yes, it was. It was a ROUGH DAY. Today, in fact, wins the award for "worst day so far."
It started so innocently-- like one of those summer days that begins deceptively warm and muggy, only to usher in a mammoth thunderstorm. Today, the deceptive warmth carried the seemingly benign title of "Picture Day."
Picture Day. What a nice thing. Taking pictures. Students in cute outfits. Girls with curled hair. Such a nice thing.
Except when it turns the day into HELL.
Since I'm complaining, I'll include all the little details, starting with the heat. I remembered last night that Picture Day was today. "Whaddam'I gonna wearrrr?"" I planned a cute outfit, banking on the weatherman's assurance that today would be cooler. I picked a light pink sweater, and a black pencil skirt: classy, simple, professional, stylish. But-- BUT: I woke up, and found weather reports that predicted high 70's, low 80's. My light sweater would be sweltering. I had to plan something else. I planned something else. And my last ditch effort included high-heels that were especially high. "Meh, they'll do. I'll survive," I thought. Mistake, mistake, stupid mistake.
Storm cloud #1.
Viola called me at 8:15. "Greta!! I overslept!! I'm coming!!" By the time she got to school, she was stressed and grouchy.
Storm cloud #2.
"How are we going to deal with this picture day thing...??" she thought aloud. "I HATE picture day-- there's no organized way to do it. It screws up class no matter what, and the kids milk their time out of class for all its worth." See, today is block day, which means our normal 50 minute classes are turned into 90 minute classes. This requires modifications in and of itself. Furthermore, our classes are mixed 9th and 10th graders-- and they had to go down to the auditorium to take pictures separately. Picture day required the following migrations:
1.) Entire class goes down to the auditorium to take individual pictures.
2.) Entire class trickles back to classroom, where the objective is to learn things.
3.) Ninth graders go down to take their class photo.
4.) Teachers try to help the tenth graders learn things.
5.) Ninth graders come back to class.
6.) Tenth graders go down to take their class photo.
7.) Teachers try to help the ninth graders learn things.
8.) Tenth graders come back to class.
9.) Teachers make a last ditch effort to help the class learn things before they all bolt at the bell.
Does this sound chaotic? It was: absolute chaos. There was a schedule initially, somewhere. But as things got progressively more disorganized, the schedule was thrown out and the cue to go down to the auditorium became largely based on personal initiative.
Storm cloud-- BIG, DARK storm cloud, #3.
And: Picture Day occurred with fifth period.
That'll be #4.
The going back-and-forth completely dissolved the class, and it wasn't helped by the photographers' lack of schedule and organization. The students dawdled in the halls-- we would have been helped by a couple of Australian Shepherds, corralling them back to our room. Viola was running back and forth, doing her best to crack the whip, leaving me at times alone with the class, at times, running around the school tracking students down. ALSO: our plan for class-- peer editing essays-- was largely ruined when half the students showed up without a draft to edit. SOME of the students showed up waving a thumb drive: "It's on here! It's written, it's just on here!" They know they're supposed to have it printed by the time they come to class, but we made a concession anyway by letting three girls go next door to print their papers. After five minutes, Viola asked me to go check on them.
The class was locked. The room was empty. The girls were nowhere to be found.
I reported this to Viola. "What?? I'm going to read them the riot act. Can you go find them?? I'm only asking because I know you don't want to be in the class..." Well, THAT was true. I walked all over the school-- each step a stab of pain, thanks to my stupid heels, and looked for the girls. I found one.
"Relia, get back to class."
I found a second. "Diana, guess what I've been doing for the last five minutes? Looking for you. Get back to class."
She protested, and then fell apart, crying. "I just (sob) got a referral! (sob) Because this guy (sob) was leaning back in a chair! (sob) And I tried to make him sit up in the chair (sob), and instead he fell out! (sob) And a teacher said (sob) that I was being AGGRESSIVE!"
I took a deep breath and tried to calm her. I chided myself inwardly for being such a hard-ass. Where was the empathy I had promised myself I would show the students? The third missing girl showed up, and I tried to explain to both of them why we couldn't just have them wandering.
I took the non-referral girl back to class, and Viola met us in the hallway, giving the girl, as predicted, the riot act. Two boys in a different period scooted across the hallway and darted guilty glances at me, hiding behind a doorway. When Viola and I walked back into class, I called, "Stephen! Kyle! Where are you two supposed to be right now?" They both darted back into their History class. Seriously-- this is how the whole day was, it was just NUTS.
Viola left me in the class again to go crack the whip down by the photographers, and I was alone with fifth. One of the girls began to leave. "Ellen, where are you going?"
"I'm not feeling well, I need to go to the bathroom."
"Well, get a pass, and I'll sign it." She ignored me and left. I rolled my eyes in exasperation. The front table snickered. Another group of students migrated back into the classroom.
"Okay guys, take a seat and get out your drafts." They continued chatting and milling around the class.
"Guy, take a seat and get out your drafts." Chatting. Milling.
"You should be quiet and working on your drafts." Chatting. Milling.
That's when I lost it. It flew out of me before I could stop it, completely unbidden and completely huge.
QUIET!!!!
They all froze, and looked at me, eyes wide. Thank God for that, because if they hadn't-- I would have been absolutely up the creek. This is the cardinal rule of classroom management: you NEVER, EVER, EVER lose your cool. You NEVER yell. Because once you're on the ropes, once you've played the last trump card-- if they still don't give you their attention at that point, you're doomed. You've lost the battle. Your ship has gone under, and your coffin is nailed shut.
THIS is what I wanted to talk with Viola about, at the end of the day-- this, more than the hurting feet, the heat, the chaos of picture day-- was what warranted the wine and Java Chip. "How did I become this anti-teacher??" I asked her. "I broke every rule I'd made for myself-- I ordered the students around, instead of showing them that they could expect respect from me. I yelled in class, instead of keeping my cool. Things got chaotic, and my first instinctual response was the total opposite of what I've told myself I'll do. I LOST it."
We talked about it, and she was supportive. "Understand Greta, that, as the intern, you basically have a big target on your forehead." Apparently this is normal-- her previous interns went through the same thing. "Matt experienced this!" she told me. "And he's a GUY! He's a muscley GUY! And HE would tell me, 'Dang Viola, they showed me absolutely no respect today.' That's just what's going to happen this year."
"So-- but honestly Viola-- how am I going to keep them under control when I start teaching??"
We discussed it, and she gave me some good advice... Her management style is very authoritarian, and she admitted that-- but her personality is big enough to balance swinging the hammer with joking around. "You're a much gentler personality," she said, "And I don't know if it's a good idea to try doing things exactly the way I'm doing them, because, as you discovered today, that sets you on edge." I do have a major backbone, which I'm not even sure Viola's experienced yet-- my petite stature and blonde hair typically get people assuming I can't be tough. In fact, people are always surprised when I say I'm doing high-school, they always think a girl like me would do elementary, at first. But damn it, I DO have a backbone, and I DO get feisty, and I DO know how to be an effective leader. But... I also come across soft at first. Somehow, Viola told me, I'll need to figure out a management style that works with those different parts of my personality.
Anyway... I'll figure it out eventually, I know. But on Picture Day? Well, that was doomed from the beginning. And until I get it all together?
I'm pouring another glass.
"Barefoot" Pinot Grigio, and a gallon of Java Chip, to be exact.
And yes. Yes, it was. It was a ROUGH DAY. Today, in fact, wins the award for "worst day so far."
It started so innocently-- like one of those summer days that begins deceptively warm and muggy, only to usher in a mammoth thunderstorm. Today, the deceptive warmth carried the seemingly benign title of "Picture Day."
Picture Day. What a nice thing. Taking pictures. Students in cute outfits. Girls with curled hair. Such a nice thing.
Except when it turns the day into HELL.
Since I'm complaining, I'll include all the little details, starting with the heat. I remembered last night that Picture Day was today. "Whaddam'I gonna wearrrr?"" I planned a cute outfit, banking on the weatherman's assurance that today would be cooler. I picked a light pink sweater, and a black pencil skirt: classy, simple, professional, stylish. But-- BUT: I woke up, and found weather reports that predicted high 70's, low 80's. My light sweater would be sweltering. I had to plan something else. I planned something else. And my last ditch effort included high-heels that were especially high. "Meh, they'll do. I'll survive," I thought. Mistake, mistake, stupid mistake.
Storm cloud #1.
Viola called me at 8:15. "Greta!! I overslept!! I'm coming!!" By the time she got to school, she was stressed and grouchy.
Storm cloud #2.
"How are we going to deal with this picture day thing...??" she thought aloud. "I HATE picture day-- there's no organized way to do it. It screws up class no matter what, and the kids milk their time out of class for all its worth." See, today is block day, which means our normal 50 minute classes are turned into 90 minute classes. This requires modifications in and of itself. Furthermore, our classes are mixed 9th and 10th graders-- and they had to go down to the auditorium to take pictures separately. Picture day required the following migrations:
1.) Entire class goes down to the auditorium to take individual pictures.
2.) Entire class trickles back to classroom, where the objective is to learn things.
3.) Ninth graders go down to take their class photo.
4.) Teachers try to help the tenth graders learn things.
5.) Ninth graders come back to class.
6.) Tenth graders go down to take their class photo.
7.) Teachers try to help the ninth graders learn things.
8.) Tenth graders come back to class.
9.) Teachers make a last ditch effort to help the class learn things before they all bolt at the bell.
Does this sound chaotic? It was: absolute chaos. There was a schedule initially, somewhere. But as things got progressively more disorganized, the schedule was thrown out and the cue to go down to the auditorium became largely based on personal initiative.
Storm cloud-- BIG, DARK storm cloud, #3.
And: Picture Day occurred with fifth period.
That'll be #4.
The going back-and-forth completely dissolved the class, and it wasn't helped by the photographers' lack of schedule and organization. The students dawdled in the halls-- we would have been helped by a couple of Australian Shepherds, corralling them back to our room. Viola was running back and forth, doing her best to crack the whip, leaving me at times alone with the class, at times, running around the school tracking students down. ALSO: our plan for class-- peer editing essays-- was largely ruined when half the students showed up without a draft to edit. SOME of the students showed up waving a thumb drive: "It's on here! It's written, it's just on here!" They know they're supposed to have it printed by the time they come to class, but we made a concession anyway by letting three girls go next door to print their papers. After five minutes, Viola asked me to go check on them.
The class was locked. The room was empty. The girls were nowhere to be found.
I reported this to Viola. "What?? I'm going to read them the riot act. Can you go find them?? I'm only asking because I know you don't want to be in the class..." Well, THAT was true. I walked all over the school-- each step a stab of pain, thanks to my stupid heels, and looked for the girls. I found one.
"Relia, get back to class."
I found a second. "Diana, guess what I've been doing for the last five minutes? Looking for you. Get back to class."
She protested, and then fell apart, crying. "I just (sob) got a referral! (sob) Because this guy (sob) was leaning back in a chair! (sob) And I tried to make him sit up in the chair (sob), and instead he fell out! (sob) And a teacher said (sob) that I was being AGGRESSIVE!"
I took a deep breath and tried to calm her. I chided myself inwardly for being such a hard-ass. Where was the empathy I had promised myself I would show the students? The third missing girl showed up, and I tried to explain to both of them why we couldn't just have them wandering.
I took the non-referral girl back to class, and Viola met us in the hallway, giving the girl, as predicted, the riot act. Two boys in a different period scooted across the hallway and darted guilty glances at me, hiding behind a doorway. When Viola and I walked back into class, I called, "Stephen! Kyle! Where are you two supposed to be right now?" They both darted back into their History class. Seriously-- this is how the whole day was, it was just NUTS.
Viola left me in the class again to go crack the whip down by the photographers, and I was alone with fifth. One of the girls began to leave. "Ellen, where are you going?"
"I'm not feeling well, I need to go to the bathroom."
"Well, get a pass, and I'll sign it." She ignored me and left. I rolled my eyes in exasperation. The front table snickered. Another group of students migrated back into the classroom.
"Okay guys, take a seat and get out your drafts." They continued chatting and milling around the class.
"Guy, take a seat and get out your drafts." Chatting. Milling.
"You should be quiet and working on your drafts." Chatting. Milling.
That's when I lost it. It flew out of me before I could stop it, completely unbidden and completely huge.
QUIET!!!!
They all froze, and looked at me, eyes wide. Thank God for that, because if they hadn't-- I would have been absolutely up the creek. This is the cardinal rule of classroom management: you NEVER, EVER, EVER lose your cool. You NEVER yell. Because once you're on the ropes, once you've played the last trump card-- if they still don't give you their attention at that point, you're doomed. You've lost the battle. Your ship has gone under, and your coffin is nailed shut.
THIS is what I wanted to talk with Viola about, at the end of the day-- this, more than the hurting feet, the heat, the chaos of picture day-- was what warranted the wine and Java Chip. "How did I become this anti-teacher??" I asked her. "I broke every rule I'd made for myself-- I ordered the students around, instead of showing them that they could expect respect from me. I yelled in class, instead of keeping my cool. Things got chaotic, and my first instinctual response was the total opposite of what I've told myself I'll do. I LOST it."
We talked about it, and she was supportive. "Understand Greta, that, as the intern, you basically have a big target on your forehead." Apparently this is normal-- her previous interns went through the same thing. "Matt experienced this!" she told me. "And he's a GUY! He's a muscley GUY! And HE would tell me, 'Dang Viola, they showed me absolutely no respect today.' That's just what's going to happen this year."
"So-- but honestly Viola-- how am I going to keep them under control when I start teaching??"
We discussed it, and she gave me some good advice... Her management style is very authoritarian, and she admitted that-- but her personality is big enough to balance swinging the hammer with joking around. "You're a much gentler personality," she said, "And I don't know if it's a good idea to try doing things exactly the way I'm doing them, because, as you discovered today, that sets you on edge." I do have a major backbone, which I'm not even sure Viola's experienced yet-- my petite stature and blonde hair typically get people assuming I can't be tough. In fact, people are always surprised when I say I'm doing high-school, they always think a girl like me would do elementary, at first. But damn it, I DO have a backbone, and I DO get feisty, and I DO know how to be an effective leader. But... I also come across soft at first. Somehow, Viola told me, I'll need to figure out a management style that works with those different parts of my personality.
Anyway... I'll figure it out eventually, I know. But on Picture Day? Well, that was doomed from the beginning. And until I get it all together?
I'm pouring another glass.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Week Two: Put the Gun in the Holster
Reflecting then on the second week:
I liked this week. I just really like what I'm doing. I like the students, even when they have big attitudes, and I like getting to know them, and I like talking about what we're talking about in class, and I like writing down ideas of what I want to do for my class next year. This is just FUN, and exciting. I'm sure I'll have plenty to complain about later on, but for now I'm happy to be happy.
I did more observing than teaching this week, so it was a little less eventful. There were some great moments though, so I'll focus this blog on those:
1.) Remember K? For whatever reason, on Wednesday of this week, she had a great day. We had a warm moment when she greeted me in an assembly and I squeezed her foot, which she'd rested on the seat in front of her. Later I had to ask her to take it down, but she willingly complied. In class that afternoon, she was polite and focused and at one point asked me a question, starting it with, "Gretchen, what was..."
I responded, "It's actually Greta," and then answered her question.
"Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do that, I'm really sorry...!"
"No worries K, it happens."
I saw her again on my way out the door that afternoon and said, "K, you were so great today. I really appreciated how polite you were!" She gave me a silly grin, and finished running up the stairs.
On Friday, she seemed to be in a contentious mood again, but she seemed more ready to listen and be reasonable when I questioned her on it. It feels like there's more of a relationship there, which other teachers tell me is huge in managing harder students. And I loved that we had that good day-- if nothing else, the next time she's being really tough to work with, I can pull her aside and say, "K, I KNOW how great you can be, I've seen it. What's the deal with today?"
2.) More relationship building: a ninth-grader named "I"-- I'll call him Isaac-- often has trouble focusing and is frequently flirting with the girl across from him, or talking under his breath, or showing signs of great boredom. On Monday, I kept catching his eye, and indicating, "Isaac, stop" or "Isaac, cut it out." At one point, I looked over and he'd made his hand into the shape of gun and was pointing it at his head, like, "Shoot me, this is so boring." I caught his eye, and made my hand into the shape of gun, and put it to my head. Then I mimed putting it in the holster and raised my eyebrows at him. He looked at me for a second. Then, he took his "gun" off his head, twirled it, blew the smoke off his fingers, and finally holstered it. We both grinned.
On Friday, we'd given the class work-time to fill out a "Hero Journey worksheet" that they'd been assigned for homework, which essentially asked them to start translating their own stories into a Hero Journey. I came over and asked Isaac and his gal pal if they were working. "Yes! Yes we are!" she started out quickly.
"Great! What are you coming up with?"
"Isaac is figuring out-- he's going to do something with a frog prince!" They both laughed at her quick improvisation.
"Oh you ARE? Isaac-- it's going to be your mission to find a frog prince?? Well that's great! I didn't know you wanted a PRINCE! How sweet! I honestly didn't realize you went that way, but that's great, I'm really happy for you, I'm glad you know what you're looking for!" The other kids at the table erupted into giggles, and Isaac grinned at the ribbing, turning red.
It's fun to be getting to the point where I can joke around with them. :)
3.) Some moments that indicate room for improvement: the students seem to have uncovered an Achilles Heel for Viola and me as far as clear communication on what one of us has told the students. For example, one student will ask me to go to the bathroom and I'll approve; then Viola will see the student leaving and say, "Mary sit back down please, you can go after I finish explaining this." Another student on Friday asked Viola if she could listen to her I-pod when doing independent work; Viola told her no, and then when the student asked ME later, I said that she could, so long as I could see that she was working. Crossed-wires make us BOTH look bad... Luckily, Viola's been great about recognizing when she accidently undermines what instruction I've given, and understanding when I accidently undermine hers. Bottom line-- we just need to make sure that we're on the same page!
4.) One more thing I'll mention: Viola also teaches a Swing Dancing Class for our elective, so I've been getting to Lindy Hop my heart away during 6th period. It's GREAT to end the day doing something active, and I love getting to interact with the kids on a different level. We have many of the Dance students in our English classes, and getting to be silly with them in Dance helps our interactions in English. :) Viola especially gets goofy when she's teaching the class-- she has Buddy Holly glasses frames without any glass in them that she always puts on to commence her instruction, haha! I'm happy to report that 10 years of dance training enables me to fake it well enough to be accepted by the students as a legitimate Swing Dancing T.A., although-- I'm still under suspect by some of the students who don't have me for class. On Thursday, a little guy was peering in the window of dance class and distracting some of the students. I opened the door and asked, "Where are you supposed to be right now?"
"Karen's class."
"Well, how about you go to Karen's class?"
"What...? Are you even a teacher?"
"Yes!"
"No you're not, SHE'S the teacher!" (pointing to Viola)
"I'm her intern! Now scoot yourself, get to class!"
That was my own fault I think-- I was wearing a funkier outfit that day (siiiigh, again, with the wardrobe) and looked younger. I felt tickled by the exchange though. Haha!
But I will say: dancing with teenage boys that are supposed to see me as a teacher can be so awkward!! There's usually no eye contact, plenty of B.O. and cologne, lots of sweaty palms, and lots of awkward responses to my conversational questions. It's uncomfortable, but hilarious!
Alright, that should wrap up Week 2. :) Yay for fun interactions!
I liked this week. I just really like what I'm doing. I like the students, even when they have big attitudes, and I like getting to know them, and I like talking about what we're talking about in class, and I like writing down ideas of what I want to do for my class next year. This is just FUN, and exciting. I'm sure I'll have plenty to complain about later on, but for now I'm happy to be happy.
I did more observing than teaching this week, so it was a little less eventful. There were some great moments though, so I'll focus this blog on those:
1.) Remember K? For whatever reason, on Wednesday of this week, she had a great day. We had a warm moment when she greeted me in an assembly and I squeezed her foot, which she'd rested on the seat in front of her. Later I had to ask her to take it down, but she willingly complied. In class that afternoon, she was polite and focused and at one point asked me a question, starting it with, "Gretchen, what was..."
I responded, "It's actually Greta," and then answered her question.
"Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do that, I'm really sorry...!"
"No worries K, it happens."
I saw her again on my way out the door that afternoon and said, "K, you were so great today. I really appreciated how polite you were!" She gave me a silly grin, and finished running up the stairs.
On Friday, she seemed to be in a contentious mood again, but she seemed more ready to listen and be reasonable when I questioned her on it. It feels like there's more of a relationship there, which other teachers tell me is huge in managing harder students. And I loved that we had that good day-- if nothing else, the next time she's being really tough to work with, I can pull her aside and say, "K, I KNOW how great you can be, I've seen it. What's the deal with today?"
2.) More relationship building: a ninth-grader named "I"-- I'll call him Isaac-- often has trouble focusing and is frequently flirting with the girl across from him, or talking under his breath, or showing signs of great boredom. On Monday, I kept catching his eye, and indicating, "Isaac, stop" or "Isaac, cut it out." At one point, I looked over and he'd made his hand into the shape of gun and was pointing it at his head, like, "Shoot me, this is so boring." I caught his eye, and made my hand into the shape of gun, and put it to my head. Then I mimed putting it in the holster and raised my eyebrows at him. He looked at me for a second. Then, he took his "gun" off his head, twirled it, blew the smoke off his fingers, and finally holstered it. We both grinned.
On Friday, we'd given the class work-time to fill out a "Hero Journey worksheet" that they'd been assigned for homework, which essentially asked them to start translating their own stories into a Hero Journey. I came over and asked Isaac and his gal pal if they were working. "Yes! Yes we are!" she started out quickly.
"Great! What are you coming up with?"
"Isaac is figuring out-- he's going to do something with a frog prince!" They both laughed at her quick improvisation.
"Oh you ARE? Isaac-- it's going to be your mission to find a frog prince?? Well that's great! I didn't know you wanted a PRINCE! How sweet! I honestly didn't realize you went that way, but that's great, I'm really happy for you, I'm glad you know what you're looking for!" The other kids at the table erupted into giggles, and Isaac grinned at the ribbing, turning red.
It's fun to be getting to the point where I can joke around with them. :)
3.) Some moments that indicate room for improvement: the students seem to have uncovered an Achilles Heel for Viola and me as far as clear communication on what one of us has told the students. For example, one student will ask me to go to the bathroom and I'll approve; then Viola will see the student leaving and say, "Mary sit back down please, you can go after I finish explaining this." Another student on Friday asked Viola if she could listen to her I-pod when doing independent work; Viola told her no, and then when the student asked ME later, I said that she could, so long as I could see that she was working. Crossed-wires make us BOTH look bad... Luckily, Viola's been great about recognizing when she accidently undermines what instruction I've given, and understanding when I accidently undermine hers. Bottom line-- we just need to make sure that we're on the same page!
4.) One more thing I'll mention: Viola also teaches a Swing Dancing Class for our elective, so I've been getting to Lindy Hop my heart away during 6th period. It's GREAT to end the day doing something active, and I love getting to interact with the kids on a different level. We have many of the Dance students in our English classes, and getting to be silly with them in Dance helps our interactions in English. :) Viola especially gets goofy when she's teaching the class-- she has Buddy Holly glasses frames without any glass in them that she always puts on to commence her instruction, haha! I'm happy to report that 10 years of dance training enables me to fake it well enough to be accepted by the students as a legitimate Swing Dancing T.A., although-- I'm still under suspect by some of the students who don't have me for class. On Thursday, a little guy was peering in the window of dance class and distracting some of the students. I opened the door and asked, "Where are you supposed to be right now?"
"Karen's class."
"Well, how about you go to Karen's class?"
"What...? Are you even a teacher?"
"Yes!"
"No you're not, SHE'S the teacher!" (pointing to Viola)
"I'm her intern! Now scoot yourself, get to class!"
That was my own fault I think-- I was wearing a funkier outfit that day (siiiigh, again, with the wardrobe) and looked younger. I felt tickled by the exchange though. Haha!
But I will say: dancing with teenage boys that are supposed to see me as a teacher can be so awkward!! There's usually no eye contact, plenty of B.O. and cologne, lots of sweaty palms, and lots of awkward responses to my conversational questions. It's uncomfortable, but hilarious!
Alright, that should wrap up Week 2. :) Yay for fun interactions!
Monday, September 8, 2008
Week One
And sadly, that's the most creative title I can think of at this point. After three days of student teaching-- wow, was it really only three days??-- I am plumb tuckered out.
I'm loving it, so that's a plus-- I'm choosing to equate the feeling with the same fatigue you'd feel after doing some fabulous sporting event, or, I don't know, throwing some incredibly large pot on a pottery wheel. Don't ask me to explain my analogies. The justifications would be paltry at best right now.
Really though-- after the first day, I felt so pumped and excited, I had to go power-walk around Greenlake just to release the excess energy. It was a fairly mundane first day-- name games, a lecture on class expectations, some get-to-know-you busy work... And the kids came in with big attitudes and chips on their shoulders, but still, I LOVED it all. All day long, I was thinking of ideas of what I could do on my first day NEXT year, and I looked at the kids and thought, "You're such punks, and you're figuring out who you are, and you're trying to be big and tough when you're really just young and confused, and I love you!"
Yesterday, I got to teach a mini-lesson on public speaking, using theater techniques I'd learned on projection and articulation. The kids were engaged, and enjoying themselves, and genuinely seemed to be getting into it. 4th period even started clapping for me when I turned the lesson back over to Viola! That made me feel great, and feel good about my progress with the students-- I felt like I was really starting to establish a rapport with them, and that they were already seeing me as a co-teacher, someone to respect and look up to. FABULOUS.
I told that to my University Coordinator when he came to meet with Viola and me today (read: the man who grades me), and he said with a knowing grin, "Well. You're still in the honeymoon period. The kids are generally on their best behavior the first few weeks-- and then they start testing you. They WILL test you."
Sure enough, 5th period today took me through the ringer.
It had been an eventful morning already-- we hadn't done the "Mini-lit" activity this week yet, and Viola decided that it would be a good Friday activity. She asked me if I wanted to teach it, and I eagerly agreed. Teaching almost a whole lesson already? Sure, yes, awesome! Why not? I was ready to bust my chops-- and if I failed, she was there to catch me, right?
I went in guns a blazin'-- but... 2nd period fell a little flat. They didn't seem to "get" the activity, and had trouble getting started when I had them work independently. Viola and I discussed the lesson briefly in between classes, and I changed some things up for 3rd period. Thanks to the modifications, 3rd went way better and I felt proud of myself for recognizing ways to alter a lesson based on indicated needs. "So ready to be a teacher," I thought. "Gold star intern," I thought.
I spent 4th period-- the FUN period (4th period kids rock)-- talking with my University Coordinator who will henceforth be known as MATT. I caught the end of 4th though, and was warmly greeted by some of the students. "Fabulous future teacher," I thought. "Gold star intern," I thought.
And then came 5th.
5th has the cards stacked against it already: it's the last academic class of the day, and the kids come in tired and unfocused. Today is also Friday which doubled the odds, and on top of that, it's just a more challenging group of kids. There's a fair amount in that class who have attention issues, behavior issues, or some combination of both. Early on, one of the kids acted up and Viola took him out in the hall to work by himself, and to give him a "talk." That left me alone with them.
Alone.
No problem. Right? No problem? I walked around as the kids brainstormed evocative words to use in their six-word-phrases, and checked K's paper. When "K" had introduced herself on the first day, she'd followed it up with, "I like to piss teachers off." Earlier in class, when Viola had gone over some of my six-word examples, she'd read the more abstract one: "Barefoot walking and pink cloud climbing." K had snorted and commented, "It sounds like she's high on E." Now, as I approached her and looked over what she'd come up with, I tried to be positive.
"Neon blue... and unicorns. Nice K, sounds like a... happy place. Those are very positive images." She gave me a long hard stare and said, "You were a good kid in high-school, weren't you?"
"Yup," I said. "Why do you ask?"
"You have NO idea what this is talking about."
I looked at her. "I'm choosing to believe you have good intentions K. I can guess what that might be about."
She laughed again and made a comment about me to the other students, then went over to show them her words. "K, I think you'll work better if you're sitting at your desk," I said with a note of desperation, but she ignored me and went back only when Viola came back into the classroom.
Viola noticed. "You look tired!" she said.
I told her in a whisper what had happened, and that it had stressed me out. She marched over to K. "Let me see what you wrote, K." She looked. "Alright, you're coming with me to the office."
"What'd I do?! What'd I DO?!"
... And once more, I was left alone with 5th. The class didn't fall apart, but it also didn't hold itself together very well. At one point, the whole class was talking when a group was getting ready to present, and I called out, "So we've talked about what it means to be a good presenter right? So what are we going to be right now...?" One kid called out, "Good LISTENERS," but that was the only response. Everyone else kept right on talking.
I thought to myself with a panic, "They're not listening to me. They're not respecting me. I'm the stupid intern. I'm the baby-sitter that they don't have to listen to. Crap. CRAP!"
I'm being hard on myself here: most interns don't even touch teaching the first couple weeks, and I would say that my teaching efforts went off ahead of the curve, overall. I wanted to take a big bite, and Viola let me. It was an ice cold splash of reality this afternoon, and I'm guessing that will only intensify as the year progresses.
But, I learned a new acronym today from some of the other new teachers: Q-TIP. Quit Taking It Personally.
In K's case, it turns out she has a miserable home-life-- which is the situation for a lot of these kids, unfortunately. K doesn't do drugs herself, we don't think-- but is around users constantly. She told the nurse that she wants to get a job as soon as she turns 16, just because she wants to be away from home. Her parental support is little to none, and she's doing whatever she can to gain some control of her chaotic life-- including taking it from her teachers. The nurse suggested I approach her with empathy, and understanding-- resisting her bait, and instead aiming for a heart-to-heart.
That's for K, then.
But how about M? How I should handle my intelligent, amicable goth kid with the Nazi obsession and anti-semitic sympathies? How about KV, the sweet Asian kid who suggested in one of his first essays that his mom has recently passed away? What about spazzy A, the hyperactive tiny blond boy, who's clearly intelligent, and clearly undiagnosed? And all the kids who wrote in the "What I hope to achieve" essays that they wanted to get a job to help their mom pay the bills, or that they wanted to get grades higher than D's this year, or that they wanted to help their moms after work so that she wasn't so tired-- with no mention of a dad? How do I approach them?
The kids at my school are not an easy bunch-- they're colorful, and interesting, and troubled, and often very poor. They're full of potential, but surrounded by people telling them that they CAN'T. Their poetry is incredible, yet their focus and study habits are a head-shaking sigh.
And they will be an amazing group to learn from.
A friend told me yesterday that, "There are no bad kids. There are NO bad kids. True, there are some GLF's (goofy little fu**ers), but there are no BAD kids," and I believe her. This year is going to wipe me out, and leave me reeling, but hopefully it will leave me a lot, lot wiser.
And even though I'm suspending any more self-awarded gold stars, I'm cheered by Viola's enthusiastic encouragement of me, and of the fun that I've had already, and the kids themselves-- because they really are cool and quirky, they're such great punks. I'm also cheered by prayer. It felt really good to remember prayer on the drive home, and to just lift up this girl K. Help her with her home stuff God. Help us have a really great conversation at some point. Help her be brave.
So? Anyway. That's the story so far. Based on how I've crashed into bed the last two nights, I'm not sure I'll be able to keep up daily blogging, but I'll continue to keep you posted. :)
I'm loving it, so that's a plus-- I'm choosing to equate the feeling with the same fatigue you'd feel after doing some fabulous sporting event, or, I don't know, throwing some incredibly large pot on a pottery wheel. Don't ask me to explain my analogies. The justifications would be paltry at best right now.
Really though-- after the first day, I felt so pumped and excited, I had to go power-walk around Greenlake just to release the excess energy. It was a fairly mundane first day-- name games, a lecture on class expectations, some get-to-know-you busy work... And the kids came in with big attitudes and chips on their shoulders, but still, I LOVED it all. All day long, I was thinking of ideas of what I could do on my first day NEXT year, and I looked at the kids and thought, "You're such punks, and you're figuring out who you are, and you're trying to be big and tough when you're really just young and confused, and I love you!"
Yesterday, I got to teach a mini-lesson on public speaking, using theater techniques I'd learned on projection and articulation. The kids were engaged, and enjoying themselves, and genuinely seemed to be getting into it. 4th period even started clapping for me when I turned the lesson back over to Viola! That made me feel great, and feel good about my progress with the students-- I felt like I was really starting to establish a rapport with them, and that they were already seeing me as a co-teacher, someone to respect and look up to. FABULOUS.
I told that to my University Coordinator when he came to meet with Viola and me today (read: the man who grades me), and he said with a knowing grin, "Well. You're still in the honeymoon period. The kids are generally on their best behavior the first few weeks-- and then they start testing you. They WILL test you."
Sure enough, 5th period today took me through the ringer.
It had been an eventful morning already-- we hadn't done the "Mini-lit" activity this week yet, and Viola decided that it would be a good Friday activity. She asked me if I wanted to teach it, and I eagerly agreed. Teaching almost a whole lesson already? Sure, yes, awesome! Why not? I was ready to bust my chops-- and if I failed, she was there to catch me, right?
I went in guns a blazin'-- but... 2nd period fell a little flat. They didn't seem to "get" the activity, and had trouble getting started when I had them work independently. Viola and I discussed the lesson briefly in between classes, and I changed some things up for 3rd period. Thanks to the modifications, 3rd went way better and I felt proud of myself for recognizing ways to alter a lesson based on indicated needs. "So ready to be a teacher," I thought. "Gold star intern," I thought.
I spent 4th period-- the FUN period (4th period kids rock)-- talking with my University Coordinator who will henceforth be known as MATT. I caught the end of 4th though, and was warmly greeted by some of the students. "Fabulous future teacher," I thought. "Gold star intern," I thought.
And then came 5th.
5th has the cards stacked against it already: it's the last academic class of the day, and the kids come in tired and unfocused. Today is also Friday which doubled the odds, and on top of that, it's just a more challenging group of kids. There's a fair amount in that class who have attention issues, behavior issues, or some combination of both. Early on, one of the kids acted up and Viola took him out in the hall to work by himself, and to give him a "talk." That left me alone with them.
Alone.
No problem. Right? No problem? I walked around as the kids brainstormed evocative words to use in their six-word-phrases, and checked K's paper. When "K" had introduced herself on the first day, she'd followed it up with, "I like to piss teachers off." Earlier in class, when Viola had gone over some of my six-word examples, she'd read the more abstract one: "Barefoot walking and pink cloud climbing." K had snorted and commented, "It sounds like she's high on E." Now, as I approached her and looked over what she'd come up with, I tried to be positive.
"Neon blue... and unicorns. Nice K, sounds like a... happy place. Those are very positive images." She gave me a long hard stare and said, "You were a good kid in high-school, weren't you?"
"Yup," I said. "Why do you ask?"
"You have NO idea what this is talking about."
I looked at her. "I'm choosing to believe you have good intentions K. I can guess what that might be about."
She laughed again and made a comment about me to the other students, then went over to show them her words. "K, I think you'll work better if you're sitting at your desk," I said with a note of desperation, but she ignored me and went back only when Viola came back into the classroom.
Viola noticed. "You look tired!" she said.
I told her in a whisper what had happened, and that it had stressed me out. She marched over to K. "Let me see what you wrote, K." She looked. "Alright, you're coming with me to the office."
"What'd I do?! What'd I DO?!"
... And once more, I was left alone with 5th. The class didn't fall apart, but it also didn't hold itself together very well. At one point, the whole class was talking when a group was getting ready to present, and I called out, "So we've talked about what it means to be a good presenter right? So what are we going to be right now...?" One kid called out, "Good LISTENERS," but that was the only response. Everyone else kept right on talking.
I thought to myself with a panic, "They're not listening to me. They're not respecting me. I'm the stupid intern. I'm the baby-sitter that they don't have to listen to. Crap. CRAP!"
I'm being hard on myself here: most interns don't even touch teaching the first couple weeks, and I would say that my teaching efforts went off ahead of the curve, overall. I wanted to take a big bite, and Viola let me. It was an ice cold splash of reality this afternoon, and I'm guessing that will only intensify as the year progresses.
But, I learned a new acronym today from some of the other new teachers: Q-TIP. Quit Taking It Personally.
In K's case, it turns out she has a miserable home-life-- which is the situation for a lot of these kids, unfortunately. K doesn't do drugs herself, we don't think-- but is around users constantly. She told the nurse that she wants to get a job as soon as she turns 16, just because she wants to be away from home. Her parental support is little to none, and she's doing whatever she can to gain some control of her chaotic life-- including taking it from her teachers. The nurse suggested I approach her with empathy, and understanding-- resisting her bait, and instead aiming for a heart-to-heart.
That's for K, then.
But how about M? How I should handle my intelligent, amicable goth kid with the Nazi obsession and anti-semitic sympathies? How about KV, the sweet Asian kid who suggested in one of his first essays that his mom has recently passed away? What about spazzy A, the hyperactive tiny blond boy, who's clearly intelligent, and clearly undiagnosed? And all the kids who wrote in the "What I hope to achieve" essays that they wanted to get a job to help their mom pay the bills, or that they wanted to get grades higher than D's this year, or that they wanted to help their moms after work so that she wasn't so tired-- with no mention of a dad? How do I approach them?
The kids at my school are not an easy bunch-- they're colorful, and interesting, and troubled, and often very poor. They're full of potential, but surrounded by people telling them that they CAN'T. Their poetry is incredible, yet their focus and study habits are a head-shaking sigh.
And they will be an amazing group to learn from.
A friend told me yesterday that, "There are no bad kids. There are NO bad kids. True, there are some GLF's (goofy little fu**ers), but there are no BAD kids," and I believe her. This year is going to wipe me out, and leave me reeling, but hopefully it will leave me a lot, lot wiser.
And even though I'm suspending any more self-awarded gold stars, I'm cheered by Viola's enthusiastic encouragement of me, and of the fun that I've had already, and the kids themselves-- because they really are cool and quirky, they're such great punks. I'm also cheered by prayer. It felt really good to remember prayer on the drive home, and to just lift up this girl K. Help her with her home stuff God. Help us have a really great conversation at some point. Help her be brave.
So? Anyway. That's the story so far. Based on how I've crashed into bed the last two nights, I'm not sure I'll be able to keep up daily blogging, but I'll continue to keep you posted. :)
Brevity Soul Wit
Wednesday is the first day of school with students (EEE!), and Viola asked me to come up with some fun ice breakers/opening activities/tell-us-about-yourself-and-all-your-wildest-dreams activities. I'd just read an article in Time about this new literary fad called "Mini lit," which sounded like a good Language-Arts themed opener.
The basic mini lit gist is this: you write a memoir, book review, short story, novel, essay, etc.-- but you do it in six words or less. Apparently the idea began when Ernest Hemingway was dared to create a short story with only six words. He came up with, "For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn." With the exponential growth of blogging, twittering, and increasingly short attention spans, mini lit has taken off.
So the activity tomorrow (today, if you're reading this on Wednesday) is for the students to write their usual, "What I did this summer," essays-- but in only six words.
This is me trying to do my own assignment:
Europe? Take me now. Home, agh!
Je suis francaise!... Until I wasn't.
Bohemian traveler? ...Diligent student? Yes, duh.
Grad school, tigers, and bears ohmy!
Patisseries? ALSO cheese and wine? Yessss...
Hearts are tricky and elusive, methinks.
This is the problem: hostel boys.
This is the best: Cordier brothers.
Good things bad things crazy things.
Barefoot walking and pink cloud climbing.
Anyway. It's sort of fun. How about you try. How was your summer?? Also, do you love my shameless solicitation for comments lately? I just want to know about you all. :) I tell lots about me, and it's fun to know you all a little more too. Plus, six-word summer vacation essays are fun.
I'll hopefully post a blog about the first day tomorrow evening-- including some of the six-word-phrases the students came up with, if they're funny. :) I'M A REAL LIVE STUDENT TEACHER NOW! Wish me luck!!!
The basic mini lit gist is this: you write a memoir, book review, short story, novel, essay, etc.-- but you do it in six words or less. Apparently the idea began when Ernest Hemingway was dared to create a short story with only six words. He came up with, "For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn." With the exponential growth of blogging, twittering, and increasingly short attention spans, mini lit has taken off.
So the activity tomorrow (today, if you're reading this on Wednesday) is for the students to write their usual, "What I did this summer," essays-- but in only six words.
This is me trying to do my own assignment:
Europe? Take me now. Home, agh!
Je suis francaise!... Until I wasn't.
Bohemian traveler? ...Diligent student? Yes, duh.
Grad school, tigers, and bears ohmy!
Patisseries? ALSO cheese and wine? Yessss...
Hearts are tricky and elusive, methinks.
This is the problem: hostel boys.
This is the best: Cordier brothers.
Good things bad things crazy things.
Barefoot walking and pink cloud climbing.
Anyway. It's sort of fun. How about you try. How was your summer?? Also, do you love my shameless solicitation for comments lately? I just want to know about you all. :) I tell lots about me, and it's fun to know you all a little more too. Plus, six-word summer vacation essays are fun.
I'll hopefully post a blog about the first day tomorrow evening-- including some of the six-word-phrases the students came up with, if they're funny. :) I'M A REAL LIVE STUDENT TEACHER NOW! Wish me luck!!!
Saturday, August 23, 2008
(To Explain)
The three posts below this explanation were copied from a different personal blog, and all pasted on this one on Aug. 23rd. If they seem to presume too much given information, it would be because other posts on the different blog would have informed their composition. That's also why there would appear to be a sudden burst of prolific thoughts on the 23rd. :)
This blog will continue to be more regularly updated throughout the year, with thoughts and impressions stemming from classroom experience, and grad school curriculum.
This blog will continue to be more regularly updated throughout the year, with thoughts and impressions stemming from classroom experience, and grad school curriculum.
Placement!!
Written Aug. 20th, 2008
Yesterday I met the woman who is going to mentor me as her student teacher for this entire school year. I'd been praying about this, because my school/mentor placement will not only hugely affect my grad school education, it will also likely play a major part in where I get hired in the future. Two possible placements had already fallen through, and I was starting to feel seriously concerned. Most teachers, after all, are going back to school this week or next-- who was I going to be tagging along with??
The first teacher I'd been possibly placed with was an impressive teacher-- I watched one of her classes, and she had a great rapport with her students, and they were demonstrating great writing. But the school's theatre program had recently been cut altogether-- a big concern for a grad student hoping to get endorsed in both English and Drama. Although the teacher told me that I could assist one of their guest directors on a production, she said, "Do it at your own risk-- because we'll have our hands full with our English classes." The school would have also entailed a huge commute, and its student population was largely upper-middle class. Not totally the demographic I was hoping for... I want to teach lower-income students in the future, so I wanted to be in a situation that would teach me how to DO that.
I went back to the lady who coordinates placements. "Is there any way we could try to find me a school that has English AND Theatre classes I could observe...?" Ideally, I was hoping to be paired with a teacher that balanced both subjects, so that I could learn how to time-manage between those two very time-consuming subjects. But really, I'd be happy to just be IN a school with a theatre program.
A possible break seemed to present itself: one of my fellow teaching interns is currently the Performing Arts Director at his large, highly-esteemed Seattle district high-school. He was going back to school for his Masters, but had worked professionally for years, and had taught at the college and high-school level. He wouldn't have been able to "officially" mentor me, since we were both in the program, but I could OBSERVE his awesome classes... And in the meantime, I could be mentored by an English teacher down the hall. Additionally, this school has an incredibly diverse student body-- literally, any type of student I would ever expect to teach would be here. Talk about a learning opportunity! My intern friend and I got really excited about this prospect, and he talked to his principal, and I emailed the placement lady at my University. She came back to me with a pessimistic outlook: my cousins go to this high-school, and teaching in a school with 'relatives' is against University policy. This high-school is also apparently really hard to get into, and she guessed that they had already reached their "intern" quota for the year. "Don't get your hopes up," she said. Crap.
Monday arrived, August 18th, and I still had no idea where I'd be teaching for this year.
Then the placement lady emailed me. "I think I have what could be an excellent placement for you," she began...
And did.
She.
EVER.
This lady, Viola, is a high-school English teacher who also teaches the winter Musical Theatre class: a teacher that teaches both subjects! The school is a small alternative public school that focuses on incorporating a great deal of the arts and social justice themes into its curriculum. Did I MENTION that I went to a small alternative public school that focused on combining arts with academics and world-related themes?? This school is basically the Seattle version of MY high-school, which I LOVED. Viola also mentioned that she had just finished taking a workshop at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival and would love to work with an intern that was interested in Shakespeare.
Fact: I am a Shakespeare GEEK. Like... major, MAAAAJOR geek. AND, when I was in high-school, our theatre classes went on yearly field trips to that same Shakespeare festival. What. I get to nerd-out with with my mentor teacher about Iambic Pentameter!!
AND, this woman has an extensive dance back-ground (she teaches a Fall elective on the Lindy-Hop, which I get to take too. Seriously??). Fact: I took ballet for ten years, jazz for five, modern for three, and tap for one. I LOVE DANCING.
ANNND, as we were going over the curriculum, she said that we would be working with the Social Studies classes on covering similar time periods and historical movements. This is exactly the type of thing I want to do as a teacher: open up literature to broader relevance and show kids how it connects to other elements of their world. She spoke about how important it was to her to teach in a way that helped students relate to it personally.
THATISTOTALLYWHATIWANTTODO!!!
She mentioned at one point during our coffee date: "Something you should probably know is that we'll have a lot of low income kids. We're about 60% free-and-reduced lunch." She looked at me like, "How will you do with that?" I looked back at her like, "Are you seriously saying this right now?"
I'll be teaching the kids I want to teach.
She said, "I give the students a tough curriculum, because I want them to believe that they can do it. I tell them, 'My daughter went to a private school, but I don't believe you should have to pay all that money to get a good education. You're going to be able to get that right here.' That makes them sit up straighter." That's what she tells them. That's what she teaches them. That's what...I...want...to...GAH! (Spazzing with excitement.)
We'll be covering the Middle-East, Asia, and then Africa in our curriculum. By the time we get to Africa, I'll be doing the majority of the teaching, and guess what we're reading? Things Fall Apart, by Chinua Achebe. Viola was thrilled to hear that I'd been to Africa. "You can use that in your teaching!" I'll get to revisit that transforming time in my life: I get to teach about Africa. She said, "Ooo, let's see if we can get someone to come in and teach them African dance!" Cool!!
Oh, and did I mention the school is like, three miles away?
I feel like this spot was created JUST for me. It is exactly, and everything that I want to do, and I loved meeting with Viola: she's going to be so much fun to work with. She's creative, and spunky, and energetic, and open. Praise the Lord-- what a gift, you know??
I "go back to school" on Tuesday!!!
Yesterday I met the woman who is going to mentor me as her student teacher for this entire school year. I'd been praying about this, because my school/mentor placement will not only hugely affect my grad school education, it will also likely play a major part in where I get hired in the future. Two possible placements had already fallen through, and I was starting to feel seriously concerned. Most teachers, after all, are going back to school this week or next-- who was I going to be tagging along with??
The first teacher I'd been possibly placed with was an impressive teacher-- I watched one of her classes, and she had a great rapport with her students, and they were demonstrating great writing. But the school's theatre program had recently been cut altogether-- a big concern for a grad student hoping to get endorsed in both English and Drama. Although the teacher told me that I could assist one of their guest directors on a production, she said, "Do it at your own risk-- because we'll have our hands full with our English classes." The school would have also entailed a huge commute, and its student population was largely upper-middle class. Not totally the demographic I was hoping for... I want to teach lower-income students in the future, so I wanted to be in a situation that would teach me how to DO that.
I went back to the lady who coordinates placements. "Is there any way we could try to find me a school that has English AND Theatre classes I could observe...?" Ideally, I was hoping to be paired with a teacher that balanced both subjects, so that I could learn how to time-manage between those two very time-consuming subjects. But really, I'd be happy to just be IN a school with a theatre program.
A possible break seemed to present itself: one of my fellow teaching interns is currently the Performing Arts Director at his large, highly-esteemed Seattle district high-school. He was going back to school for his Masters, but had worked professionally for years, and had taught at the college and high-school level. He wouldn't have been able to "officially" mentor me, since we were both in the program, but I could OBSERVE his awesome classes... And in the meantime, I could be mentored by an English teacher down the hall. Additionally, this school has an incredibly diverse student body-- literally, any type of student I would ever expect to teach would be here. Talk about a learning opportunity! My intern friend and I got really excited about this prospect, and he talked to his principal, and I emailed the placement lady at my University. She came back to me with a pessimistic outlook: my cousins go to this high-school, and teaching in a school with 'relatives' is against University policy. This high-school is also apparently really hard to get into, and she guessed that they had already reached their "intern" quota for the year. "Don't get your hopes up," she said. Crap.
Monday arrived, August 18th, and I still had no idea where I'd be teaching for this year.
Then the placement lady emailed me. "I think I have what could be an excellent placement for you," she began...
And did.
She.
EVER.
This lady, Viola, is a high-school English teacher who also teaches the winter Musical Theatre class: a teacher that teaches both subjects! The school is a small alternative public school that focuses on incorporating a great deal of the arts and social justice themes into its curriculum. Did I MENTION that I went to a small alternative public school that focused on combining arts with academics and world-related themes?? This school is basically the Seattle version of MY high-school, which I LOVED. Viola also mentioned that she had just finished taking a workshop at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival and would love to work with an intern that was interested in Shakespeare.
Fact: I am a Shakespeare GEEK. Like... major, MAAAAJOR geek. AND, when I was in high-school, our theatre classes went on yearly field trips to that same Shakespeare festival. What. I get to nerd-out with with my mentor teacher about Iambic Pentameter!!
AND, this woman has an extensive dance back-ground (she teaches a Fall elective on the Lindy-Hop, which I get to take too. Seriously??). Fact: I took ballet for ten years, jazz for five, modern for three, and tap for one. I LOVE DANCING.
ANNND, as we were going over the curriculum, she said that we would be working with the Social Studies classes on covering similar time periods and historical movements. This is exactly the type of thing I want to do as a teacher: open up literature to broader relevance and show kids how it connects to other elements of their world. She spoke about how important it was to her to teach in a way that helped students relate to it personally.
THATISTOTALLYWHATIWANTTODO!!!
She mentioned at one point during our coffee date: "Something you should probably know is that we'll have a lot of low income kids. We're about 60% free-and-reduced lunch." She looked at me like, "How will you do with that?" I looked back at her like, "Are you seriously saying this right now?"
I'll be teaching the kids I want to teach.
She said, "I give the students a tough curriculum, because I want them to believe that they can do it. I tell them, 'My daughter went to a private school, but I don't believe you should have to pay all that money to get a good education. You're going to be able to get that right here.' That makes them sit up straighter." That's what she tells them. That's what she teaches them. That's what...I...want...to...GAH! (Spazzing with excitement.)
We'll be covering the Middle-East, Asia, and then Africa in our curriculum. By the time we get to Africa, I'll be doing the majority of the teaching, and guess what we're reading? Things Fall Apart, by Chinua Achebe. Viola was thrilled to hear that I'd been to Africa. "You can use that in your teaching!" I'll get to revisit that transforming time in my life: I get to teach about Africa. She said, "Ooo, let's see if we can get someone to come in and teach them African dance!" Cool!!
Oh, and did I mention the school is like, three miles away?
I feel like this spot was created JUST for me. It is exactly, and everything that I want to do, and I loved meeting with Viola: she's going to be so much fun to work with. She's creative, and spunky, and energetic, and open. Praise the Lord-- what a gift, you know??
I "go back to school" on Tuesday!!!
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