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 Gal Pal sinks further beneath her desk to reach Isaac's slightly withdrawn feet.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...
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
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!!!
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