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!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
