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.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Sunday, November 9, 2008
And... SCENE
This last week, we started trying to put together a play of The Ramayana, which is the Indian epic we just finished reading. Early in the week, Viola had mentioned that she might need to leave early. "That's fine!" I said. "I can take 5th period. It would probably good for me to get more face time with them before Matt observes me anyway."
But Viola hemmed and hawed, suggesting another teacher come lead the class, or that she get a sub. Finally, she said, "I'll just stay. It's fine." I admit I was a little disappointed-- I'm comfortable enough with our kids now that I'd love to start "stretching my wings." Plus, I was a theater major-- and we were running scenes! Obviously though, I respect Viola's leadership-- I'm her fourth intern, and she knows what to do with us.
I did ask her though, "I hope you feel comfortable leaving me with the kids... I want you to feel like you can trust me to do a good job with them!"
"Oh, absolutely I do!" she said. We left it at that.
Then I got my chance after all. :) When we started running scenes, I think Viola quickly realized that directing was something I'm very comfortable doing. I was giving the kids blocking (stage directions), and explaining that levels and placement on the stage can indicate more or less power, and I was giving them character directions, and all sorts of things. Working the scenes became very naturally shared between us-- she gave the kids a direction, and then I gave a direction, and us both supported the other. We only disagreed at one point: I encouraged the kids to build " the rickety bridge across the ocean" using chairs and tables, "And then, you know, just carefully traipse across them!" That was the only time Viola pulled rank.
"Liability!"
She was right, and we all knew it. We good-naturedly deferred, the kids giving me a, "Daaang," sort of grin.
Later at lunch, Jane the theatre teacher was complaining that our school sub wouldn't agree to cover her 6th period. "It's his birthday, so he's leaving early..."
"Greta could do it," Viola offered. "She was a theatre major! She was great working with the kids today."
Aww! "I wouldn't mind!" I said.
Jane paused, considering it. "Okay. That would be great."
So then I got to teach a theatre class all by myself! We ran the freshmen's mini-play, and then I worked with the seniors on their scenes. I got to direct almost every kid in some way or another, and I felt really good about how the scenes improved. Jane came in at the end and said, "So how'd it go?"
One girl, who had seemed frustrated that she hadn't gotten more attention earlier, said, "It was BORING."
Talk about raining on my parade. Jane reprimanded the girl, and then watched me finish giving direction to the seniors.
After class, I went to the student who had made the "boring" comment and I said, "Kaley, is everything okay? You seemed a little upset at the end of class."
She looked caught off-guard. "I'm okay."
"Okay. I just wanted to make sure you had a chance to talk to me, if you had anything on your mind. My feelings were a little hurt when you said the class was boring, because I really did my best to make sure everyone had a chance to perform, and that you all got feedback."
"Sorry," she said.
"It's okay. I want you to know that I value your opinion, and that I'm open to talking with you, but I also appreciate your respect."
"Okay."
"Okay. Have a good afternoon."
I finished up with Jane, telling her the directions I'd given the kids. She nodded enthusiastically and affirmed the notes I'd given them. The week culminated with me teaching almost ALL the classes on Friday, because Viola was getting grades in, and she figured I could do it-- that I could run the scenes. And I did it! Even with the hard classes! YAY!!
And what's GREAT about that is that the kids are starting to get used to me as Viola's co-TEACHER, not just her assistant.
I'm loving the one-on-ones, as far as dealing with "attitudes" go. There was a lot of 'TUDE on Friday so I had several more chats, and the kids are just SO much better to talk to and relate to when you're chatting with them one-on-one, than when they're just trying to be a spectacle in class. I haven't mastered the en masse classroom management yet (though I'm definitely getting better), but because I've built relationships with most of these kids, it is SO GOOD talking to them one-on-one about their behavior in class. The conversations are typically polite, and open, and I'm usually able to joke with the kids a little, or at least show them that I empathize with what they're dealing with.
"Okay guys, we're going to do a theatre warm up to get us all a little more energized. Let's start in the neutral position-- arms at your side, legs shoulder-width apart, weight evenly spread-- K? Can you drop your arms to your side?"
(K has her arms crossed, and is SCOWLING. She LIFTS her eyebrow in a challenge when I ask her to drop her arms.)
"Please?"
(Rolls her eyes and flings down her arms.) K was my main antagonist on Week One, but she's been great since then. The fact that she was being contentious over standing in the "Neutral Position" obviously indicated she was in A MOOD.
After the circle broke up and the kids were getting into their groups, I called her over.
"Hon what's up? You seem kind of off today."
"I'm having a REALLY bad day," she said angrily, and started to tear up.
"Okay... Okay. I know how a crappy day can affect... everything. I'll try not to ask too much of you today, but if you are involved in something we're working on... Can you give it your best shot?"
She nodded.
"Okay. Do your thing. Feel better."
And off she went.
Anyway: point being: I love the one-on-ones. And I love the teaching!!
But Viola hemmed and hawed, suggesting another teacher come lead the class, or that she get a sub. Finally, she said, "I'll just stay. It's fine." I admit I was a little disappointed-- I'm comfortable enough with our kids now that I'd love to start "stretching my wings." Plus, I was a theater major-- and we were running scenes! Obviously though, I respect Viola's leadership-- I'm her fourth intern, and she knows what to do with us.
I did ask her though, "I hope you feel comfortable leaving me with the kids... I want you to feel like you can trust me to do a good job with them!"
"Oh, absolutely I do!" she said. We left it at that.
Then I got my chance after all. :) When we started running scenes, I think Viola quickly realized that directing was something I'm very comfortable doing. I was giving the kids blocking (stage directions), and explaining that levels and placement on the stage can indicate more or less power, and I was giving them character directions, and all sorts of things. Working the scenes became very naturally shared between us-- she gave the kids a direction, and then I gave a direction, and us both supported the other. We only disagreed at one point: I encouraged the kids to build " the rickety bridge across the ocean" using chairs and tables, "And then, you know, just carefully traipse across them!" That was the only time Viola pulled rank.
"Liability!"
She was right, and we all knew it. We good-naturedly deferred, the kids giving me a, "Daaang," sort of grin.
Later at lunch, Jane the theatre teacher was complaining that our school sub wouldn't agree to cover her 6th period. "It's his birthday, so he's leaving early..."
"Greta could do it," Viola offered. "She was a theatre major! She was great working with the kids today."
Aww! "I wouldn't mind!" I said.
Jane paused, considering it. "Okay. That would be great."
So then I got to teach a theatre class all by myself! We ran the freshmen's mini-play, and then I worked with the seniors on their scenes. I got to direct almost every kid in some way or another, and I felt really good about how the scenes improved. Jane came in at the end and said, "So how'd it go?"
One girl, who had seemed frustrated that she hadn't gotten more attention earlier, said, "It was BORING."
Talk about raining on my parade. Jane reprimanded the girl, and then watched me finish giving direction to the seniors.
After class, I went to the student who had made the "boring" comment and I said, "Kaley, is everything okay? You seemed a little upset at the end of class."
She looked caught off-guard. "I'm okay."
"Okay. I just wanted to make sure you had a chance to talk to me, if you had anything on your mind. My feelings were a little hurt when you said the class was boring, because I really did my best to make sure everyone had a chance to perform, and that you all got feedback."
"Sorry," she said.
"It's okay. I want you to know that I value your opinion, and that I'm open to talking with you, but I also appreciate your respect."
"Okay."
"Okay. Have a good afternoon."
I finished up with Jane, telling her the directions I'd given the kids. She nodded enthusiastically and affirmed the notes I'd given them. The week culminated with me teaching almost ALL the classes on Friday, because Viola was getting grades in, and she figured I could do it-- that I could run the scenes. And I did it! Even with the hard classes! YAY!!
And what's GREAT about that is that the kids are starting to get used to me as Viola's co-TEACHER, not just her assistant.
I'm loving the one-on-ones, as far as dealing with "attitudes" go. There was a lot of 'TUDE on Friday so I had several more chats, and the kids are just SO much better to talk to and relate to when you're chatting with them one-on-one, than when they're just trying to be a spectacle in class. I haven't mastered the en masse classroom management yet (though I'm definitely getting better), but because I've built relationships with most of these kids, it is SO GOOD talking to them one-on-one about their behavior in class. The conversations are typically polite, and open, and I'm usually able to joke with the kids a little, or at least show them that I empathize with what they're dealing with.
"Okay guys, we're going to do a theatre warm up to get us all a little more energized. Let's start in the neutral position-- arms at your side, legs shoulder-width apart, weight evenly spread-- K? Can you drop your arms to your side?"
(K has her arms crossed, and is SCOWLING. She LIFTS her eyebrow in a challenge when I ask her to drop her arms.)
"Please?"
(Rolls her eyes and flings down her arms.) K was my main antagonist on Week One, but she's been great since then. The fact that she was being contentious over standing in the "Neutral Position" obviously indicated she was in A MOOD.
After the circle broke up and the kids were getting into their groups, I called her over.
"Hon what's up? You seem kind of off today."
"I'm having a REALLY bad day," she said angrily, and started to tear up.
"Okay... Okay. I know how a crappy day can affect... everything. I'll try not to ask too much of you today, but if you are involved in something we're working on... Can you give it your best shot?"
She nodded.
"Okay. Do your thing. Feel better."
And off she went.
Anyway: point being: I love the one-on-ones. And I love the teaching!!
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Classroom Observation Reflection
Write a reflection to synthesize what you have learned from your observations and conversations. Remember to be self-evaluative. Make connections between what you observed and other resources and/or discussions you may have had with your mentor teacher. Be sure to address how you plan to apply your findings to your teaching so as to positively impact student learning.
In a separate section, include a list of which observation instruments were particularly useful. You may also choose to include recommendations for improvement to these resources.
Observations*:
Viola, 9th/10th Language Arts, placement school. Conducted 9/9, 9/15
Patti, 12th Language Arts, placement school. Conducted 9/10
Stewart, 9th-12th Drama, Garfield. Conducted 9/25
Sarah, 9th/10th Biology, placement school. Conducted 10/21
Josh, 9th/10th History, placement school. Conducted 10/25
My first formal observations were conducted in my own classroom, observing my mentor teacher, Viola.* I was interested primarily in examining Viola's classroom management, her instruction style, and her rapport with the students; these three qualities have continued to be what I notice myself looking for in other class observations. Since my experience with Viola has established itself as the "home base," most of my observations include notes on the differences displayed between Viola and the respective observed teacher. In gauging what it is about Viola's style I hope to put into practice, and what to possibly alter when creating my own teaching "style," these comparisons are proving to be quite useful in reflection.
Several teachers had mentioned Viola's strict, "authoritarian" management style as effective, but perhaps not a style that would, or should, suit everyone. In my observations of Viola, and obviously in my regular experience alongside her in the classroom, I have witnessed firsthand the tight rein she keeps on her students. Talking out of turn is not tolerated, nor generally is it allowed when students are given individual work time. Although this keeps the class organized and calm-- a feat in a 9th/10th grade classroom!-- I have also seen a number of students express frustration that they can't ask one another for help during the individual work time. Although I appreciate and feel impressed by the controlled nature of the classroom, I sometimes wonder if such tight control hinders certain learning styles or opportunities for stimulating conversation. As I've observed other teachers' management of their classes, I've noted specifically how often students talk out of turn, behave disruptively, or cause distractions-- making mental comparisons as I do. I've now witnessed a fairly broad spectrum ranging from "control" to "chaos," and realize that my own comfort level resides far more on the "control" end-- but perhaps not quite as far to that end as my mentor. My personal classroom management style ideally will demand focused, controlled, calm behavior during instruction time, but allow for more interaction during work periods.
Viola's instruction style has proven itself to be standards effective: our 10th grade WASL test-takers made the greatest improvements on their scores among schools in the Seattle district for the last two years running. Viola is the only 9th/10th grade Language Arts teacher at our school, and has been teaching Language Arts at our school for the last three years. Clearly, she's doing something right. And she absolutely is: she schools her students on grammar, formatting, language use, and sets high-expectations for reading. The curriculum she chooses is interesting and well supported by supplemental information. Our books cover a range of cultures, and incorporate fun, interactive activities; for this unit on the Indian epic, "The Ramayana," we've had a woman come in to teach the students Indian dance and folk songs; this Friday, we'll be feasting on Indian food. Next, we'll be putting on a play of the same story! However, I have noticed that when instructing the students on a writing concept or reading element, Viola almost always does it the same way: she provides a handout for the students to follow along on, and teaches them from up front with little interaction with the students. To my impression, this does not always result in optimal student engagement. In my observations, I have enjoyed seeing teachers employ class discussion, hands-on activities, and group work to teach concepts. Through these examples I have realized that I would like to incorporate more styles of resources (for instance, not just written handouts, but graphic organizers, props, etc.) and would like to engage the students with hands-on activities as often as possible. I also hope to take with me Viola's high-learning-expectations, rigorous writing instruction, and engaging curriculum style.
Finally, regarding rapport with students: I hugely respect and hope to emulate the rapport that Viola has created with her kids. Without question, they know that she is in charge, and that she is their teacher. However, she often uses humor with them, and they in turn know that they can use it with her; she also communicates to the students that she likes them, and enjoys their presence in her class. Her students confide in her, and joke with her, but also show her immense respect-- and she walks that line with ease! Yesterday, a student with a history of skipping class came in late after being gone for several days, and Viola initially came down hard on him. Later on though, he came up to talk to her and explained a personal crisis that he had been going through the last week. Viola softened, took him out into the hall, and listened while he broke down about this situation. And at our Halloween dance, Viola was the teacher the students kept coming up to, and saying, "Come dance with us, Viola, come dance!" Her ability to maintain her authority as teacher, yet to also have a friendly and positive rapport with the students is incredibly remarkable to me-- and also provides a wonderful, healthy balance to her strict classroom management. I don't know if I've seen quite such a balanced rapport with any of the other teachers I've observed. Either they're quite warm and friendly, but don't wield much authority, or are ALL teacher, and not anyone the students would typically choose to confide in, or have friendly "life" conversations with. Therefore, if I can match Viola in this way-- I'll be doing something right!
Using Observation Tools:
Suzannah's "Active vs. Inactive Learning" has helped focus my attention on Instruction Strategies, specifically "teaching AT" time versus "teaching WITH." I have noticed the effectiveness of careful planning that she pointed out: one science teacher, Sarah, impressed me with her timed activities. (She literally uses a timer!) Her activities are so well planned from end to end that she is able to maximize every minute she has. Her students respect this, and have told me so.
Sarah Cool's handout on "Classroom Discussion" has helped me observe that particular Instruction Strategy as well. As an English teacher, I want to employ class discussion often, and her pointers have steered my understanding of what to look for, and to gauge the actual effectiveness of a discussion. When observing Patti's 12th grade English class, the students engaged in a heated discussion about the environment, based on a class reading. Although the class' conversation wandered from the original text, the students were fully engaged and passionately discussing important ideas. Furthermore, Patti kept a handle on the discussion, and managed it well. From Sarah's description of "best practice," I can identify that observed discussion as an effective one.
David's handout on "Employing Positive and Negative Consequences for Student Behavior" has given me a lot to think about as far as classroom management. It's helped me examine the effectiveness of both positive and negative reinforcement, and has given me ideas and philosophies to chew on as I observe teacher's selection of one over the other, depending on context, mood, and preference.
*Last names and the name of my placement school are not specified for privacy reasons.
In a separate section, include a list of which observation instruments were particularly useful. You may also choose to include recommendations for improvement to these resources.
Observations*:
Viola, 9th/10th Language Arts, placement school. Conducted 9/9, 9/15
Patti, 12th Language Arts, placement school. Conducted 9/10
Stewart, 9th-12th Drama, Garfield. Conducted 9/25
Sarah, 9th/10th Biology, placement school. Conducted 10/21
Josh, 9th/10th History, placement school. Conducted 10/25
My first formal observations were conducted in my own classroom, observing my mentor teacher, Viola.* I was interested primarily in examining Viola's classroom management, her instruction style, and her rapport with the students; these three qualities have continued to be what I notice myself looking for in other class observations. Since my experience with Viola has established itself as the "home base," most of my observations include notes on the differences displayed between Viola and the respective observed teacher. In gauging what it is about Viola's style I hope to put into practice, and what to possibly alter when creating my own teaching "style," these comparisons are proving to be quite useful in reflection.
Several teachers had mentioned Viola's strict, "authoritarian" management style as effective, but perhaps not a style that would, or should, suit everyone. In my observations of Viola, and obviously in my regular experience alongside her in the classroom, I have witnessed firsthand the tight rein she keeps on her students. Talking out of turn is not tolerated, nor generally is it allowed when students are given individual work time. Although this keeps the class organized and calm-- a feat in a 9th/10th grade classroom!-- I have also seen a number of students express frustration that they can't ask one another for help during the individual work time. Although I appreciate and feel impressed by the controlled nature of the classroom, I sometimes wonder if such tight control hinders certain learning styles or opportunities for stimulating conversation. As I've observed other teachers' management of their classes, I've noted specifically how often students talk out of turn, behave disruptively, or cause distractions-- making mental comparisons as I do. I've now witnessed a fairly broad spectrum ranging from "control" to "chaos," and realize that my own comfort level resides far more on the "control" end-- but perhaps not quite as far to that end as my mentor. My personal classroom management style ideally will demand focused, controlled, calm behavior during instruction time, but allow for more interaction during work periods.
Viola's instruction style has proven itself to be standards effective: our 10th grade WASL test-takers made the greatest improvements on their scores among schools in the Seattle district for the last two years running. Viola is the only 9th/10th grade Language Arts teacher at our school, and has been teaching Language Arts at our school for the last three years. Clearly, she's doing something right. And she absolutely is: she schools her students on grammar, formatting, language use, and sets high-expectations for reading. The curriculum she chooses is interesting and well supported by supplemental information. Our books cover a range of cultures, and incorporate fun, interactive activities; for this unit on the Indian epic, "The Ramayana," we've had a woman come in to teach the students Indian dance and folk songs; this Friday, we'll be feasting on Indian food. Next, we'll be putting on a play of the same story! However, I have noticed that when instructing the students on a writing concept or reading element, Viola almost always does it the same way: she provides a handout for the students to follow along on, and teaches them from up front with little interaction with the students. To my impression, this does not always result in optimal student engagement. In my observations, I have enjoyed seeing teachers employ class discussion, hands-on activities, and group work to teach concepts. Through these examples I have realized that I would like to incorporate more styles of resources (for instance, not just written handouts, but graphic organizers, props, etc.) and would like to engage the students with hands-on activities as often as possible. I also hope to take with me Viola's high-learning-expectations, rigorous writing instruction, and engaging curriculum style.
Finally, regarding rapport with students: I hugely respect and hope to emulate the rapport that Viola has created with her kids. Without question, they know that she is in charge, and that she is their teacher. However, she often uses humor with them, and they in turn know that they can use it with her; she also communicates to the students that she likes them, and enjoys their presence in her class. Her students confide in her, and joke with her, but also show her immense respect-- and she walks that line with ease! Yesterday, a student with a history of skipping class came in late after being gone for several days, and Viola initially came down hard on him. Later on though, he came up to talk to her and explained a personal crisis that he had been going through the last week. Viola softened, took him out into the hall, and listened while he broke down about this situation. And at our Halloween dance, Viola was the teacher the students kept coming up to, and saying, "Come dance with us, Viola, come dance!" Her ability to maintain her authority as teacher, yet to also have a friendly and positive rapport with the students is incredibly remarkable to me-- and also provides a wonderful, healthy balance to her strict classroom management. I don't know if I've seen quite such a balanced rapport with any of the other teachers I've observed. Either they're quite warm and friendly, but don't wield much authority, or are ALL teacher, and not anyone the students would typically choose to confide in, or have friendly "life" conversations with. Therefore, if I can match Viola in this way-- I'll be doing something right!
Using Observation Tools:
Suzannah's "Active vs. Inactive Learning" has helped focus my attention on Instruction Strategies, specifically "teaching AT" time versus "teaching WITH." I have noticed the effectiveness of careful planning that she pointed out: one science teacher, Sarah, impressed me with her timed activities. (She literally uses a timer!) Her activities are so well planned from end to end that she is able to maximize every minute she has. Her students respect this, and have told me so.
Sarah Cool's handout on "Classroom Discussion" has helped me observe that particular Instruction Strategy as well. As an English teacher, I want to employ class discussion often, and her pointers have steered my understanding of what to look for, and to gauge the actual effectiveness of a discussion. When observing Patti's 12th grade English class, the students engaged in a heated discussion about the environment, based on a class reading. Although the class' conversation wandered from the original text, the students were fully engaged and passionately discussing important ideas. Furthermore, Patti kept a handle on the discussion, and managed it well. From Sarah's description of "best practice," I can identify that observed discussion as an effective one.
David's handout on "Employing Positive and Negative Consequences for Student Behavior" has given me a lot to think about as far as classroom management. It's helped me examine the effectiveness of both positive and negative reinforcement, and has given me ideas and philosophies to chew on as I observe teacher's selection of one over the other, depending on context, mood, and preference.
*Last names and the name of my placement school are not specified for privacy reasons.
Friday, October 24, 2008
It Starts
Boy Student 1: "Is that a ring on your finger? Are you engaged??"
Me: "It's on my right hand, goof."
Boy Student 1: "Do you have a boyfriend?"
Me: "That's not really any of your business."
Boy Student 1: "Woah! Why you gotta be all offended?!"
Boy Student 2: "She's all offended now!"
Me: "YES, I have a boyfriend."
Boy Student 1: "How old is he?"
Boy Student 2: "Look, she's getting all pink!"
Me: "We're FOCUSING ON CLASS right now."
I was flustered for the rest of the day. I told Viola about it. She said, "Oh, Greta-- you have to be so firm with them! Don't smile, or joke, or anything-- just be clear that talking like that is INAPPROPRIATE. You are their TEACHER. And don't worry about them not liking you afterwards-- they'll get over it. You just have to be FIRM."
"Ack. I know. I knew what to do in my head, but when it actually happened, I just got all flustered! Did I screw myself over by not telling them that it was inappropriate from the get-go? I shouldn't have even ADMITTED that I had a boyfriend!"
"No, no-- you did nothing wrong. But you should talk to them tomorrow and be CLEAR that talking like that to you is crossing the line."
At lunch, with the other teachers:
Viola: "Did you hear what the boys said to Greta?? They're all in love with her."
Other teacher: "You're going to have to get used to that. You're kind of a babe."
Me: "Crap."
Later, talking to a friend.
Me: "This happened today. Ack. This is what I said. Ack."
Friend: "You should have said THIS!"
Me: "I KNOW WHAT I SHOULD HAVE SAID! And I've said it a whole bunch in my head...! But in the moment, you know- it's like on a game show! You just freeze! Aaagggh. Ackity ack smack attack."
Today:
Me, whispering to Boy Student 1: "Clark, I need to you stay after class for a sec."
Me, whispering to Boy Student 2: "Adam, I need you to stay after too. Adam? Did you hear me? Just for a sec."
After class:
Me, to Boy Students 1 and 2: "So... I know that you were probably trying to be funny and joke around yesterday when you asked if I had a boyfriend, or if I was engaged, but you need to know that talking like that is inappropriate. I am your teacher, and you are my students, and there is a LINE that shouldn't be crossed. Our lives meet when it involves your education, but NOT my personal life. Asking questions like that is crossing the line. Okay?"
Boy Student 2: "Yeah, we get it. You're our teacher, not our friend."
Me: "I am your teacher, first and foremost."
Me, to Viola: "This is what I said."
Viola: "That's perfect! Sorry I wasn't there to back you up-- I was trying to shoo everyone else out. And how did they respond?"
Me: "Clark seemed fine-- you know, a little awkward, but he'll get over it. But Adam seemed angry. Which is to be expected-- I knew that, if either of them were going to get angry, it would be him."
Viola: "He said, 'Bye TEACHER' on the way out the door to me."
Me: "That was probably in response to me saying that I was their teacher, not their friend. But I can't just be their FRIEND! I would be a pretty terrible teacher if I was only trying to be their friend."
Viola: "You did PERFECT. You were clear, but you didn't condemn them. Awwww, good job honey!!"
And that is the first story of flirting testosteroni teenagers. Curse my blushing tendencies.
Me: "It's on my right hand, goof."
Boy Student 1: "Do you have a boyfriend?"
Me: "That's not really any of your business."
Boy Student 1: "Woah! Why you gotta be all offended?!"
Boy Student 2: "She's all offended now!"
Me: "YES, I have a boyfriend."
Boy Student 1: "How old is he?"
Boy Student 2: "Look, she's getting all pink!"
Me: "We're FOCUSING ON CLASS right now."
I was flustered for the rest of the day. I told Viola about it. She said, "Oh, Greta-- you have to be so firm with them! Don't smile, or joke, or anything-- just be clear that talking like that is INAPPROPRIATE. You are their TEACHER. And don't worry about them not liking you afterwards-- they'll get over it. You just have to be FIRM."
"Ack. I know. I knew what to do in my head, but when it actually happened, I just got all flustered! Did I screw myself over by not telling them that it was inappropriate from the get-go? I shouldn't have even ADMITTED that I had a boyfriend!"
"No, no-- you did nothing wrong. But you should talk to them tomorrow and be CLEAR that talking like that to you is crossing the line."
At lunch, with the other teachers:
Viola: "Did you hear what the boys said to Greta?? They're all in love with her."
Other teacher: "You're going to have to get used to that. You're kind of a babe."
Me: "Crap."
Later, talking to a friend.
Me: "This happened today. Ack. This is what I said. Ack."
Friend: "You should have said THIS!"
Me: "I KNOW WHAT I SHOULD HAVE SAID! And I've said it a whole bunch in my head...! But in the moment, you know- it's like on a game show! You just freeze! Aaagggh. Ackity ack smack attack."
Today:
Me, whispering to Boy Student 1: "Clark, I need to you stay after class for a sec."
Me, whispering to Boy Student 2: "Adam, I need you to stay after too. Adam? Did you hear me? Just for a sec."
After class:
Me, to Boy Students 1 and 2: "So... I know that you were probably trying to be funny and joke around yesterday when you asked if I had a boyfriend, or if I was engaged, but you need to know that talking like that is inappropriate. I am your teacher, and you are my students, and there is a LINE that shouldn't be crossed. Our lives meet when it involves your education, but NOT my personal life. Asking questions like that is crossing the line. Okay?"
Boy Student 2: "Yeah, we get it. You're our teacher, not our friend."
Me: "I am your teacher, first and foremost."
Me, to Viola: "This is what I said."
Viola: "That's perfect! Sorry I wasn't there to back you up-- I was trying to shoo everyone else out. And how did they respond?"
Me: "Clark seemed fine-- you know, a little awkward, but he'll get over it. But Adam seemed angry. Which is to be expected-- I knew that, if either of them were going to get angry, it would be him."
Viola: "He said, 'Bye TEACHER' on the way out the door to me."
Me: "That was probably in response to me saying that I was their teacher, not their friend. But I can't just be their FRIEND! I would be a pretty terrible teacher if I was only trying to be their friend."
Viola: "You did PERFECT. You were clear, but you didn't condemn them. Awwww, good job honey!!"
And that is the first story of flirting testosteroni teenagers. Curse my blushing tendencies.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Letter Writing to Ligia
The highlight this week occurred when I won over the Latino posse. Not sure if the boys named themselves that or if it came from another teacher, but there is a fantastic group of Spanish-speaking boys that are all buddies, and for the most part, are all doing terribly in Language Arts. These boys are some of my favorites; a couple of them are downright adorable, but: they don't turn their work in. What else is new.
Last weekend, I received in the mail a new picture of a little girl I sponsor in Nicaragua, through an organization called Plan USA. I immediately felt guilty when I saw her picture, because I'm a rotten pen-pal and never say hello to this cutie. I was bemoaning this fact to a friend, and he said, "Well, write her a letter."
Then I got a GREAT idea. "I should have some of my Spanish-speaking kids help me write her a letter!"
And thus was conceived the brillianto fabuloso plan to win over my floundering Latino posse.
I targeted Andre first, because he's failing the worst, and he's also projected the toughest exterior. I've had my eye on him and his girl friend (as opposed to girlfriend- they're just pals who sit together and mutter things about the class) for a while now, because they both just have up walls-- I haven't been able to connect with either of them yet. And I'm normally really good at working out connections with people-- I, ahem, shoulder brush, supposedly have the gift of "WOO," which for the Strength-Finders-Test-uninformed, is an acronym for "Winning Others Over." I think I've realized that WOO is going to be my best chance at classroom management later on this year. (She rubbed her hands together and cackled conspiratorially.) I'll make them all love me so that they rally to my requests for attention. It's been going well actually-- I have lots of kids on my "team" now, and I've connected with a lot of them on life-related stuff. But not yet Andre. I'd tried a couple times with little luck; the armor hadn't come down yet.
My other target was Eduardo. Eduardo is affable and sweet-tempered; he's also an incredible poet. He's taller and big boned, and I think he gets a hard time for not looking "Hispanic enough"-- he's Honduran and has light skin and reddish hair. He's also another one that just never gets his work in though, so his grade could definitely use a boost.
After 3rd period ended, I gave it a shot. "Andre. I'm wondering if you'd help me with something. I sponsor this little girl in Nicaragua through a kind of charity program, and I wanted to write her a letter, but I wanted to try to write it in Spanish. But I don't speak Spanish. Do you think you could help me write her something? I was going to talk to you and Eduardo both."
His eyebrows jumped up half a centimenter. "Sure. I could do that. Like a letter in Spanish? I could do that."
"I could talk to Viola and see if we could give you extra credit."
"I would love to help you with that." He nodded with those slightly raised eyebrows, and before I could make my way over to Eduardo through the current of departing students, Andre had already made a beeline to him, and told Eduardo about the idea.
"Hey Greta! We're going to help you write a letter?"
"Yeah! If you don't mind. I can see if I can get you extra credit."
Eduardo scoffed and grinned. "We'd help you anyway!"
Viola loved the idea, and approved the extra credit. Andre couldn't stay after school, so we had a one-on-one work session during 6th period, when I would normally be in Swing Class. We worked for a little while on the letter, and he made adorably tentative translations to my suggested phrases. In the letter, we told Ligia, my little Nicaraguan girl, that the boys were helping me write to her. "If I was writing the letter myself, " I told Andre, "I would start saying good things about you and Eduardo, but I don't want to embarrass you..."
"What? Like what?"
"Like that I really enjoy having you two in class."
"What?? No you don't..."
"Yes I do! I really like seeing you in class every day. Sometimes I get annoyed with you and Sarah for talking all the time--"
"We don't talk ALL the time."
"True, you guys have gotten a lot better. But no, Andre, I really like having you in class. You're a good kid."
He told me he thought Language Arts was boring. I asked him why, and he told me about some of the other classes that he liked better. I'm genuinely interested when kids tell me why they do or don't like classes, because, hey: this is relevant. I think he liked that I was really listening to him, and he opened up more. I found out that the reason he never turns anything in is because he works for his family's restaurant as soon as he gets home from school; he literally doesn't have any time to do his homework. I wonder if this is partly because, when his parents have given him time, he hasn't used it. But regardless, this was a problem. "Dang Andre. We've got to figure out a way for you to do your homework. Don't you have an older sister? What did she do?"
"Yeah, she's like a success story. She has her own business now... She's doing good for herself. Not like my brother, he's-- man. I don't wanna talk about him."
"We won't talk about him. So how'd your sister get through school?"
"Well... she was into sports, so she had to keep her grades up."
"So she just made it happen?"
He shrugged. "My parents... You know, they need the help though."
I asked him what his afternoons looked like after school.
"I have to take the bus home..."
"And how long is your bus ride?"
He shrugged. "Maybe... an hour?"
"Okay-- so that's a hour of potential reading time, right? Do you think you could get any reading done while you ride?"
Another shrug. "Maybe."
"That would be awesome if you could. And then think of how good you'd feel on Friday, when we're talking about the reading. You'd know all the answers. You'd be like, 'Bam, know that one.' 'Bam.' That'd be good, right?"
He grinned and raised his eyebrows half a centimeter, thinking about it. "Yeah."
I wrote a note to his mom on his study questions: "Dear Mrs. A: Please sign off when Andre finishes questions 1-5. Thank you!" I told Andre, "Okay: hopefully this will help your folks know you need a little time to get your work done. But you're going to need to actually do it. I'm going to look for your mom's signature now." He raised his eyebrows that tiny bit, and let one corner of his mouth creep up, and nodded. The bell rang, and he took off to catch his bus.
We had been downright chatty. I felt like I was wearing anti-gravity boots. I had just had a heart to heart with Andre.
I looked down the hall and saw the posse rolling in, led by Mr. Eduardo. "Hey dude! Andre was just helping me! Wait-- are all you guys here to help?"
They-- Jose 1, Jose 2, Jose 2's twin Miguel, George, Juan AND Eduardo-- sat down around the little green table. "Yeah!"
And we just had a little letter writing fiesta.
And we all got to know each other! In the process of updating my little Nicaraguan chica, the boys learned that I lived with my Grandpa, and had to balance a full load of grad school classes on top of my student teaching.
"So you don't have much time for yourself?" Translated, translated, translated into Spanish.
"No, not really. But, tell her I really like what I'm doing."
They spoke to each other, throwing out suggested phrases. (In Spanish): "'I like what I'm doing.'"
"No, put, 'I love what I'm doing.'" They checked with me. "You love what you're doing? With the teaching?"
I grinned, "Yeah, I love it. That's good. Put that."
At times they ribbed each other in Spanish. "Hey now," I said. "Just because I can't understand you doesn't mean you can say inappropriate things."
Eduardo gave a half-hearted grin. "That's just how we talk to each other though..."
At times I tried reading aloud what they'd written, clunking my way through it. One of the boys would gently correct me on pronunciation, and another would rebuke him. "She's doing good, it's hard for her."
I heard them tease each other about girls, and about Eduardo getting challenged to fight all the time by Mexican guys who live in his same neighborhood, and they talked about life and school and asked me questions about Ligia.
When they were finishing up, they speculated about how to close it off. "Normally," George said, "In Spanish culture, you say something about God..." They looked at me carefully to see how I would respond to that.
I threw out one of the only Spanish phrases I know, one that has somehow managed to be retained since a high-school mission trip to Mexico. "Que dios te bendiga?" I suggested.
They grinned. "God bless you? Yeah, that's good!"
Separation of church and state is no joke in the public school system, but if the students bring it up, God can move right on in to the conversation. Can I tell you how happy I am that "Que Dios te Bendiga" is one of the only Spanish phrases I know??
When we finished, we had a great, personal letter to send to Ligia. We had seven grades move up from failing to passing. We had a fun time doing something that was socially-justice-minded AND connected with the boys' culture.
And I now have the loyalty and affection of one fabulous Latino posse.
Last weekend, I received in the mail a new picture of a little girl I sponsor in Nicaragua, through an organization called Plan USA. I immediately felt guilty when I saw her picture, because I'm a rotten pen-pal and never say hello to this cutie. I was bemoaning this fact to a friend, and he said, "Well, write her a letter."
Then I got a GREAT idea. "I should have some of my Spanish-speaking kids help me write her a letter!"
And thus was conceived the brillianto fabuloso plan to win over my floundering Latino posse.
I targeted Andre first, because he's failing the worst, and he's also projected the toughest exterior. I've had my eye on him and his girl friend (as opposed to girlfriend- they're just pals who sit together and mutter things about the class) for a while now, because they both just have up walls-- I haven't been able to connect with either of them yet. And I'm normally really good at working out connections with people-- I, ahem, shoulder brush, supposedly have the gift of "WOO," which for the Strength-Finders-Test-uninformed, is an acronym for "Winning Others Over." I think I've realized that WOO is going to be my best chance at classroom management later on this year. (She rubbed her hands together and cackled conspiratorially.) I'll make them all love me so that they rally to my requests for attention. It's been going well actually-- I have lots of kids on my "team" now, and I've connected with a lot of them on life-related stuff. But not yet Andre. I'd tried a couple times with little luck; the armor hadn't come down yet.
My other target was Eduardo. Eduardo is affable and sweet-tempered; he's also an incredible poet. He's taller and big boned, and I think he gets a hard time for not looking "Hispanic enough"-- he's Honduran and has light skin and reddish hair. He's also another one that just never gets his work in though, so his grade could definitely use a boost.
After 3rd period ended, I gave it a shot. "Andre. I'm wondering if you'd help me with something. I sponsor this little girl in Nicaragua through a kind of charity program, and I wanted to write her a letter, but I wanted to try to write it in Spanish. But I don't speak Spanish. Do you think you could help me write her something? I was going to talk to you and Eduardo both."
His eyebrows jumped up half a centimenter. "Sure. I could do that. Like a letter in Spanish? I could do that."
"I could talk to Viola and see if we could give you extra credit."
"I would love to help you with that." He nodded with those slightly raised eyebrows, and before I could make my way over to Eduardo through the current of departing students, Andre had already made a beeline to him, and told Eduardo about the idea.
"Hey Greta! We're going to help you write a letter?"
"Yeah! If you don't mind. I can see if I can get you extra credit."
Eduardo scoffed and grinned. "We'd help you anyway!"
Viola loved the idea, and approved the extra credit. Andre couldn't stay after school, so we had a one-on-one work session during 6th period, when I would normally be in Swing Class. We worked for a little while on the letter, and he made adorably tentative translations to my suggested phrases. In the letter, we told Ligia, my little Nicaraguan girl, that the boys were helping me write to her. "If I was writing the letter myself, " I told Andre, "I would start saying good things about you and Eduardo, but I don't want to embarrass you..."
"What? Like what?"
"Like that I really enjoy having you two in class."
"What?? No you don't..."
"Yes I do! I really like seeing you in class every day. Sometimes I get annoyed with you and Sarah for talking all the time--"
"We don't talk ALL the time."
"True, you guys have gotten a lot better. But no, Andre, I really like having you in class. You're a good kid."
He told me he thought Language Arts was boring. I asked him why, and he told me about some of the other classes that he liked better. I'm genuinely interested when kids tell me why they do or don't like classes, because, hey: this is relevant. I think he liked that I was really listening to him, and he opened up more. I found out that the reason he never turns anything in is because he works for his family's restaurant as soon as he gets home from school; he literally doesn't have any time to do his homework. I wonder if this is partly because, when his parents have given him time, he hasn't used it. But regardless, this was a problem. "Dang Andre. We've got to figure out a way for you to do your homework. Don't you have an older sister? What did she do?"
"Yeah, she's like a success story. She has her own business now... She's doing good for herself. Not like my brother, he's-- man. I don't wanna talk about him."
"We won't talk about him. So how'd your sister get through school?"
"Well... she was into sports, so she had to keep her grades up."
"So she just made it happen?"
He shrugged. "My parents... You know, they need the help though."
I asked him what his afternoons looked like after school.
"I have to take the bus home..."
"And how long is your bus ride?"
He shrugged. "Maybe... an hour?"
"Okay-- so that's a hour of potential reading time, right? Do you think you could get any reading done while you ride?"
Another shrug. "Maybe."
"That would be awesome if you could. And then think of how good you'd feel on Friday, when we're talking about the reading. You'd know all the answers. You'd be like, 'Bam, know that one.' 'Bam.' That'd be good, right?"
He grinned and raised his eyebrows half a centimeter, thinking about it. "Yeah."
I wrote a note to his mom on his study questions: "Dear Mrs. A: Please sign off when Andre finishes questions 1-5. Thank you!" I told Andre, "Okay: hopefully this will help your folks know you need a little time to get your work done. But you're going to need to actually do it. I'm going to look for your mom's signature now." He raised his eyebrows that tiny bit, and let one corner of his mouth creep up, and nodded. The bell rang, and he took off to catch his bus.
We had been downright chatty. I felt like I was wearing anti-gravity boots. I had just had a heart to heart with Andre.
I looked down the hall and saw the posse rolling in, led by Mr. Eduardo. "Hey dude! Andre was just helping me! Wait-- are all you guys here to help?"
They-- Jose 1, Jose 2, Jose 2's twin Miguel, George, Juan AND Eduardo-- sat down around the little green table. "Yeah!"
And we just had a little letter writing fiesta.
And we all got to know each other! In the process of updating my little Nicaraguan chica, the boys learned that I lived with my Grandpa, and had to balance a full load of grad school classes on top of my student teaching.
"So you don't have much time for yourself?" Translated, translated, translated into Spanish.
"No, not really. But, tell her I really like what I'm doing."
They spoke to each other, throwing out suggested phrases. (In Spanish): "'I like what I'm doing.'"
"No, put, 'I love what I'm doing.'" They checked with me. "You love what you're doing? With the teaching?"
I grinned, "Yeah, I love it. That's good. Put that."
At times they ribbed each other in Spanish. "Hey now," I said. "Just because I can't understand you doesn't mean you can say inappropriate things."
Eduardo gave a half-hearted grin. "That's just how we talk to each other though..."
At times I tried reading aloud what they'd written, clunking my way through it. One of the boys would gently correct me on pronunciation, and another would rebuke him. "She's doing good, it's hard for her."
I heard them tease each other about girls, and about Eduardo getting challenged to fight all the time by Mexican guys who live in his same neighborhood, and they talked about life and school and asked me questions about Ligia.
When they were finishing up, they speculated about how to close it off. "Normally," George said, "In Spanish culture, you say something about God..." They looked at me carefully to see how I would respond to that.
I threw out one of the only Spanish phrases I know, one that has somehow managed to be retained since a high-school mission trip to Mexico. "Que dios te bendiga?" I suggested.
They grinned. "God bless you? Yeah, that's good!"
Separation of church and state is no joke in the public school system, but if the students bring it up, God can move right on in to the conversation. Can I tell you how happy I am that "Que Dios te Bendiga" is one of the only Spanish phrases I know??
When we finished, we had a great, personal letter to send to Ligia. We had seven grades move up from failing to passing. We had a fun time doing something that was socially-justice-minded AND connected with the boys' culture.
And I now have the loyalty and affection of one fabulous Latino posse.
Friday, October 10, 2008
The View from the Walls
It was another ice cream day. It was a rough day. But I feel like I've been complaining about the tough teaching stuff a lot lately, when in reality, I really love what I'm doing. It's stimulating, and exciting, and kicks my butt on days like today, but it's without a doubt what I want to do.
So I'm not going to talk about my school day. Instead, I'm going to finish telling you about the Epic of Gilgamesh. Did I ever tell you the end of Gilgamesh?
It's a great ending. In MY opinion, it's a great ending. I'll just tell you the story. I really like it.
So Gilgamesh starts off as this super arrogant, cocky king who keeps stealing his subjects' wives to have sex with. He's 2/3 god, and super handsome, but super lame. I sort of think of him as Brad Pitt in Troy:
The people pray to the gods, "Hey gods! Do something about this jerk!!" So the gods create Enkidu (ink-a-doo) to come and contend with him. Enkidu's half animal and supposedly has more "street sense" than Gil-- like, he's more connected with the earth. Supposedly. I kind of think of him as Wolverine.
Enkidu runs into Gilgamesh when Gilgamesh is about to steal a bride from a new hubby, and Enkidu says, "Excuse me homespice, I DON'T THINK SO," and they FIGHT, and Gilgamesh wins, but he decides that he likes Enkidu anyway. Because. Enkidu is scrappy.
So now they're buddies, and Shamash, the sun god, suggests that they go fight the gnarly scary Forest Guardian, Humbaba, to get immortal fame. Enkidu-- street sense, remember-- says, "That is insane, that is a suicide mission; YOU can do it if you want, and I'll go tell your mother that you're dead. Because that's what's going to happen."
Gilgamesh says, "No way, it's not my day to die, we are going to KILL this monster!" And he convinces Enkidu to fight. But as soon as Humbaba ROARS out of his lair, Gilgamesh runs away like a PANSY. I think of Humbaba like this:
So Gilgamesh runs away and hides behind a tree, and Enkidu says, "Dude?!! You can't leave me alone here! Remember your big boasts?!" So Gilgamesh comes out, prays to the gods; they send massive WINDS which make Humbaba all disoriented, and then Gilgamesh and Enkidu beat him. Humbaba begs for his life and Gilgamesh ALMOST lets him live, but smarty-pants Enkidu says, "Bad idea," and they kill him.
They take his giant head to the Earth god, Enlil. But Enlil-- the EARTH god-- is not so happy with the two of them for killing his forest guardian. Instead of blessing them, he curses them. Big bad curse. They get cursed a few more times by a few more gods, and Enkidu ends up taking the fall. The gods can't kill Gil, because he's 2/3 god-- he's part of the country club. So they kill Enkidu instead. BUMMER.
Gilgamesh freaks out when his best friend dies, not only because he's sad to lose Enkidu, but also because he's suddenly aware of his own mortality. He decides that immortal fame isn't good enough for him: he has to figure out how to REALLY become immortal. So he goes to the end of the earth and talks to this guy named Utnapishtim who is basically Noah-- Utnapishtim gained immortality by surviving a worldwide flood on a boat with his family and two of every animal.
Gilgamesh goes to Utnapishtim and says, "How did you become immortal??"
And Utnapishtim says, "I survived a flood that wiped out the rest of humanity several thousand years ago, and the gods decided to make me immortal afterwards."
And Gilgamesh says, "What?? I can't become immortal that way!!"
And Utnapishtim says, "No duh."
And Gilgamesh says, "Well you've lived forever-- don't you know of SOME way that I can become immortal?"
And Utnapishtim, who is this grumpy old codger by now, smirks and says, "Ummm.... SURE I do... If you can stay awake for seven days and seven nights: you'll be immortal."
But Gilgamesh IS mortal, and he can't stay awake. He fails the test. Big time-- he ends up SLEEPING for almost seven days, instead of staying awake. He finally wakes up, and tries to lie to Utnapishtim, saying that he never REALLY fell asleep. But Utnapishtim is a smart grumpy old guy, and had had his wife bake a loaf of bread for each day Gil slept. He shows Gilgamesh the loaf baked on the first day and says, "See? It's moldy now. THAT'S how long you've been sleeping!" Gilgamesh is totally despondent. "I couldn't DOOO it...!"
But Utnapishtim's wife feels kind of sorry for Gilgamesh and tells her husband, "Come on honey. Have a heart. He's traveled all this way, and he's really tired... Can't we give him SOMETHING to take back to his people?"
So Utnapishtim grunts and says, "Fine. There's a plant at the bottom of the ocean that will give you eternal youth. If you go and get the plant, and eat it... You'll be forever young."
So Gilgamesh says, "GREAT!" And he goes and gets the plant. And for the first time, we see him acting a degree less selfishly, because instead of just devouring the plant himself, he says, "You know what? I'm going to give this to all the old men in my city FIRST... And THEN I'll have some for myself."
BUT: as he's swimming, a snake comes up, eats the plant, immediately sloughs its skin and becomes a young snake, and swims away. And the magic plant is gone. And Gilgamesh ends up with nothing.
And that's how the story ends! The last picture of Gilgamesh is returning home to his city with NOTHING, standing over the walls of his city, and saying: "You know what? This is a great city. It's strong. The people are great. I can be content with this." And the narrator ends the story by describing him as a WISE king, who knew the countries of the world, and who brought back a story of the days before the flood.
I LOVE that.
I love that Gilgamesh doesn't get the magic gimmick to bring home-- he has to be content with being just a little wiser, a little more humble, and having a story to tell. I love that because we usually DON'T get the magic plant to take home-- we usually have to be content with the wisdom we've gained after a long, tiring journey. Modern hero stories don't give us that kind of ending-- modern heroes get the fame, they win the battle, they get the girl, or something similar. You have to WIN in the modern stories.
But this ancient epic ends with its hero-- its HERO-- simply surveying his city, and taking a big breath in, and heaving a big sigh out, and saying, "Okay. This is what I've got. I'm going to be a good king now. I'm going to take care of my people. And one day, I'm going to die, but so be it. I'll do the best with what I've got."
And the great part is-- we're still talking about him. He probably thought that he was a failure-- he never DID become immortal and that was what he was searching for, after all. But his story was enough to keep his memory around for thousands of years. He is still talked about as a HERO-- for only being a little wiser, and for having a story to tell. I love that. I love that our hero story ends with simply a big breath in... And a big sigh out.
And as I do the same, it helps me return to the classroom with new resolve. So many of the kids didn't turn in their essays today-- after I spent literally hours working one-on-one with many of them. They didn't get them done. So much for the magic plant; so much for the tangible marker of success. But I can't have gained nothing from this experience-- I know the kids a tiny bit better, I've had a few more quality conversations, I'm learning how to talk to them, how to GET to them, how to navigate their personal loads that they come in with. I WILL get wiser through these difficult days. And hopefully, as I do, I'll learn how to be a better "leader" to these kids that are shrugging and shuffling their way into our classroom, and shrugging and shuffling their way into my heart.
They matter. Their lives MATTER.
So I'll do my best to be a Gilgamesh type of hero... And keep trying.
So I'm not going to talk about my school day. Instead, I'm going to finish telling you about the Epic of Gilgamesh. Did I ever tell you the end of Gilgamesh?
It's a great ending. In MY opinion, it's a great ending. I'll just tell you the story. I really like it.
So Gilgamesh starts off as this super arrogant, cocky king who keeps stealing his subjects' wives to have sex with. He's 2/3 god, and super handsome, but super lame. I sort of think of him as Brad Pitt in Troy:
The people pray to the gods, "Hey gods! Do something about this jerk!!" So the gods create Enkidu (ink-a-doo) to come and contend with him. Enkidu's half animal and supposedly has more "street sense" than Gil-- like, he's more connected with the earth. Supposedly. I kind of think of him as Wolverine.
Enkidu runs into Gilgamesh when Gilgamesh is about to steal a bride from a new hubby, and Enkidu says, "Excuse me homespice, I DON'T THINK SO," and they FIGHT, and Gilgamesh wins, but he decides that he likes Enkidu anyway. Because. Enkidu is scrappy.
So now they're buddies, and Shamash, the sun god, suggests that they go fight the gnarly scary Forest Guardian, Humbaba, to get immortal fame. Enkidu-- street sense, remember-- says, "That is insane, that is a suicide mission; YOU can do it if you want, and I'll go tell your mother that you're dead. Because that's what's going to happen."
Gilgamesh says, "No way, it's not my day to die, we are going to KILL this monster!" And he convinces Enkidu to fight. But as soon as Humbaba ROARS out of his lair, Gilgamesh runs away like a PANSY. I think of Humbaba like this:
So Gilgamesh runs away and hides behind a tree, and Enkidu says, "Dude?!! You can't leave me alone here! Remember your big boasts?!" So Gilgamesh comes out, prays to the gods; they send massive WINDS which make Humbaba all disoriented, and then Gilgamesh and Enkidu beat him. Humbaba begs for his life and Gilgamesh ALMOST lets him live, but smarty-pants Enkidu says, "Bad idea," and they kill him.
They take his giant head to the Earth god, Enlil. But Enlil-- the EARTH god-- is not so happy with the two of them for killing his forest guardian. Instead of blessing them, he curses them. Big bad curse. They get cursed a few more times by a few more gods, and Enkidu ends up taking the fall. The gods can't kill Gil, because he's 2/3 god-- he's part of the country club. So they kill Enkidu instead. BUMMER.
Gilgamesh freaks out when his best friend dies, not only because he's sad to lose Enkidu, but also because he's suddenly aware of his own mortality. He decides that immortal fame isn't good enough for him: he has to figure out how to REALLY become immortal. So he goes to the end of the earth and talks to this guy named Utnapishtim who is basically Noah-- Utnapishtim gained immortality by surviving a worldwide flood on a boat with his family and two of every animal.
Gilgamesh goes to Utnapishtim and says, "How did you become immortal??"
And Utnapishtim says, "I survived a flood that wiped out the rest of humanity several thousand years ago, and the gods decided to make me immortal afterwards."
And Gilgamesh says, "What?? I can't become immortal that way!!"
And Utnapishtim says, "No duh."
And Gilgamesh says, "Well you've lived forever-- don't you know of SOME way that I can become immortal?"
And Utnapishtim, who is this grumpy old codger by now, smirks and says, "Ummm.... SURE I do... If you can stay awake for seven days and seven nights: you'll be immortal."
But Gilgamesh IS mortal, and he can't stay awake. He fails the test. Big time-- he ends up SLEEPING for almost seven days, instead of staying awake. He finally wakes up, and tries to lie to Utnapishtim, saying that he never REALLY fell asleep. But Utnapishtim is a smart grumpy old guy, and had had his wife bake a loaf of bread for each day Gil slept. He shows Gilgamesh the loaf baked on the first day and says, "See? It's moldy now. THAT'S how long you've been sleeping!" Gilgamesh is totally despondent. "I couldn't DOOO it...!"
But Utnapishtim's wife feels kind of sorry for Gilgamesh and tells her husband, "Come on honey. Have a heart. He's traveled all this way, and he's really tired... Can't we give him SOMETHING to take back to his people?"
So Utnapishtim grunts and says, "Fine. There's a plant at the bottom of the ocean that will give you eternal youth. If you go and get the plant, and eat it... You'll be forever young."
So Gilgamesh says, "GREAT!" And he goes and gets the plant. And for the first time, we see him acting a degree less selfishly, because instead of just devouring the plant himself, he says, "You know what? I'm going to give this to all the old men in my city FIRST... And THEN I'll have some for myself."
BUT: as he's swimming, a snake comes up, eats the plant, immediately sloughs its skin and becomes a young snake, and swims away. And the magic plant is gone. And Gilgamesh ends up with nothing.
And that's how the story ends! The last picture of Gilgamesh is returning home to his city with NOTHING, standing over the walls of his city, and saying: "You know what? This is a great city. It's strong. The people are great. I can be content with this." And the narrator ends the story by describing him as a WISE king, who knew the countries of the world, and who brought back a story of the days before the flood.
I LOVE that.
I love that Gilgamesh doesn't get the magic gimmick to bring home-- he has to be content with being just a little wiser, a little more humble, and having a story to tell. I love that because we usually DON'T get the magic plant to take home-- we usually have to be content with the wisdom we've gained after a long, tiring journey. Modern hero stories don't give us that kind of ending-- modern heroes get the fame, they win the battle, they get the girl, or something similar. You have to WIN in the modern stories.
But this ancient epic ends with its hero-- its HERO-- simply surveying his city, and taking a big breath in, and heaving a big sigh out, and saying, "Okay. This is what I've got. I'm going to be a good king now. I'm going to take care of my people. And one day, I'm going to die, but so be it. I'll do the best with what I've got."
And the great part is-- we're still talking about him. He probably thought that he was a failure-- he never DID become immortal and that was what he was searching for, after all. But his story was enough to keep his memory around for thousands of years. He is still talked about as a HERO-- for only being a little wiser, and for having a story to tell. I love that. I love that our hero story ends with simply a big breath in... And a big sigh out.
And as I do the same, it helps me return to the classroom with new resolve. So many of the kids didn't turn in their essays today-- after I spent literally hours working one-on-one with many of them. They didn't get them done. So much for the magic plant; so much for the tangible marker of success. But I can't have gained nothing from this experience-- I know the kids a tiny bit better, I've had a few more quality conversations, I'm learning how to talk to them, how to GET to them, how to navigate their personal loads that they come in with. I WILL get wiser through these difficult days. And hopefully, as I do, I'll learn how to be a better "leader" to these kids that are shrugging and shuffling their way into our classroom, and shrugging and shuffling their way into my heart.
They matter. Their lives MATTER.
So I'll do my best to be a Gilgamesh type of hero... And keep trying.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Try, Try Again
Yikes, it's been a while. I blame that on the increased busyness of recent days... And... well... Actually, that's really my only excuse. I'm very busy and important. Duh.
Back to the teaching stories then. Shall we?
The big thing this week was feeling frustrated about the kiddos just NOT TRYING. I realized when entering grades that at least a third of our kids are failing, and it just killed me. We give these kids all kinds of work time, we're super clear on what they have due and what their homework is, and we make ourselves available before and after school for help if they need it. The kids that are failing are failing because they're just NOT doing their work. Some of them are seriously intelligent too-- but they slack off during work time, don't show up for class, whatever-- and don't get their stuff in.
I told Viola I felt like we were watching these kids stand outside in a blizzard. We holler out to them, "Hey! Come on in! It's really warm in here, there's a fire, and a great spread on the table! Hot chocolate too! Come on in!"
They shrug and shuffle their feet on the snowy ground. "Meh. It's too far of a walk."
So we go out to them.
"Well, here then, take this coat-- I hate seeing you so cold, this will warm you up a little."
They gaze at some point in the distance and seem to ignore us altogether. "Naaah......Don't feel like putting it on."
Exasperated now, we try again: "Well take some SOUP anyway, that should do something to help keep you warm. Come on, all you have to do is lift the spoon to your mouth and swallow."
But they don't, they're not interested. So they do nothing to help themselves, and they freeze in the blizzard, and die.
Dying in the blizzard is the real-life equivalent of flunking out, or having an extremely short list of life-sustaining options after ruining themselves by not trying in school and getting Fs across the board.
Some of them may realize eventually that it's a good idea to walk 50 meters to get into the warm house, but by then, they may have already limited their options. They may have gotten frostbitten by being out in the cold for so long, and there goes a hand.
It just kills me.
Anyway: this week, we were working on writing our Epic of Gilgamesh essays. We gave the kids a work day on Thursday; in preparation for it, they were supposed to bring in a hand-written rough draft. As we guessed, only about 25% of our classes brought in a completed rough-draft, but we sent those kids to the library to work on typing them up. The rest, we let work on the drafts in class. One sophomore, Jeremiah, didn't have anything done, but he wanted to go to the library anyway. (To type up... what?) Viola let him go though, and I tagged along with the typing crew to supervise.
In the library, Jeremiah asked in his typically detached way, "So what are we supposed to write about?"
We have been talking about this assignment for the last several days. I tried to keep from sighing. "Well, did you get the paper about the assignment?" I asked.
He shrugged, and looked at a far distant point. I asked the boy sitting next to him if we could borrow his paper with the essay prompts.
"Here Jeremiah. So here are the different prompts-- pick out one that catches your interest--"
"Okay." He glanced at them. "Okay." And then he started typing.
"Oh... You know what you're going to do...? Okay. Um... great!"
I left him, not really thinking about what he intended to come up with after his disinterested glance at the paper.
At the end of the class, he raised his hand. "Okay, I'm done."
"Seriously??" I asked. He scrolled down on the computer screen, and showed me that he had the required amount. "Wow, great! Go ahead and print it off."
With his signature air of disinterest, he printed it off and handed it to me without making eye contact, then sauntered out the door.
I glanced over the first paragraph and was dumbfounded. It was GREAT. There were some fragments, and he didn't have a clear thesis statement, but his command of language was outstanding-- he used clever, unique descriptors, showed real wit and humor, and expressed himself elegantly. I SAW how quickly he had cranked that out-- to see him just bust out something of this caliber was incredible! And this kid is failing our class!
Yesterday, he came into class early and sat down. I went over to him with his paper.
"Jeremiah." I paused. "This... blew me away."
His eyes darted over at me to see if I was serious. "I'm not kidding," I told him. "There's some organizational work needed, but your grasp of language is outstanding-- there's humor here, your word choice is fantastic... I mean, Jeremiah, this is an area where you are GIFTED. You should be ACING this class, not failing it-- I mean you could do this professionally, the raw talent is there! You need to hone it now, and I want you to start bringing me your stuff so that I can edit it and help you get there... But dang Jeremiah. You're seriously talented."
As I was talking to him, he kept trying not to smile, and his TEETH were showing-- this is a kid that normally looks SO checked out! But he was grinning in spite of himself, and it felt so good to tell him that I believed in him.
I told Viola about our conversation and she said, "They love being told that they're talented. What they don't love is being told that they have to do work..."
That's true-- and it's very possible that Jeremiah is going to come in Monday morning with nothing. But now that I KNOW what he can do, I'm going to keep hounding him all year-- I'm going to chase him with that winter coat if I have to.
---------------
Amusing moment with "Gal Pal":
(Out in the hall)
"So Grace, how come you seem to be having trouble focusing?"
"Well-- it's just my friend is being so ANNOYING right now, and it's just like really GETTING to me... Like, I told her that I liked this GUY...And then, like RIGHT AFTER, she said that SHE liked him... And then she told me she would like DROP ME for him... And like, I knew that she talked about people behind their backs but then I heard stuff that she'd said about ME... And so it's just like so annoying, and it's really making me mad, and I just can't focus on the essay..."
"Oh man... I know that stuff can be tough. Well-- sometimes when I'm really dealing with personal stuff, I just take ten minutes to sort of PURGE it by either journaling about it, or sometimes I'll call a friend... Now, we're in school, so you can't call someone, but why don't you just write down some of your thoughts for about ten minutes and get it out... And then see if you can come back to the essay. Okay?"
(Nodding.)
I'm really sort of loving working with teenagers. :) Even if they drive me crazy. That's... what are we at, now? Week 5? We'll call it Week 5. By the way-- in case any of you had wondered-- all the kids' names have been changed in these blogs.
Back to the teaching stories then. Shall we?
The big thing this week was feeling frustrated about the kiddos just NOT TRYING. I realized when entering grades that at least a third of our kids are failing, and it just killed me. We give these kids all kinds of work time, we're super clear on what they have due and what their homework is, and we make ourselves available before and after school for help if they need it. The kids that are failing are failing because they're just NOT doing their work. Some of them are seriously intelligent too-- but they slack off during work time, don't show up for class, whatever-- and don't get their stuff in.
I told Viola I felt like we were watching these kids stand outside in a blizzard. We holler out to them, "Hey! Come on in! It's really warm in here, there's a fire, and a great spread on the table! Hot chocolate too! Come on in!"
They shrug and shuffle their feet on the snowy ground. "Meh. It's too far of a walk."
So we go out to them.
"Well, here then, take this coat-- I hate seeing you so cold, this will warm you up a little."
They gaze at some point in the distance and seem to ignore us altogether. "Naaah......Don't feel like putting it on."
Exasperated now, we try again: "Well take some SOUP anyway, that should do something to help keep you warm. Come on, all you have to do is lift the spoon to your mouth and swallow."
But they don't, they're not interested. So they do nothing to help themselves, and they freeze in the blizzard, and die.
Dying in the blizzard is the real-life equivalent of flunking out, or having an extremely short list of life-sustaining options after ruining themselves by not trying in school and getting Fs across the board.
Some of them may realize eventually that it's a good idea to walk 50 meters to get into the warm house, but by then, they may have already limited their options. They may have gotten frostbitten by being out in the cold for so long, and there goes a hand.
It just kills me.
Anyway: this week, we were working on writing our Epic of Gilgamesh essays. We gave the kids a work day on Thursday; in preparation for it, they were supposed to bring in a hand-written rough draft. As we guessed, only about 25% of our classes brought in a completed rough-draft, but we sent those kids to the library to work on typing them up. The rest, we let work on the drafts in class. One sophomore, Jeremiah, didn't have anything done, but he wanted to go to the library anyway. (To type up... what?) Viola let him go though, and I tagged along with the typing crew to supervise.
In the library, Jeremiah asked in his typically detached way, "So what are we supposed to write about?"
We have been talking about this assignment for the last several days. I tried to keep from sighing. "Well, did you get the paper about the assignment?" I asked.
He shrugged, and looked at a far distant point. I asked the boy sitting next to him if we could borrow his paper with the essay prompts.
"Here Jeremiah. So here are the different prompts-- pick out one that catches your interest--"
"Okay." He glanced at them. "Okay." And then he started typing.
"Oh... You know what you're going to do...? Okay. Um... great!"
I left him, not really thinking about what he intended to come up with after his disinterested glance at the paper.
At the end of the class, he raised his hand. "Okay, I'm done."
"Seriously??" I asked. He scrolled down on the computer screen, and showed me that he had the required amount. "Wow, great! Go ahead and print it off."
With his signature air of disinterest, he printed it off and handed it to me without making eye contact, then sauntered out the door.
I glanced over the first paragraph and was dumbfounded. It was GREAT. There were some fragments, and he didn't have a clear thesis statement, but his command of language was outstanding-- he used clever, unique descriptors, showed real wit and humor, and expressed himself elegantly. I SAW how quickly he had cranked that out-- to see him just bust out something of this caliber was incredible! And this kid is failing our class!
Yesterday, he came into class early and sat down. I went over to him with his paper.
"Jeremiah." I paused. "This... blew me away."
His eyes darted over at me to see if I was serious. "I'm not kidding," I told him. "There's some organizational work needed, but your grasp of language is outstanding-- there's humor here, your word choice is fantastic... I mean, Jeremiah, this is an area where you are GIFTED. You should be ACING this class, not failing it-- I mean you could do this professionally, the raw talent is there! You need to hone it now, and I want you to start bringing me your stuff so that I can edit it and help you get there... But dang Jeremiah. You're seriously talented."
As I was talking to him, he kept trying not to smile, and his TEETH were showing-- this is a kid that normally looks SO checked out! But he was grinning in spite of himself, and it felt so good to tell him that I believed in him.
I told Viola about our conversation and she said, "They love being told that they're talented. What they don't love is being told that they have to do work..."
That's true-- and it's very possible that Jeremiah is going to come in Monday morning with nothing. But now that I KNOW what he can do, I'm going to keep hounding him all year-- I'm going to chase him with that winter coat if I have to.
---------------
Amusing moment with "Gal Pal":
(Out in the hall)
"So Grace, how come you seem to be having trouble focusing?"
"Well-- it's just my friend is being so ANNOYING right now, and it's just like really GETTING to me... Like, I told her that I liked this GUY...And then, like RIGHT AFTER, she said that SHE liked him... And then she told me she would like DROP ME for him... And like, I knew that she talked about people behind their backs but then I heard stuff that she'd said about ME... And so it's just like so annoying, and it's really making me mad, and I just can't focus on the essay..."
"Oh man... I know that stuff can be tough. Well-- sometimes when I'm really dealing with personal stuff, I just take ten minutes to sort of PURGE it by either journaling about it, or sometimes I'll call a friend... Now, we're in school, so you can't call someone, but why don't you just write down some of your thoughts for about ten minutes and get it out... And then see if you can come back to the essay. Okay?"
(Nodding.)
I'm really sort of loving working with teenagers. :) Even if they drive me crazy. That's... what are we at, now? Week 5? We'll call it Week 5. By the way-- in case any of you had wondered-- all the kids' names have been changed in these blogs.
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