The following trio of blogs describes a road trip with a small group of theatre students up to Bellingham for a theatre conference. During this trip, I was confronted with several uncomfortable situations involving student crushes and inappropriate student behavior. For better or worse (ultimately for better), the trip forced me to take a good hard look at The Line that should exist between teachers and students... And to evaluate whether or not I had it!
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Road Trip (posted 3/19/2009)
So here's the story.
Tomorrow (Friday), I'm driving to Bellingham with [my mentor] Viola, the theatre teacher Jane, and about 11 of the students. We're going to a high-school theatre conference to perform a cutting of our school musical, Oliver. Today, after our final rehearsal, we figured out which kids would drive with which teachers. Jane and Viola claimed kids first.
I got all the boys.
This is my car:
Aaron: Our tech guy. 18, tall, one of the star basketball players, handsome, volatile, troubled, easily angered. But smily.
Leon: Playing Mr. Bumble. Also a Senior. Square, swarthy, and typically wears long jerseys, baseball hats, and big gold chains with fancy medallions. Speaks with a lisp; sings like butter.
Lincoln: Playing Oliver; our little one. Absolutely adorable. Just on the verge of puberty, which terrified Jane during casting since she worried his angelic high voice might drop mid-quarter. Long lashes around sweet blue eyes, and some of the biggest feet I've ever seen.
Dylan: Playing Fagin. Dyed black hair, long long skinny legs, wrapped in long long skinny jeans; giant gauges in his ears. Has apparently been a model for "edgy" publications. The best actor in the bunch, and when he rubs his hands together as the avaricious Fagin, and unfolds his long legs in giant, cartoonish steps, he's absolutely hysterical.
That's sort of my school in a nutshell. Or-- a Honda Accord, rather.
I'm actually really excited for my carload. I hope we have fun!
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Road Trip Recap (posted 3/23/2009)
Other possible titles for this post:
"Too Young to be Old; Too Old to be Young."
Or, "Big Ball of Awkward."
Or perhaps, "Student Teacher Temptress." Please God, no.
Gah. I'm still cringing.
The boys talked about their drinking stories the whole way up. Little Lincoln ended up going in a different car so they had no incentive to censor-- apparently, I wasn't reason enough. I told them, "I'm going to pretend you're talking about Koolaid." Tried to distract them with traveling stories, but as soon as they had a chance to talk again, we were once more talking about inebriation and destruction of property.
My friend Annie texted me in response to this report: "Haha! I love how comfortable they are with you!"
Well... or not. Told Viola about the car ride and she said, "You really shouldn't let them talk about that stuff-- it could misconstrued as you, like, encouraging them to do that. You just have to be careful-- make sure you tell them that they can't talk about that anymore with you."
"Right. You're absolutely right," I nodded. Thought: "Stupid. Stupid. How did I not figure that out when they were talking about it?"
Then she said, "I have to tell you what the girls told me in my car: apparently Dylan has a HUGE crush on you!" She laughed.
"Oh nooo..." I said.
I tried to act normal about everything though. The boys rode in my car the whole weekend, so I tried adjusting my demeanor to a more ADULT, PROFESSIONAL, I-am-NOT-in-fact-closer-to-your-generation-than-to-my-middle-aged-colleagues kind of attitude. I think I was kind of awkward about it though. I ended up being mostly sarcastic and grumpy.
Friday afternoon, I heard one of the girls, Kimberly-- a chatty, brash, self-identified lesbian say, "I want Greta on my team!"
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing!" she grinned.
I found out that the boys-slash-Kimberly called out "My team" whenever they saw someone that they wanted "dibs" over-- that they were attracted to. I reported this finding to Viola.
"Wait-- didn't someone call you for THEIR team?" she asked.
"Yes," I said grimly. "Kimberly." And she laughed again.
The worst was Friday night though. Jane, the theatre teacher, had to go tell the kids to be quiet. She'd mentioned earlier in the day that she felt like she always had to be the bad guy, so I decided to go stand beside her in solidarity. She was standing in front of the guys' room, and when I stood beside her and looked into the room, I saw Aaron in just his shorts. My eyes opened wide and I turned right around to walk back to my room.
This was a mistake. Because by LEAVING, it meant Aaron was able to CHASE AFTER ME. Which he did. Naked chested. And then tried to thrust his naked-chestedness into the room as I tried to shut the door on him.
Are you cringing? Because WOW, I am.
This is what I should have done: I should have been stoic and aloof in the first place, and staid the course beside Jane as she told them to shut up, never mind the scantily clad high-schoolers. OR, if I couldn't have done that, I should have turned around on Aaron and unleashed the wrath of a thousand furies by roaring, "THAT IS COMPLETELY INAPPROPRIATE AND YOU NEED TO STAND DOWN SOLDIER!" Instead, I freaked out, tried to run away, ended up batting him away like a stupid teenager, and just about burned up in blushingness.
The whole weekend was a miserable confrontation with THE LINE. I feel like "the line" has been well-established with my freshmen and sophomores. They KNOW I'm their teacher, and they treat me as such. None of them would ever even THINK of chasing me down a hotel hallway, and if they did, I KNOW my first instinct would be to ask them incredulously, "What the H are you doing??" But I haven't practiced being a teacher to seniors yet-- and they haven't seen me as the up-front teacher of a lesson, or as the governor of a classroom. To them-- I'm the exception. I'm the cute young intern who lets them get AWAY with stuff. Of course they do: kids are always pushing boundaries; it's MY job to assert myself and make sure they follow them. But when a 6'2" mostly naked 18-year-old is chasing me down a hallway, my instincts kick in, and unfortunately: my instincts in those situations still say RUN.
Complicating things further is the fact that, under normal circumstances, I WOULD probably pal around with these kids. When we dropped them off at the dance on Friday night, I started getting into the music and thought it would be fun to go in and dance WITH them-- but realized, of course, that I couldn't. I "got" all their pop-culture references, and all their jokes. They're all cool, interesting people-- and being with the boys put me in the same frame of mind as being with my little brother, who's their same age. I realized that my reaction to their stories in the car-- laughing and chiding them-- was the same kind of reaction I have when my little brother tells me a story of misbehavin'. That was the instinctual response. But the response that I must learn is not the "big sister" response. It is not the "25-year-old" response. It is not the "friend" response. It is the TEACHER response.
"Teacher response" hindsight is 20/20. And makes me feel incredibly foolish when analyzing the actions that actually occurred.
Viola returned to the subject today, saying that I should have distanced myself from Dylan as soon as I realized that he had a crush on me, and went on further to say that running away from Aaron seemed flirtatious. I spent the rest of the day feeling horrified and mortified. Morhorified. Though she told me she knew I didn't mean to come across that way at ALL and that I clearly wasn't doing anything wrong intentionally, I just had to be very careful with these boys. Her ending disclaimer didn't make me feel much better.
I know I'm learning still. I know I'll have a brand new slate next year. I know that the next time any one of these situations happens I will KNOW how to respond. But in the meantime...
Gah. I'm still cringing.
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Are. You. Kidding Me. (posted 3/24/2009)
Viola started the day off with more talk about the weekend and the boys being crushified, and me being, apparently, the anti-ice-princess. We spent almost our WHOLE prep period talking about it-- and she kept saying, "I know you didn't mean to, BUT..." And I kept saying, "Lesson learned, I feel mortified, I will be a firm, stern teacher from now on, I get it." I was really hoping to just move on from the whole thing, so to spend almost an entire HOUR talking about it again was so not a fun start to the day.
Then this weird situation came up with a girl who had come in to talk to me before school-- she had some heavy stuff on her mind, and then she ended up crying during 4th period... When she tearfully left after class, she lingered outside our door, and mentioned to several of her friends that she had talked to me about things earlier in the day. I was torn-- should I have gone to talk to her? Or should I be the Teacher-With-A-Clear-LINE, and just let the girl fend for herself?
I was all stressed and bothered and worried.
Finally, 6th period-- musical-- rolled around. Jane and I took most of the high-school kids into the auditorium to start working on "Who Will Buy," one of the show's big songs. As she was standing up front, I noticed Aaron-- the naked-chested-hallway-chaser-- madly texting from his seat on the edge of the auditorium. I walked up to him and held out my hand for the phone.
"Why don't I hang onto that for the rest of the class?" I asked.
He pulled up the waistband of his sweats and threw the phone into his pants. "Whoops! How'd that happen?" he said. Then his phone dinged and vibrated with a return text. He closed his eyes halfway and grinned. "Ooooh..."
I was FLOORED.
ALL the pent up furies from the weekend and the subsequent talks and lectures rallied together in one single furious expression on my face, and one single enraged tone of voice.
"Aaron that is UNBELIEVABLY inappropriate!" I hissed. "I don't EVER want to hear that kind of crap from you again!!"
He looked surprised, and chastened. Then he grinned and said half-heartedly, "Sorry."
"No. I can't believe you just said that Aaron, SHAME on you. Don't you EVER pull that crap with me again." And I walked away, still fuming.
After class, he walked out in front of me, Leon tagging along at his heels. I called after him with a voice full of nails. "Aaron, I really hope I never see anything like what you pulled in class today again," I said.
"Greta, I'm sorry," he said, looking genuinely apologetic.
"That was so rude," I said.
"I'm sorry Greta!" he said. He sounded upset. I'd really made him feel bad!
"That was unbelievably rude," I repeated.
I told Viola about the interchange and she gasped. "Yaaaaaayyyy!" she crowed. "That was EXACTLY what you needed to say! I'm glad you came down so hard on him, he NEEDED that! And he wants you to like him, Greta, so I bet he feels really bad-- he'll probably never do anything like that again! Good jooooob!"
It was another prickly day all around, but I felt like I'd gotten one thing right. At least the teacher instincts are closer to where they need to be than they were this weekend.
Still-- at this point...?
I AM SO READY FOR SPRING BREAK.
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Reflection:
However awkward Viola's long talks had made me feel in the moment, my excellent mentor once again helped me reach the next level of professional maturity as a teacher. The moment with Aaron where I took his cell phone signaled the beginning of a new up front demeanor that has made "The Line" infinitely clear to both myself and my students. Since taking over our classes full time since Spring Break, Viola has commended me multiple times on my classroom management and commented that it's clear that the students see me as their teacher. "Greta, I think this is the smoothest a transition has ever gone with an intern, going from me to all YOU," she has said to me. "The kids are great for you!" Showing kindness, compassion, and genuine care for my students is still a priority, but I am also now completely comfortable telling students "No" when I need to, and feel at ease practicing the professional responsibilities and demeanor of The Teacher. Although the trip to Bellingham was a cringing pile of awkwardness, it was the lesson needed to create that Neon-Blinking-LINE between myself, as the teacher, and the kids as the students!
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Aaaaand, one more thought from Theo.
(See previous blog.)
Okay, thank you. I apologize for getting irritated. Things at the time were not running smoothly. I am in a much better mood now, though.
As much as I dislike to say it, I guess I that makes sense and I should learn to accept that. One of the biggest issues I have in life is equality. I guess you could blame that on my astrological sign. (Libra; I follow it almost sentence by sentence) It gets scary sometimes.
There isn't any need to discuss further. It was a just a little thing I needed to clear up from my mind before it escalated into something irrelevant.
So far, I'd say you are doing a just fine job at this whole blog thing. Actually, this whole blog thing is brilliant. It connects a piece of everyday teenage life to education in a fun way, and it is quite enjoyable. I look FORWARD to logging on and seeing if I got any comments! ^_^
See you in class tomorrow (If you read this before then).
- Theo
YAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY!!!!
Okay, thank you. I apologize for getting irritated. Things at the time were not running smoothly. I am in a much better mood now, though.
As much as I dislike to say it, I guess I that makes sense and I should learn to accept that. One of the biggest issues I have in life is equality. I guess you could blame that on my astrological sign. (Libra; I follow it almost sentence by sentence) It gets scary sometimes.
There isn't any need to discuss further. It was a just a little thing I needed to clear up from my mind before it escalated into something irrelevant.
So far, I'd say you are doing a just fine job at this whole blog thing. Actually, this whole blog thing is brilliant. It connects a piece of everyday teenage life to education in a fun way, and it is quite enjoyable. I look FORWARD to logging on and seeing if I got any comments! ^_^
See you in class tomorrow (If you read this before then).
- Theo
YAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY!!!!
More Feedback
This time, from Theo (who got an 11 out of 15 on a blog about Lutefisk) to me.... And then again, from me to Theo.
Are these blogs expected to be at least 3 paragraphs long? Are they expected to be an edited/revised story soon-to-be pubished in a book?
You have given us no guidelines on what is expected out of our blogs EXCEPT that they are supposed to be like freewrites. FREEWRITES, to me at least, are a rough collecting of thoughts on a particular literary subject. My mother as well doesn't agree how this went down.
Sorry to be kind of brash and blunt, but I don't agree with your grading methods. I have read other blogs that have gotten perfect grades when they have had less content, even shorter lengths, and more terrible conventions (if I understand correctly what conventions mean) than my own blog.
I don't know if it was you that gave me the grade on my late essay, but I didn't agree with that, either. Late work is typically 50% straight. Instead, I got counted late AND for the things I did wrong. That is hardly fair.
I'd appreciate a response this time,
Thanks, Theo
Thanks for the comment, Theo! Please don’t ever hesitate to ask me about grading methods, or to instigate a discussion if you feel like grading is unfair. You’ll want to talk to Viola about the grade on your essay, but I’m happy to discuss the blogs.
“Are these blogs expected to be at least 3 paragraphs long?”
Generally, yes they are. I’m looking for content that would fill about a hand-written page. If it’s a poem, then I look more for quality and evidence that the poem was carefully crafted than length. But prose: yes. Shoot for about three paragraphs, or, a couple big meaty ones.
” Are they expected to be an edited/revised story soon-to-be pubished in a book?”
No. Of course not. However, those of you that have given me writing on the side and who have proven to have great writing potential ARE held to a higher standard. I don’t grade you against each other as much as I grade you against yourself; your last blog was about an “11″ from Theo, because– as I’ve told you before– I know what you can do and that WASN’T your best. Would you disagree?
Many of you are at many different skill levels; if I graded you the same way I graded a freshman that was still learning English, you wouldn’t ever improve. You would never get grades that indicated you had more to learn– and we ALL have more to learn.
However, one aspect of these blogs– which I think I like, actually– is that it forces me to be accountable with ALL of you as to how I’m grading… Because, as you pointed out, you can ALL see it. It’s forced me to be as fair as possible.
Within that, you are ALL graded on:
Length: was it about the length of a handwritten page?
Conventions: did you spell things correctly, and use proper grammar? (This is a stricter standard than how we graded freewrites at the beginning of the year, when you were not expected to have proper grammar or spelling. However, it’s the end of the year, and you SHOULD know more; plus, there’s a spell-checker option when writing the bogs.)
Content: I look for depth of thought, and effort. This is probably the area that is graded most individually.
As far as numbers go, for this unit, a blog is given:
Full credit if turned in by Friday (the due date.)
Docked 10% if turned in by Monday
Docked 50% if turned in anytime that following week (up til the next Friday)
Given no credit if turned in anytime after that.
“I have read other blogs that have gotten perfect grades when they have had less content, even shorter lengths, and more terrible conventions.”
We can discuss grades on the other blogs if you want– I DO want to be consistent in how I’m grading, so your help with that is welcome.
Does that help answer all your questions? I AM still learning, and these blogs are a brand new project, so I do appreciate your students’ feedback on how I can improve for next time– it sounds like clearer guidelines would have been helpful for you. We can talk about this more in class if you want!
Are these blogs expected to be at least 3 paragraphs long? Are they expected to be an edited/revised story soon-to-be pubished in a book?
You have given us no guidelines on what is expected out of our blogs EXCEPT that they are supposed to be like freewrites. FREEWRITES, to me at least, are a rough collecting of thoughts on a particular literary subject. My mother as well doesn't agree how this went down.
Sorry to be kind of brash and blunt, but I don't agree with your grading methods. I have read other blogs that have gotten perfect grades when they have had less content, even shorter lengths, and more terrible conventions (if I understand correctly what conventions mean) than my own blog.
I don't know if it was you that gave me the grade on my late essay, but I didn't agree with that, either. Late work is typically 50% straight. Instead, I got counted late AND for the things I did wrong. That is hardly fair.
I'd appreciate a response this time,
Thanks, Theo
Thanks for the comment, Theo! Please don’t ever hesitate to ask me about grading methods, or to instigate a discussion if you feel like grading is unfair. You’ll want to talk to Viola about the grade on your essay, but I’m happy to discuss the blogs.
“Are these blogs expected to be at least 3 paragraphs long?”
Generally, yes they are. I’m looking for content that would fill about a hand-written page. If it’s a poem, then I look more for quality and evidence that the poem was carefully crafted than length. But prose: yes. Shoot for about three paragraphs, or, a couple big meaty ones.
” Are they expected to be an edited/revised story soon-to-be pubished in a book?”
No. Of course not. However, those of you that have given me writing on the side and who have proven to have great writing potential ARE held to a higher standard. I don’t grade you against each other as much as I grade you against yourself; your last blog was about an “11″ from Theo, because– as I’ve told you before– I know what you can do and that WASN’T your best. Would you disagree?
Many of you are at many different skill levels; if I graded you the same way I graded a freshman that was still learning English, you wouldn’t ever improve. You would never get grades that indicated you had more to learn– and we ALL have more to learn.
However, one aspect of these blogs– which I think I like, actually– is that it forces me to be accountable with ALL of you as to how I’m grading… Because, as you pointed out, you can ALL see it. It’s forced me to be as fair as possible.
Within that, you are ALL graded on:
Length: was it about the length of a handwritten page?
Conventions: did you spell things correctly, and use proper grammar? (This is a stricter standard than how we graded freewrites at the beginning of the year, when you were not expected to have proper grammar or spelling. However, it’s the end of the year, and you SHOULD know more; plus, there’s a spell-checker option when writing the bogs.)
Content: I look for depth of thought, and effort. This is probably the area that is graded most individually.
As far as numbers go, for this unit, a blog is given:
Full credit if turned in by Friday (the due date.)
Docked 10% if turned in by Monday
Docked 50% if turned in anytime that following week (up til the next Friday)
Given no credit if turned in anytime after that.
“I have read other blogs that have gotten perfect grades when they have had less content, even shorter lengths, and more terrible conventions.”
We can discuss grades on the other blogs if you want– I DO want to be consistent in how I’m grading, so your help with that is welcome.
Does that help answer all your questions? I AM still learning, and these blogs are a brand new project, so I do appreciate your students’ feedback on how I can improve for next time– it sounds like clearer guidelines would have been helpful for you. We can talk about this more in class if you want!
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Blogs Come Together as Things Fall Apart (Henry's Class, Week 1)
The newest unit is structured around blogging: the kids have started reading Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe, and-- instead of writing responses via a reading journal or a study guide-- the kids are blogging.
It took hours and hours to get the blogs set up, since each one had to be done individually. But the rewards are already apparent: the kids have TAKEN OFF with these blogs!
What is it about the novelty of technology that entices them so? Students who haven't turned a scrap of paper in all year are writing insightful, creative, articulate blogs! The first assignment was to respond in some way-- be it poem, short story, analysis, or by elaborating further on an image-- to William Butler Yeats' poem "The Second Coming," from which verses, Achebe took his title. It's not an easy poem-- yet still, many of the kids who have balked at every assignment we've given them ended up writing a post, elaborating on their thoughts!
Needless to say, I am THRILLED.
AND, I required that they comment on one another's blogs-- and I've been blown away by how sweet they are to each other! They're encouraging, and kind, and bring up other points that the blog made them think about... I got the warm-fuzzies all weekend long, reading over them.
One of my primary goals as an English teacher is to instill a love for writing in my students; this blog project makes me think that we're beginning to inch towards that goal! Many kids are now posting other poems, or thoughts, or entries on their blogs. One of my new favorites was just posted today, by a ninth grade boy. It begins:
I sincerely hate the human tendency to get too scared to ask another person the simple question, “Hey, you wanna go out sometime?”
How do you not love that?
The blog project has been on my mind while reading over our assigned text for the week, from our Teaching English Language Learners book. Many of the examples of first or second-year teachers resonated with me: full of enthusiasm and a desire to teacher all students effectively, but also, not as familiar with students, families, or traditional methods of practice. We have several ELL kids in our classes, most of whom are immigrants from Africa. When writing papers, we ask these kids to turn in a first draft to my mentor teacher or myself, so that we can give them a good going over before the kids start their final drafts. In helping these kids go over their papers with a fine tooth comb, we give them the added assistance they need.
Of course, with blogs, the kids simply write to the best of their abilities, and then publish. However, what's been cool about starting this unit with Things Fall Apart, is that the other students are so quick to HONOR, and affirm the ELL students' African backgrounds. We're learning about Africa, and so these kids value the ELL students' contributions and insights. For a Powerpoint project that we're currently working on, which for most students has entailed researching Nigeria, the Igbo people, and themes of the novel, I had the ELL students create a Powerpoint that simply explained their experience. Through doing this, I hope to further affirm these students' contributions and experiences-- what a wealth of knowledge they have to provide our classes about life in Africa! Our book has spoken of the importance of validating ELL students, encouraging them, and including them as a valued part of the classroom. I hope that the efforts I've made are communicating that!
It took hours and hours to get the blogs set up, since each one had to be done individually. But the rewards are already apparent: the kids have TAKEN OFF with these blogs!
What is it about the novelty of technology that entices them so? Students who haven't turned a scrap of paper in all year are writing insightful, creative, articulate blogs! The first assignment was to respond in some way-- be it poem, short story, analysis, or by elaborating further on an image-- to William Butler Yeats' poem "The Second Coming," from which verses, Achebe took his title. It's not an easy poem-- yet still, many of the kids who have balked at every assignment we've given them ended up writing a post, elaborating on their thoughts!
Needless to say, I am THRILLED.
AND, I required that they comment on one another's blogs-- and I've been blown away by how sweet they are to each other! They're encouraging, and kind, and bring up other points that the blog made them think about... I got the warm-fuzzies all weekend long, reading over them.
One of my primary goals as an English teacher is to instill a love for writing in my students; this blog project makes me think that we're beginning to inch towards that goal! Many kids are now posting other poems, or thoughts, or entries on their blogs. One of my new favorites was just posted today, by a ninth grade boy. It begins:
I sincerely hate the human tendency to get too scared to ask another person the simple question, “Hey, you wanna go out sometime?”
How do you not love that?
The blog project has been on my mind while reading over our assigned text for the week, from our Teaching English Language Learners book. Many of the examples of first or second-year teachers resonated with me: full of enthusiasm and a desire to teacher all students effectively, but also, not as familiar with students, families, or traditional methods of practice. We have several ELL kids in our classes, most of whom are immigrants from Africa. When writing papers, we ask these kids to turn in a first draft to my mentor teacher or myself, so that we can give them a good going over before the kids start their final drafts. In helping these kids go over their papers with a fine tooth comb, we give them the added assistance they need.
Of course, with blogs, the kids simply write to the best of their abilities, and then publish. However, what's been cool about starting this unit with Things Fall Apart, is that the other students are so quick to HONOR, and affirm the ELL students' African backgrounds. We're learning about Africa, and so these kids value the ELL students' contributions and insights. For a Powerpoint project that we're currently working on, which for most students has entailed researching Nigeria, the Igbo people, and themes of the novel, I had the ELL students create a Powerpoint that simply explained their experience. Through doing this, I hope to further affirm these students' contributions and experiences-- what a wealth of knowledge they have to provide our classes about life in Africa! Our book has spoken of the importance of validating ELL students, encouraging them, and including them as a valued part of the classroom. I hope that the efforts I've made are communicating that!
Friday, March 13, 2009
Those Days
Some days are so long.
Some days, you start work as early as 7AM, mentally choreographing a number for the spring musical by listening to the song on your I-Tunes, while you dry your hair and put on make-up to get ready for the day.
Some days, the school copier breaks down. And you have to get REAL creative, REAL fast to revise your lesson. And then sometimes, the copier gets fixed at the very last second, and you can carry on after all.
Some days, you can rhapsodize about Shakespeare, and the history of medieval and Renaissance England, and tell students about your own performance on the Globe theatre stage in London, and they listen, and they laugh, and they sit up and look at you with bright eyes and grins on their faces, and you feel so good.
Some days, the kids are great about doing an in-class assignment, and they work together, and you feel awesome about their progress.
Some days, you and your mentor-teacher read "The Merchant of Venice" out loud to your students with especially silly, exaggerated voices, and the kids giggle and follow along.
Some days, you have to end regular school by rushing off to grad school, and prepare for a big presentation in front of your other grad school cohorts.
Some days, the presentation goes great. You play your guitar, you teach your classmates a song (sung as a ROUND!) to describe your teaching philosophy, they all sing, it sounds great, and people tell you afterwards that they loved your presentation especially.
Some days, you go home wanting nothing more than to just get into your pajamas and watch a mindless sitcom.
But some days, you can't rest yet. You have to finish choreographing that musical number by scratching out notes in a script while eating dinner.
Some days are awesome. Class goes well; grad school goes well; you've prepared for tomorrow, and you feel GOOD about life as a teacher.
But some days... leave you EXHAUSTED.
So some nights, you're in bed by 9:30PM. And on those nights, it takes you less than 10 seconds to fall asleep.
But those are great days.
Those are really great days.
Some days, you start work as early as 7AM, mentally choreographing a number for the spring musical by listening to the song on your I-Tunes, while you dry your hair and put on make-up to get ready for the day.
Some days, the school copier breaks down. And you have to get REAL creative, REAL fast to revise your lesson. And then sometimes, the copier gets fixed at the very last second, and you can carry on after all.
Some days, you can rhapsodize about Shakespeare, and the history of medieval and Renaissance England, and tell students about your own performance on the Globe theatre stage in London, and they listen, and they laugh, and they sit up and look at you with bright eyes and grins on their faces, and you feel so good.
Some days, the kids are great about doing an in-class assignment, and they work together, and you feel awesome about their progress.
Some days, you and your mentor-teacher read "The Merchant of Venice" out loud to your students with especially silly, exaggerated voices, and the kids giggle and follow along.
Some days, you have to end regular school by rushing off to grad school, and prepare for a big presentation in front of your other grad school cohorts.
Some days, the presentation goes great. You play your guitar, you teach your classmates a song (sung as a ROUND!) to describe your teaching philosophy, they all sing, it sounds great, and people tell you afterwards that they loved your presentation especially.
Some days, you go home wanting nothing more than to just get into your pajamas and watch a mindless sitcom.
But some days, you can't rest yet. You have to finish choreographing that musical number by scratching out notes in a script while eating dinner.
Some days are awesome. Class goes well; grad school goes well; you've prepared for tomorrow, and you feel GOOD about life as a teacher.
But some days... leave you EXHAUSTED.
So some nights, you're in bed by 9:30PM. And on those nights, it takes you less than 10 seconds to fall asleep.
But those are great days.
Those are really great days.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Out of Reach
Today was sort of a depressing day.
The kids are starting a poetry unit with this renowned spoken-word-poet Seattle woman, who's coming in every Tuesday for the next ten weeks. She's great with them-- very encouraging, and affirming. The kids read some of their initial free-writes out loud at the end of class today, and I was completely shaken. The writing was STUNNING-- but in many cases, absolutely heart-breaking. One girl wrote about her alcoholic/drug-addicted mother. Another boy wrote about his uncle who was in jail for murder, and his mom who had died, and his dad who had been crippled. He ended it with saying in this strong, sharp-edged tone, "I'm Dan. And my life's been f*****." Some poems were funny-- one kid wrote about cake. Another girl started off with, "I used to think dinosaurs were real. But now I KNOW I'm a Gloriasaurus." But so many of them... were just shattering.
It's like these kids have finally found a venue through which they can actually TALK about what's going on in their lives-- and it's explosive. It's resounding-- but utterly devastating to witness.
Anyway. That gave me heavy boots.
And then Jane was supposed to come work on her paper after school, so I waited, but she didn't show, and I started thinking about all the different kids that have basically tried to scam us this week, with bogus excuses, and lies... And I just felt discouraged.
I decided to just go home. I got my things together, and began walking slowly down the stairs. The particular staircase I was on has big windows looking out onto the parking lot below, and I saw my latino posse, all gathered. The afternoon today was warm, and full of sunshine, and I squinted down at them on the staircase landing, just watching them.
There were George, and Raoul. There were Jose and Eduardo. I saw Miguel there too, who hasn't come to school in weeks. He's a junior, but was taking our freshman/sophomore English class a second time-- but I think he may have just decided to drop out. I squinted at his hand, which he brought to his mouth. Smoking. I saw a blonde girl, facing away from me. Was that Jane? Is that why she wasn't getting help on her paper? No, I realized. It's the Ukrainian girl. Miguel's girlfriend.
A mini-van slowly drove by them, and, as if on cue, they all began moving with purpose as if they were going somewhere together. Then, once the car was gone, they abandoned the act and resettled on a stair-case in the shade, like birds settling themselves on a wire. I just looked at them. Every single one of those boys is failing right now. I saw them talking, laughing, smoking. I never see Raoul laugh like that in class. He always looks so afraid.
I looked at them and just thought: I don't know how to help you.
Eduardo looked up at me, and a moment later, other heads swiveled up to look at the window. Caught. I walked down the rest of the stairs and went outside into the warm sunshine. Waved at them. "Is that Mikey there?" I called out.
"What?"
"Isn't that Miguel? I thought I saw him!"
"What? Oh! Yeah!"
Miguel stood up. "Hey!"
"Hey! How you been? We've missed you!"
"What?" he called.
"How have you been?" I called again.
"I can't hear you!" he called back.
I know, I thought. I wish you could.
_
The kids are starting a poetry unit with this renowned spoken-word-poet Seattle woman, who's coming in every Tuesday for the next ten weeks. She's great with them-- very encouraging, and affirming. The kids read some of their initial free-writes out loud at the end of class today, and I was completely shaken. The writing was STUNNING-- but in many cases, absolutely heart-breaking. One girl wrote about her alcoholic/drug-addicted mother. Another boy wrote about his uncle who was in jail for murder, and his mom who had died, and his dad who had been crippled. He ended it with saying in this strong, sharp-edged tone, "I'm Dan. And my life's been f*****." Some poems were funny-- one kid wrote about cake. Another girl started off with, "I used to think dinosaurs were real. But now I KNOW I'm a Gloriasaurus." But so many of them... were just shattering.
It's like these kids have finally found a venue through which they can actually TALK about what's going on in their lives-- and it's explosive. It's resounding-- but utterly devastating to witness.
Anyway. That gave me heavy boots.
And then Jane was supposed to come work on her paper after school, so I waited, but she didn't show, and I started thinking about all the different kids that have basically tried to scam us this week, with bogus excuses, and lies... And I just felt discouraged.
I decided to just go home. I got my things together, and began walking slowly down the stairs. The particular staircase I was on has big windows looking out onto the parking lot below, and I saw my latino posse, all gathered. The afternoon today was warm, and full of sunshine, and I squinted down at them on the staircase landing, just watching them.
There were George, and Raoul. There were Jose and Eduardo. I saw Miguel there too, who hasn't come to school in weeks. He's a junior, but was taking our freshman/sophomore English class a second time-- but I think he may have just decided to drop out. I squinted at his hand, which he brought to his mouth. Smoking. I saw a blonde girl, facing away from me. Was that Jane? Is that why she wasn't getting help on her paper? No, I realized. It's the Ukrainian girl. Miguel's girlfriend.
A mini-van slowly drove by them, and, as if on cue, they all began moving with purpose as if they were going somewhere together. Then, once the car was gone, they abandoned the act and resettled on a stair-case in the shade, like birds settling themselves on a wire. I just looked at them. Every single one of those boys is failing right now. I saw them talking, laughing, smoking. I never see Raoul laugh like that in class. He always looks so afraid.
I looked at them and just thought: I don't know how to help you.
Eduardo looked up at me, and a moment later, other heads swiveled up to look at the window. Caught. I walked down the rest of the stairs and went outside into the warm sunshine. Waved at them. "Is that Mikey there?" I called out.
"What?"
"Isn't that Miguel? I thought I saw him!"
"What? Oh! Yeah!"
Miguel stood up. "Hey!"
"Hey! How you been? We've missed you!"
"What?" he called.
"How have you been?" I called again.
"I can't hear you!" he called back.
I know, I thought. I wish you could.
_
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
"Do you WANT me to chase you down? Because I will."
And then, I did.
5th period was NUTS today. When Keith was asked to go out in the hall because he was being so disruptive, he decided to just split. As I saw him making a bee-line down the hallway, I leaned out the classroom door and suggested he work at a table near the room. He looked over at his shoulder at me, and kept on walking.
And so I said the thing. And then did the chase.
And we talked, and got things resolved, and he came back, and we outlined his paper, and then things were fine.
When I went back into the classroom, Craig waved his arms above his head and said, "Greta!"
"Craig, I'll have to help you in a second, I'm still working with someone else."
"Oh no-- I just wanted to know if the CHASE was over!"
I rolled my eyes and laughed. "Yes. The chase has been over for some time."
GadZOOKS. I shouldn't worry so much about looking young. These kids are going to make me ooold faaaaast.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
On another note, our boys' basketball team has been accomplishing steady win after win; last night, they won a game that will take them all the way to state.
This is HUGE deal. We are a tiny school. Our kids are poor. Nobody believes in us. And our motley crew is going up against these small ritzy private schools and playing their hearts out and WINNING. Yesterday, the school declared an emergency field trip and, at 1:30, sent two bus-loads of kids down south to get to the game in time, which started at 3:00. We don't have cheer-leaders; at the last game I attended, two of our girls got up in front and led our school in makeshift cheers, while the opposing side's squad did flips and lifts and jumps in pristine matching uniforms. But we WON. Today, we had a pep rally-- something which almost never occurs, because we basically don't DO sports-- and the school hollered its heart out. I found out that one boy, who was homeless only a couple years ago, is being recruited by Seattle Lutheran and may actually be able to go to college on a scholarship.
And now we're going to state. How awesome is that??
5th period was NUTS today. When Keith was asked to go out in the hall because he was being so disruptive, he decided to just split. As I saw him making a bee-line down the hallway, I leaned out the classroom door and suggested he work at a table near the room. He looked over at his shoulder at me, and kept on walking.
And so I said the thing. And then did the chase.
And we talked, and got things resolved, and he came back, and we outlined his paper, and then things were fine.
When I went back into the classroom, Craig waved his arms above his head and said, "Greta!"
"Craig, I'll have to help you in a second, I'm still working with someone else."
"Oh no-- I just wanted to know if the CHASE was over!"
I rolled my eyes and laughed. "Yes. The chase has been over for some time."
GadZOOKS. I shouldn't worry so much about looking young. These kids are going to make me ooold faaaaast.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
On another note, our boys' basketball team has been accomplishing steady win after win; last night, they won a game that will take them all the way to state.
This is HUGE deal. We are a tiny school. Our kids are poor. Nobody believes in us. And our motley crew is going up against these small ritzy private schools and playing their hearts out and WINNING. Yesterday, the school declared an emergency field trip and, at 1:30, sent two bus-loads of kids down south to get to the game in time, which started at 3:00. We don't have cheer-leaders; at the last game I attended, two of our girls got up in front and led our school in makeshift cheers, while the opposing side's squad did flips and lifts and jumps in pristine matching uniforms. But we WON. Today, we had a pep rally-- something which almost never occurs, because we basically don't DO sports-- and the school hollered its heart out. I found out that one boy, who was homeless only a couple years ago, is being recruited by Seattle Lutheran and may actually be able to go to college on a scholarship.
And now we're going to state. How awesome is that??
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