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??
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Burned CDs and Burning Rubber
I was making copies in the staff lounge when Mike the Photography Teacher came in; this is a man I’ve talked to probably twice in my life.
“So how can I get one of your CDs?” he asked.
“What?” I asked, surprised.
“The kids are playing your CD in my class!” he said. “And they’re singing along, they know all the words!”
“What?!” I said. “Are you serious?!”
“Yeah!”
“Oh my gosh… I gave out some of those as prizes when we played Grammar Jeopardy in class—I can’t believe they’re playing them in your class--!”
“They LOVE it!” he said. “I’d really like one—you remind me of like a 70’s folk singer.”
“Thanks...” I said, turning red. “I’m embarrassed, but flattered.”
Another teacher came in. “You have a CD?” she asked.
“Well, I gave out burned CDs when we played Grammar Jeopardy, as prizes—but initially, I’d just brought in mix CDs of my favorite music. But then the kids asked, ‘Are these YOUR songs?’ and I said, ‘No! I’m not going to try to push my music off on you guys.’ But they said, ‘Well we’d want the CD if they were YOUR songs!’... So I brought in a couple of burned CDs the next day of my music... Oh my gosh, and they know the words??”
He smiled. “All of them. They really care about you. It’s obvious they really care about you. So what do you think, can I pay you for one?”
“No, don’t PAY me.”
“I insist, I’d want to give you something.”
“Well, buy me coffee then. But sure, I’ll bring one in for you.”
When I got back to the classroom, Viola reiterated the same thing. “I forgot to tell you! When you were gone last Friday, all the kids were talking about your songs!”
What a funny, unexpected start to a dreary, rainy morning. My favorite part was when he said, "It's obvious they really care about you." Good words.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
Remember when I blogged about the students who were like peeing puppy dogs? Raoul is another one. Huge dark brown eyes with long lashes, a sweet temperament, a good heart-- and he never gets his work in. Some of my Latino boys have developed a trick with me: they ask for ONE MORE DAY to get it done, and give me some excuse for why that's valid. Usually it's because they were absent. (Which is usually because they were skipping class.) If I show any signs of wavering (which I usually do), they try to sweeten the deal. "How about for half-credit? Please?"
"Raoul, I need your reading journal."
"But I was gone."
"I know, that's why I need it now. It was due before break."
"But couldn't I have an extra day to get it in, since I was absent?"
"No, because it was due BEFORE break. You had an entire extra WEEK to get it done."
"You always say no to me! Why do you always say no to me?"
"I do NOT always say no to you, I have given you sooo many breaks, Raoul."
"No you don't, you always say no--"
"Raoul. This was due BEFORE BREAK. I will give you until the end of the day to turn in whatever you've got. If I don't see it by the end of the day, you're getting zero credit, and I won't accept it late. Okay?"
He grumbled and muttered.
"So DON'T FORGET to turn it in at the end of the day. Write it on your hand or something."
Raoul has done this before. He "forgets" to come back at the end of the day, gets his extra time, and then usually manages to get his credit.
In fifth period, one of the other Latino boys asked if he could turn his in-class assignment in at the end of the day, just to have a little more time. "Yes. And remind Raoul that he HAS to bring me his reading journal, otherwise I'm not accepting it at all."
"I will. Thanks Greta."
After school I waited. No Raoul. No George.
Grumpily, I packed up my stuff, and rehearsed in my head the conversations that I imagined ensuing the next day. "But I forgot!" "You must think I'm so stupid, Raoul..." They ALWAYS do this. Stupid peeing puppy dogs.
As I was driving away from the school, I saw the two of them along with some of their friends out of the corner of my eye, all waiting for their Metro bus. I whipped my car around in a U-turn and pulled up alongside the curb. Their eyes got big. I rolled down my window and smiled cheerfully.
"Raoul! George! I just wanted to let you know that you can slide your stuff under the door!"
"What...?" Raoul asked.
"When you go back to the classroom to turn in your reading journal. Because you were planning on doing that, right? Just go ahead, and slide it under the door!"
George untangled himself from the female he'd been draping. "What? You need my reading journal?"
"No, I need your in-class assignment, and Raoul's journal."
"Do you need anything from ME?!" their friend asked in panic.
"No Jose, you're fine."
Raoul had pulled his coat up over his grinning face. George turned to him, "Dude, I'm not done with mine."
"Or you can just give it to me now," I told Raoul.
"Noo... I'll go back and turn it in..." he said, grinning in spite of himself.
"Alright then. See you later!"
And I whipped my car back around and sped off. Lesson to me? No more allowing these boys to "turn things in at the end of the day." Lesson to them? I can, and will, HUNT THEM DOWN.
“So how can I get one of your CDs?” he asked.
“What?” I asked, surprised.
“The kids are playing your CD in my class!” he said. “And they’re singing along, they know all the words!”
“What?!” I said. “Are you serious?!”
“Yeah!”
“Oh my gosh… I gave out some of those as prizes when we played Grammar Jeopardy in class—I can’t believe they’re playing them in your class--!”
“They LOVE it!” he said. “I’d really like one—you remind me of like a 70’s folk singer.”
“Thanks...” I said, turning red. “I’m embarrassed, but flattered.”
Another teacher came in. “You have a CD?” she asked.
“Well, I gave out burned CDs when we played Grammar Jeopardy, as prizes—but initially, I’d just brought in mix CDs of my favorite music. But then the kids asked, ‘Are these YOUR songs?’ and I said, ‘No! I’m not going to try to push my music off on you guys.’ But they said, ‘Well we’d want the CD if they were YOUR songs!’... So I brought in a couple of burned CDs the next day of my music... Oh my gosh, and they know the words??”
He smiled. “All of them. They really care about you. It’s obvious they really care about you. So what do you think, can I pay you for one?”
“No, don’t PAY me.”
“I insist, I’d want to give you something.”
“Well, buy me coffee then. But sure, I’ll bring one in for you.”
When I got back to the classroom, Viola reiterated the same thing. “I forgot to tell you! When you were gone last Friday, all the kids were talking about your songs!”
What a funny, unexpected start to a dreary, rainy morning. My favorite part was when he said, "It's obvious they really care about you." Good words.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
Remember when I blogged about the students who were like peeing puppy dogs? Raoul is another one. Huge dark brown eyes with long lashes, a sweet temperament, a good heart-- and he never gets his work in. Some of my Latino boys have developed a trick with me: they ask for ONE MORE DAY to get it done, and give me some excuse for why that's valid. Usually it's because they were absent. (Which is usually because they were skipping class.) If I show any signs of wavering (which I usually do), they try to sweeten the deal. "How about for half-credit? Please?"
"Raoul, I need your reading journal."
"But I was gone."
"I know, that's why I need it now. It was due before break."
"But couldn't I have an extra day to get it in, since I was absent?"
"No, because it was due BEFORE break. You had an entire extra WEEK to get it done."
"You always say no to me! Why do you always say no to me?"
"I do NOT always say no to you, I have given you sooo many breaks, Raoul."
"No you don't, you always say no--"
"Raoul. This was due BEFORE BREAK. I will give you until the end of the day to turn in whatever you've got. If I don't see it by the end of the day, you're getting zero credit, and I won't accept it late. Okay?"
He grumbled and muttered.
"So DON'T FORGET to turn it in at the end of the day. Write it on your hand or something."
Raoul has done this before. He "forgets" to come back at the end of the day, gets his extra time, and then usually manages to get his credit.
In fifth period, one of the other Latino boys asked if he could turn his in-class assignment in at the end of the day, just to have a little more time. "Yes. And remind Raoul that he HAS to bring me his reading journal, otherwise I'm not accepting it at all."
"I will. Thanks Greta."
After school I waited. No Raoul. No George.
Grumpily, I packed up my stuff, and rehearsed in my head the conversations that I imagined ensuing the next day. "But I forgot!" "You must think I'm so stupid, Raoul..." They ALWAYS do this. Stupid peeing puppy dogs.
As I was driving away from the school, I saw the two of them along with some of their friends out of the corner of my eye, all waiting for their Metro bus. I whipped my car around in a U-turn and pulled up alongside the curb. Their eyes got big. I rolled down my window and smiled cheerfully.
"Raoul! George! I just wanted to let you know that you can slide your stuff under the door!"
"What...?" Raoul asked.
"When you go back to the classroom to turn in your reading journal. Because you were planning on doing that, right? Just go ahead, and slide it under the door!"
George untangled himself from the female he'd been draping. "What? You need my reading journal?"
"No, I need your in-class assignment, and Raoul's journal."
"Do you need anything from ME?!" their friend asked in panic.
"No Jose, you're fine."
Raoul had pulled his coat up over his grinning face. George turned to him, "Dude, I'm not done with mine."
"Or you can just give it to me now," I told Raoul.
"Noo... I'll go back and turn it in..." he said, grinning in spite of himself.
"Alright then. See you later!"
And I whipped my car back around and sped off. Lesson to me? No more allowing these boys to "turn things in at the end of the day." Lesson to them? I can, and will, HUNT THEM DOWN.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Feedback
Andre--
I've seen good work from you, but this does not show what you're capable of doing. Viola and I have given you a LOT of extensions, and extra help, and grade boosts this year, but it's time you stepped up.
I know what you COULD be and I know what you CAN do. But being that and doing that are choices that you have to make.
Hope you do.
Grade: 54/100
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Theo--
This is what I think:
1.) You are a GIFTED writer. Many exclamation points.
2.) It seems like you will expound and dive in to prompts that INTEREST you, but only make half-hearted (at best?) efforts at prompts that don't.
3.) I suggest you be pro-active about this. If you don't like a prompt, talk to Viola or me about coming up with a "Theo Special" that you can actually sink your teeth into. (Are you looking into [name of an alternative school] for next year? That kind of student-led curriculum seems tailor-made for a smarty-pants like you.) (I mean that in a good way.)
4.) Don't NOT talk to us about coming up with a Theo Special because you think a Theo Special might mean more work. You are a GIFTED, TALENTED WRITER but we can't help you get better if you turn in lame responses to (what you may consider) lame prompts.
5.) Also, just, "in the real world" FYI... You WILL have to B.S. good writing to lame prompts. Sometimes, you'll just have to suck it up-- and it will benefit you to do so.
6.) But in the meantime-- let's get you writing about stuff you're genuinely interested in. Because the results are superb.
Okay?
Grade: 86/100
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Isaac, we've given you SO many second chances in this class... After you re-took the essay final, you told me you were going to start doing your best work the FIRST time around... But you only have 2 freewrites out of 5. :(
I'm disappointed Isaac-- I know you can do better than this.
Grade: 28/100
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Sothini is an African immigrant who is an English Language Learner.
Sothini-- you are a beautiful writer! Your language mechanics still have a little ways to go, but you've already vastly improved since the beginning of the year, and I am SO impressed with your descriptions, poetic phrasing, and analogies. Keep it up girl-- you are a WRITER!!
Grade: 87/100
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Wish I could have read your thoughts on the last two freewrites, Eduardo.
My opinion? You should go to college and major in creative writing. You've got a perceptive mind and a heart that KNOWS things. If you got your motivation up to speed, you'd be unstoppable.
I'D buy a book with your name on it.
Grade: 65/100
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I posted Amanda's thoughts about true love in an earlier blog.
Amanda-- I just have to say that I was so moved after reading the story about your dad-- especially when thinking about the sweet, positive, kind girl that it happened to. I mistook your cheerful spirit for naivete, thinking that maybe you just hadn't experienced real heartbreak yet-- but I see that life has been tough on you already. I'm so sorry for that. :( But I feel that much more impressed by your lovely, hopeful demeanor. Hang on to that hope Amanda-- life continues to be alternately stormy and beautiful, but HOPE is a life preserver that will help you stay afloat; it is one of the truest, most steadfast gifts we will ever have. Remember, in the darkest times, that light is around the corner-- and YOU have the kind of eyes that will find it.
I love your heart Amanda. You inspire me! :)
Grade: 98/100
I've seen good work from you, but this does not show what you're capable of doing. Viola and I have given you a LOT of extensions, and extra help, and grade boosts this year, but it's time you stepped up.
I know what you COULD be and I know what you CAN do. But being that and doing that are choices that you have to make.
Hope you do.
Grade: 54/100
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Theo--
This is what I think:
1.) You are a GIFTED writer. Many exclamation points.
2.) It seems like you will expound and dive in to prompts that INTEREST you, but only make half-hearted (at best?) efforts at prompts that don't.
3.) I suggest you be pro-active about this. If you don't like a prompt, talk to Viola or me about coming up with a "Theo Special" that you can actually sink your teeth into. (Are you looking into [name of an alternative school] for next year? That kind of student-led curriculum seems tailor-made for a smarty-pants like you.) (I mean that in a good way.)
4.) Don't NOT talk to us about coming up with a Theo Special because you think a Theo Special might mean more work. You are a GIFTED, TALENTED WRITER but we can't help you get better if you turn in lame responses to (what you may consider) lame prompts.
5.) Also, just, "in the real world" FYI... You WILL have to B.S. good writing to lame prompts. Sometimes, you'll just have to suck it up-- and it will benefit you to do so.
6.) But in the meantime-- let's get you writing about stuff you're genuinely interested in. Because the results are superb.
Okay?
Grade: 86/100
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Isaac, we've given you SO many second chances in this class... After you re-took the essay final, you told me you were going to start doing your best work the FIRST time around... But you only have 2 freewrites out of 5. :(
I'm disappointed Isaac-- I know you can do better than this.
Grade: 28/100
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Sothini is an African immigrant who is an English Language Learner.
Sothini-- you are a beautiful writer! Your language mechanics still have a little ways to go, but you've already vastly improved since the beginning of the year, and I am SO impressed with your descriptions, poetic phrasing, and analogies. Keep it up girl-- you are a WRITER!!
Grade: 87/100
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Wish I could have read your thoughts on the last two freewrites, Eduardo.
My opinion? You should go to college and major in creative writing. You've got a perceptive mind and a heart that KNOWS things. If you got your motivation up to speed, you'd be unstoppable.
I'D buy a book with your name on it.
Grade: 65/100
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I posted Amanda's thoughts about true love in an earlier blog.
Amanda-- I just have to say that I was so moved after reading the story about your dad-- especially when thinking about the sweet, positive, kind girl that it happened to. I mistook your cheerful spirit for naivete, thinking that maybe you just hadn't experienced real heartbreak yet-- but I see that life has been tough on you already. I'm so sorry for that. :( But I feel that much more impressed by your lovely, hopeful demeanor. Hang on to that hope Amanda-- life continues to be alternately stormy and beautiful, but HOPE is a life preserver that will help you stay afloat; it is one of the truest, most steadfast gifts we will ever have. Remember, in the darkest times, that light is around the corner-- and YOU have the kind of eyes that will find it.
I love your heart Amanda. You inspire me! :)
Grade: 98/100
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
The Disentangling
Written Jan. 27th 2009
Taught all day today and feel a bit knackered. I'm supposed to be responding to my grad school classmates in an online discussion right now, but I need to hit the refresh button on my brain first.
Therefore:
Blogging.
(When I first wrote 'blogging,' I wrote 'boggling' which would not be an inaccurate description of current self.)
Last week, I snapped at this boy named Chris. Chris is one of a few students that I think of as "peeing puppy dogs." They're totally adorable, but totally frustrating-- never getting their work in, making low efforts when they do, and plus, they lie all the time or tell stories to get out of stuff. Think of a little brown-eyed pup grinning up at you with this disarming expression... while pissing all over your new carpet.
"Chris, what is this?"
"My in-class essay."
"Yeah... but... you wrote a paragraph."
(Shrugs and grins.)
"And you brought it in 10 minutes early. You could have spent 10 more minutes on this. You know that we're looking for like five paragraphs, right?"
"I guess." (Grins.)
"Chris, this is lame."
(Laughs sheepishly and shrugs.)
"You can do so much better than this. This is seriously lame."
"Sorry..." (Grin.)
I heaved an angry sigh, and threw down his paper on the table. "Go sit down."
And he shuffled off to his desk.
I immediately felt guilty. Why didn't I leave it on an inspirational note? Is he really going to try harder if I just tell him he's lame?
After class I tried again.
"Chris. I don't want to just leave this by telling you you're lame. I think what you DID on that test is lame, because I know you can do better than that. Viola and I can't help you get better if you don't try. It's like basketball practice. If you show up and just sit on the bench, we're never going to be able to give you helpful pointers to improve your game. You HAVE to try. I really believe you can do better than this, and we can HELP you be a better writer if you GIVE that to us. Okay?"
He grinned shyly. "Okay." Then he paused. "Um... Greta? Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure," I said, smiling. Finally. He gets it. This is one of those great moments.
But he burst my bubble. "How are your FEET so small?" he said, wrinkling his nose, and grinning.
ARGH. Today he wasn't even trying to be cute: he was just contrary and apathetic and rude. I thought to myself, "You're not even the peeing puppy today. You're diarrhea puppy." So I put him outside. When I went out in the hall to talk to him later on, he told me that there was, "a lot of drama going on, and he was just sick of it." I told him that I understood drama could make things frustrating, and that I would try to go easy on him-- but that he needed to meet me halfway. Who even knows if he was telling the truth. I know he doesn't have it easy. But does he have it as hard as he'd like me to think?
When I drove home today, I felt tired. It had just been a long day. I still feel tired.
Two songs came on the radio. First, "Washed by the Water," by Needtobreathe. Second, "Revelation," by Third Day. Both songs had been put on a "Hope" playlist, which had been created during a very stressful time of my life.
I remembered a picture I'd gotten in my head once, during that time. In my head, I pictured myself on a dark beach, sitting on packed sand with my knees clutched to my chest. On the shoreline in front of me, I saw endless piles of garbage. The sky over the ocean was dark grey and stormy-- but beneath that sky, there hovered a large, bluish spirit. She guided the waves in and out, to the rhythm of my breathing. In, and they washed up over the garbage, stopping just short of my toes. Out, and they took some of the garbage with them-- pulling cans and old plastic wrappers away to hide forever in the ocean's secret deep. She continued to guide the waves: in, and out. In and out. And piece by piece, the shoreline began to clear.
Then I pictured someone close to me-- someone that I've been worried about. It was Christmas morning in this picture, but this person wasn't celebrating. She was wrapped in string-- tangled up in so many strings, and each one was a spot of pitch from her past experiences, her burdened living that wouldn't let her go. One was her relationship with her dad-- and there were memory strings and conversation strings and disappointment strings knotted with just that one. One was her negative body image, and knotted there were magazine strings, and media strings, and comment strings, and mirror strings, and cruel self-thought strings. There were strings of financial stress, and strings of worldly expectations, and strings of an unknown fearsome future-- there were so MANY. So many: so so many. And she was so tangled.
But God was in the room-- it was Jesus this morning, but He wasn't His Christmas-baby self. He was a grown up, wearing khaki pants, and a brown sweater vest with a brown tie, and he had his sleeves rolled up. I don't know about His face, but it was a soft expression. And when He focused on the strings, they began to snap-- one, by one, by one. And she slowly gained movement. The strings began to untangle, and she became more and more free.
And then the picture went back to the beach. But this time, the sky was clear and blue. There was no storm; only a soft breeze. I was on my feet, in a white dress, and my head was up, and my shoulders were back. The beach was clear: it was only soft bleached sand for as far as I could see. I began walking along the beach, feeling that breeze whisper around my neck and through my hair, and I felt such a deep peace, and such a pure joy, and such a real freedom. And though I didn't see Him yet, I knew that God was walking towards me.
And I thought, "In the end-- it's just Him. We begin as free souls-- and we end as free souls. We become so burdened in the meantime. But He frees us from the garbage-- He frees us from the tangling. In the end it's all clear-- it's just that long, white beach."
Since then, when feeling overwhelmed or stressed, I picture those waves coming in over that litter-ridden shore, and pulling it out, bit by bit. And I breathe to the rhythm of the waves in my mind. Today, when driving home, I pictured Chris. And I pictured him all tangled up. And I thought, "They ARE all tangled up-- every one of them. They're so burdened and tangled and confined." I thought of Isaac, and Andre, and K, and all the kids I've mentioned over the last six months, and all the tough things I've discovered that they face every day.
Maybe my mission as a teacher is simply to help them with the disentangling. I know I can't articulate that in words like Jesus, or God-- at least not in public schools-- but I can articulate it through kindness, and encouragement, and belief, and respect-- even in ceaseless beleaguering. I can articulate it with words like Hope, and Freedom, and Peace, and Future. I can try to show them love that looks like a cleansing wave, or a snapped string, or a long white beach.
Taught all day today and feel a bit knackered. I'm supposed to be responding to my grad school classmates in an online discussion right now, but I need to hit the refresh button on my brain first.
Therefore:
Blogging.
(When I first wrote 'blogging,' I wrote 'boggling' which would not be an inaccurate description of current self.)
Last week, I snapped at this boy named Chris. Chris is one of a few students that I think of as "peeing puppy dogs." They're totally adorable, but totally frustrating-- never getting their work in, making low efforts when they do, and plus, they lie all the time or tell stories to get out of stuff. Think of a little brown-eyed pup grinning up at you with this disarming expression... while pissing all over your new carpet.
"Chris, what is this?"
"My in-class essay."
"Yeah... but... you wrote a paragraph."
(Shrugs and grins.)
"And you brought it in 10 minutes early. You could have spent 10 more minutes on this. You know that we're looking for like five paragraphs, right?"
"I guess." (Grins.)
"Chris, this is lame."
(Laughs sheepishly and shrugs.)
"You can do so much better than this. This is seriously lame."
"Sorry..." (Grin.)
I heaved an angry sigh, and threw down his paper on the table. "Go sit down."
And he shuffled off to his desk.
I immediately felt guilty. Why didn't I leave it on an inspirational note? Is he really going to try harder if I just tell him he's lame?
After class I tried again.
"Chris. I don't want to just leave this by telling you you're lame. I think what you DID on that test is lame, because I know you can do better than that. Viola and I can't help you get better if you don't try. It's like basketball practice. If you show up and just sit on the bench, we're never going to be able to give you helpful pointers to improve your game. You HAVE to try. I really believe you can do better than this, and we can HELP you be a better writer if you GIVE that to us. Okay?"
He grinned shyly. "Okay." Then he paused. "Um... Greta? Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure," I said, smiling. Finally. He gets it. This is one of those great moments.
But he burst my bubble. "How are your FEET so small?" he said, wrinkling his nose, and grinning.
ARGH. Today he wasn't even trying to be cute: he was just contrary and apathetic and rude. I thought to myself, "You're not even the peeing puppy today. You're diarrhea puppy." So I put him outside. When I went out in the hall to talk to him later on, he told me that there was, "a lot of drama going on, and he was just sick of it." I told him that I understood drama could make things frustrating, and that I would try to go easy on him-- but that he needed to meet me halfway. Who even knows if he was telling the truth. I know he doesn't have it easy. But does he have it as hard as he'd like me to think?
When I drove home today, I felt tired. It had just been a long day. I still feel tired.
Two songs came on the radio. First, "Washed by the Water," by Needtobreathe. Second, "Revelation," by Third Day. Both songs had been put on a "Hope" playlist, which had been created during a very stressful time of my life.
I remembered a picture I'd gotten in my head once, during that time. In my head, I pictured myself on a dark beach, sitting on packed sand with my knees clutched to my chest. On the shoreline in front of me, I saw endless piles of garbage. The sky over the ocean was dark grey and stormy-- but beneath that sky, there hovered a large, bluish spirit. She guided the waves in and out, to the rhythm of my breathing. In, and they washed up over the garbage, stopping just short of my toes. Out, and they took some of the garbage with them-- pulling cans and old plastic wrappers away to hide forever in the ocean's secret deep. She continued to guide the waves: in, and out. In and out. And piece by piece, the shoreline began to clear.
Then I pictured someone close to me-- someone that I've been worried about. It was Christmas morning in this picture, but this person wasn't celebrating. She was wrapped in string-- tangled up in so many strings, and each one was a spot of pitch from her past experiences, her burdened living that wouldn't let her go. One was her relationship with her dad-- and there were memory strings and conversation strings and disappointment strings knotted with just that one. One was her negative body image, and knotted there were magazine strings, and media strings, and comment strings, and mirror strings, and cruel self-thought strings. There were strings of financial stress, and strings of worldly expectations, and strings of an unknown fearsome future-- there were so MANY. So many: so so many. And she was so tangled.
But God was in the room-- it was Jesus this morning, but He wasn't His Christmas-baby self. He was a grown up, wearing khaki pants, and a brown sweater vest with a brown tie, and he had his sleeves rolled up. I don't know about His face, but it was a soft expression. And when He focused on the strings, they began to snap-- one, by one, by one. And she slowly gained movement. The strings began to untangle, and she became more and more free.
And then the picture went back to the beach. But this time, the sky was clear and blue. There was no storm; only a soft breeze. I was on my feet, in a white dress, and my head was up, and my shoulders were back. The beach was clear: it was only soft bleached sand for as far as I could see. I began walking along the beach, feeling that breeze whisper around my neck and through my hair, and I felt such a deep peace, and such a pure joy, and such a real freedom. And though I didn't see Him yet, I knew that God was walking towards me.
And I thought, "In the end-- it's just Him. We begin as free souls-- and we end as free souls. We become so burdened in the meantime. But He frees us from the garbage-- He frees us from the tangling. In the end it's all clear-- it's just that long, white beach."
Since then, when feeling overwhelmed or stressed, I picture those waves coming in over that litter-ridden shore, and pulling it out, bit by bit. And I breathe to the rhythm of the waves in my mind. Today, when driving home, I pictured Chris. And I pictured him all tangled up. And I thought, "They ARE all tangled up-- every one of them. They're so burdened and tangled and confined." I thought of Isaac, and Andre, and K, and all the kids I've mentioned over the last six months, and all the tough things I've discovered that they face every day.
Maybe my mission as a teacher is simply to help them with the disentangling. I know I can't articulate that in words like Jesus, or God-- at least not in public schools-- but I can articulate it through kindness, and encouragement, and belief, and respect-- even in ceaseless beleaguering. I can articulate it with words like Hope, and Freedom, and Peace, and Future. I can try to show them love that looks like a cleansing wave, or a snapped string, or a long white beach.
Glimpses
Written Jan. 24th 2009
True Love as described in an in-class essay by a 14-year-old Freshman girl, who is currently dating an 8th grade boy:
Last but not least, true love. Have you ever had that feeling that you'd love to be with someone everyday all day? That feeling you get when you like someone alot and everytime they're around you get huge butterflies and you can't stop thinking about how much you want to kiss the person? That my dear, is love... (Actually, love cannot be defined, but that's how I felt...) This person is most likely "The One," meaning you'd love to spend the rest of your life with them. The only person that makes you feel a certain happiness... A happiness you get and it just makes you feel so good and so right. It's amazing.
So in conclusion, without love, our world would be completely dull and retarted, because you wouldn't have the happiness you get from all the love.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Another student's thesis, responding to the prompt, "Is television a good thing, or would we be better off without it? Choose a side to argue and use specific examples to support your argument."
Although TV isn't terrific, it also isn't totally terrible. All in all, TV could be considered hardly better than neutral.
We've been working on creating arguable theses...
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
One kid responded to the prompt: "If you could make one change in your life, what would it be? Why would you choose to change that one thing? Use specific examples to explain why that change would be important."
He wrote that, if he could change anything about his life, he would choose to live somewhere else; he said that his neighborhood had between 5 and 7 gangs, and that he couldn't count how many times he's almost been robbed or shot. He described how noisy it got at night, with the sirens and yelling and gun-shots. "In the day its not so bad but at night you wish you didn't have ears."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
January 8, 2009
Dear Greta,
I would like to thank you for helping me in dance class. You have been a great partner and have been patient when I have made mistakes. It is nice to have a non-judgmental partner in such an environment where one is vulnerable such as when one dances with another.
I would also like to thank you for helping me deal with those that think it is okay to pass me up in the partnering line. That kind of incident makes me feel lower than dirt and you helped me get back on my feet and to come back strong.
I am truly glad to have you as a dance partner and as a teacher. May your future career in academics bring you good fortune and good times.
Sincerely,
B----- W.F. H----- Esq. The XLVIII
True Love as described in an in-class essay by a 14-year-old Freshman girl, who is currently dating an 8th grade boy:
Last but not least, true love. Have you ever had that feeling that you'd love to be with someone everyday all day? That feeling you get when you like someone alot and everytime they're around you get huge butterflies and you can't stop thinking about how much you want to kiss the person? That my dear, is love... (Actually, love cannot be defined, but that's how I felt...) This person is most likely "The One," meaning you'd love to spend the rest of your life with them. The only person that makes you feel a certain happiness... A happiness you get and it just makes you feel so good and so right. It's amazing.
So in conclusion, without love, our world would be completely dull and retarted, because you wouldn't have the happiness you get from all the love.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Another student's thesis, responding to the prompt, "Is television a good thing, or would we be better off without it? Choose a side to argue and use specific examples to support your argument."
Although TV isn't terrific, it also isn't totally terrible. All in all, TV could be considered hardly better than neutral.
We've been working on creating arguable theses...
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
One kid responded to the prompt: "If you could make one change in your life, what would it be? Why would you choose to change that one thing? Use specific examples to explain why that change would be important."
He wrote that, if he could change anything about his life, he would choose to live somewhere else; he said that his neighborhood had between 5 and 7 gangs, and that he couldn't count how many times he's almost been robbed or shot. He described how noisy it got at night, with the sirens and yelling and gun-shots. "In the day its not so bad but at night you wish you didn't have ears."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
January 8, 2009
Dear Greta,
I would like to thank you for helping me in dance class. You have been a great partner and have been patient when I have made mistakes. It is nice to have a non-judgmental partner in such an environment where one is vulnerable such as when one dances with another.
I would also like to thank you for helping me deal with those that think it is okay to pass me up in the partnering line. That kind of incident makes me feel lower than dirt and you helped me get back on my feet and to come back strong.
I am truly glad to have you as a dance partner and as a teacher. May your future career in academics bring you good fortune and good times.
Sincerely,
B----- W.F. H----- Esq. The XLVIII
Dragons and Dylan
Written on Jan. 15th 2009
Since I've confessed teaching fears and insecurities and difficult moments to you on this blog, will you forgive me for telling you about what feels like a smashing success? If at any point the gushing becomes unbearable, just refer back to this. You'll be properly reassured that there have been plenty of ghastly moments as well.
But not during the last two days.
The last two days have been AWESOME.
Viola tagged along on a theatre field trip to Port Townsend this week, which meant I had all of Wednesday and Thursday to instruct. These are both block days-- 90 minute periods. It was my first time teaching a 90 minute lesson, and only the second time I would be teaching without Viola nearby to crack the whip--which meant that I was knee-knocking nervous. She had asked me to teach them how to write an in-class essay. When I worked out the lesson plan, I kept feeling discouraged and hitting mental blocks. After phoning a friend (actually two: teaching-cohort friend Josh, and edgy-English-teacher friend Mark) for ideas, I'd worked out what I wanted to do.
Wednesday: wore a very grown-up outfit to help things.
We started with the main information: I'd written out the main points to think about when writing an in-class essay and we read over the sheet as a class. The Wednesday crew seemed to drag during this part, so for Thursday, I took out key words and replaced them with blanks. The kids guessed what the key words were supposed to be and "filled in the blanks" as we went along, which kept them engaged.
Then came the fun part. "You all know how much I love metaphors," I told them. "And I think of writing an in-class essay as being similar to heading into BATTLE! You want to nail this thing, conquer the beast! So if we're going into battle, the first thing we have to do is figure out what we're fighting-- we have to pick the prompt we want to take on. So if this is a battle, do we want to fight the evil sorcerer or the dragon?"
The classes all perked up at this part. Sorcerers? Dragons? The dragon beat out poor Voldemort every time.
"Okay-- forgive my artistic abilities guys, I'm not nearly the artist that most of you are." And I drew a BIG dragon on the board. The kids loved that.
"Give it wings! Give it a spiky tail! Wait, it looks too happy. That's better."
I labeled it PROMPT. "Okay. That's what we're taking on. Now what do we need if we're going to fight a DRAGON?"
"A weapon!"
"RIGHT! And the weapon is going to be our thesis statement, because there's no way you can successfully take on a prompt without a thesis. So what should we fight him with?"
We fought the dragon with a fire hose, ninja stars, a magical sword, and a nuclear bomb, for 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th period respectively.
The boots were the essay outline, since you can't move forward without boots. The helmet represented brainstorming. And the armor made up the supporting points. "And if you don't make sure ALL areas of your body are covered, the dragon's going to lop that part right off! And THERE goes an arm! And we might pretend it's not a big deal, but it would definitely be more than a flesh wound. Okay? You want to make sure that you back up your thesis with GOOD armor."
In 4th period, one of our most eccentric kids who has repeatedly failed our class, but who is a BRILLIANT artist scooted up and shooed me away from the white board. "I want to draw the dragon." His creation was hilarious and elaborate, and I was able to teach while he went to dragon town.
Then the kids drew their own. And they came up with the BEST analogies! One girl drew her make-up kit: the directions were the outline, since you needed to have some idea how to put your make-up on. The different pictures of how you could apply it represented brainstorming. The brush was the thesis statement, because you can't put makeup on without it, and the different colors of makeup were the supporting points. One African kid-- who often struggles in our class, because of his language difficulties-- drew a basketball hoop as the prompt, the ball as the thesis statement, his athletic positioning as the supporting points, and his shoes as the outline. It was spot on. When they were done, they went up front and explained their analogy-- and they were seriously GREAT! They totally got the concept, and by teaching it themselves, the different steps were repeatedly reinforced.
The next part of the lesson I had struggled with. I wanted to have them practice writing an essay in class, but on what? We finished our last book before break, and we'd only been looking at haiku in the last week. But how can you write an essay on a haiku? Then I remembered that my Wednesday sub was a guitar player who loved Bob Dylan.
So we busted out Bob Dylan.
After giving them some background on who Bob Dylan was, and the context in which he wrote his famous song, "Blowin' in the Wind," we played it for them, trading off verses, doing harmonies at the end, and Neil even did a sweet guitar solo. The kids loved it! Later in the day, in our mentoring class which normally just acts as a study hall, the kids all made me play more songs, and clamored about which one was their favorite. They liked my songs!!
After playing the Dylan song, I asked, "So what is this song about? What is Dylan saying with all this?" The kids have amazing poetic sensibilities, and they made some beautiful observations. One kid said that "blowin' in the wind" meant that, even though the answer is immediately in front of us, it would take work to CHASE after it-- and it's our laziness that results in all these continued problems. Another kid suggested that the line, "How many times must the white dove sail before she sleeps in the sand?" referenced Noah's ark. "The flood came because of all the chaos in the world, so it's asking when the world will finally be peaceful enough for the waters to go down so the dove can land." Another kid observed that the line, "How many times must a man look up before he sees the sky?" implied that we were so consumed with our own comforts and the "being indoors" that we refused to look at what was real, what was high above us, what was clear.
GREAT stuff, right??
Then we wrote an essay together, examining what the line "The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind" might mean. We brainstormed, and then outlined, and picked a thesis. The kids contributed their ideas for supporting points, and picked lines from the song as evidence. I asked them, "So are you getting this? You're tracking? If you came in to an essay exam, do you feel like you would know how to start now?" They all nodded, nodded, yes, yes we would.
The last ten minutes, they read the haikus they had been assigned to write for homework. And they were beautiful. They were BEAUTIFUL. These are just... magic moments.
I felt like such a TEACHER! I joked with the students, but was very much the adult in the room, and they were respectful and attentive. The sub I had today told me, "You have an incredible rapport with these kids. They really respect you. I mean they REALLY respect you, you can see it."
"Really??" I asked, delighted. "That mutual respect thing is very important to me-- I don't feel I can ask for their respect unless I demonstrate that I respect them, so that's been something I've been really working towards..."
"Well you HAVE it," he said. "You have a great sense of how to work with them-- you know when to joke with them to get them to do something you need, but you also know when to get more serious-- your tone and the inflection of your voice guides them in just the way it needs to. I've never seen a student teacher who was able to handle the kids like you do."
He told me that!!!
I saw my dragon-artist in the hall later on, who is consistently a contrarian in class-- any point made will be rebutted by this student. But he's delightful. I told him, "Clark, thanks for the white board illustration today, that was fantastic. And I always enjoy hearing what you have to say. I know we sometimes give you a hard time for your quips, but you're very witty."
"Thaaaanks," he said, in his particular way of talking. "I like that you do metaphors, it makes it less boring." This is a kid that doesn't do ANY homework, and rarely does ANY of the in class work. And he thought my lesson was interesting!
Later on, two boys were talking outside of our swing dance class: Andre-- remember Andre? and this sweet African immigrant kid named Rakeesh, who's tall and athletic, and works really hard. Andre said as I approached, "Hey Greta, Rakeesh's talkin' smack about you, you know..."
"Whaaaat?" I said, grinning.
"No I did't! I was not!" Rakeesh said. And then in his halting English he said, "She's a...good singah', an', an', an' a GREAT teacher!"
HE SAID THAT!! My own student said that I'm a great teacher!!!
It was just an awesome two days. There have been so many times this year when I've felt discouraged, when I've felt exhausted, when I've wondered if I really want to have to plan lessons and grade papers for the rest of my life... But days like this remind me why I got into this in the first place. I do feel CALLED to this. And these magical moments... man! Honestly, there's nothing like it, feeling like you got THROUGH somehow-- feeling like YOU learned something from these amazing, angsty, hormone-ridden, stubborn, sensitive, unique, incredible individuals staring back at you from their desks.
I know more hard moments are coming, and that there will be many more points where I feel discouraged. But the last two days were just the best. And this blog will be my way of preserving it-- putting it in a Mason jar and sealing it tight, and keeping it in a place where I can pull it out when I need that extra sustenance.
I loved these days. I just loved them.
Since I've confessed teaching fears and insecurities and difficult moments to you on this blog, will you forgive me for telling you about what feels like a smashing success? If at any point the gushing becomes unbearable, just refer back to this. You'll be properly reassured that there have been plenty of ghastly moments as well.
But not during the last two days.
The last two days have been AWESOME.
Viola tagged along on a theatre field trip to Port Townsend this week, which meant I had all of Wednesday and Thursday to instruct. These are both block days-- 90 minute periods. It was my first time teaching a 90 minute lesson, and only the second time I would be teaching without Viola nearby to crack the whip--which meant that I was knee-knocking nervous. She had asked me to teach them how to write an in-class essay. When I worked out the lesson plan, I kept feeling discouraged and hitting mental blocks. After phoning a friend (actually two: teaching-cohort friend Josh, and edgy-English-teacher friend Mark) for ideas, I'd worked out what I wanted to do.
Wednesday: wore a very grown-up outfit to help things.
We started with the main information: I'd written out the main points to think about when writing an in-class essay and we read over the sheet as a class. The Wednesday crew seemed to drag during this part, so for Thursday, I took out key words and replaced them with blanks. The kids guessed what the key words were supposed to be and "filled in the blanks" as we went along, which kept them engaged.
Then came the fun part. "You all know how much I love metaphors," I told them. "And I think of writing an in-class essay as being similar to heading into BATTLE! You want to nail this thing, conquer the beast! So if we're going into battle, the first thing we have to do is figure out what we're fighting-- we have to pick the prompt we want to take on. So if this is a battle, do we want to fight the evil sorcerer or the dragon?"
The classes all perked up at this part. Sorcerers? Dragons? The dragon beat out poor Voldemort every time.
"Okay-- forgive my artistic abilities guys, I'm not nearly the artist that most of you are." And I drew a BIG dragon on the board. The kids loved that.
"Give it wings! Give it a spiky tail! Wait, it looks too happy. That's better."
I labeled it PROMPT. "Okay. That's what we're taking on. Now what do we need if we're going to fight a DRAGON?"
"A weapon!"
"RIGHT! And the weapon is going to be our thesis statement, because there's no way you can successfully take on a prompt without a thesis. So what should we fight him with?"
We fought the dragon with a fire hose, ninja stars, a magical sword, and a nuclear bomb, for 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th period respectively.
The boots were the essay outline, since you can't move forward without boots. The helmet represented brainstorming. And the armor made up the supporting points. "And if you don't make sure ALL areas of your body are covered, the dragon's going to lop that part right off! And THERE goes an arm! And we might pretend it's not a big deal, but it would definitely be more than a flesh wound. Okay? You want to make sure that you back up your thesis with GOOD armor."
In 4th period, one of our most eccentric kids who has repeatedly failed our class, but who is a BRILLIANT artist scooted up and shooed me away from the white board. "I want to draw the dragon." His creation was hilarious and elaborate, and I was able to teach while he went to dragon town.
Then the kids drew their own. And they came up with the BEST analogies! One girl drew her make-up kit: the directions were the outline, since you needed to have some idea how to put your make-up on. The different pictures of how you could apply it represented brainstorming. The brush was the thesis statement, because you can't put makeup on without it, and the different colors of makeup were the supporting points. One African kid-- who often struggles in our class, because of his language difficulties-- drew a basketball hoop as the prompt, the ball as the thesis statement, his athletic positioning as the supporting points, and his shoes as the outline. It was spot on. When they were done, they went up front and explained their analogy-- and they were seriously GREAT! They totally got the concept, and by teaching it themselves, the different steps were repeatedly reinforced.
The next part of the lesson I had struggled with. I wanted to have them practice writing an essay in class, but on what? We finished our last book before break, and we'd only been looking at haiku in the last week. But how can you write an essay on a haiku? Then I remembered that my Wednesday sub was a guitar player who loved Bob Dylan.
So we busted out Bob Dylan.
After giving them some background on who Bob Dylan was, and the context in which he wrote his famous song, "Blowin' in the Wind," we played it for them, trading off verses, doing harmonies at the end, and Neil even did a sweet guitar solo. The kids loved it! Later in the day, in our mentoring class which normally just acts as a study hall, the kids all made me play more songs, and clamored about which one was their favorite. They liked my songs!!
After playing the Dylan song, I asked, "So what is this song about? What is Dylan saying with all this?" The kids have amazing poetic sensibilities, and they made some beautiful observations. One kid said that "blowin' in the wind" meant that, even though the answer is immediately in front of us, it would take work to CHASE after it-- and it's our laziness that results in all these continued problems. Another kid suggested that the line, "How many times must the white dove sail before she sleeps in the sand?" referenced Noah's ark. "The flood came because of all the chaos in the world, so it's asking when the world will finally be peaceful enough for the waters to go down so the dove can land." Another kid observed that the line, "How many times must a man look up before he sees the sky?" implied that we were so consumed with our own comforts and the "being indoors" that we refused to look at what was real, what was high above us, what was clear.
GREAT stuff, right??
Then we wrote an essay together, examining what the line "The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind" might mean. We brainstormed, and then outlined, and picked a thesis. The kids contributed their ideas for supporting points, and picked lines from the song as evidence. I asked them, "So are you getting this? You're tracking? If you came in to an essay exam, do you feel like you would know how to start now?" They all nodded, nodded, yes, yes we would.
The last ten minutes, they read the haikus they had been assigned to write for homework. And they were beautiful. They were BEAUTIFUL. These are just... magic moments.
I felt like such a TEACHER! I joked with the students, but was very much the adult in the room, and they were respectful and attentive. The sub I had today told me, "You have an incredible rapport with these kids. They really respect you. I mean they REALLY respect you, you can see it."
"Really??" I asked, delighted. "That mutual respect thing is very important to me-- I don't feel I can ask for their respect unless I demonstrate that I respect them, so that's been something I've been really working towards..."
"Well you HAVE it," he said. "You have a great sense of how to work with them-- you know when to joke with them to get them to do something you need, but you also know when to get more serious-- your tone and the inflection of your voice guides them in just the way it needs to. I've never seen a student teacher who was able to handle the kids like you do."
He told me that!!!
I saw my dragon-artist in the hall later on, who is consistently a contrarian in class-- any point made will be rebutted by this student. But he's delightful. I told him, "Clark, thanks for the white board illustration today, that was fantastic. And I always enjoy hearing what you have to say. I know we sometimes give you a hard time for your quips, but you're very witty."
"Thaaaanks," he said, in his particular way of talking. "I like that you do metaphors, it makes it less boring." This is a kid that doesn't do ANY homework, and rarely does ANY of the in class work. And he thought my lesson was interesting!
Later on, two boys were talking outside of our swing dance class: Andre-- remember Andre? and this sweet African immigrant kid named Rakeesh, who's tall and athletic, and works really hard. Andre said as I approached, "Hey Greta, Rakeesh's talkin' smack about you, you know..."
"Whaaaat?" I said, grinning.
"No I did't! I was not!" Rakeesh said. And then in his halting English he said, "She's a...good singah', an', an', an' a GREAT teacher!"
HE SAID THAT!! My own student said that I'm a great teacher!!!
It was just an awesome two days. There have been so many times this year when I've felt discouraged, when I've felt exhausted, when I've wondered if I really want to have to plan lessons and grade papers for the rest of my life... But days like this remind me why I got into this in the first place. I do feel CALLED to this. And these magical moments... man! Honestly, there's nothing like it, feeling like you got THROUGH somehow-- feeling like YOU learned something from these amazing, angsty, hormone-ridden, stubborn, sensitive, unique, incredible individuals staring back at you from their desks.
I know more hard moments are coming, and that there will be many more points where I feel discouraged. But the last two days were just the best. And this blog will be my way of preserving it-- putting it in a Mason jar and sealing it tight, and keeping it in a place where I can pull it out when I need that extra sustenance.
I loved these days. I just loved them.
Oh the Awkward.
Written on Jan. 6th 2009
Back to teaching stories. Cause we're back in school.
So: in some ways, being a young-looking 24-year-old has helped me connect with the students. I'm close enough to their ages that I'm able to draw lesson parallels to cultural examples that I know they'll find relevant. I'm able to translate concepts into vocabulary they'll understand. The students see me as approachable. The girls like my clothes. Etcetera.
However, sometimes the generational proximity is too close for comfort. And I'm beginning to realize that the discomfort occurs more often on THEIR side, than on mine. Examples:
One tall lanky kid is taking our class over again as a Senior (we teach 9th and 10th Language Arts), and I always think of him as the "adult-ish" one. Then one day, I realized that he's essentially the same age as my little brother-- the kid who I call "Paullywog," who I get piggy-backs from, who I joke around with, who I give a hard time to, who is just my favorite little buddy. That made this Senior far less intimidating to me. He's an affable kid, and one day-- trying to make conversation while walking with him and his teeny tiny girlfriend down a loooong empty hallway-- I made the mistake of trying to communicate this realization.
"Dylan! I realized the other day that you're basically the same age as my little brother!"
Bemused look from Tall Lanky and Teeny Tiny.
In an effort to explain myself: "That makes me feel like I can give you a hard time."
Skeptical looks from Tall Lanky and Teeny Tiny.
"You know. HA HA HA!"
Tall Lanky and Teeny Tiny exchange incredulous expressions.
"Ahem...nevermind."
Also, I'll sometimes use casual terms of address without thinking twice. I occasionally call the girls, "Darlin'" or "hon," like I would any of my girlfriends, and I sometimes call the guys, "Dude." Like, "Dude, I saw you do your homework yesterday. Why don't you have it?" To me, this is normal. I say "dude" all the time in real life. "What a nutty dude." "Hiiii dude!" "Dude. Cut it out." But the kids-- I'm realizing-- don't think of me as a real life kind of person. Or at least not one that should use their vernacular. I called one of the boys "Dude" the other afternoon and he replied, "Why you always call me that?" He was grumpy that day. But still. It made me realize that-- as much as I may still be a young adult that goes on dates, that goes to parties, that listens to KEXP, that calls her guy friends "dudes"-- the kids are seeing me as their TEACHER. And teachers don't use words like "dude." At least, not until they're old enough that it's funny again.
Yesterday, I passed a group of boys in the hallway and one of them said, "Whaaaasssssuuuuup!" These are boys in the L.A. class, and we've joked around before. Reflexively, I said, "What's uuuup!" and jokingly flashed a "W" with my fingers. You know, like "Word."
Are you cringing? Because I'm cringing thinking about it.
The boys' mouths dropped open and the one who had whaassuupp'ed me said, "Don't ever do that again!"
Ummm.... Yes.
Right.
WON'T.
The good news is: as young as I look, and as young as I FEEL, and as much as I've worried about that hampering the students' respect for me: all this indicates they see me as their TEACHER. One 9th grader asked me if I would be her reference for a job interview. Since when did I become old enough to be a reference?? But I love that she asked me. And I love that I AM an adult in their lives. I'm learning to cool down the slang terms in "school life," even if I keep them up in "real life" (although-- let's be honest-- I've always sucked at slang anyway), because at school, I'm not 24. I'm not Paullywog's big sister. I'm not some dude's gal pal. I'm the TEACHER. I think maybe I slipped into the trap of trying to be "cool" with these kids, which is just sort of silly. Their determinations of approval aren't coming from whether or not they'd want to hang out with me after school-- nor SHOULD they be. Yikes, that has "awkward" written all OVER it. Their respect has been garnered more after I've taught a solid lesson, or played them a song on guitar, or told them a traveling story. Which are all very ADULT things to do.
I like recognizing those perimeters. I like being the grown-up. I like that they're the teenagers. And that doesn't mean I won't still be intentional about talking to them as equals, but I like that there's an understood separation. I like that I'm the teacher.
Back to teaching stories. Cause we're back in school.
So: in some ways, being a young-looking 24-year-old has helped me connect with the students. I'm close enough to their ages that I'm able to draw lesson parallels to cultural examples that I know they'll find relevant. I'm able to translate concepts into vocabulary they'll understand. The students see me as approachable. The girls like my clothes. Etcetera.
However, sometimes the generational proximity is too close for comfort. And I'm beginning to realize that the discomfort occurs more often on THEIR side, than on mine. Examples:
One tall lanky kid is taking our class over again as a Senior (we teach 9th and 10th Language Arts), and I always think of him as the "adult-ish" one. Then one day, I realized that he's essentially the same age as my little brother-- the kid who I call "Paullywog," who I get piggy-backs from, who I joke around with, who I give a hard time to, who is just my favorite little buddy. That made this Senior far less intimidating to me. He's an affable kid, and one day-- trying to make conversation while walking with him and his teeny tiny girlfriend down a loooong empty hallway-- I made the mistake of trying to communicate this realization.
"Dylan! I realized the other day that you're basically the same age as my little brother!"
Bemused look from Tall Lanky and Teeny Tiny.
In an effort to explain myself: "That makes me feel like I can give you a hard time."
Skeptical looks from Tall Lanky and Teeny Tiny.
"You know. HA HA HA!"
Tall Lanky and Teeny Tiny exchange incredulous expressions.
"Ahem...nevermind."
Also, I'll sometimes use casual terms of address without thinking twice. I occasionally call the girls, "Darlin'" or "hon," like I would any of my girlfriends, and I sometimes call the guys, "Dude." Like, "Dude, I saw you do your homework yesterday. Why don't you have it?" To me, this is normal. I say "dude" all the time in real life. "What a nutty dude." "Hiiii dude!" "Dude. Cut it out." But the kids-- I'm realizing-- don't think of me as a real life kind of person. Or at least not one that should use their vernacular. I called one of the boys "Dude" the other afternoon and he replied, "Why you always call me that?" He was grumpy that day. But still. It made me realize that-- as much as I may still be a young adult that goes on dates, that goes to parties, that listens to KEXP, that calls her guy friends "dudes"-- the kids are seeing me as their TEACHER. And teachers don't use words like "dude." At least, not until they're old enough that it's funny again.
Yesterday, I passed a group of boys in the hallway and one of them said, "Whaaaasssssuuuuup!" These are boys in the L.A. class, and we've joked around before. Reflexively, I said, "What's uuuup!" and jokingly flashed a "W" with my fingers. You know, like "Word."
Are you cringing? Because I'm cringing thinking about it.
The boys' mouths dropped open and the one who had whaassuupp'ed me said, "Don't ever do that again!"
Ummm.... Yes.
Right.
WON'T.
The good news is: as young as I look, and as young as I FEEL, and as much as I've worried about that hampering the students' respect for me: all this indicates they see me as their TEACHER. One 9th grader asked me if I would be her reference for a job interview. Since when did I become old enough to be a reference?? But I love that she asked me. And I love that I AM an adult in their lives. I'm learning to cool down the slang terms in "school life," even if I keep them up in "real life" (although-- let's be honest-- I've always sucked at slang anyway), because at school, I'm not 24. I'm not Paullywog's big sister. I'm not some dude's gal pal. I'm the TEACHER. I think maybe I slipped into the trap of trying to be "cool" with these kids, which is just sort of silly. Their determinations of approval aren't coming from whether or not they'd want to hang out with me after school-- nor SHOULD they be. Yikes, that has "awkward" written all OVER it. Their respect has been garnered more after I've taught a solid lesson, or played them a song on guitar, or told them a traveling story. Which are all very ADULT things to do.
I like recognizing those perimeters. I like being the grown-up. I like that they're the teenagers. And that doesn't mean I won't still be intentional about talking to them as equals, but I like that there's an understood separation. I like that I'm the teacher.
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