Hey Loved Ones,
I am now a teacher. Totally and completley. If I wasn't so arrogant I would now know that I am in over my head. I have 27 kids. (4 came yesterday- during day two in the middle. I did not have enough desks, chairs, assesments or anything. But made it work by trying to turn up my welcoming energy and passion for the kids. I had my class saying "the more the merrier". By the end of the day there was so many students packed into the classroom it felt like a Dolezal Party. That is how the year will be, and I Love it!
I am really tired and drained, but things are starting to come together. Please pray for my class. You will hear more soon!
Peace,
Matty B
Wednesday 29 August 2007
Sunday 26 August 2007
Quick News!
I figured out how to change the settings, so supposedly now anyone can comment. Please say hi. If you are reading this there is a 98% chance that I either miss you dearly or I care about you greatly (or both). So make a brother smile and leave me a smile, a comment, advice, encouragemtn, jokes, quotes, lyrics, movie reccomendations, topic requests, poems or otherwise.
I (almost certainly) Love you.
Hear from you soon!
I (almost certainly) Love you.
Hear from you soon!
Mr. Brossart finds out what he is teaching...
It was a humid sunny day when Mr. Brossart first reported to Macario Garcia Elementary to work. The moisture hung in the air palpable and unignorable like the nervous excitement that coated his stomach in a queasy greasy anticipation. As he and his carpool buddy, Ms. Ashleigh Stacey treaded air to the front door Mr. B's thoughts hung on seeing his classroom for the first time. He knew that he was teaching fifth grade, but was not sure if he was going to be self contained or if the fiery principal, Ms. Mir, had made one of her off the cuff decrees that had earned her the reputation of being a fairly benevolent, impulsive, dictator that ruled the school with a absent minded fist that demanded positiveness and a passionate energy directed at teaching our kids about all the things in life that matter: namely the Texas Assessment of Knowledge and Skills test.
After a bout of introductions and names already forgotten, Mr. B was ceremoniously shown his first ever teacher mail box, was taught and almost learned the complex sign-in procedure, received a quick tour and was herded to the library to wait giddily for his first ever School Meeting. He conversed awkwardly with the few faces that seemed familiar. He proceeded to confuse two staff members from the introductions earlier with each other, mispronouncing the names but then divisively charging forward with the conversation too quickly for either of the dark Latino teachers to make the "we all look the same to you people" comment.
Mr. B then saw the principal come in and decided to go to the fifth grade table and wait. He spent the remaining minutes while she struggled to figure out her laptop and the power point presentation trying to figure out if wet behind the ears described the inexperienced or the experienced. He knew it was one or the other, but couldn't remember. He ended up deciding it was the inexperienced. It might be a cattle reference- they are born all covered in goop and so when they are brand new they are wet behind the ears. Cowboys are so good with turn-of-phrase he noted, and made a mental post-it to himself "Google: Wet Behind the Ears". He never remembered to do it since then Ms. Mir started her state of the school kingdom address.
Mr. B tuned out for the next two hours then shuffled to the gym/cafeteria at the same time as the other new teachers and hoped that nothing important happened during the morning library. He still wasn't convinced about wet behind the ears. Maybe the cowboys used it to describe the veteran wranglers that had herded cattle through a rain storm so bad that even their their ten gallon hats couldn't keep them dry. He imagined that cattle spooked easily during a storm and that only a real wet behind the ears cowboy could keep the cattle on the trail, keep the horse calm, and keep their nerves from fraying.
Or maybe it has nothing to do with cowboys? Unlikely, but worth considering.
Mr. B found himself and his musings in the gym looking through a host of new supplies that Ms. Mir informed him were "New Teacher Gifts to get y'all started in your subject areas." Ms. Mir led him to a pile of Math Games and Texts and Mr. B heard her say to him "We have had you pegged as our math guy since our first interview..."
Mr. B did not want to rattle the boat so he swallowed the "WHAT!?!?!!" that had tried to jump indignantly out of his thought. I wonder what part of being a humanities teacher who talked mainly of poetry slams, philosphy, and the beauty of exploring the human experience in texts madeher peg me as the "math guy" She probably would look at Stephen Hawkings and peg him as her star center for the fifth grade basketball team. Idiot!. I wonder if she knows that most math people don't major in Humanities or believe that the Truth is found in raindrops, silent laughter, and the phases fo the moon. Most math people probably don't grudgingly admit that numbers might be useful but by removing the gray areas of life they also suck the joy out of the human experience. Do Math guys practice crying in front of their mirrors so that if they ever get a chance to read "Where the Red Fern Grows" to their class they can cry when old Dan and Little Anne die even though they know it is going to happen and have already cried so many tears over them that even the red fern planted by the angel offers little solace. Do Math people fall in Love at least twice a week? Do math people try to write poems about how sunsets are God's way of apologizing for making a world with so much loneliness? Do math people use words like karma and human experience daily? Do I over generalize and dramatize what math people do? maybe, but still- I am not a math person and anyone that thinks I am has either never talked to me, or has a brain made out of bitch-shit....
Mr. B checked his thoughts there, feeling bad for degenerated into senseless mental swearing. He thanked Ms. Mir, collected his things and took them to room 213- unlocked it with his new keys and dropped the math stuff off and hurried off to his team meeting.
After the introductions: Mr. Burns, Mr. Maddox, Ms. Weiler, Ms. Flores. They got down to business. First on the agenda was dividing up the grade into two teams and then dividing the subjects. Ms. Weiler, the department head, announced that she had done it already based on our skills and interests. She announced that Mr. B was doing Social Studies and Language Arts. Bells Ring, Angels Sing, and people sitting calmly all over the world on park benches, in hammocks, and next to fires feel a calm pass over them and know something wonderful has happened.
The day continues and Mr. B floats through it. He finds out later that the principal had mistaken her subjects and thought he was Mr. Maddox. He didn't even get upset that she didn't know his name when she was talking at him for 10 minutes in the gym. He didn't even care that she hadn't asked him anything. The Angels were still singing and gravity wasn't as strong as usual: Mr. B was going to help kids find themselves, others, and the world in literature; Mr. B was going to help 5th graders find a voice that would help them deal with adolescence; Mr. B could maybe help history from repeating itself by making it interesting to the leaders of our future. Mr. B was going to teach reading, writing, and social studies.
He was ill equipped. He was inexperienced. He was excited.
He was about to be a teacher man! And he was going to teach what he loved to those deserving of love: children.
He also might be wet behind the ears, but he couldn't be sure since he still didn't know for sure what it meant.
After a bout of introductions and names already forgotten, Mr. B was ceremoniously shown his first ever teacher mail box, was taught and almost learned the complex sign-in procedure, received a quick tour and was herded to the library to wait giddily for his first ever School Meeting. He conversed awkwardly with the few faces that seemed familiar. He proceeded to confuse two staff members from the introductions earlier with each other, mispronouncing the names but then divisively charging forward with the conversation too quickly for either of the dark Latino teachers to make the "we all look the same to you people" comment.
Mr. B then saw the principal come in and decided to go to the fifth grade table and wait. He spent the remaining minutes while she struggled to figure out her laptop and the power point presentation trying to figure out if wet behind the ears described the inexperienced or the experienced. He knew it was one or the other, but couldn't remember. He ended up deciding it was the inexperienced. It might be a cattle reference- they are born all covered in goop and so when they are brand new they are wet behind the ears. Cowboys are so good with turn-of-phrase he noted, and made a mental post-it to himself "Google: Wet Behind the Ears". He never remembered to do it since then Ms. Mir started her state of the school kingdom address.
Mr. B tuned out for the next two hours then shuffled to the gym/cafeteria at the same time as the other new teachers and hoped that nothing important happened during the morning library. He still wasn't convinced about wet behind the ears. Maybe the cowboys used it to describe the veteran wranglers that had herded cattle through a rain storm so bad that even their their ten gallon hats couldn't keep them dry. He imagined that cattle spooked easily during a storm and that only a real wet behind the ears cowboy could keep the cattle on the trail, keep the horse calm, and keep their nerves from fraying.
Or maybe it has nothing to do with cowboys? Unlikely, but worth considering.
Mr. B found himself and his musings in the gym looking through a host of new supplies that Ms. Mir informed him were "New Teacher Gifts to get y'all started in your subject areas." Ms. Mir led him to a pile of Math Games and Texts and Mr. B heard her say to him "We have had you pegged as our math guy since our first interview..."
Mr. B did not want to rattle the boat so he swallowed the "WHAT!?!?!!" that had tried to jump indignantly out of his thought. I wonder what part of being a humanities teacher who talked mainly of poetry slams, philosphy, and the beauty of exploring the human experience in texts madeher peg me as the "math guy" She probably would look at Stephen Hawkings and peg him as her star center for the fifth grade basketball team. Idiot!. I wonder if she knows that most math people don't major in Humanities or believe that the Truth is found in raindrops, silent laughter, and the phases fo the moon. Most math people probably don't grudgingly admit that numbers might be useful but by removing the gray areas of life they also suck the joy out of the human experience. Do Math guys practice crying in front of their mirrors so that if they ever get a chance to read "Where the Red Fern Grows" to their class they can cry when old Dan and Little Anne die even though they know it is going to happen and have already cried so many tears over them that even the red fern planted by the angel offers little solace. Do Math people fall in Love at least twice a week? Do math people try to write poems about how sunsets are God's way of apologizing for making a world with so much loneliness? Do math people use words like karma and human experience daily? Do I over generalize and dramatize what math people do? maybe, but still- I am not a math person and anyone that thinks I am has either never talked to me, or has a brain made out of bitch-shit....
Mr. B checked his thoughts there, feeling bad for degenerated into senseless mental swearing. He thanked Ms. Mir, collected his things and took them to room 213- unlocked it with his new keys and dropped the math stuff off and hurried off to his team meeting.
After the introductions: Mr. Burns, Mr. Maddox, Ms. Weiler, Ms. Flores. They got down to business. First on the agenda was dividing up the grade into two teams and then dividing the subjects. Ms. Weiler, the department head, announced that she had done it already based on our skills and interests. She announced that Mr. B was doing Social Studies and Language Arts. Bells Ring, Angels Sing, and people sitting calmly all over the world on park benches, in hammocks, and next to fires feel a calm pass over them and know something wonderful has happened.
The day continues and Mr. B floats through it. He finds out later that the principal had mistaken her subjects and thought he was Mr. Maddox. He didn't even get upset that she didn't know his name when she was talking at him for 10 minutes in the gym. He didn't even care that she hadn't asked him anything. The Angels were still singing and gravity wasn't as strong as usual: Mr. B was going to help kids find themselves, others, and the world in literature; Mr. B was going to help 5th graders find a voice that would help them deal with adolescence; Mr. B could maybe help history from repeating itself by making it interesting to the leaders of our future. Mr. B was going to teach reading, writing, and social studies.
He was ill equipped. He was inexperienced. He was excited.
He was about to be a teacher man! And he was going to teach what he loved to those deserving of love: children.
He also might be wet behind the ears, but he couldn't be sure since he still didn't know for sure what it meant.
Saturday 25 August 2007
Mr. Brossart goes to Teacher Heaven.
Teacher Heaven:
This is the name of a real store. I traveled there with a couple fellow TFA CMs and we bought a lot of stuff to outfit our classrooms with...
This store is really very neat. It has tons of bulletin board things, resources, stamps, cool timers and games. I ended up spending more money there than I wanted to, but I think it was worth it.
I just hope that if i live the rest of my life as a teacher and then die and get a chance to go to heaven where there are far more beautiful women, hamocks, pie, and alcohol. Because if that is where teachers go to heaven I am in the wrong profession- There has go to be more to heaven than classroom decorations.
I need to become like a chef or super-model agent or something. I bet their heavens are neater...
This is the name of a real store. I traveled there with a couple fellow TFA CMs and we bought a lot of stuff to outfit our classrooms with...
This store is really very neat. It has tons of bulletin board things, resources, stamps, cool timers and games. I ended up spending more money there than I wanted to, but I think it was worth it.
I just hope that if i live the rest of my life as a teacher and then die and get a chance to go to heaven where there are far more beautiful women, hamocks, pie, and alcohol. Because if that is where teachers go to heaven I am in the wrong profession- There has go to be more to heaven than classroom decorations.
I need to become like a chef or super-model agent or something. I bet their heavens are neater...
Sunday 19 August 2007
T-minus 3 Days...
I am finally in my classroom again. And in 3 days I will have a classroom, kids, and a whole litany of challenges, set backs, and success to fight for.
These last couple weeks since getting back from Minnesota have been quite an emotional challenge. I have gotten into my school. I have met the staff. And I could hardly be any more excited for the school year. It is going to be incredible. Challenging. World stretching. Draining. And fun. Fun in the same way a rugby game is: It is thrilling because of how disastrous or incredible it could be. Except this time, instead of staring down 15 brutes in ugly shorts and socks reeking of booze and malice, I am going to face a classroom of kids with their own problems and fears reeking of untapped potential- and I will be trying to make them believe in themselves. That happens to be the opposite of my rugby strategy which consisted of mainly "manly" posturing, belittling banter, and maybe a few too many punches thrown... None of those will be in my classroom management plan.
We have been being trained by the Houston ISD, and I must admit that I admire the way the school district is truly doing its best to try and move towards a vision of a school district that gives all of its students (well over half of whom are FORM- free or reduced meal- students a real chance at a great education and opportunity). However, after that point, after I acknowledge that I believe they are truly working their hardest for what they believe is the good of the students, after that I MUST totally disagree with the school system and how they operate.
I believe teaching to the test does not foster the creativity necessary to thrive in a service based economy. It also sucks the joy out f learning and pushes kids that NEED it away from an opportunity to chase their dreams. I think Test Centered Philosophies cleverly stifle the potential for upward mobility (this is a conspiracy theory I came up with during a 20 minute session on who was allowed to sign our mentor form- the answer by the way is: our mentor. That is all. only our mentor. The next 19.75 minutes were spent with my trying to figure out if the presenter thought i was an idiot or just hated me...)
OK, dear reader- sorry this is so long, but I cannot end on a negative note: I made a conscious decision three days ago to stop whining, find the positive edges of life and smile through it all. I can't change the bureaucracy and while some sarcasm is therapeutic- too much poisons the soul. So, here as a going away present: here are 6 wonderful things about teaching in Houston for HISD:
1) My kids. I have met some of them- I am thrilled to get to know them more. They are like real life tiny people.
2) The heart. HISD wants to get better and is really trying to. Got to respect effort at least.
3) Texas. Nuf Said. I still haven't figured it all out, but right after the Pledge of Allegience, we say the Texas pledge- they just added "under God" to it. I gotta love the swagger of Texas doing it there way- and you can go surprise the south end of a north bound "hoss" if you don't like their style. Love the swagger even when I disagree.
4) Diversity. This city is diverse in almost every way you can imagine (except the whatever type of diversity allows for it to be less humid than a fat man's armpit. It is humid even when its raining and right after... that isn't supposed to be possible. It is like God's hot tub is always overflowing and it lands on H-town. And shucks, who doesn't like a hot tub?). I can already tell interacting closely with so many cultures, people, and beliefs closely is changing some of my biases and opening my eyes to how amazing my life has been.
5) My team. The people I teach with are awesome and eclectic.
6) Fiesta. They have a grocery store here named "Party". And let me tell you- it lives up to its name... I mean it is not a crazy party, but it they have plenty of food at the party- and i mean, yall have seen me- clearly that is my favorite kind of party...yum! )
Coming soon:
Mr. Brossart finds out what he is teaching.
Mr. Brossart's adventures on Parent Meet and Greet Night.
Mr. Brossart's cowboy hat adventure.
Mr. Brossart and the Fab 5 team (the fifth grade staff).
Mr. Brossart goes to Teacher Heaven.
Sorry for the long silence. As a writing teacher I have to keep writing or I am a hypocrit- so check here for those stories and more in the near future.
I believe teaching to the test does not foster the creativity necessary to thrive in a service based economy. It also sucks the joy out f learning and pushes kids that NEED it away from an opportunity to chase their dreams. I think Test Centered Philosophies cleverly stifle the potential for upward mobility (this is a conspiracy theory I came up with during a 20 minute session on who was allowed to sign our mentor form- the answer by the way is: our mentor. That is all. only our mentor. The next 19.75 minutes were spent with my trying to figure out if the presenter thought i was an idiot or just hated me...)
OK, dear reader- sorry this is so long, but I cannot end on a negative note: I made a conscious decision three days ago to stop whining, find the positive edges of life and smile through it all. I can't change the bureaucracy and while some sarcasm is therapeutic- too much poisons the soul. So, here as a going away present: here are 6 wonderful things about teaching in Houston for HISD:
1) My kids. I have met some of them- I am thrilled to get to know them more. They are like real life tiny people.
2) The heart. HISD wants to get better and is really trying to. Got to respect effort at least.
3) Texas. Nuf Said. I still haven't figured it all out, but right after the Pledge of Allegience, we say the Texas pledge- they just added "under God" to it. I gotta love the swagger of Texas doing it there way- and you can go surprise the south end of a north bound "hoss" if you don't like their style. Love the swagger even when I disagree.
4) Diversity. This city is diverse in almost every way you can imagine (except the whatever type of diversity allows for it to be less humid than a fat man's armpit. It is humid even when its raining and right after... that isn't supposed to be possible. It is like God's hot tub is always overflowing and it lands on H-town. And shucks, who doesn't like a hot tub?). I can already tell interacting closely with so many cultures, people, and beliefs closely is changing some of my biases and opening my eyes to how amazing my life has been.
5) My team. The people I teach with are awesome and eclectic.
6) Fiesta. They have a grocery store here named "Party". And let me tell you- it lives up to its name... I mean it is not a crazy party, but it they have plenty of food at the party- and i mean, yall have seen me- clearly that is my favorite kind of party...yum! )
Coming soon:
Mr. Brossart finds out what he is teaching.
Mr. Brossart's adventures on Parent Meet and Greet Night.
Mr. Brossart's cowboy hat adventure.
Mr. Brossart and the Fab 5 team (the fifth grade staff).
Mr. Brossart goes to Teacher Heaven.
Sorry for the long silence. As a writing teacher I have to keep writing or I am a hypocrit- so check here for those stories and more in the near future.
Saturday 11 August 2007
Tedium
I sit here in a session. bored. really bored.
I am trying to keep myself involved, or at least preoccupied, but not to much success. I just am borrowing my friend Keena's laptop to quickly shoot you all a note saying that I am going to get internet in my apartment in about a week and then I will be able to start writing again.
On a related note: They are now letting us out for lunch and I am gonna go to a CHINA B!!!!! That I discoved 3 minutes from my apartment. I have a great life :)
Peace
I am trying to keep myself involved, or at least preoccupied, but not to much success. I just am borrowing my friend Keena's laptop to quickly shoot you all a note saying that I am going to get internet in my apartment in about a week and then I will be able to start writing again.
On a related note: They are now letting us out for lunch and I am gonna go to a CHINA B!!!!! That I discoved 3 minutes from my apartment. I have a great life :)
Peace
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