There's a Universe Somewhere
near here on the edges of my perception
like recollection's identical twin:
Things that almost are.
There's a universe of could be's
that float like stones,
shocking us,
daring us to stop believing
so they can go back to sinking.
So we will give up thinking
that there is more than this.
There's a Universe Somewhere
And it's not as far as it seems.
it just needs stronger dreams
cultivated with hard work
and the most important ingredient
of every universe- hope.
It's not as far as it seems
we just needs stronger dreams
_________________________________________
The possibility of actually liking this job evades me
intregues me,
enchants me,
and keeps me playing with the idea of getting
as addicted to teaching as I am to my other vices.
It is at least as hard on my body.
Almost hard enough that I feel the need to apologize to my grandchildren for the years that the job's stress and my bad choices are taking off my life:
Hopefully you can smile and believe that I made enough of a difference to be proud. That way you can cling to the same ego lifeboat I used all those years when teaching was more a labor of unrequited love and mistakes than a vocation, and let's both pray the world is using us in the best way it can. See you in heaven, take care of your beautiful grandmother.
Friday 5 December 2008
Thursday 20 November 2008
Ask and you shall recieve...
I found out I had a 500 dollar grant to spend in my classroom for bucking the trend and agreeing to stay for a third year in an inner city low income school. I was very excited- like the butterflies in my stomach had heard that the breadflies were coming over and things were really coming together... (sorry). So I looked up a product that I had seen a part of from Keena ( <3 ), and I was all excited to order it. Then the other shoe dropped.
It costs like 20,000 dollars. Bummer. Well, I wonder if I can order a part of it, and maybe the school knows a way to order just a chunk of it. So, I emailed my principal and asked if she knew anything about this product.
Oh, we have that in our closet. We ordered it last year when we were told by the district that we had $30,000 and we had to spend it in 2 weeks or we would lose it. We had heard some good things and we ordered it. I guess we forgot about it. Good thing you asked!
Neat.
This is both AMAZING for me, and a little depressing to see the weaknesses of bureaucracy.
However, I like this ask and you shall receive thing.
Does anyone have 1,000,000,000 frequent flier miles?
It costs like 20,000 dollars. Bummer. Well, I wonder if I can order a part of it, and maybe the school knows a way to order just a chunk of it. So, I emailed my principal and asked if she knew anything about this product.
Oh, we have that in our closet. We ordered it last year when we were told by the district that we had $30,000 and we had to spend it in 2 weeks or we would lose it. We had heard some good things and we ordered it. I guess we forgot about it. Good thing you asked!
Neat.
This is both AMAZING for me, and a little depressing to see the weaknesses of bureaucracy.
However, I like this ask and you shall receive thing.
Does anyone have 1,000,000,000 frequent flier miles?
Tuesday 18 November 2008
Perspective: a Synonym for Point of View
My class has needed so much more than I have been able to give so far this year. They are so far behind it hurts, and I have been so unable to instill the 11 year old mind with a sense of urgency that it hurts worse. My classroom has been full of fights, failed tests, insults, and ignored assignments. It has been hostile (a vocab word for my class) more often than not. I have never faced this much active apathy and aggression.
I was emptied so deeply by weeks of struggle I took Friday off. The struggle was winning a slow but definite fight; it was like watching a glacier slowly carve away the hope in my chest and the bounce in my step. So I took Friday off to get some work done, get some perspective, and maybe find a blow drier or blow torch to fight this glacier with. I had a great, productive weekend, working hard surrounded with love and inspiration, and then Monday morning I came in to school and the news that while I was gone the experienced 5th grade lab teacher was unable to control my class and even the principal seemed to only stalemate them in a 2 hour stare off. This broke me on my return. I don't know how to face this. But the hopelessness was also validated by the failure of others and made me feel like I was doing as well as anyone else in the area could be doing. This perspective was helpful to my ego, but also depressing. It hardly inspired me, rather coated my gut like motor oil with a killing sense that this is the battle that hasn't been won. This is the achievement gap. If a little hard work could fix it, it wouldn't exist.
Then today I had a parent conference. And as I stared into the tired eyes of this single working mother of four and she told me in a slow voice that dragged itself blearily out of her throat: she is doing "the best she knows how" on her kids, and it has not gone great. I could see in her eyes that she had been over stretched for 18 years and was trudging forward with hardly a hint of hope, but with an inspiring sense of obligation and in this tired voice came a new perspective for me.
Even the worst year lasts only a year, and these kids are living in houses that give them everything they have. Who am I not to do the same? Parents, like teachers, are only as good as they know how to be. Teachers, though, get to take weekends and evenings and recharge with those they Love. So, broken or not, winning or not, it is time to force joy until it is real. (Which might be like squeezing a rock until orange juice comes out... but when I figure that out, it sounds like one hell of a party trick (and adds a whole new meaning to a screwdriver on the rocks...))(sorry).
If I am modeling to the kids what life is like; if I am an example of what life can be: young, employed in the job of my choice, and chasing dreams; if choice makes me seem tired and miserable- how am I supposed to get my kids to follow this piper's song of "work hard, get smart"?
I don't have answers yet, but I do have a warning: Watch out, this change is coming like a glacier. When we are done we will have moved mountains. And, I can't care if I only move the first hill in the range for each kid. That is one less hill for them to climb on their own
Final Question: How does one become a permanent place of solace to kids who need it, but who don't realize they do?
Answer: Slowly- I am doing the best I can. Come back at 7:15 tomorrow morning for tutorials and we will try again. This time slightly better.
I was emptied so deeply by weeks of struggle I took Friday off. The struggle was winning a slow but definite fight; it was like watching a glacier slowly carve away the hope in my chest and the bounce in my step. So I took Friday off to get some work done, get some perspective, and maybe find a blow drier or blow torch to fight this glacier with. I had a great, productive weekend, working hard surrounded with love and inspiration, and then Monday morning I came in to school and the news that while I was gone the experienced 5th grade lab teacher was unable to control my class and even the principal seemed to only stalemate them in a 2 hour stare off. This broke me on my return. I don't know how to face this. But the hopelessness was also validated by the failure of others and made me feel like I was doing as well as anyone else in the area could be doing. This perspective was helpful to my ego, but also depressing. It hardly inspired me, rather coated my gut like motor oil with a killing sense that this is the battle that hasn't been won. This is the achievement gap. If a little hard work could fix it, it wouldn't exist.
Then today I had a parent conference. And as I stared into the tired eyes of this single working mother of four and she told me in a slow voice that dragged itself blearily out of her throat: she is doing "the best she knows how" on her kids, and it has not gone great. I could see in her eyes that she had been over stretched for 18 years and was trudging forward with hardly a hint of hope, but with an inspiring sense of obligation and in this tired voice came a new perspective for me.
Even the worst year lasts only a year, and these kids are living in houses that give them everything they have. Who am I not to do the same? Parents, like teachers, are only as good as they know how to be. Teachers, though, get to take weekends and evenings and recharge with those they Love. So, broken or not, winning or not, it is time to force joy until it is real. (Which might be like squeezing a rock until orange juice comes out... but when I figure that out, it sounds like one hell of a party trick (and adds a whole new meaning to a screwdriver on the rocks...))(sorry).
If I am modeling to the kids what life is like; if I am an example of what life can be: young, employed in the job of my choice, and chasing dreams; if choice makes me seem tired and miserable- how am I supposed to get my kids to follow this piper's song of "work hard, get smart"?
I don't have answers yet, but I do have a warning: Watch out, this change is coming like a glacier. When we are done we will have moved mountains. And, I can't care if I only move the first hill in the range for each kid. That is one less hill for them to climb on their own
Final Question: How does one become a permanent place of solace to kids who need it, but who don't realize they do?
Answer: Slowly- I am doing the best I can. Come back at 7:15 tomorrow morning for tutorials and we will try again. This time slightly better.
Sunday 9 November 2008
The Future:
Two years from now I want to start the legwork on starting my own school.
I think I know the talented people to start something that isn't offered anywhere else. Now I just have to develop the vision, find the money, and get people on board.
That is easy right?
I think I know the talented people to start something that isn't offered anywhere else. Now I just have to develop the vision, find the money, and get people on board.
That is easy right?
Saturday 18 October 2008
TGIAM
Thank God It's Almost Monday :)
I have a new team member this year. Another brain to pick, cry to rally around, and shoulder to lean against. She teaches my students Math, and respect. I teach her students reading, and sarcasm. She teaches me tricks of the trade from an efficient, caring and confrontational viewpoint. I teach her that puppy like energy and quasi-competence can seem ALMOST like a strength when it refuses to quit.
She told me early in the year that I need to toughen up most of the time. I nodded. Because I couldn't bring myself to say that I wasn't consistent enough to be strict- because I wasn't sure what they were to look like when they were behaving. How could I expect the to behave when I really wasn't sure what that looked like?! Was it silently working at their desks all the time? That didn't seem to capture the beauty and power of being 11. Was it to be reading all the time? How could I expect that if they weren't able to read? Was it to learn from all the mistakes I have made, feel the caring pouring from my tired eyes and dorky jokes, and then just behave? Well, yes- that is what I wanted but I didn't have a vision.
She continued on as she saw my nod and told me that the most important moment of the week was Friday afternoon. You needed to show your kids that you loved them right before they left. You could be strict, harsh, biting, and driving all week; As long as on Friday you let them see the side of you that speaks a language of Love that they understand. They will return on Monday, tired and drudging, but relieved to have a structure and a second family- and somewhere primal and deep inside excited to be able to become better than they have ever been: Stronger, Faster, Smarter.
This is harder than it looks. The kids can smell the weekend like Sharks smell blood- if it is within a mile of where they are they start priming up for going berserk, and are already transforming during the last hour of the day. This does not make it easy for me to show my love with anything other than tired yelling and frowns trying to contain the avalanche of energy that is pushing on the classroom door.
Except yesterday. Yesterday, we achieved it. We learned until there were 20 minutes left, then they packed up, we shared a read aloud, and then as we walked outside we talked and made plans for tutorials, extra learning, and next week. These conversations switched easily to talks of video games, cute boys, annoying girls (note- when puberty hits the respective genders). Then as we stood by the tree waiting for parents, grandparents, girl friends, and older brothers I had two conversations with mothers and we all left the week ready to come back to our school family on Monday.
Once I am good at this regularly, I don't even think the long hours will bother me. But for now, it is Saturday morning, I am outside planning at a coffee shop because I finally know what my classroom needs to look like, and I know why it needs to look like that: Because I really do Love these kids. And despite the fact that they aren't my last year kids, can't seem to believe that this is the most important year of their life so far, do way less work than they should, and talk more than is reasonable even by my Dolezal standards. I finally know where we need to go, and I am going to show them with baby steps until everyone of them is learning and understanding that learning should drive their every waking moment. NOT be something they are forced to 8 hours a day because they have to.
First, we will learn to walk together-
then they will discover
that their brains are actually wings
And some of them will believe.
By May look to the sky
to find my kids
because they are
hope for the future
and that's the only place to look
for such things.
Hope
holds us aloft like wax,
and we must believe that
all children can fly
or they shall miss their course
and we will melt their wings
with apathy
and the world will keep spinning
as they sink into the waves
unseen.
I have a new team member this year. Another brain to pick, cry to rally around, and shoulder to lean against. She teaches my students Math, and respect. I teach her students reading, and sarcasm. She teaches me tricks of the trade from an efficient, caring and confrontational viewpoint. I teach her that puppy like energy and quasi-competence can seem ALMOST like a strength when it refuses to quit.
She told me early in the year that I need to toughen up most of the time. I nodded. Because I couldn't bring myself to say that I wasn't consistent enough to be strict- because I wasn't sure what they were to look like when they were behaving. How could I expect the to behave when I really wasn't sure what that looked like?! Was it silently working at their desks all the time? That didn't seem to capture the beauty and power of being 11. Was it to be reading all the time? How could I expect that if they weren't able to read? Was it to learn from all the mistakes I have made, feel the caring pouring from my tired eyes and dorky jokes, and then just behave? Well, yes- that is what I wanted but I didn't have a vision.
She continued on as she saw my nod and told me that the most important moment of the week was Friday afternoon. You needed to show your kids that you loved them right before they left. You could be strict, harsh, biting, and driving all week; As long as on Friday you let them see the side of you that speaks a language of Love that they understand. They will return on Monday, tired and drudging, but relieved to have a structure and a second family- and somewhere primal and deep inside excited to be able to become better than they have ever been: Stronger, Faster, Smarter.
This is harder than it looks. The kids can smell the weekend like Sharks smell blood- if it is within a mile of where they are they start priming up for going berserk, and are already transforming during the last hour of the day. This does not make it easy for me to show my love with anything other than tired yelling and frowns trying to contain the avalanche of energy that is pushing on the classroom door.
Except yesterday. Yesterday, we achieved it. We learned until there were 20 minutes left, then they packed up, we shared a read aloud, and then as we walked outside we talked and made plans for tutorials, extra learning, and next week. These conversations switched easily to talks of video games, cute boys, annoying girls (note- when puberty hits the respective genders). Then as we stood by the tree waiting for parents, grandparents, girl friends, and older brothers I had two conversations with mothers and we all left the week ready to come back to our school family on Monday.
Once I am good at this regularly, I don't even think the long hours will bother me. But for now, it is Saturday morning, I am outside planning at a coffee shop because I finally know what my classroom needs to look like, and I know why it needs to look like that: Because I really do Love these kids. And despite the fact that they aren't my last year kids, can't seem to believe that this is the most important year of their life so far, do way less work than they should, and talk more than is reasonable even by my Dolezal standards. I finally know where we need to go, and I am going to show them with baby steps until everyone of them is learning and understanding that learning should drive their every waking moment. NOT be something they are forced to 8 hours a day because they have to.
First, we will learn to walk together-
then they will discover
that their brains are actually wings
And some of them will believe.
By May look to the sky
to find my kids
because they are
hope for the future
and that's the only place to look
for such things.
Hope
holds us aloft like wax,
and we must believe that
all children can fly
or they shall miss their course
and we will melt their wings
with apathy
and the world will keep spinning
as they sink into the waves
unseen.
Wednesday 15 October 2008
Finally willing to open his eyes and run:
There are two kinds of darkness:
Sometimes darkness is suffocating.
Because each thing we can’t see
We can’t count as a friend
And the world seems a lot smaller
When one can’t see the dangers.
The infinite space
Of loneliness crushes the air out
from forced smiles in gasps.
Finally my smiles are coming slightly less forces. After an oppressively disappointing start to the school year: 7 weeks of school, 1 hurricane, 2 new starts, 4 restructurings of my classroom, 12 special need students which I have no idea to need, 6 two time retainees, and far too many personal mistakes to count- I am starting to finally have a vision for my classroom.
Just stepping into the light from a rough start to the year- keeping my chin up, reading great books (Everything and Anything by Jerry Spinnelli). I thought the second year would be easier: I never thought I would ever say that I miss the first year of teaching. And I am sure that if I could time travel and the one-year-ago me was standing right next to me, he would punch me in the nose.
But, I am finally making positive gains from my first year. I can finally see the obstacles between my kids and their success. Maybe my smile won't be so forced anymore. Bring on the dawn!
Sometimes darkness is suffocating.
Because each thing we can’t see
We can’t count as a friend
And the world seems a lot smaller
When one can’t see the dangers.
The infinite space
Of loneliness crushes the air out
from forced smiles in gasps.
Finally my smiles are coming slightly less forces. After an oppressively disappointing start to the school year: 7 weeks of school, 1 hurricane, 2 new starts, 4 restructurings of my classroom, 12 special need students which I have no idea to need, 6 two time retainees, and far too many personal mistakes to count- I am starting to finally have a vision for my classroom.
Just stepping into the light from a rough start to the year- keeping my chin up, reading great books (Everything and Anything by Jerry Spinnelli). I thought the second year would be easier: I never thought I would ever say that I miss the first year of teaching. And I am sure that if I could time travel and the one-year-ago me was standing right next to me, he would punch me in the nose.
But, I am finally making positive gains from my first year. I can finally see the obstacles between my kids and their success. Maybe my smile won't be so forced anymore. Bring on the dawn!
Sunday 12 October 2008
A moment away from my classroom:
There is something truly joyful about seeing one of your heroes playing Big Buck Hunter right next to you at a bar. A couple weeks ago I got to see Atmosphere perform in Houston and before the show we were catching dinner and we saw Ant, the DJ, and the touring keyboarder playing my favorite bar video game.
Next I want to see Obama playing Skee-Ball.
ps- for those who are wondering- the keyboarder was much better than Ant.
Next I want to see Obama playing Skee-Ball.
ps- for those who are wondering- the keyboarder was much better than Ant.
Saturday 10 May 2008
It’s not enough to show them Oz, you have to build a yellow brick road too:
An abridged version of my Master's class final on the most important aspect of a classroom:
In just nine hectic months at the helms of title one public school classrooms I have discovered that the vocation of teaching entails far more than I imagined. Teachers are story tellers daily. We have been parents, students, and supervisors. We have been camp counselors, musicians, coaches, nurses, librarians, older brothers, co-conspirators, parents, advertisers, and police officers. We have alternatively had open ears and open mouths. We have been shoulders to cry on and strong minds to push against. We have been scientists, hygienists, beauticians, musical experts, and fashion advisers. We have been detectives, plea bargainers, sergeants, admirals, and motivational speakers. We have been judge, jury, attorney, and detention-cutioner. We have been beacons of truth and honesty; we have been liars. We have had great days as heroes and frustrating days as villains. We have been clung to and moments later spurned. We have been sparingly brilliant, occasionally awful, and all too often mediocre. We have taxed all of our qualifications and life experiences to be psychologists, friends, enemies, dictators, and when the opportunity is just right we squeeze in as much teaching as test prep will allow.
This host of hats we wear is not by accident. And it is not an unnecessary burden of our job. It is our job. Our job is to teach students; it is not to program computers. It is not to present information to young people. It is to teach them. It is not the mindless dispensation of curriculum; it is guiding them to open their minds and prepare them for the future. Our job is not just to ready them for the TAKS test in our grade, not just to prepare them for the next grade level, we are to teach them the skills and knowledge that they need to succeed in the classroom AT LEAST through high school. Those same skills: academic, social, and otherwise are the same skills that they will need to succeed in life as employees, citizens, and thinkers. So, what is the single most important step for this apparently simple task of raising productive citizens and enlightened people? Is it backwards planning? A sound knowledge of the curriculum? Great classroom gimmicks? Performance Pay? Amazing Test Taking Strategies?
None of the Above.
The single most important thing a teacher must do, and the first step a successful teacher must take is to motivate and invest their students. While this seems common sense enough, one only needs to spend 10 minutes in a teacher’s lounge in a non-college-prep-suburban-private school (do these exist in real life?) to hear that this idea is not one that has been internalized or embraced by the teaching community as a whole. We view motivation and investment as a burden. Exasperated teachers implore “Why won’t they turn in their homework?”, “Why don’t they listen?”, “Why are they skipping and dropping out?”, “Why don’t they care?!?!?!?”
This string of questions often ends with something along the line of “When I was in school we did not have to deal with the disrespect like this. We learned what we were told to because we were told to. I am presenting the information to them, it is not my job to make them learn it. I cannot make them care. They should care.” These teachers could not be more correct in their final sentiment- the kids should care. And they will if they are taught to. Just like everything else, children need to be taught how to care. If a student comes to your middle school classroom having never been taught to tie their shoes, I would hope you would teach that even though it is not technically in your job description. They need to have tied shoes to be kept safe. Just like that, they need to be invested in school to be kept safe and off the streets. So, that is where our teaching must begin. Proper student investment is the basis of not only student success academically, but also behaviorally; investment is the linchpin of classroom management.
The first thing teachers need to understand is that too often the severity of issues in students who are not invested, disengaged, uninterested, and apathetic about learning is far worse than we think. This comes in contrast to the easy, quick-fix scenarios teachers learn about in classroom management, learning theories, and instructional strategies seminars. These problems can be very very deep seeded.
So if “I don’t care” is the heart of the problem, and if teachers are the ones responsible for solving the problem, what is the solution? It is amazing how far a little empathy will go.
Teachers are trained to be firm in the beginning. Teachers are taught to counter the students’ “I don’t cares” with the firm “You NEED to care!” Though teachers, no doubt, need to be controlling and consistent, it would seem that a strict approach is not always the best way to motivate the unmotivated. As Assistant Professor in the Dept. of Teacher Education at Gonzaga University writes, when we counter apathetic students with control we are sending the implied message that states, “Control over collaboration and punishment over choice.” Collaboration is taken away when the teacher fails to sit down with the student to hear his concerns and, instead, gives the student another directive. This directive is precisely what takes away a choice. Is it possible that the thing the student “doesn’t care about” is not education at whole, but the specific assignment or activity he is being asked to perform?
Three simple solutions which will not only help student motivation but increase class management are:
Teachers need to be invested just as much as students.
Teachers need to take the time to LISTEN to the needs of the student.
Be personally invested but don’t take things personally!
If we expect students to be invested, we must also be invested. Teachers should take the time to get to know their students. Make it a point to learn the student’s learning abilities. Find out if the student learns best in cooperative groups. Figure out of the student should be moved from the back of the classroom to the front. Get to know what goes on at home. If the student is too hungry because they don’t get to eat breakfast, their concentration will be on food and not learning. The very concrete needs of survival need to be taken care of if we want to invest young minds in a totally conceptual “future” that may or may not exist. If you disagree, try to hold your breathe for 60 seconds and then find the number of prime roots 256 has before you take a breathe.
An effective educator will be on the look out and even actively investigating to see what lies at the heart of the student’s lack of desire in the classroom. If a teacher has fully explored or eliminated one item from the list they should move to the next. This IS a time consuming process, but every single item on this list could be the difference between a teacher helping mold the next Madam Curie or middle school drop out.
Lastly, Don’t take student antagonism personally. It’s easy for educators to become emotionally and personally invested; in fact, any teacher who does not become emotionally invested probably should switch career fields (Because after all, those that can’t teach- do). However, kids will be kids. Regardless of whether or not a teacher has written the greatest lesson plan of all time on rhyme scheme, there will always be students who seem to miss the whole thing because they are thinking about play XBOX or thinking about the upcoming birthday party. When students lack motivation, teachers hinder their ability to invest the students if they become offended by the student’s apathy. From our experience, even us, the world’s greatest first year teachers, have off days and moments. We don’t want our students taking that personally. Why should we act angry towards them when they have off moments?
When dealing with student apathy, understand that student apathy is temporary and often fluctuates depending on the day, separate the student’s lack of motivation from the teacher’s ego. Reflect on the issue and do not necessarily address the student in haste, especially if upset, build trust with the student so that he/she feels OK in telling the teacher he/she is not interested-- if the teacher lashes out against the student for not liking a particular assignment or activity, the student is likely to build a wall of separation between him/her and the teacher, thus perpetuating the student’s disengagement—and be positive!
Student Motivation is a multifaceted and complex problem to overcome. Many students need to be taught how their present affects their future. Some students must even be taught that they are valuable. And all students (even the ones in the suburbs and prep schools working towards college) must be taught that what we are giving out is valuable to them. This is motivation and investment. It must begin with the teacher being invested in themselves, their material, and their students. It must be carried with an open heart and the understanding that it IS hard work. And it ends with graduations, higher degrees, and a whole host of life long learners leaving our classrooms who will save this world and finally build the future that dreamers, teachers, and idealists have been striving towards for millennia.
In just nine hectic months at the helms of title one public school classrooms I have discovered that the vocation of teaching entails far more than I imagined. Teachers are story tellers daily. We have been parents, students, and supervisors. We have been camp counselors, musicians, coaches, nurses, librarians, older brothers, co-conspirators, parents, advertisers, and police officers. We have alternatively had open ears and open mouths. We have been shoulders to cry on and strong minds to push against. We have been scientists, hygienists, beauticians, musical experts, and fashion advisers. We have been detectives, plea bargainers, sergeants, admirals, and motivational speakers. We have been judge, jury, attorney, and detention-cutioner. We have been beacons of truth and honesty; we have been liars. We have had great days as heroes and frustrating days as villains. We have been clung to and moments later spurned. We have been sparingly brilliant, occasionally awful, and all too often mediocre. We have taxed all of our qualifications and life experiences to be psychologists, friends, enemies, dictators, and when the opportunity is just right we squeeze in as much teaching as test prep will allow.
This host of hats we wear is not by accident. And it is not an unnecessary burden of our job. It is our job. Our job is to teach students; it is not to program computers. It is not to present information to young people. It is to teach them. It is not the mindless dispensation of curriculum; it is guiding them to open their minds and prepare them for the future. Our job is not just to ready them for the TAKS test in our grade, not just to prepare them for the next grade level, we are to teach them the skills and knowledge that they need to succeed in the classroom AT LEAST through high school. Those same skills: academic, social, and otherwise are the same skills that they will need to succeed in life as employees, citizens, and thinkers. So, what is the single most important step for this apparently simple task of raising productive citizens and enlightened people? Is it backwards planning? A sound knowledge of the curriculum? Great classroom gimmicks? Performance Pay? Amazing Test Taking Strategies?
None of the Above.
The single most important thing a teacher must do, and the first step a successful teacher must take is to motivate and invest their students. While this seems common sense enough, one only needs to spend 10 minutes in a teacher’s lounge in a non-college-prep-suburban-private school (do these exist in real life?) to hear that this idea is not one that has been internalized or embraced by the teaching community as a whole. We view motivation and investment as a burden. Exasperated teachers implore “Why won’t they turn in their homework?”, “Why don’t they listen?”, “Why are they skipping and dropping out?”, “Why don’t they care?!?!?!?”
This string of questions often ends with something along the line of “When I was in school we did not have to deal with the disrespect like this. We learned what we were told to because we were told to. I am presenting the information to them, it is not my job to make them learn it. I cannot make them care. They should care.” These teachers could not be more correct in their final sentiment- the kids should care. And they will if they are taught to. Just like everything else, children need to be taught how to care. If a student comes to your middle school classroom having never been taught to tie their shoes, I would hope you would teach that even though it is not technically in your job description. They need to have tied shoes to be kept safe. Just like that, they need to be invested in school to be kept safe and off the streets. So, that is where our teaching must begin. Proper student investment is the basis of not only student success academically, but also behaviorally; investment is the linchpin of classroom management.
The first thing teachers need to understand is that too often the severity of issues in students who are not invested, disengaged, uninterested, and apathetic about learning is far worse than we think. This comes in contrast to the easy, quick-fix scenarios teachers learn about in classroom management, learning theories, and instructional strategies seminars. These problems can be very very deep seeded.
So if “I don’t care” is the heart of the problem, and if teachers are the ones responsible for solving the problem, what is the solution? It is amazing how far a little empathy will go.
Teachers are trained to be firm in the beginning. Teachers are taught to counter the students’ “I don’t cares” with the firm “You NEED to care!” Though teachers, no doubt, need to be controlling and consistent, it would seem that a strict approach is not always the best way to motivate the unmotivated. As Assistant Professor in the Dept. of Teacher Education at Gonzaga University writes, when we counter apathetic students with control we are sending the implied message that states, “Control over collaboration and punishment over choice.” Collaboration is taken away when the teacher fails to sit down with the student to hear his concerns and, instead, gives the student another directive. This directive is precisely what takes away a choice. Is it possible that the thing the student “doesn’t care about” is not education at whole, but the specific assignment or activity he is being asked to perform?
Three simple solutions which will not only help student motivation but increase class management are:
Teachers need to be invested just as much as students.
Teachers need to take the time to LISTEN to the needs of the student.
Be personally invested but don’t take things personally!
If we expect students to be invested, we must also be invested. Teachers should take the time to get to know their students. Make it a point to learn the student’s learning abilities. Find out if the student learns best in cooperative groups. Figure out of the student should be moved from the back of the classroom to the front. Get to know what goes on at home. If the student is too hungry because they don’t get to eat breakfast, their concentration will be on food and not learning. The very concrete needs of survival need to be taken care of if we want to invest young minds in a totally conceptual “future” that may or may not exist. If you disagree, try to hold your breathe for 60 seconds and then find the number of prime roots 256 has before you take a breathe.
An effective educator will be on the look out and even actively investigating to see what lies at the heart of the student’s lack of desire in the classroom. If a teacher has fully explored or eliminated one item from the list they should move to the next. This IS a time consuming process, but every single item on this list could be the difference between a teacher helping mold the next Madam Curie or middle school drop out.
Lastly, Don’t take student antagonism personally. It’s easy for educators to become emotionally and personally invested; in fact, any teacher who does not become emotionally invested probably should switch career fields (Because after all, those that can’t teach- do). However, kids will be kids. Regardless of whether or not a teacher has written the greatest lesson plan of all time on rhyme scheme, there will always be students who seem to miss the whole thing because they are thinking about play XBOX or thinking about the upcoming birthday party. When students lack motivation, teachers hinder their ability to invest the students if they become offended by the student’s apathy. From our experience, even us, the world’s greatest first year teachers, have off days and moments. We don’t want our students taking that personally. Why should we act angry towards them when they have off moments?
When dealing with student apathy, understand that student apathy is temporary and often fluctuates depending on the day, separate the student’s lack of motivation from the teacher’s ego. Reflect on the issue and do not necessarily address the student in haste, especially if upset, build trust with the student so that he/she feels OK in telling the teacher he/she is not interested-- if the teacher lashes out against the student for not liking a particular assignment or activity, the student is likely to build a wall of separation between him/her and the teacher, thus perpetuating the student’s disengagement—and be positive!
Student Motivation is a multifaceted and complex problem to overcome. Many students need to be taught how their present affects their future. Some students must even be taught that they are valuable. And all students (even the ones in the suburbs and prep schools working towards college) must be taught that what we are giving out is valuable to them. This is motivation and investment. It must begin with the teacher being invested in themselves, their material, and their students. It must be carried with an open heart and the understanding that it IS hard work. And it ends with graduations, higher degrees, and a whole host of life long learners leaving our classrooms who will save this world and finally build the future that dreamers, teachers, and idealists have been striving towards for millennia.
Thursday 8 May 2008
Inspiring, and a Shout Out
Check out this article:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/04/opinion/04friedman.html?em&ex=1210305600&en=bbf6e9bdf2870076&ei=5087%0A
I agree. Needless to say I totally agree.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/04/opinion/04friedman.html?em&ex=1210305600&en=bbf6e9bdf2870076&ei=5087%0A
I agree. Needless to say I totally agree.
Tuesday 6 May 2008
Teacher's Pet
Don't lie. Every Teacher has a teacher's pet.
Mine is a Guenea Pig. Despite the fact that I do not have any idea how to spell that word: Gueinea, Guinea, Ginney, Guenia? I still have the pet. As a class we named him "Booger Taft" Booger because he has a brown spot on his nose, and Taft because i demanded that it be related to our new unit- which is having them memorize all of the president's in order so that they can have a framework for their social studies in middle school. We are gonna rap them!
M.C Brossart is in fact in the hizzie.
So, Taft was the fattest president- it just makes sense. But in the debate we held, one of my little girls quietly suggested to me Washington, and said we could call him "Booger T. Washington." She looked so proud of herself.
I almost died laughing. That is just cute. I hope to have Booger's last name change like whatever we are studying. He will be the equivilant of Ms. Frizzle's outfits in my classroom. But probably more likely to "eep."
So, now my classroom is becoming more like the one's I remember growing up: Pets, exploration, and the constant hope that summer vacation is just around the corner.
We are in the countdown to Florida, and I had to decide yesterday who had earned the trip, and since my discipline is varied and inconsistent I feel like my decisions were more arbitrary. I am wrestling with second guesses and worries that I made the wrong decisions. Sometimes I wonder if God could have learned something from the Texas State Board of Education and made life a multiple choice test.
Choose the best answer.
Mine is a Guenea Pig. Despite the fact that I do not have any idea how to spell that word: Gueinea, Guinea, Ginney, Guenia? I still have the pet. As a class we named him "Booger Taft" Booger because he has a brown spot on his nose, and Taft because i demanded that it be related to our new unit- which is having them memorize all of the president's in order so that they can have a framework for their social studies in middle school. We are gonna rap them!
M.C Brossart is in fact in the hizzie.
So, Taft was the fattest president- it just makes sense. But in the debate we held, one of my little girls quietly suggested to me Washington, and said we could call him "Booger T. Washington." She looked so proud of herself.
I almost died laughing. That is just cute. I hope to have Booger's last name change like whatever we are studying. He will be the equivilant of Ms. Frizzle's outfits in my classroom. But probably more likely to "eep."
So, now my classroom is becoming more like the one's I remember growing up: Pets, exploration, and the constant hope that summer vacation is just around the corner.
We are in the countdown to Florida, and I had to decide yesterday who had earned the trip, and since my discipline is varied and inconsistent I feel like my decisions were more arbitrary. I am wrestling with second guesses and worries that I made the wrong decisions. Sometimes I wonder if God could have learned something from the Texas State Board of Education and made life a multiple choice test.
Choose the best answer.
Thursday 1 May 2008
Quadruple Over Time
I remember only 3 games in my whole rugby career that went past double over time. I think we won one and lost two, but truthfully I don't remember. I do remember most distinctly the feeling as the whistle blew after the second extra 10 minutes of brutalizing tie- I had just drug myself out through sore ankles, seperated ribs or shoulders, and a horde of bruises who had all decided that they should invite their friends the scratches over to hang out on my torso and thighs.
I remember wanting to cry and lay down. I remember having no more competative edge left in me. Wanting the score to be left as a tie, because, haven't we all earned it? and why can't we just have a few beers and celebrate how valiant we were?
But all three times I had too much pride, too many dreams, too much of my mother in me, and too many teammates to lay down or quit when I knew the outcome hardly mattered to me. If I had been alone there is no doubt to me that I would have conceded it all for some calm. However, since being born into my family, I don't think I have ever been alone.
All three times I returned to the hudle and leaned on those around me for support as they leaned back and I forced words out to let everyone know that we didn't quit til it was over, and we don't get to choose when it ends, we only get to choose how hard we fight. Nearly everyone echoed similar sentiments and smiled at how brave we were. Despite how much talking when you want to cry from pain and fatigue feels like lieing, I still believe in what we said.
Now, I have finished my final TAKS test. I don't have the results. But I have the marks and the wear and tear and the extra dose of gravity urging me to lay down. But i have a team full of co-teachers and students and a long list of lives for which this isn't even the first quarter, let alone half time, or over time.
So, I have to return to the huddle and find my students and invest them in a game they want to trade for summer vacation. I need to invest them in knowledge that has nothing to do with TAKS tests and teach them to keep going when all they have energy to do is beat each other up and scream. And I need to somehow prove that I have more energy than they do. Because the whistle blows again on Monday and after all we don't quit til it was over, and we don't get to choose when it ends, we only get to choose how hard we fight.
And if it never ends then we learn to smile deeper than we ever thought possible, lean on each other, and try to enjoy it- because after all we got ourselves into this beautiful mess.
I remember wanting to cry and lay down. I remember having no more competative edge left in me. Wanting the score to be left as a tie, because, haven't we all earned it? and why can't we just have a few beers and celebrate how valiant we were?
But all three times I had too much pride, too many dreams, too much of my mother in me, and too many teammates to lay down or quit when I knew the outcome hardly mattered to me. If I had been alone there is no doubt to me that I would have conceded it all for some calm. However, since being born into my family, I don't think I have ever been alone.
All three times I returned to the hudle and leaned on those around me for support as they leaned back and I forced words out to let everyone know that we didn't quit til it was over, and we don't get to choose when it ends, we only get to choose how hard we fight. Nearly everyone echoed similar sentiments and smiled at how brave we were. Despite how much talking when you want to cry from pain and fatigue feels like lieing, I still believe in what we said.
Now, I have finished my final TAKS test. I don't have the results. But I have the marks and the wear and tear and the extra dose of gravity urging me to lay down. But i have a team full of co-teachers and students and a long list of lives for which this isn't even the first quarter, let alone half time, or over time.
So, I have to return to the huddle and find my students and invest them in a game they want to trade for summer vacation. I need to invest them in knowledge that has nothing to do with TAKS tests and teach them to keep going when all they have energy to do is beat each other up and scream. And I need to somehow prove that I have more energy than they do. Because the whistle blows again on Monday and after all we don't quit til it was over, and we don't get to choose when it ends, we only get to choose how hard we fight.
And if it never ends then we learn to smile deeper than we ever thought possible, lean on each other, and try to enjoy it- because after all we got ourselves into this beautiful mess.
Oh yeah, and whatever:
Today, 7 hours from now, my kids will enter my room and take the test that the state of Texas will use to decide whether or not I am a good teacher.
I am trying not to get more checked out than the Karma Sutra after that. I want to teach, but really I want to give my kids the chance to choose the curriculum. Let's see what happens.
I am trying not to get more checked out than the Karma Sutra after that. I want to teach, but really I want to give my kids the chance to choose the curriculum. Let's see what happens.
Yesterday I saw my kids playing house at recess...
The moments when my kids remind me that despite what they have gone through, despite what they have seen, despite the role models that are piled infront of them like the gift of small pox blankets- they are young children, even the oldest are young.
Yesterday these old souls, worn away by an apathetic world, played house at recess. And for a moment, though tortured and confused, they tried to create order and purpose in a world that didn't promise them that and doesn't give what it didn't promise. Yesterday I realized what a responsibility I have again.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Laughter has no need to echo:
There is this room in the corner of that house after
Which we built ourselves out of
Bumped heads, fights, and laughter.
Where we lost ourselves
In worlds we created just to see if we could fit into them.
Like 2 feet tall, stomping around in Dad’s work boots
Worlds we left the room to test out.
Worlds the room willed us to want.
Worlds that now, though we are bigger
Still don’t seem to jive quite right.
That room is so full of memories that
We don’t fit into it anymore.
There is so little space for the we’s we’ve become
That we can’t even enter there without falling back
Into the we’s we were.
The sun still spends the summers
Lounging on the couch spreading itself out
Into the late afternoons
The beams spread onto the table
Highlighting scars from former memories.
White circles from lemonade glassed
On the coffee table that taught us how to dance
With people watching us.
We talk of remodeling, covering her scars
New paint. Replacing the blinds.
Maybe new pillows not faded by the sun.
We can’t touch it though
It belongs to our memories, the afternoon sun,
And itself.
Now, new cousins play there
(do we resent them for it?)
They are welcomed equally by the room
And it shelters, bolsters, and encourages them as much
Their laughter paints the walls now
And their dreams create forts in its corners.
They now fill it with memories
Of the world they know must exist outside
somewhere
Harldy even aware that this room
was already overflowing with imaginary utopias.
Watching them we know that utopias have
No room for the flawed
Maybe that is really
why we don’t go there anymore.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yesterday these old souls, worn away by an apathetic world, played house at recess. And for a moment, though tortured and confused, they tried to create order and purpose in a world that didn't promise them that and doesn't give what it didn't promise. Yesterday I realized what a responsibility I have again.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Laughter has no need to echo:
There is this room in the corner of that house after
Which we built ourselves out of
Bumped heads, fights, and laughter.
Where we lost ourselves
In worlds we created just to see if we could fit into them.
Like 2 feet tall, stomping around in Dad’s work boots
Worlds we left the room to test out.
Worlds the room willed us to want.
Worlds that now, though we are bigger
Still don’t seem to jive quite right.
That room is so full of memories that
We don’t fit into it anymore.
There is so little space for the we’s we’ve become
That we can’t even enter there without falling back
Into the we’s we were.
The sun still spends the summers
Lounging on the couch spreading itself out
Into the late afternoons
The beams spread onto the table
Highlighting scars from former memories.
White circles from lemonade glassed
On the coffee table that taught us how to dance
With people watching us.
We talk of remodeling, covering her scars
New paint. Replacing the blinds.
Maybe new pillows not faded by the sun.
We can’t touch it though
It belongs to our memories, the afternoon sun,
And itself.
Now, new cousins play there
(do we resent them for it?)
They are welcomed equally by the room
And it shelters, bolsters, and encourages them as much
Their laughter paints the walls now
And their dreams create forts in its corners.
They now fill it with memories
Of the world they know must exist outside
somewhere
Harldy even aware that this room
was already overflowing with imaginary utopias.
Watching them we know that utopias have
No room for the flawed
Maybe that is really
why we don’t go there anymore.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Monday 14 April 2008
The power of imagination:
I consider one of my heroes to be Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes. That boy's imagination was one to be envied and emmulated. That is one of the reasons I love my kids. I have one boy that has been in trouble a lot, got in trouble a lot, has terrible luck, a bad reputation, and I have prevented from getting kicked out of school 3 times with great effort. He has a really good heart, but a bad reputation with the staff, a chip on his shoulder and so legitimatly bad luck. He has recently become obsessed with ninjas.
So, when I hear that he has brought a ninjitsu throwing knife to school I discreetly tried to talk to him about it. He was very proud of the fact that he did, and he, being a ninja, wouldn't hurt anyone with it- but he needed to have it in case we were attacked. He assured me that no one knew. (No one knew like no one knew Barry Bonds was on Roids). I explained to him what could happen and promised that if we were attacked as a school I would give it back to him, but bringing a knife to school, even a ninja throwing knife for protection, could have him kicked out in a way even I couldn't help him with. He reluctantly agreed to give it to me, and reached in his sleeve untied a shoestring and slid into his hand a bent up peice of dull metal that must have fallen off the edge of a construction site. It had the same vague outline and a circular hole in the base. My stapler has more offensive potential than this "ninja throwing knife".
I Love these kids.
So, when I hear that he has brought a ninjitsu throwing knife to school I discreetly tried to talk to him about it. He was very proud of the fact that he did, and he, being a ninja, wouldn't hurt anyone with it- but he needed to have it in case we were attacked. He assured me that no one knew. (No one knew like no one knew Barry Bonds was on Roids). I explained to him what could happen and promised that if we were attacked as a school I would give it back to him, but bringing a knife to school, even a ninja throwing knife for protection, could have him kicked out in a way even I couldn't help him with. He reluctantly agreed to give it to me, and reached in his sleeve untied a shoestring and slid into his hand a bent up peice of dull metal that must have fallen off the edge of a construction site. It had the same vague outline and a circular hole in the base. My stapler has more offensive potential than this "ninja throwing knife".
I Love these kids.
Tuesday 8 April 2008
Wishing my best was better than good.
Today my kids took the second TAKS- the math one. Learning to teach math has been a challenge for a poet whose best advice for math 3 months ago seemed to be- "look at it, do the right things, get the right answer. See?"
Either for deep seated moral and philosphical reasons, or to save my pride (or both) I continue to try to not buy into the system of testing that has obsessed our nation, scared our kids, jaded our administrators, and got our teachers to be ends and not means focused. I fight this system while wishing I had some measurable way to prove that Loving others matters. Also, wishing I could learn immediately how to teach while loving and getting all my kids to be good at thinking and testing...
Tonight my mother told me "Be easy on yourself. You are doing your best."
How can I be happy with that unless my best is the best? And what is the best?
Because I could pray more, swear less, eat better. I could smile more at strangers, plan smarter, drink less. I could tailgate strangers on the highway less, or more (if they deserve it (jk mom)). I could keep in touch with old friends better.
I don't know what my best looks like- but I know that when I finally hit it, it must be somehow even sweeter than a last second Mario Chalmers three in a championship game. Edwin McCain promised, "I'll be better when I'm older", and I agree. (ps- GO KU!!!!!)
A wise woman once told me to accept my best even if i know my best wasn't what i wanted, and focus on what I did well and my best getting better, but my hindsight is too good. Somedays my best might be downright poor. I need to appreciate those days because I get to realize where I screwed up. But on days like that I can't look in the mirror and say it was my best- because my best will way closer to flawless.
I shouldn't have screwed up so much.
But then, I look in the mirror and I think about my "heroes". Not my real heroes- like my parents, siblings, coworkers, and teachers. These people have shown me that I can be someone to emulate and admire, and still be a human worthy of being crabby at and flawed. Those people inspire me daily. But when I am really down, I look to the people that have achieved social fame for something and their flaws were not advertised as much.
In this process I made a really interesting realization- here are a few of my heroes that I look to regularly- Peter the Apostle, Mother Theresa, and Brett Farve.
All of them have one great thing in common- they screwed up a lot. Oh, and on the way they achieved true greatness on pretty much any scale.
I am gonna focus on Brett Farve because, well, he is new to this list over the last week. Brett Farve is my new model in my classroom. "Oh for Pete's Sake! Why the heck is that?" my MN friends might ask. Here is why:
Brett Farve holds many records. One of them is interceptions. He became famous for showing up day in and day out to perform and compete. More often than not he looked like he was having a blast. He celebrated his teammates, and kept his eyes on the task. He also returned fearless and would sling that pass in their again. And it might get picked off again. But 3 MVPs make me think that the good he did outweighed the bad. And that is what I want to focus on: day in and day out performing to the best of my ability. Enjoying it, not quitting no matter how beat up I get, investing a community in me and itself, trusting my team, and eventually winning (ie teaching). (Also, he got better looking as he got older- a goal of mine).
I wonder what part of this might be my Irish heritage. The fighting is happy and the songs are sad- Is there a chance that the nobility of the struggle is in the intentions and not the results? or is the route to hell actually paved with roads of good intentions? Is fighting knowing I am not winning, and might not be able to win in a definable sense worthwhile because the nobility lies in the struggle? Not reaching the top of the hill, but pushing, grunting, cursing, faltering, and then singing to myself as I go to find it and push upwards again?
So, before I grab a few hours sleep and go try to get excited for playing/teaching tomorrow (this year- metaphorically speaking, my inexperience is equivalent to having an offensive line made of retired soccer players, and 5 year olds in wheel chairs). But I still get to go out there and throw that ball!- Before sleep, i want to give a shout out to my corps down here- this weekend i needed help because I have been failing at not basing my self worth on my kids' test scores and I sent out an email asking for help to 9 people. I had 7 show up and give up 4 hours of a Saturday morning to help MY students with math, for no other incentive other than they are loving amazing people com minted to each other and our cause that one day all children in America will have the opportunity to achieve an equal and excellent education. They are a huge part of why I teach for America.
Either for deep seated moral and philosphical reasons, or to save my pride (or both) I continue to try to not buy into the system of testing that has obsessed our nation, scared our kids, jaded our administrators, and got our teachers to be ends and not means focused. I fight this system while wishing I had some measurable way to prove that Loving others matters. Also, wishing I could learn immediately how to teach while loving and getting all my kids to be good at thinking and testing...
Tonight my mother told me "Be easy on yourself. You are doing your best."
How can I be happy with that unless my best is the best? And what is the best?
Because I could pray more, swear less, eat better. I could smile more at strangers, plan smarter, drink less. I could tailgate strangers on the highway less, or more (if they deserve it (jk mom)). I could keep in touch with old friends better.
I don't know what my best looks like- but I know that when I finally hit it, it must be somehow even sweeter than a last second Mario Chalmers three in a championship game. Edwin McCain promised, "I'll be better when I'm older", and I agree. (ps- GO KU!!!!!)
A wise woman once told me to accept my best even if i know my best wasn't what i wanted, and focus on what I did well and my best getting better, but my hindsight is too good. Somedays my best might be downright poor. I need to appreciate those days because I get to realize where I screwed up. But on days like that I can't look in the mirror and say it was my best- because my best will way closer to flawless.
I shouldn't have screwed up so much.
But then, I look in the mirror and I think about my "heroes". Not my real heroes- like my parents, siblings, coworkers, and teachers. These people have shown me that I can be someone to emulate and admire, and still be a human worthy of being crabby at and flawed. Those people inspire me daily. But when I am really down, I look to the people that have achieved social fame for something and their flaws were not advertised as much.
In this process I made a really interesting realization- here are a few of my heroes that I look to regularly- Peter the Apostle, Mother Theresa, and Brett Farve.
All of them have one great thing in common- they screwed up a lot. Oh, and on the way they achieved true greatness on pretty much any scale.
I am gonna focus on Brett Farve because, well, he is new to this list over the last week. Brett Farve is my new model in my classroom. "Oh for Pete's Sake! Why the heck is that?" my MN friends might ask. Here is why:
Brett Farve holds many records. One of them is interceptions. He became famous for showing up day in and day out to perform and compete. More often than not he looked like he was having a blast. He celebrated his teammates, and kept his eyes on the task. He also returned fearless and would sling that pass in their again. And it might get picked off again. But 3 MVPs make me think that the good he did outweighed the bad. And that is what I want to focus on: day in and day out performing to the best of my ability. Enjoying it, not quitting no matter how beat up I get, investing a community in me and itself, trusting my team, and eventually winning (ie teaching). (Also, he got better looking as he got older- a goal of mine).
I wonder what part of this might be my Irish heritage. The fighting is happy and the songs are sad- Is there a chance that the nobility of the struggle is in the intentions and not the results? or is the route to hell actually paved with roads of good intentions? Is fighting knowing I am not winning, and might not be able to win in a definable sense worthwhile because the nobility lies in the struggle? Not reaching the top of the hill, but pushing, grunting, cursing, faltering, and then singing to myself as I go to find it and push upwards again?
So, before I grab a few hours sleep and go try to get excited for playing/teaching tomorrow (this year- metaphorically speaking, my inexperience is equivalent to having an offensive line made of retired soccer players, and 5 year olds in wheel chairs). But I still get to go out there and throw that ball!- Before sleep, i want to give a shout out to my corps down here- this weekend i needed help because I have been failing at not basing my self worth on my kids' test scores and I sent out an email asking for help to 9 people. I had 7 show up and give up 4 hours of a Saturday morning to help MY students with math, for no other incentive other than they are loving amazing people com minted to each other and our cause that one day all children in America will have the opportunity to achieve an equal and excellent education. They are a huge part of why I teach for America.
Friday 28 March 2008
A big question within a small thought during a particularily small moment.
StanfordTest Results:
He continues to set the bar as high as it will go and then jump under it so convincingly it looks more like ducking than jumping. Trying not to change the rules of the game to save face which is harder when lives hang in the balance.
Author's note:
( My challange to you: Try to follow this random string of metaphorical consiousness that i wrote on the backside of the spelling test that I jotted the above note on)
Sometimes I write in third person to not sound conceded. Mostly to not sound pathetic. Sometimes it comes out poetic- but it is often more truthful than when i build stories around an I that needs to be protected by so much more than lids, because no amount of watering can make an I feel better. Failure is like a sharp stick when an I is like an eye. (here i drew an eye with an I for a pupil...)
When I can wrap my thoughts around myself like looking in, I tend to give myself the empathy I try to give others. Sometimes I might even deserve it.
Author's note on the Author's note:
The spelling test was the only 100% in the class. It did not have a name on it. Really.
Author's note on the previous notes:
Honestly, I am not that emo- things are all right here, but it does inspire a fair amount of introspection on what success, failure, and everything looks like- which will be discussed from an academic point of view in the next post.
He continues to set the bar as high as it will go and then jump under it so convincingly it looks more like ducking than jumping. Trying not to change the rules of the game to save face which is harder when lives hang in the balance.
Author's note:
( My challange to you: Try to follow this random string of metaphorical consiousness that i wrote on the backside of the spelling test that I jotted the above note on)
Sometimes I write in third person to not sound conceded. Mostly to not sound pathetic. Sometimes it comes out poetic- but it is often more truthful than when i build stories around an I that needs to be protected by so much more than lids, because no amount of watering can make an I feel better. Failure is like a sharp stick when an I is like an eye. (here i drew an eye with an I for a pupil...)
When I can wrap my thoughts around myself like looking in, I tend to give myself the empathy I try to give others. Sometimes I might even deserve it.
Author's note on the Author's note:
The spelling test was the only 100% in the class. It did not have a name on it. Really.
Author's note on the previous notes:
Honestly, I am not that emo- things are all right here, but it does inspire a fair amount of introspection on what success, failure, and everything looks like- which will be discussed from an academic point of view in the next post.
Today is Picture Day
My kids are all out of uniform and strutting their stuff like little models.
Today should be a riot. We are buried in the midst of test prep and it has been a burden on my overly competative psyche as it fights itself. I am philosphically opposed to standardized tests as they are being done here, and yet can't remove the pressure that my administration puts on me- or more importantly, the pressure I put on myself.
So, today, I give up my anxieties, fatigue and stress and try to focus on my students' needs both academic and social as they struggle with the desire to be more grown up than they are. (Something that they don't realize Mr. B relates with as well). Today I focus on staying positive, reaffirming, and to lead them with a smile regardless of outside circumstances. I will learn to be a rock.
Because, heck, I rock :)
Specific anecdotes from the last month coming soon- they just need to be copied from my journal.
Today should be a riot. We are buried in the midst of test prep and it has been a burden on my overly competative psyche as it fights itself. I am philosphically opposed to standardized tests as they are being done here, and yet can't remove the pressure that my administration puts on me- or more importantly, the pressure I put on myself.
So, today, I give up my anxieties, fatigue and stress and try to focus on my students' needs both academic and social as they struggle with the desire to be more grown up than they are. (Something that they don't realize Mr. B relates with as well). Today I focus on staying positive, reaffirming, and to lead them with a smile regardless of outside circumstances. I will learn to be a rock.
Because, heck, I rock :)
Specific anecdotes from the last month coming soon- they just need to be copied from my journal.
Thursday 28 February 2008
Trying not to be melodramatic...
Life is an artwork
a tragedy counted against the sky
worrying that it might be falling
or worrying that it won't
each syllable counts for something.
and nothing counts enough
to make me start keeping tally
of might have beens.
You make me happy
to be just one link in the chain
because the link in the chain doesn’t get to see both ends
it just has to hold onto anything within its reach:
just has to hold on and hope
that if he holds on hard enough
the weakest link
expression isn't true.
just has to hold on and hope
that he isn't
the weakest link.
(Hey I just said trying, I didn't say succeeding :) )
Sunday 3 February 2008
Haircuts, Horse Shoes, and Hand Grenades.
One of the ways I feel like my childhood was depraved is that my parents and grandparents didn't use nearly enough colloquialisms. I have to lie and pretend that they did most of the time when I tell people some precious nugget of knowledge they should hear. Example from class: My dad always used to say "Life's not fair, anyone that tells you otherwise is selling something". I think my dad probably has said things like that in the past, but really The Princess Bride said that much more to me. :)
Fortunately, I do not always have to lie; I am being totally honest when I say Mama always said close only counts in Hair Cuts, Horse Shoes, and Hand Grenades.
This is a phrase that I both quote often and don't totally believe in. I think that in some situations that this is very true. However, to truly believe this would make my life much more dismal.
I live in the struggle for reaching beyond my skills and almost succeeding most of the time. And effort must count. I am not a great teacher. But there are days I get close. Those days count. Some of my kids haven't mastered thinking about what the math problem is asking, but they are getting close. As long as they keep working close counts for something. Or it better. And if the road to hell is paved with (actually) good intentions, then I hope they have Poetry, China Buffets and Whisky in hell- because I am gonna be there awhile.
Highlights from the last two weeks:
I had one REALLY good lesson this week. Most of this week was rough in the class.
"John Glenn" still has light years to come, but has made so much progress this year he is one of my best contributors in class.
Friday we had MAN NIGHT. Once again Kenny the Pizza guy was our man. We smoked a cigar with him and made him a Wii character.
Saturday night we played a Newsies Drinking game (pop of course...) On a totally related note, later that night combining a Razor scooter and slaloming the parking garage is fun.
My roommates are amazing people.
I did sign the papers and I will be here 3 years.
I have seen the sunrise over the ocean.
We are trying small groups in class, I love the concept, but if close doesn't count- it seems unlikely that barley managed chaos would count.
Fortunately, I do not always have to lie; I am being totally honest when I say Mama always said close only counts in Hair Cuts, Horse Shoes, and Hand Grenades.
This is a phrase that I both quote often and don't totally believe in. I think that in some situations that this is very true. However, to truly believe this would make my life much more dismal.
I live in the struggle for reaching beyond my skills and almost succeeding most of the time. And effort must count. I am not a great teacher. But there are days I get close. Those days count. Some of my kids haven't mastered thinking about what the math problem is asking, but they are getting close. As long as they keep working close counts for something. Or it better. And if the road to hell is paved with (actually) good intentions, then I hope they have Poetry, China Buffets and Whisky in hell- because I am gonna be there awhile.
Highlights from the last two weeks:
I had one REALLY good lesson this week. Most of this week was rough in the class.
"John Glenn" still has light years to come, but has made so much progress this year he is one of my best contributors in class.
Friday we had MAN NIGHT. Once again Kenny the Pizza guy was our man. We smoked a cigar with him and made him a Wii character.
Saturday night we played a Newsies Drinking game (pop of course...) On a totally related note, later that night combining a Razor scooter and slaloming the parking garage is fun.
My roommates are amazing people.
I did sign the papers and I will be here 3 years.
I have seen the sunrise over the ocean.
We are trying small groups in class, I love the concept, but if close doesn't count- it seems unlikely that barley managed chaos would count.
Sunday 27 January 2008
Mostly just Grateful... Remember why I need to be in a classroom
It has been a year to the day since Grandma Dolezal died.
Her laughter painted skies over beaches in every room of my childhood. Even now with the colours faded by time lost and regret- hers are still my favorite colours.
So much of who I am is due to the family that she created. I miss her, but today as I was feeling something close to sadness I really couldn't just relax into the meloncholy. All I really could feel at length was proud of her, and a sense of blessedness in being a branch somewhere up on the loudest, roughest, closest tree I could ever wish to be part of. If you haven't been a Dolezal or an associate, I can't explain it... but I truely pray that you have something kin to the Love I grew up around, and that is what I try to create every day in my classroom (while I succesfully make the metric system MUCH more complex than it needs to be).
I miss you grandma and the way you took on life, and your tube tops, and your comfort in your skin, and your coarse loving sense of humour. I miss you.
Her laughter painted skies over beaches in every room of my childhood. Even now with the colours faded by time lost and regret- hers are still my favorite colours.
So much of who I am is due to the family that she created. I miss her, but today as I was feeling something close to sadness I really couldn't just relax into the meloncholy. All I really could feel at length was proud of her, and a sense of blessedness in being a branch somewhere up on the loudest, roughest, closest tree I could ever wish to be part of. If you haven't been a Dolezal or an associate, I can't explain it... but I truely pray that you have something kin to the Love I grew up around, and that is what I try to create every day in my classroom (while I succesfully make the metric system MUCH more complex than it needs to be).
I miss you grandma and the way you took on life, and your tube tops, and your comfort in your skin, and your coarse loving sense of humour. I miss you.
Thursday 24 January 2008
The Jack Sparrow Question
Tonight I am going to a meeting for new teacher's in HISD. They offered some of us the option to sign on for 3 years (total), and in exchange for working in these schools for 3 years they will give me about $2,000 to pay me back for the certification classes I took, and $500 for my classroom!!
Now all I have to do is decide whether the pirate in me can handle being tied down. It makes sense to stay, because I could use the cash and would love to have the money to spend on my room... but also because that gaurantees I keep becoming a better teacher. Now I just have to decide if I can handle giving up my freedom.
ps- CONGRATULATIONS TO MY LITTLE BRO ON GETTING A LITTLE MORE FREEDOM AND A DRIVER'S LISCENSE!!!!!
Now all I have to do is decide whether the pirate in me can handle being tied down. It makes sense to stay, because I could use the cash and would love to have the money to spend on my room... but also because that gaurantees I keep becoming a better teacher. Now I just have to decide if I can handle giving up my freedom.
ps- CONGRATULATIONS TO MY LITTLE BRO ON GETTING A LITTLE MORE FREEDOM AND A DRIVER'S LISCENSE!!!!!
Sunday 13 January 2008
Another List:
Here are places in my life that I recommend people watching in my life:
Onion Creek Coffee Shop and Bar
GatorFest
The Pink Floyd Laser Light Show
The Shady Tavern
My School
All Dollar Stores
The few public spaces that still allow smokers
Playgrounds and Dog Parks
The front rows of famous old Broadway plays
Any party with a pinata
Jimmy Buffet Concerts
Dolezal family reunions
Your mirror
Real Record Shops
Renaissance Festivals
Comic Conventions
The mirrors outside Dressing Rooms.
Checkout Lines at Target
Memorial Park
Groups of Camp Counselors
Onion Creek Coffee Shop and Bar
GatorFest
The Pink Floyd Laser Light Show
The Shady Tavern
My School
All Dollar Stores
The few public spaces that still allow smokers
Playgrounds and Dog Parks
The front rows of famous old Broadway plays
Any party with a pinata
Jimmy Buffet Concerts
Dolezal family reunions
Your mirror
Real Record Shops
Renaissance Festivals
Comic Conventions
The mirrors outside Dressing Rooms.
Checkout Lines at Target
Memorial Park
Groups of Camp Counselors
Saturday 12 January 2008
A small victory
We ready "The Monkey's Paw" as a class to work on strategies for reading works that are hard. After a week on the story we watched the Simpson's spoof of the story. I had about 10 kids that still liked the story more Friday Afternoon. Maybe we are making progress even if the test scores don't reflect it as much as I wish they did.
selfnote: I need to figure out how to push their thinking.
selfnote: I need to figure out how to push their thinking.
I took my heart and placed it into the better things around me.
It is a weird thing to have to sneak around to do work. I feel like a cat burglar except I am wearing a bright pink t-shirt and baby blue blazer. In retrospect, not great sneaking clothes. But TFA says I have to "dress up" for our Professional Development Sessions. So I am dressing up like a college professor who does most of his shopping in the reject bin of Sesame Street. I am at school getting some work done (clearly being productive: note the blogging) before the TFA session. I am not supposed to be here because my tutorials do not start until next week so I am wandering around in the dark cleaning my room, organizing, and turning my head and gut in knots trying to figure out how the hell I am going to become a good teacher and implement centers next week when I also inherit the entire special ed population of the fifth grade 4 days a week and a part time co teacher. Anyone with ideas or resources, please send them. If you don't have those- don't worry, me neither :) You can send prayers. If you are agnostic, atheistic, or just don't think my classroom is worth your daily quota of prayers, well then you can send thoughts. Good ones. If I find out anyone is sending bad thoughts at my overcrowded room I am going to be crabby.
Semester Two, Week One, Day Six:
This week brought exhaustion and change. One of my favorite students withdrew out of the blue Monday after School- the rumour is her dad was deported and so they are moving back to Mexico. I am going to miss her, and since she just found out at the end of the first day back and I already felt like I had been hit by a truck full of adolescents who want to be in middle school- when she came back to get her books I gave them to her and said i would miss her, but I couldn't muster the emotional energy to ask for a hug in front of her mom, since I didn't want to seem creepy or inappropriate. I regret that stalling and insecurity in retrospect. (Afterthought: If you want to send hugs, I think right now I need those more than even good thoughts).
I spoke of this already: I am inheriting the entire special ed population from the other 5th grade classrooms. I am excited for this, while also overwhelmed. I feel like this will force me to differentiate more since my special needs students will no longer be a minority. Maybe life would be easier if God didn't use tough love so often but I have no doubt I will be stronger for this. I just need to keep focusing on the beauty of my rock as I push it towards the mountain peak, because I know that the peak I am striving towards is unreachable.
I am regularly reminded of the wonder that is the people God has put in my life. The people in my life down here are amazing. But it is very like going to a pet store and looking at the puppies. You get to touch and play with them very briefly, but there is not enough time to get to know them, play with them, wrestle, and fall into that blissful place where sorrow melts into laughter and everything outside the moment is gone. Someday I will find that place again, maybe even this summer with these people. I no doubt have so much more to learn from them.
Sidebar: I have the greatest family in the world. If anyone disagrees with this I will take it personally and talk about my family until their head explodes by the amazingness of them. I just wish I had not read so much spider man growing up. I think I read "with great power comes great responsibility" so many times it was tattooed on my brain. I guess that means I have two tats. Jeez I am so freakin' hard core! The way I see it, if it weren't for Spider man, the Round Table, and Robin Hood I would be making 6 or 7 figures and living in a mansion on Lake Harriet in the 612 just spending time with my family. Sorry family, if you weren't so amazing making me feel like i need to pay forward the Love I would have taken care of all of your financial woes.
Sidebar again: I think that last sidebar was too big to be a sidebar. It really is a whole paragraph, but it is too late to do anything about that now.
I have to run to the PDS for TFA ASAP. I will TTYL as long as I don't FUBAR SLAWS on the way to the BSM.
Semester Two, Week One, Day Six:
This week brought exhaustion and change. One of my favorite students withdrew out of the blue Monday after School- the rumour is her dad was deported and so they are moving back to Mexico. I am going to miss her, and since she just found out at the end of the first day back and I already felt like I had been hit by a truck full of adolescents who want to be in middle school- when she came back to get her books I gave them to her and said i would miss her, but I couldn't muster the emotional energy to ask for a hug in front of her mom, since I didn't want to seem creepy or inappropriate. I regret that stalling and insecurity in retrospect. (Afterthought: If you want to send hugs, I think right now I need those more than even good thoughts).
I spoke of this already: I am inheriting the entire special ed population from the other 5th grade classrooms. I am excited for this, while also overwhelmed. I feel like this will force me to differentiate more since my special needs students will no longer be a minority. Maybe life would be easier if God didn't use tough love so often but I have no doubt I will be stronger for this. I just need to keep focusing on the beauty of my rock as I push it towards the mountain peak, because I know that the peak I am striving towards is unreachable.
I am regularly reminded of the wonder that is the people God has put in my life. The people in my life down here are amazing. But it is very like going to a pet store and looking at the puppies. You get to touch and play with them very briefly, but there is not enough time to get to know them, play with them, wrestle, and fall into that blissful place where sorrow melts into laughter and everything outside the moment is gone. Someday I will find that place again, maybe even this summer with these people. I no doubt have so much more to learn from them.
Sidebar: I have the greatest family in the world. If anyone disagrees with this I will take it personally and talk about my family until their head explodes by the amazingness of them. I just wish I had not read so much spider man growing up. I think I read "with great power comes great responsibility" so many times it was tattooed on my brain. I guess that means I have two tats. Jeez I am so freakin' hard core! The way I see it, if it weren't for Spider man, the Round Table, and Robin Hood I would be making 6 or 7 figures and living in a mansion on Lake Harriet in the 612 just spending time with my family. Sorry family, if you weren't so amazing making me feel like i need to pay forward the Love I would have taken care of all of your financial woes.
Sidebar again: I think that last sidebar was too big to be a sidebar. It really is a whole paragraph, but it is too late to do anything about that now.
I have to run to the PDS for TFA ASAP. I will TTYL as long as I don't FUBAR SLAWS on the way to the BSM.
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