A Hard Day

Today was one of my most challenging days to teach--and it wasn't because my lesson got throw off or the kids were unreceptive. My master teacher, who had been battling cancer for the last eight months or so lost his battle on Saturday.
It wasn't sudden, we knew the prognosis was grim and that his time was coming--but no one expected it to be this quick. In the end, the quickness was probably a blessing for him.
It doesn't erase the fact that it was a grim thing for the entire school to hear. Especially not when I found out twenty minutes before I had to face a room full of 30 of his former students.
I didn't want to write this as some sob story, because this man would not have wanted anyone to get that way. He was the single most positive person I have ever met. I want to write this because today's experience opened my eyes to all the reasons teaching is awesome that I might have been starting to forget. That is, what it really means to be a teacher.
I just had my students write when they first got into class. I didn't tell them what to write or even that it had to be about their feelings. I think we just all needed a moment. Of course most of them did write about it, and they asked me to read it as I came walking around.
Not a single one of them wrote about a book he taught them, or a writing strategy, or even a specific lesson. As these students were collecting and recording their memories, they were filled with experiences and stories they had heard from him. Times he let them just talk. Times he had talked about surfing, his funny stories about his wife. His weird clock that always chirps. The big I CAN painted on his classroom walls. These little pieces that were not English at all. They were just him. And the students loved him for it, grew because they felt they had someone to trust, and mourned today because they felt scared that they had lost that. At least, that's what they wrote. I was overwhelmed by how many students were less shaken from his death (again, we knew he was sick) and more by (as so many of their free writes said) the fact that they had never lost a teacher before, and what a strange feeling it was.
As I was leaving today, I noticed that they had put up a big piece of butcher paper on one of the walls, and that even at lunch time, students were swarming the paper to write anything. Memories, stories, or just "The best teacher ever." It was truly a sight to see.
I have my own memories and lessons to take away from my brief time with him. I am going to keep my chin up, and press on. I wanted to take a minute to share his story here, because I keep thinking of what Taco Fighter brought up in a recent blog post. "It is true that you teach your students yourself"
There was a man that did just that, and did it well.

Giving Better Directions

Today in my Junior English class we finished an important part of the novel, and we are now a third of the way through. A lot of important information has been presented, and in the book, the setting and mood will soon change dramatically. It is at parts of books like these that my students really seem to become lost and anxious. It is also during this part that I seem to have a really hard time helping them. To attempt to counteract this potential problem, I decided to take a lot of extra time today summarizing and checking for reading comprehension.
I looked up an activity on NCTE's readwritethink.org, that suggested having students title chapters themselves (they suggested that this particularly becomes effective when the book has chapters that have not been named already, which was perfect for our purposes since Catcher in the Rye is all numbered chapters). The titling of the chapters had to be based in the understanding a summation of major points within the text.
It started out well enough, I began by asking them titles of their favorite songs, movies, albums, books (ha), what have you. Then we broke down criteria that the creator of these things must have used to come up with their title. Once we had established some boundaries, I divided up the chapters and students so that each group was responsible for about two of them. With each title, I expected an explanation and a rationale.
The students got right to work, and didn't seem to have too much confusion with the task, but as I was walking around checking on progress, I found myself slightly disappointed by responses. I was getting a lot of responses like "Ch: Pencey Prep. Reason: In this chapter Holden discusses what it is like at his school Pencey for quite some time, including what the people are like and how he is going to be kicked out because of his poor grades"
Yes, that is what happens in that chapter. Yes, titling it that would then make a lot of sense. But it was just so...uninspired?
One group was more in line with what I had been thinking by calling a chapter "Goodbyes and the nasty bumpy old man chest" I thought this was a good way of introducing Holden's last exchange with Mr. Spencer, because that seemed to be what Holden was REALLY focusing on. Other groups just called this "Mr. Spencer" and went on to explain.
Both correct. One a lot more congruent with my expectation. Since this is a simple class assignment and I was more explicit with the summary anyway, this is what they will really be assessed on this time around. In the future however, I wonder, how I could give my directions in such a way that could better show this sort of extremely subtle expectation?

Notes towards the end.

-I went and saw Morrissey on Friday, which was an amazingly wonderful experience. It had been seven years since I had last seen him, and while that actually made me realize that I am slightly older than I think of myself as, it was also strange to think about it in terms of student teaching. The last time I saw Morrissey I was the age of my freshman. Weird.
-One of the students I had the best relationship with got kicked out of school. Just gone. Apparently this girl was quite the fighter, and crossed the line with that in a big way. I had no idea. She was one of my sweetest students that got along with everyone in the class. She would talk to me sometimes before class and after, just sort of tell me stories and vent to me about things. Nothing really that major. It just doesn't make any sense. It has reminded me that in a lot of ways, we really don't know our students, even if we think we do. We know their role as students, nothing more. I think this is good, don't get me wrong. I was just glad to be reminded. Although I do have to admit, I didn't think that the prospect of never seeing one of my students again would hit me this hard.
-All this stuff is coming to a close, and I simultaneously want it to slow down so that I have time to take it all in, and be over as soon as humanly possible. I know it will fly by whether I like it or not. I feel like just lately I've been hitting a really great stride in the classroom. This realization, and many others, has filled me with this great feeling of excitement and anticipation for becoming a "real teacher". I know it sounds cheesy, but I can not wait for the challenge and terror and awesome learning that is going to slam me in the face next year.

This really is a pretty meandering post, but it's what's on my mind at the moment.

Liquid Crystal Frustration

It's amazing how easy it is to take certain aspects of technology for granted. Especially growing up in my family, my father working in a technology assistance program that approves grants for tech equipment in public schools and conducts seminars for teachers on new software and equipment. Besides feeling the pressure from old dad, I also felt like technology was just a natural thing to integrate into lesson planning. As my father puts it "it's a big buzz in the tech world lately. "Digital native and digital immigrant" It's like in language. Your generation has different skills and expectations, because it was the world you were born into"
Translation: Stop being a baby because your school only has one LCD projector, and no other teacher knows how to work it.
I think I had a right to be frustrated. It took me three freakin' days of dealing with this cursed machine to get it working. And not because I was a dumb ass (as one might have expected. And by "one" I mean Mr. Taco Fighter). Because there were cables missing that I had to go hunt teachers down for. I needed a Mac adapter. I ended up needing a whole new machine because the one they had liked to project its menu screen and nothing else. It was one thing after another, and the only thing that kept me going was how confident I was that the digital slide show I put together was going to wow my kids with its neat-o transitions and colorful display.
The slides were all from this community art project, all amateur contributors, that I felt the students were going to not only relate to the themes we have been looking at, but also to their personal lives.
So so wrong. They were bored the entire time. I got two kids pretty amped, and that was about it. The rest of them were yawning. The other rest of them were actually falling asleep.
I felt like throwing the replacement machine against the wall.
In another frustrated baby fit I tried to piss off my dad by telling him that technology in the classroom was overrated. He sighed loudly in the phone, not falling for it, and said "Daughter, it is just like anything else. You have to try this, see what works and what doesn't. You have to try technology that gets them more personally involved, see what works and what doesn't. Technology isn't some major guarantee for engagement. It's just another medium."
I really don't recommend having veteran educators for parents while you are going through the credential program, in case anyone is wondering.

Referral Madness II: Jack Goes Too Far

So I've been getting some lovely comments related to my previous posting about Jack, so I thought I should blog about the saga as it continued.
The next day Jack came to class bubbly and normal. I talked to him outside about the day before:
"I know, they talked to me. I have to change, I'm sorry"
Again, the road block. So I said nothing more. At that point, I did figure I was making too much out of it, even though something still didn't feel right.
The rest of the week, Jack was normal as could be.
Monday morning everyone filed into class, including Jack, seemingly in good if not hyper spirits.
I begin class and we are listing and comparing character from one play to another on the board. They are genuinely attentive (rare for this class), but I think they really enjoyed being about to talk about the previous play in the context of the new one, because they all secretly love the play and I know it.
All of a sudden I hear Jack shouting as I am writing on the board. I spin around to notice Jack, out of his seat and heading over to the other side of the classroom.
"What are you staring at? Do you think that is funny?" (language here extremely cleaned up) I can't even tell who he is talking to, or would be talking to. He's never had a problem with anyone in the class before.
"Jack, what are you doing? Get back in your seat!" I shout. He reaches his destination, Ronny's desk. He hovers over Ronny's desk, cursing at him, rolling up his sleeves and challenging him to stand up and fight. I start yelling for Jack to get out of the classroom and go to the office. He stands his ground. I walk closer, remember instantly all the things people have told me about fights breaking out in classrooms, back off and run to the phone. Before I even pick it up, I hear the door slam as Jack leaves.
Somehow, and I don't know how, I am together enough to get my kids working on their double entry journals, as I take this time to pull Ronny out of the class to ask him what the hell had just happened.
"He was staring at me. We are friends so I thought he was joking. I made funny stare faces back at him and he flipped out. I have to go talk to him, this is all a misunderstanding, but I am afraid he might jump me at lunch."
Good point, kid. I think. I had been too obsessed with what was going on just at the moment, happy that Jack had left without throwing a punch, thankful of Ronny for being the bigger person and backing down.
I escorted Ronny to the office after class, Jack not knowing I could see him, following at our heels, presumably waiting for me to leave Ronny's side.
We make our statements. I have to go teach another class.
I end up meeting with the principal for an hour during fifth period. Jack was suspended, Ronny sent home for protection against other students potential attacks.
We talk for the longest time about my resources here at the school. Something prompts me to be completely honest with her.
"I don't have a master teacher for that class, he is dying of cancer. No other English teacher has a second period prep so it is really hard to get someone in there to observe me. I feel like there is no one that will take my plea seriously of all the help I need in that classroom, and it has been extremely frustrating."
Apparently those were the magic words.
The last 24 hours have been all members of staff and administration falling over themselves to help me. One of the security guards sat in on my class this morning. I talked to my supervisor this morning on the phone for a good while, and had to look at the phone a couple of times to double check that I wasn't talking to my dad. I had support coming out my ears, apologies for not taking my pleas more seriously.
It's not all their fault, I need to be stronger when asking for help. I've always hated admitting that I just can't handle something on my own, and I need to get over that.
No more ounce of chaos for those kids, tight leash all the way. There is no way I could have called the Jack thing, I honestly do not blame myself for it. But it has brought up that there are other tensions in that classroom that I need to be taking much more seriously.
Man this is long, but I have to document one last thing. I came into class today to find both Jack and Ronny absent. Only Jack strutted in about ten minutes after the bell, chipper and participating. I was completely professional, treated him just like any other student there, but completely at a loss of anything to say to him about yesterday.
I found out later that Jack has a ferocious mother, that all the administration is afraid of. They only suspended him for the day since she made such a fuss.
I don't think Jack realized what a terrible position he has put me in, or how he has compromised the feeling, if any, of community and safety in the classroom. I want to be angry, and feel confused or hurt by it, but at the end of the day I just can't muster it. He is just a teenager. His decisions were done completely thoughtlessly of all those things. They don't matter to him.
I have the resources to call upon should something (and that is now looking like a great possibility) happens again.
I relinquish the question "why" because for the time being it appears that all the resources at my finger tips don't have an answer for that.

Referral Madness

Recently I sat down for the absolute most therapeutic discussion with one of our fellow student teachers, and one phrase that has been sticking in my mind that was floating around in our conversation was "succumbing to the chaos" and sometimes, this does need to be done.
I feel like I am a rather chaotic person mostly, or at least that is how my mind seems to function. But when one views teaching and the process of learning as an almost scientific process, there is a pressure to make everything neat, orderly. To have it go a certain way immediately. Lately not only have I been trying to let go on having such a tight leash on my classroom, but also trying to succumb and find comfort in the chaos that is this stage of my life in general. I have achieved moderate success.
That being said, there is a time and place for order, but then how to communicate that to those who like me have found community in the noise?
Jack (as we will call him) is one of the nosiest, until recently. Funny, smart, talkative, disruptive, and not always reliable to turn anything in. That's Jack. Not anymore. Now Jack comes to class with a hood on, hiding the ipod headphones underneath and turns all the way around in his seat.
"Jack," says I in a one on one conference "You aren't yourself. I see you doing all this, I miss the participation I could rely on you for, what's going on?"
"I'm having a bad day. Things aren't going well for me lately, I'm sorry" says Jack.
"Anything you want to talk about?"
"No, I'll be fine. I'll be better tomorrow"
What could I do but try and believe him?
Today my class had a presenter on the college process to talk to the class. Before it started I got up in front of the class, staring them all down saying "We have a guest speaker today, and I expect you all to show him respect and be attentive, I have a zero tolerance policy for disruptions when we have guests in the classroom" Translation: Please show him the respect you don't show me.
I didn't see Jack in the corner, with the hood and headphones uniform of his bad days. I was distracted (attendance, "Lenny, get your head off the desk", "Bianca they want you in the office" etc) But the presenter noticed. He asked him to face forward, take off his headphones, participate. Jack refused. They had an exchange of words. The presenter (who is a Counselor by the way) sent him to the office. It was weird for a moment, but I backed him up. This was ridiculous behavior, we had talked about it.
After class I marched up to the Vice Principal of Discipline to follow up on Jack's meeting.
Jack had never made it to the office. She got on the radio. Jack wasn't in third period.
Scene Two: Yours truly filling out an official referral form, discussing the history of the situation briefly with the VP and the principal. They fight tight lipped about which one of them is going to call his mother. They praise my assessment and action in this situation. "Are you applying for a job here next year, we hope so!" and talk about how this level of defiance warrants a suspension.
Apparently all I've ever had to do to impress my superiors is finally write a freaking referral, something I never EVER wanted to do. And especially not in this case. My referral happy master teacher patted me on the back when I got to her class "It's about time!" I imagine leaving today, other teachers high fiving me on the way out to my car "Good going on that referral, champ!" This is all they have ever wanted me to do.
In my head I'm screaming "WHERE IS JACK?! HOW COME THIS ISN'T THE ISSUE? HOW ARE YOU GOING TO SUSPEND HIM WHEN HE ISN'T HERE?!?!"
I never heard any more until I had to leave. I feel rotten inside, like I've failed. I know that nothing going on in any one's life is ever an excuse for anything, but maybe if I had done more about it, it wouldn't have gotten to this point.
My master teacher says: Teenagers have to learn just like everyone else to compartmentalize.
I says: Do you remember what it was like to be a teenager, Ms. C?

At least he didn't hand me a picture of a rat on a toilet...

So I'm going to say this week was a good one. Whoa there was just an earthquake. I hate earthquakes. Anyway...
I think I am getting a feel for this whole "letting things go" thing, and as hard as it might be, it is a lot easier than dwelling and killing myself over everything that could have been different or better. I need to stay in touch with my more positive and confident self.
I have been having strange experiences with a student recently that are quite puzzling. This student was one of the first in the class he's in to really be nice and friendly. He's really sensitive and into things that the other students are not. For that reason he's always been really alienated from the rest of them. Besides this, he takes the class really seriously and participates thoughtfully, which also seemed to deflame his character in the face of the others.
I really can't remember in the last however long if I have done something terrible that I have subsequently blocked out, but you might think so by the change in his behavior towards me. Lately he's been making a point to remind me at points how inferior I am to my master teacher. He has called me unfair for my "everyone at least in class by the late bell" policy, and has been criticizing every single activity. He's not been misbehaving in any other way, and really his comments are annoying more for their frequency and not their content. I'm ok with the idea of students not liking me, or disagreeing with and challenging the way I do things, but this kid seems to make it his special task each class.
I guess it is also strange since it seemingly came out of nowhere. My conclusion of the "why" is that teenagers are insane, but I am starting to wonder if I should dignify all this by talking to him seriously about his comments. I answer him the best I can when his challenges come up, but he ignores these responses mostly. I am starting to think he wants a more emotional (angry or upset) reaction, and he's really not going to get it. Would a talk with him be pointless because it will just perpetuate this attention seeking behavior? Or could I find out that his comments are stemming from a deeper issue? Choosing battles wisely is something that I need a little more practice in.

In fourteen sweet hours...

On the eve of an unprecedented whole week off of the high school, this is my horoscope:
Relief is arriving in the form of temporary freedom. Of course, you may never feel as free as you ultimately wish, but at least now some of the overbearing restrictions are lifting. Don't misuse this newfound gift by frittering your time away. If you can stay as focused as you were when the pressure was on, you'll accomplish more than you thought possible.
Creepy.
I'm excited for a week off. Is that wrong? I think deep down inside me somewhere, I'm really loving this whole thing. It's just being buried in a mass of my own neurosis. I seriously think I am developing an anxeity disorder. I've been watching insane amounts of TV just to quiet the ever faster sound of nagging voices in my head, questioning the existential purpose of it all. Non-reccomended reading at this stage of life: The Bell Jar
Ok, constructive topic: How does one achieve respect in the classroom? I hate to admit it, but I really don't think I have it in one of my classes, and it has been affecting everything lately. My master teacher has this sheet by his desk that has mine and other teachers first names on it, and a group of them were by the desk and saw my name, and now they have all given up the whole "Ms. So and so" thing and call me by my first name. When I asked them to stop they asked why they had to, seeing as how I "am barely older than they are and you only call someone Ms. if they are an adult."
In ways I can't blame them. As professional as I try and be most times in the classroom, I really don't see myself as an adult, and so I guess I can't really expect them to see or treat me as one. Maybe the trick is more self-confidence.
Anyone got a quick fix for faking that?

Debbie Downer

In case anyone was wondering, I heard that becoming a personal assistant is very profitable. Got to keep the options open.

I feel like a fraud.

Wait..what happened?

It's weird now that in idle times when I am doing something mundane like drying my hair, thoughts of successes or failures with students in the past week, or lesson plan ideas creep into my mind. So weird, so very very strange.
Anyway, as I was doing just that tonight, my mind wandered to a student in my class that I have seen a transformation with in the last week. So first the back story:
My master teacher for this group was, how shall we say, quite permissive last semester. The students in that class all passed, most with As, but for very little work or instruction. There was a bit of resistance to me from them for this reason. I was making them read and write and work (I know, I'm a monster). One student in paticular REALLY did not take well to this, and slowly but surely, week by week, I found that he was slipping away. He showed up, stayed conscious, but that was about it. This was completely out of character for him. I was planning to talk to him, what to say and when, when all of a sudden he stopped showing up to my class. He ditched for a solid three days right after taking a test on the book.
He had aced it. He was not only spot on with his answers, but thoughtful with them. This kid had all the tools to succeed, and yet somehow I was failing him. When he came back, I was planning to talk to him after class, but in the meantime I was passing out grades. When I put the test on his desk, face down, I saw him out of the corner of my eye roll his eyes. When he picked up the test and his mind processed the fat A+ on the page, his entire demeanor changed. I have never seen anything like it. He started showing it off to his friends, and for the rest of the period he was completely engaged, participating readily and thoughtfully.
After class, he came up to me inquiring where this had put his grade in the class. I gave him the grade, pointing to all the work he had blown off beforehand bringing his average down. He inquired what he could do to make it up, and I worked with him on that. As our little confrence was reaching it's close, I said "You have what it takes to be successful in this class. You just have to show up and show me more of what I saw today." He nodded really seriously, and then said "Thanks for your help" and was off.
I can't really explain even now what happened there. The only way I can really account for it, is that sometimes we need those little proofs of success to validate the point of it all. I think this student was so afraid of failing before he even tried, that he just withdrew completely. That test then came along, giving just a little bit of validation and the encouragement to press on. I'm sure that there is even more to it than that, so if anyone has any insights, please share.
I just couldn't help but be reminded of this time in the fifth grade when I had to tag along with my mom to my brothers back to school night. A large group of adults, including his third grade teacher were talking, and for some reason someone ended up asking me "what do you want to be when you grow up?"
I excitedly recited "A supreme court justice!" (I was 10, why did I even know what that was?) I remember all the adults laughing and the third grade teacher saying
"Oh dear, you've probably already done something in your life to screw up your chances of that"
I never ever want to be a person that makes someone else feel that way.

Finding A Place

When people were telling me what a lonely profession teaching is, I don't think I fully believed them. There are fellow teachers, students in the program, professors (blogs!). I think only today did I really begin to understand what they meant.
I went to a department meeting today, where through some weird moment of awkward pressure, I ended up agreeing to baking 60 cookies? Besdies discussing who was bringing what for some luncheon, and then a quick bitch fest about emergency sub plans (Quote of the meeting: "There's a space for like reflections on your objectives on there. It's not really an emergency sub plan, that's like something someone has to fill out in a credentialling program"), it was on to an all out war between the teachers over the acts of the administration at the faculty meeting the previous day. It was getting pretty heated, people were literally screaming at each other across the room and touting conspiracy theories. I was staying completely out of it and my mind drifted off to how awful my students had performed on the practice SAT 9 test that afternoon. It was at this moment that a younger teacher sitting across from me (who had gone through the same program as well) Whispered across the table "This will be a fun story to bring back to your seminar classes, huh?"
I was sort of taken aback at first, and then sort of touched that he had noticed how awkward this situation must have been making me feel. I sort of smiled and muttered something about how I don't talk a lot in my classes, and got my stuff and booked it as soon as the bell rang.
After that experience, I couldn't help thinking about how not apart of the school enviroment I've felt. I've noticed that even this week, I've felt like I would inconvience the Attendence officer by alerting him of the students who had been ditching my class. And at the department meeting, the young teacher's comments in a way confirmed my suspicion of what a strange outsider spy I was viewed as, as a student teacher. This wasn't my enviroment, this was just something I was watching to take back to a class and analyze (hey look, he was sort of right!)
Sometimes I feel like the one place I can escape that notion is in the classroom itself, but at the same time that is often the source of the problem. I've over heard some students over the last couple of weeks saying "I can't wait till so and so is our teacher again" I wasn't really hurt by this comment because they didn't like me as their teacher, it more struck a cord because I realized it confirmed my feeling that they viewed me as nothing more than a temporary stand in.
Maybe none of this make sense, maybe in writing it sounds more whiney than I want it to. I'm not bummed I guess, just in an awkward stage of navigating this whole weird uncharted territory in my life at the moment.
By the sounds of this entry though, it seems as if all I need is to clutch my pillow with Morrissey's face imprinted on it a little tighter tonight as I cry myself to sleep in the fetal position.

Everyone knows that when you fall off the horse, you have to get back up and shoot it.

So after a rather challenging day on Wednesday, I was (fortunately or unfortunately) back in the classroom this morning, ready to try again.
Considering how HARD everything was with my Juniors at first, it still amazes me that everything is going so well in there. I had to be so firm with them when they had first started spiraling out of control, which was completely out of character and comfort levels for me at first. Once order was maintained, I started to find myself bored. So the comments started slipping. Something simple like "Ok, a new class rule. No one makes fun of Mark's stupid haircut" Nothing dripping with wit or genius, but enough to make everyone laugh good naturedly and strangely, seemingly more attentive when I began my next direction. I'm still scared that it is going to come back around to haunt me with them later, but I really can't help it most the time.
Going back to my sweet little freshman was a sobering experience. As I started class:
"So yesterday we didn't get as far as I would of liked because I was a little..."
"Grouchy?" many of them cut me off. I couldn't help but smile. Leave it to a room full of 14 year olds to spell out what I had planned to say in euphemism.
Everything after that went really well, and they were being generally attentive. Again, the boredom sunk in. Finally one of the more sarcastically inclined students said something that got the whole class, including me, busting up. Another kid tacked on another quip, and for a solid three minutes I had my face in a book, out of breathe with tears rolling down my face. The class was nearly uncontrollable after that. I didn't get angry or too forceful in trying to get them back on track, since it had been almost entirely my fault. Afterall they got their work done, but perhaps not at the level of order that one would expect in an ideal situation? Even though they were, very uhh...energetic after our uncontrolable laughing fit, I have not walked out of a day of teaching so far that I have felt better about.
There has got to be a balance out there, I am sure of it. It can't just be all serious, and there has to be a way to still control it. But will it even be as good that way? Doesn't some part of this job have to remain organic?
File that with the other 2997439 things I won't be good at till I gain experience.

WOoooT

CRITICAL FRIENDS!!
BRING IT.