Hey, remember that documentary about education that came out almost two years ago? Thanks to the wonders of Netflix Instant, I finally got around to watching it. I considered "live" blogging it, but that post would have looked something like this:
10:52 p.m.: Oh, cute kid!
10:54 p.m.: I'm sad
11:00 p.m.: Oh god, I can't do this. Too sad.
11:15 p.m.: This is so messed up!
11:29 p.m.: ARRRRGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!
etc. etc. etc.
So I decided not to do that. If you haven't already seen it, I highly recommend it. It's heartbreaking in so many ways. The film follows families living in areas with notoriously bad schools; many of the high schools are "drop out factories," meaning 40% or more of students do not graduate. It's distressing to see so many parents who want so much for their kids, who would do anything they could for them, but who are helpless when it comes to providing the education they want their children to have. All of the families in the film applied to charter schools in the area as "the only way" for their kids to stand a chance, but out of the 5 families only 2 of the children won the lottery for the schools of their choice. (We won't even delve into how messed up it is that a child literally has to win the lottery to get the education they want.)
For me the saddest example was a little girl named Daisy. Her dad was out of work and her mom was working at a (implied) low-wage job. Daisy loves school. She is the student that all teachers want in their classes: bright, passionate, a voracious learner, positive attitude, motivated, I could go on and on. She's in elementary school, but she already found a college she wants to go to and wrote them a letter asking how to get accepted. She wants to be a doctor or a veterinarian when she grows up. Adorable, right? They interviewed Daisy's dad and he is so supportive of his daughter and says that she can do anything she puts her mind to. Then he mentions that he dropped out of school when he was young because his dad was laid off and the family needed money. Suddenly I saw Daisy's story dissolve into that pattern. What if economic issues force her to make the same decision for her family? It's a sad reality that sometimes parents just don't make enough money to make ends meet, and kids step in to fill some of that void. It's one of those things that I wish I could "fix," but it also feels very judgmental to say that it's "wrong." I think it's one instance of my cultural background making me short-sighted when I really have no idea what those circumstances are like or what I would do if roles were reversed. The point is, I truly hope that Daisy continues with school because she obviously loves it and has great plans for herself. Unfortunately she was one of the students who was not accepted into the charter school, so we'll see (or not?) what happens to her in the public middle school.
The other side of the documentary was superintendents and other administrators talking about their efforts and obstacles in trying to fix the system. However, that is a post for another day. (Note that "Part 1" is in the title, thus forcing me to eventually write a "Part 2.") Tomorrow is a conference for counseling grad students, and I am very excited to pretend to be a young professional for eight hours.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Sunday, February 26, 2012
A Very Merry Un-Anniversary
This post is two days late since I spent the weekend enjoying an internetless reunion with some college friends. However, I wanted to mark this occasion even if it isn't exactly timely.
Friday was my one year anniversary of substitute teaching. That's right, February 24, 2011 I walked into a school for the first time, pored over the sub plans for some kindergarteners... and then failed miserably. Note to aspiring substitute teachers: I really recommend not starting with kindergarten. I had zero classroom management, minimal understanding of what five-year-olds are really capable of (don't be fooled by those tiny grins!), and no concept of what a kindergarten routine actually looks like these days. I think it was the first time in my life I ever identified with Arnold Schwarzenegger. Whenever I think back to that day, one conversation sticks out. We were doing the morning meeting, which consists of the calendar, weather, days of school, etc.:
Entire class: Noooooo. Now we're supposed to do (insert some routine here)!
Me: Guys, I'm not your teacher. Some things will be a bit different today. It's okay, it might be fun. We can go crazy a little!
Little boy: Really?!?!?!
Me: No, not what I meant!
Yup. I was that clueless. Not surprisingly, I did not wind up on that school's preferred list.
I like to think back to that class, particularly on rough days. In one year, I really had a crash course in education. I still have weekly internal debates about decisions I make in the classroom, I still wonder if I should have explained a concept differently, I still daydream about how a kid would have reacted if I had responded to him/her another way... Knowing my neurotic tendencies, that will never change. But every once in a while I take time to appreciate my teaching "growth spurt." I can't really say when it happened or how, but somewhere along the way I became significantly less of an idiot. So thanks to the teachers who I observed, the kids who unwittingly acted as guinea pigs, and the actors whose cheesy movies gave me hope. I appreciate all of you. (But mostly this guy.)
Friday was my one year anniversary of substitute teaching. That's right, February 24, 2011 I walked into a school for the first time, pored over the sub plans for some kindergarteners... and then failed miserably. Note to aspiring substitute teachers: I really recommend not starting with kindergarten. I had zero classroom management, minimal understanding of what five-year-olds are really capable of (don't be fooled by those tiny grins!), and no concept of what a kindergarten routine actually looks like these days. I think it was the first time in my life I ever identified with Arnold Schwarzenegger. Whenever I think back to that day, one conversation sticks out. We were doing the morning meeting, which consists of the calendar, weather, days of school, etc.:
Entire class: Noooooo. Now we're supposed to do (insert some routine here)!
Me: Guys, I'm not your teacher. Some things will be a bit different today. It's okay, it might be fun. We can go crazy a little!
Little boy: Really?!?!?!
Me: No, not what I meant!
Yup. I was that clueless. Not surprisingly, I did not wind up on that school's preferred list.
I like to think back to that class, particularly on rough days. In one year, I really had a crash course in education. I still have weekly internal debates about decisions I make in the classroom, I still wonder if I should have explained a concept differently, I still daydream about how a kid would have reacted if I had responded to him/her another way... Knowing my neurotic tendencies, that will never change. But every once in a while I take time to appreciate my teaching "growth spurt." I can't really say when it happened or how, but somewhere along the way I became significantly less of an idiot. So thanks to the teachers who I observed, the kids who unwittingly acted as guinea pigs, and the actors whose cheesy movies gave me hope. I appreciate all of you. (But mostly this guy.)
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Historical Fiction
By now I truly hope that everyone on the planet has seen Drunk History, a delightful series in which an intoxicated individual narrates a historical event while actual famous actors reenact the intoxicated's version of events. Yes, it is as amazing as it sounds.
Yesterday as I was teaching some 1st graders about Abraham Lincoln (going into waaaay more detail than necessary, thanks to the infectious knowledge shared by my nonsexual life partner), I realized that someone really needs to do a series called "Grade School History." One child made the mistake of asking how Lincoln died, which led to a long discussion about bullets to the head, John Wilkes Booth, and pennies on graves. A little girl raised her hand to share the following historical anecdote:
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Nail me to the wall
My last class was by far my least favorite so far. Granted, I have completely adored all of my other classes, so a "meh" on one is not exactly tragic. However, my professor gave this great non-assignment to write a list of ten essential beliefs that you would fight to the death for. (Or, on another instance, ten things that "they" can "nail you to the wall for." Because people say that?) I love that idea. So here, in no particular order, are ten things that represent who I am as a counselor and an educator:
1. Every child needs and deserves love.
2. Every child deserves to feel safe in school.
3. Every child can succeed at something, and I am there to help them succeed.
4. Everyone is entitled to feel however (s)he feels.
5. Childhood is a special time in one's life, and it should be enjoyed and preserved as much as possible.
6. Not everyone has to love school. But we should make every reasonable effort to make a child feel connected to his/her education.
7. All children should have a trustworthy adult in their lives who they trust implicitly.
8. Kids need breaks. Mental, emotional, physical... whatever. They're young, they can only handle so much.
9. That being said, kids are strong and resilient. Age-appropriate honesty is the best policy.
10. If you give your best, you're more likely to get the best from a child. What you put in is what you get out.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Opposite Day
I spent the past two days in a row at a particular school, both times in special ed. Special ed can be fun because you're hopping around all day and each hour you find something new to do. Anyway, today I present to you: The Life of An Educator. You know, because I don't really do that enough in this blog.
************************************************************************************************
Scene 1:
The faculty lounge, conveniently located next to the door that the students use to exit for recess. A substitute with an oddly timed lunch break eats alone. Fifth graders wait in the hallway to go outside.
Fifth Grade Boy: (peering through the window into the lounge) It's that mean sub! (assorted groans from the rest of the class)
(The substitute contorts her body awkwardly so the children do not see her laugh hysterically.)
Scene 2:
Teacher: (to substitute) And you'll have to be on guard with Mark* since he can get really out of control. I already filled out a referral for you to use in case you need it. I would show him that you have this so he knows.
(several hours later)
Teacher: (to Mark) Why are you working so quietly? You never do that when I'm in here! What, is she prettier than me?
Mark: No, but she's a lot nicer. You're mean.
(once again the substitute turns to mask her laughter)
*************************************************************************************************
You know the philosophical approach that everything is simultaneously true and not true? Totally applies here. I was mean to that fifth grade class because they were acting out and not showing respect. And I was nice to Mark because I sensed that a softer approach would be more effective than being stern. In fact, one of the fifth graders from the day before was also in Mark's group, so I'm sure he was terribly confused seeing me be completely mellow. I'm sure it was a drastic change from the sub who wrote his name on the board two weeks in a row because he wouldn't sit still or shut up. Was I right to be "mean" to the fifth graders? Yes, but perhaps my method of meanness was ineffective.
I always feel a strange pull when I'm in the classroom: the teacher-for-a-day part of me is focused on classroom management and making it through the lessons and everyone leaving in one piece; the counselor part of me is a big softy and wants nothing more than to sit down with these kids and talk to them one-on-one until we make some breakthroughs. It kills me when I notice a kid who, say, clearly has anger management issues but is really a big teddy bear, or a kid who has great leadership skills but no idea how to harness them for good. I want to work with these kids and make things better for them. But I'm in a room with 25 kids who all need attention and all need to learn to divide fractions within the next 35 minutes. I think this is where my lack of education background becomes an issue: I'm still negotiating a balance between those two parts of me. This temporary career has consisted entirely of sink-or-swim, crash-and-burn on-the-job training. Some days I feel confident and in my groove, and then there are some days when I feel completely clueless. (And by "some days" I of course mean "twelve times every day.") I keep meaning to ask others in my program if they feel a similar tug, but I can't think of the best way to phrase it. You always hear horror stories of teachers who become guidance counselors to get the hell out of the classroom, but I imagine there is a population of counselors-in-training who, like me, are frustrated that they cannot form the relationships they want and accomplish the goals they have in mind when they are working with 25+ students at a time. Then again, maybe this is an attempt to normalize my own feelings.
I suppose whenever I hear myself described as "nice" or "mean," I think about it as those two separate sides of me trying to work themselves out. I highly doubt that it's a good idea to internalize that feedback in this way, but I do. Don't get me wrong: I know that universal popularity is an illusion, especially when you're taking on an authoritative role that comes with the power to take away recess. But I think that sometimes the kids can tell when I wear my teacher hat and when I wear my counselor hat. I just hope that they always can tell that I genuinely care for them, regardless of which part I had to play.
************************************************************************************************
Scene 1:
The faculty lounge, conveniently located next to the door that the students use to exit for recess. A substitute with an oddly timed lunch break eats alone. Fifth graders wait in the hallway to go outside.
Fifth Grade Boy: (peering through the window into the lounge) It's that mean sub! (assorted groans from the rest of the class)
(The substitute contorts her body awkwardly so the children do not see her laugh hysterically.)
Scene 2:
Teacher: (to substitute) And you'll have to be on guard with Mark* since he can get really out of control. I already filled out a referral for you to use in case you need it. I would show him that you have this so he knows.
(several hours later)
Teacher: (to Mark) Why are you working so quietly? You never do that when I'm in here! What, is she prettier than me?
Mark: No, but she's a lot nicer. You're mean.
(once again the substitute turns to mask her laughter)
*************************************************************************************************
You know the philosophical approach that everything is simultaneously true and not true? Totally applies here. I was mean to that fifth grade class because they were acting out and not showing respect. And I was nice to Mark because I sensed that a softer approach would be more effective than being stern. In fact, one of the fifth graders from the day before was also in Mark's group, so I'm sure he was terribly confused seeing me be completely mellow. I'm sure it was a drastic change from the sub who wrote his name on the board two weeks in a row because he wouldn't sit still or shut up. Was I right to be "mean" to the fifth graders? Yes, but perhaps my method of meanness was ineffective.
I suppose whenever I hear myself described as "nice" or "mean," I think about it as those two separate sides of me trying to work themselves out. I highly doubt that it's a good idea to internalize that feedback in this way, but I do. Don't get me wrong: I know that universal popularity is an illusion, especially when you're taking on an authoritative role that comes with the power to take away recess. But I think that sometimes the kids can tell when I wear my teacher hat and when I wear my counselor hat. I just hope that they always can tell that I genuinely care for them, regardless of which part I had to play.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Broken Windows, Shattered Expectations
So... today was kind of weird. Not bad. But definitely weird.
I was at a school I had never been to before, although I have driven past it on my way to other schools. (There is nothing worse than sitting in traffic and seeing three or four schools that you could be at if the fates had aligned differently.) I rarely even see this school listed on Smartfind, which usually means they have a small list of regular subs and only post assignments to the pool when desperate. I don't actually know much about the residential parts of the area, but I assumed that this school was fairly well-to-do since it's by a large professional establishment (I'm omitting further details to protect privacy, sorry for vagueness). This is why I should never play "First Impressions" for money.
I enter the school. It is huge. And sad. It has those shiny white walls that make the standard institutional carpet seem even more drab and dingy. Okay, so they haven't renovated in a while. It happens, right? Then you walk into the classroom and notice that none of the furniture matches. In any given room there are three different types of desks and several different types of chairs (including the wooden ones that must be a throwback to the seventies). The desks aren't even the same height, so the kids are all sitting at drastically levels. This school clearly received whatever odds and ends the rest of the county was ditching.
You know how in the movies young, idealistic teachers go to inner city schools and do a room makeover and suddenly the students feel at home and everything is better? It seems a little farfetched, doesn't it? But here's the thing: it's based on the same theory that Giuliani applied to crime during his time as governor of New York. The idea is that evidence of small crimes (broken windows, graffiti, etc.) gives the impression that no one really cares, so small crimes escalate into larger crimes. I think about this theory a lot in school. Budget limitations suck, but what are kids supposed to think when their supplies are collected from everyone else's unwanted odds and ends? I was depressed being there, and I'm a lot older and a lot more tolerant of crappy environs than your average six year old. I truly believe that school should be a warm, friendly environment where all students feel welcome and wanted. Most of that comes down to the faculty (more on this particular staff later), but I think physical surroundings play a large role as well.
My suspicions were confirmed when I met the woman for whom I was subbing: she told me that she never has outside subs come in. The school has four permanent subs working for them (they're just like me... only they make more money and receive benefits), and for the most part those four individuals cover everything. When the morning announcements came on, a faculty member listed all of the teachers who were out and who was covering them (I'm guessing this practice is more for the staff than the students), and I was mentioned--by full name--as a "special guest" in the building. Wait, what? Apparently I was that much of a specimen. It was nice of them to make me feel welcome, and you could tell that this school was very close-knit and enthusiastic. But isn't that sort of like blurting out on a first date, "I don't date at all and it's most likely because I scare everyone off!" Just saying, schools: you're more likely to score someone's digits if you play it cool.
Honestly, I could go on and on about today and the headaches and heartaches, but I think I will leave it for now. Maybe tomorrow I'll post a part 2... maybe not. For tonight, I am going to think very carefully about how the broken windows theory applies to my home. Anyone want to come over for a painting party?
I was at a school I had never been to before, although I have driven past it on my way to other schools. (There is nothing worse than sitting in traffic and seeing three or four schools that you could be at if the fates had aligned differently.) I rarely even see this school listed on Smartfind, which usually means they have a small list of regular subs and only post assignments to the pool when desperate. I don't actually know much about the residential parts of the area, but I assumed that this school was fairly well-to-do since it's by a large professional establishment (I'm omitting further details to protect privacy, sorry for vagueness). This is why I should never play "First Impressions" for money.
I enter the school. It is huge. And sad. It has those shiny white walls that make the standard institutional carpet seem even more drab and dingy. Okay, so they haven't renovated in a while. It happens, right? Then you walk into the classroom and notice that none of the furniture matches. In any given room there are three different types of desks and several different types of chairs (including the wooden ones that must be a throwback to the seventies). The desks aren't even the same height, so the kids are all sitting at drastically levels. This school clearly received whatever odds and ends the rest of the county was ditching.
You know how in the movies young, idealistic teachers go to inner city schools and do a room makeover and suddenly the students feel at home and everything is better? It seems a little farfetched, doesn't it? But here's the thing: it's based on the same theory that Giuliani applied to crime during his time as governor of New York. The idea is that evidence of small crimes (broken windows, graffiti, etc.) gives the impression that no one really cares, so small crimes escalate into larger crimes. I think about this theory a lot in school. Budget limitations suck, but what are kids supposed to think when their supplies are collected from everyone else's unwanted odds and ends? I was depressed being there, and I'm a lot older and a lot more tolerant of crappy environs than your average six year old. I truly believe that school should be a warm, friendly environment where all students feel welcome and wanted. Most of that comes down to the faculty (more on this particular staff later), but I think physical surroundings play a large role as well.
My suspicions were confirmed when I met the woman for whom I was subbing: she told me that she never has outside subs come in. The school has four permanent subs working for them (they're just like me... only they make more money and receive benefits), and for the most part those four individuals cover everything. When the morning announcements came on, a faculty member listed all of the teachers who were out and who was covering them (I'm guessing this practice is more for the staff than the students), and I was mentioned--by full name--as a "special guest" in the building. Wait, what? Apparently I was that much of a specimen. It was nice of them to make me feel welcome, and you could tell that this school was very close-knit and enthusiastic. But isn't that sort of like blurting out on a first date, "I don't date at all and it's most likely because I scare everyone off!" Just saying, schools: you're more likely to score someone's digits if you play it cool.
Honestly, I could go on and on about today and the headaches and heartaches, but I think I will leave it for now. Maybe tomorrow I'll post a part 2... maybe not. For tonight, I am going to think very carefully about how the broken windows theory applies to my home. Anyone want to come over for a painting party?
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Abescapades
My fame has spread through the blogosphere! One of my readers My only reader, Keri, has a fantastic blog called Abescapades: Adventures in Lincolndom. The premise: Keri, a Lincoln enthusiast, visits Lincoln-related places and reads Lincoln-related books and then shares her insights and enthusiasm with the masses. I had the honor joy roommate obligation pleasure of joining her on an Abescapade lately, and she invited me to write a guest post on her blog. (It truly was an honor... five seconds on her blog will tell you that her posts are often thoughtful analyses of history, whereas my posts are... not.) Anyway, you can read about our adventures at Lincoln's summer cottage here. Enjoy!
Monday, January 2, 2012
I just don't even know who you are anymore
Today is the final day of a blissful 13 day respite. Tomorrow schools open again (maybe I'll score an assignment, maybe not) and my minimester begins. And then I will be going full-speed until May.
The week before vacation was lovely. Well. The day before vacation was lovely. I was working with a kindergarten class I had been with before. I always lament that as a sub I don't get many chances to see the progress kids make throughout the year. I go to a classroom for the day, get a vague idea of what the kids are like, and then hope that everything works out for them if I don't get to see them again. But if I have a relationship with a school, then I can check in on kids every month or so. And in some ways, I think I appreciate the changes I see more than classroom teachers because to me they are so sudden and dramatic.
Case in point: the last time I visited this kindergarten class was the beginning of October. There was a little girl whose family speaks primarily Russian (or some similar language), and this was her first time in an entirely English-speaking environment. The little girl speaks English very well, but the last time I saw her she would not speak to adults. You would hear her chatting with her friends during free time (she had no problems socializing with peers), but not a peep to any teachers or school staff. It was curious because she would raise her hand to answer questions and then... not answer them. She was engaged in the lessons, she just wouldn't speak. When I spoke with the teacher, she reported that the girl had met with the counselor and some other people, and the working theory was that the girl was a bit slower to process English and felt nervous about messing it up in front of authority figures. They figured that she would speak when she was ready, and they just went along with it since it didn't seem to impact anything else. The teacher still called on this girl when she raised her hand and would give a few seconds for the girl to answer, but the teacher knew that she would eventually have to move on to another classmate.
I also had a snippet of a conversation with one of the boys involved in a previous incident. A simple, "How are things going?" and he immediately lit up and told me, "Good! I'm getting better grades now." Um, heart bursting with pride. We constantly discuss in my program that whenever a kid shares information with you unprompted, it is a big deal to that kid and should be paid attention to. This kid could have responded, "Good" and then walked away, but he took pride in what he was accomplishing at school. I get the sense (even during my two day stint in his classroom) that this is a kid who doesn't feel like he gets a lot of credit for his improvements. It could be because, even though he is a good kid, he's not one of those super quiet obedient types that teachers automatically peg as trying really hard. So I tried to make a big deal over it, and I'm excited to go see him in the classroom again to see if I notice any changes. (I only had him for gym class that day, and it's hard to notice anything when you spend a solid 30 minutes praying no one gets seriously injured.)
Monday, December 12, 2011
Bibliotherapy
This weekend I visited one of my favorite places in the world. (Right behind Phipps, Ikea, and any sunlit park path.) Scholastic opens its warehouses occasionally so teachers can purchase all of their leftover books at half price. Technically I am a teacher. And technically my sister is, too. So we went.
I wanted to stock up on books for my future counseling career. Bibliotherapy is a popular technique where you--forgive me if it seems obvious, but I would be remiss to gloss over a brief explanation--give a client a book that will help him/her explore his/her problem. If a child is having trouble fitting in, give them a book about a character who feels the same way and then ask them to talk about it. What about the character did you relate to? How did it make you feel when the character did ____? What did _____ remind you of? Sometimes it's easier to talk about an issue if you're thinking about it in terms of the character instead of yourself. (At least that's what my friend... Jenny... says. I wouldn't know, personally.) Also, school counselors do part of their work in the classroom setting, and I look forward to reading lots of books to kindergarteners. Like, all the time.
So after 2+ hours circling around this warehouse, I had easily over $100 worth of discount books. And then my sister supervised me on the painful task of putting most of the books back. I wound up with some great finds on topics ranging from friendship to catastrophizing thoughts to racial tension to career development to gangs to gender norms to feeling homesick at school. And some Christmas gifts for my niece. And some posters for my future office. I may have gotten carried away. But it turns out that my premature shopping trip was useful for more than future supplies. The entire time I was thinking about what books might help my clients, but I realized that I was also defining my role as a counselor. The books I selected helped me paint a picture of the professional I'd like to be: the issues I am interested in, the theories and techniques I relate to, the age levels I connect with. So yes, I prepared for the future this weekend. But I also learned a lot about how to prepare myself for that future.
Also, if anyone comes across a non-disgusting kid version of a "Would You Rather?" game, let me know! I think it would be a great tool for choice therapy, but I really don't want to spend that much time asking six-year-olds, "Boogers or barf?"
I wanted to stock up on books for my future counseling career. Bibliotherapy is a popular technique where you--forgive me if it seems obvious, but I would be remiss to gloss over a brief explanation--give a client a book that will help him/her explore his/her problem. If a child is having trouble fitting in, give them a book about a character who feels the same way and then ask them to talk about it. What about the character did you relate to? How did it make you feel when the character did ____? What did _____ remind you of? Sometimes it's easier to talk about an issue if you're thinking about it in terms of the character instead of yourself. (At least that's what my friend... Jenny... says. I wouldn't know, personally.) Also, school counselors do part of their work in the classroom setting, and I look forward to reading lots of books to kindergarteners. Like, all the time.
So after 2+ hours circling around this warehouse, I had easily over $100 worth of discount books. And then my sister supervised me on the painful task of putting most of the books back. I wound up with some great finds on topics ranging from friendship to catastrophizing thoughts to racial tension to career development to gangs to gender norms to feeling homesick at school. And some Christmas gifts for my niece. And some posters for my future office. I may have gotten carried away. But it turns out that my premature shopping trip was useful for more than future supplies. The entire time I was thinking about what books might help my clients, but I realized that I was also defining my role as a counselor. The books I selected helped me paint a picture of the professional I'd like to be: the issues I am interested in, the theories and techniques I relate to, the age levels I connect with. So yes, I prepared for the future this weekend. But I also learned a lot about how to prepare myself for that future.
Also, if anyone comes across a non-disgusting kid version of a "Would You Rather?" game, let me know! I think it would be a great tool for choice therapy, but I really don't want to spend that much time asking six-year-olds, "Boogers or barf?"
Saturday, December 3, 2011
They all look the same to me
After a while in elementary schools, you learn that kids speak their own language. "I like your dress" becomes "You look like a princess!" while "I dropped my pencil on the floor and don't feel like looking for it" becomes "Someone stole my pencil from my desk!" If you spend enough time among the natives you learn the key phrases to get you through the day. However, it is nearly impossible to "go native" because the locals are so wary of outsiders. Do they enjoy having some new faces to talk to at recess? Sure. But they will never accept you as one of them.
I learned this after months of being told, "Are you related to Mrs. (insert name of whoever I'm covering that day)? You look just like her!" I hear this almost every time I sub for a female teacher. Please note that almost every teacher has photos in their classroom. I can see what the teachers actually look like. Except for some chromosomal similarities, there is rarely a resemblance. But as far as kids are concerned, two grown up women with long hair may as well be long-lost twins. So there you have it: the outgroup homogeneity effect isn't just for racism anymore! It's also vogue among ageist prepubescents who really want to make smalltalk with substitutes. As long as I don't get compared to a hunchback, I suppose I'm okay with it.
I do still need translations for a few phrases, though; could anyone tell me how to say "Please be quiet while I'm giving directions" in kidspeak?
I learned this after months of being told, "Are you related to Mrs. (insert name of whoever I'm covering that day)? You look just like her!" I hear this almost every time I sub for a female teacher. Please note that almost every teacher has photos in their classroom. I can see what the teachers actually look like. Except for some chromosomal similarities, there is rarely a resemblance. But as far as kids are concerned, two grown up women with long hair may as well be long-lost twins. So there you have it: the outgroup homogeneity effect isn't just for racism anymore! It's also vogue among ageist prepubescents who really want to make smalltalk with substitutes. As long as I don't get compared to a hunchback, I suppose I'm okay with it.
I do still need translations for a few phrases, though; could anyone tell me how to say "Please be quiet while I'm giving directions" in kidspeak?
Friday, November 25, 2011
Thanksgiving
Fear not, gentle readers, I haven't forgotten you. I keep starting blog posts and then getting distracted. Then when I go back to finish the posts, I realize I no longer care about the topic anyway. What can I say? I'm a capricious creature.
The holiday season is upon us, which means two things: 1. Lots of time off from school; 2. Lots of life assessment taking place. The time off from school is nice but also scary. Unlike normal school staff, I don't get PTO; if I don't work, I don't make money. I had a second job to cover my bases, but that is no longer the case. So if anyone wants to pay me to do just about anything between December 23rd and January 2nd, let me know! You have a kid? I can totally watch it for you. You have plants? I can water them. You have a multimillion dollar industry? I can probably answer phones. Call me! No? Well, I guess that leaves even more time for the life assessment thing.
Last year around this time I was in a state of panic. I was leaving a job I detested (yay!), but it was still unclear exactly what I left it for. I moved in with my parents, intended on starting at GWU in January, and was anxiously searching for a job. I no longer had my roommate/heterosexual-life-partner with me, which made things boring and even more stressful. I was in a relationship that was difficult and exhausting, but (oh dear god I cringe to think about it now) I was with someone I kind of thought I would marry someday. Fast forward twelve months: I am living with my roommate/HLP again in a new city, I have a new (beloved) job, I'm studying something I'm passionate about (at a school that is half the price of GWU), I'm happily single, and I even have a new dog (well, he's mine when HLP is not around). My childhood car is kaput, my childhood cat is roaming around a kitty palace in the sky, and my childhood bedroom is now a playroom for my niece. I wouldn't go so far to say that my life is unrecognizable to any time-traveling onlookers from last year, but for the first time since I graduated college I feel like my life is gaining some momentum. It's a lot easier to enjoy being broke and in your 20's when you get the sense that it's a temporary state. (If this isn't a temporary state, please don't ruin the illusion for me.)
Why am I posting this? Rereading it sounds kind of braggy, and I really don't mean it that way. I guess I just wanted to take a minute to be grateful for the amazing things in my life right now. My life is not in perfect equilibrium (is equilibrium even possible?), but I suppose I wanted to send the universe my gratitude for the positive things it has given me this year. (*insert cheesy quote about chaos and opportunity being the same word*) The chaos actually led to amazing things. Even if my current plans don't work out as expected, I am excited to see what happens from here. And I appreciate everyone who has patiently supported me in all of this; I know I am a total pill when I am stressed, so I want to thank you for being a source of advice, jokes, and booze. Happy belated Thanksgiving, everyone. You can probably expect another corny life assessment in a few weeks when I inevitably watch It's A Wonderful Life with the company of some chardonnay.
The holiday season is upon us, which means two things: 1. Lots of time off from school; 2. Lots of life assessment taking place. The time off from school is nice but also scary. Unlike normal school staff, I don't get PTO; if I don't work, I don't make money. I had a second job to cover my bases, but that is no longer the case. So if anyone wants to pay me to do just about anything between December 23rd and January 2nd, let me know! You have a kid? I can totally watch it for you. You have plants? I can water them. You have a multimillion dollar industry? I can probably answer phones. Call me! No? Well, I guess that leaves even more time for the life assessment thing.
Last year around this time I was in a state of panic. I was leaving a job I detested (yay!), but it was still unclear exactly what I left it for. I moved in with my parents, intended on starting at GWU in January, and was anxiously searching for a job. I no longer had my roommate/heterosexual-life-partner with me, which made things boring and even more stressful. I was in a relationship that was difficult and exhausting, but (oh dear god I cringe to think about it now) I was with someone I kind of thought I would marry someday. Fast forward twelve months: I am living with my roommate/HLP again in a new city, I have a new (beloved) job, I'm studying something I'm passionate about (at a school that is half the price of GWU), I'm happily single, and I even have a new dog (well, he's mine when HLP is not around). My childhood car is kaput, my childhood cat is roaming around a kitty palace in the sky, and my childhood bedroom is now a playroom for my niece. I wouldn't go so far to say that my life is unrecognizable to any time-traveling onlookers from last year, but for the first time since I graduated college I feel like my life is gaining some momentum. It's a lot easier to enjoy being broke and in your 20's when you get the sense that it's a temporary state. (If this isn't a temporary state, please don't ruin the illusion for me.)
Why am I posting this? Rereading it sounds kind of braggy, and I really don't mean it that way. I guess I just wanted to take a minute to be grateful for the amazing things in my life right now. My life is not in perfect equilibrium (is equilibrium even possible?), but I suppose I wanted to send the universe my gratitude for the positive things it has given me this year. (*insert cheesy quote about chaos and opportunity being the same word*) The chaos actually led to amazing things. Even if my current plans don't work out as expected, I am excited to see what happens from here. And I appreciate everyone who has patiently supported me in all of this; I know I am a total pill when I am stressed, so I want to thank you for being a source of advice, jokes, and booze. Happy belated Thanksgiving, everyone. You can probably expect another corny life assessment in a few weeks when I inevitably watch It's A Wonderful Life with the company of some chardonnay.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Even In Australia
I'm back! I'm back! I'm really, truly back!
The past couple of weeks I have been feeling less-than-stellar at school. I don't really know what it was... I could attribute it to bad days with the kids, but I suspect that some of those bad days were a result of my blahs rather than the cause. It was starting to wear on me in an existential way. There was a serious downward spiral. I was reconsidering my suitability for my current job, my long-term career goals, and my general existence. So what changed? Um. I actually have no idea. But today was nice. I was a media specialist (my second masters degree is totally going to be in library science) and I thoroughly enjoyed my time with my classes. (I also read the cutest book in the world! Do yourself a favor and check out "The Hello, Goodbye Window" by Norton Juster and illustrated by Chris Raschka. It won the Caldecott Medal and the Warming Allison's Heart Medal.) So no worries, faithful readers! This will not revert to a whiny "I don't know what I want to do with my life" blog. I remain firmly on my current path, while kicking myself for forgetting the wisest words of all: "My mom says some days are like that...."
The past couple of weeks I have been feeling less-than-stellar at school. I don't really know what it was... I could attribute it to bad days with the kids, but I suspect that some of those bad days were a result of my blahs rather than the cause. It was starting to wear on me in an existential way. There was a serious downward spiral. I was reconsidering my suitability for my current job, my long-term career goals, and my general existence. So what changed? Um. I actually have no idea. But today was nice. I was a media specialist (my second masters degree is totally going to be in library science) and I thoroughly enjoyed my time with my classes. (I also read the cutest book in the world! Do yourself a favor and check out "The Hello, Goodbye Window" by Norton Juster and illustrated by Chris Raschka. It won the Caldecott Medal and the Warming Allison's Heart Medal.) So no worries, faithful readers! This will not revert to a whiny "I don't know what I want to do with my life" blog. I remain firmly on my current path, while kicking myself for forgetting the wisest words of all: "My mom says some days are like that...."
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Live Blogging "Bad Teacher" (sort of)
10:21 p.m. Opening credits! How adorable! Children! Cafeteria ladies! I love this song! What is it? It's catchy!
10:22 p.m. Ooh, live action now! Champagne in a teacher's lounge? Really? Oh, hey, Phyllis! And the guidance counselor from Freaks and Geeks!
10:23 p.m. I like Cammy's yellow dress. This is a completely unrealistic party. Champagne for one teacher who was there for one year? Yeah right.
10:24 p.m. We're watching the unrated version... I wonder what the differences are.
10:25 p.m. Um. I don't really like Cameron Diaz. At all. Why did I not realize it before now?
10:25 p.m. Where is this actor from? Why does he look familiar?
10:26 p.m. Not actually a lot about teaching right now. Just saying.
10:27 p.m. Wait: am I supposed to dislike the character named Squirrel? Because that is nearly impossible. You name a kid Squirrel, you have my eternal love.
10:28 p.m. I heart Phyllis so much. Like, really. The jewelry. The love of corn. Etc.
10:30 p.m. Okay, the song is Teacher Teacher by Rockpile. Check it out.
10:31 p.m. So I'm hoping to feel like not the worst teacher in the world after this movie. I'm going to need to start feeling reverse-inspired really soon.
10:32 p.m. Thanks, Ms. Squirrel! No one actually does that. But wow I need to buy a captain's hat and megaphone.
10:33 p.m. Hungover in school. Nope, never done/seen that before. Ever.
10:33 p.m. My roommate tells me not to be hypercritical of this movie because it is "a tapestry of truth" about "real people living their lives." The words "look into the future" also came up.
10:34 p.m. Stand and Deliver! Solid!
10:35 p.m. There's Jason Segal!
10:35 p.m. Okay, I'm already getting tired of this live blogging thing. Rein in it, Allison.
10:36 p.m. Teachers eating in the cafeteria? Roommate's "tapestry of truth" theory is disproven.
10:38 p.m. Oh, hey boobs. Unrated?
10:39 p.m. Another Freaks and Geeks alum! Is Judd Apatow behind this somehow?
10:41 p.m. Look how inspired those students are! Preach, Morgan Freeman! Preach!
10:43 p.m. How does one get away with showing movies all week. No, really. How? Please email me advice.
10:44 p.m. One reason to never work in a high school: Car washes. Also: teenage boys.
10:46 p.m. I'm sorry, this is a middle school?! That explains why the kids look so small. But holy cow.
10:48 p.m. You can tell this is a classy movie: it took nearly 20 minutes before someone pooped audibly.
10:49 p.m. And we meet the antagonist: "Gay" standardized tests! I love a good vs. evil plotline!
10:51 p.m. So... Was Justin Timberlake drunk for the entire production? He must have been. It seems like he's in pain every time he says a line.
10:52 p.m. What is with the Jewish jokes?
10:54 p.m. Okay, what is that Jodie Foster movie. Anyone? Anyone?
10:56 p.m. "See, that's what I'm talking about. You keep talking like that, you're going to get punched."
10:59 p.m. I love everything about Jason Segal. But especially when he yells at little kids.
11:00 p.m. How many of my teachers have gotten high in school? Oh, Cammy, you're introducing me to a brand new world.
11:05 p.m. Christmas with a kid's family! I know what that's like... once I ate Panera one table away from a kid I taught. (It was kind of awkward.)
11:08 p.m. "Yeah, from the world's weirdest textbook."
11:10 p.m. Wow. Why doesn't Justin Timberlake sing in all his movies?! Good thing the director thought of this.
11:11 p.m. Make a wish! Just as Cammy is learning about the bonus for standardized test scores.
11:12 p.m. Cammy just pointed at a kid and said, "Get out" and all of them shut up immediately. Do kids listen to hot teachers? I might need to think about this.
11:12 p.m. "Focus. You know this shit, come on!" I say that ten times a day.
11:17 p.m. Cammy's comments on papers: "Stupid!" "Misspelled!" "Are you f%cking kidding me?!" "This is how the Japs are overtaking us!" I have helped my mother grade papers. This is not that far off.
11:25 p.m. It is truly shocking how little this movie is actually about teaching. If you have seen the previews, you have likely seen all of the classroom scenes.
11:29 p.m. My roommate spills water for the second time in two hours. I suspect some sort of spasm disorder.
11:32 p.m. Justin Timberlake hates slavery. Thank god!
11:36 p.m. That was definitely not a teaching moment.
11:44 p.m. I want to rewatch this movie to see how much of it involves actual teacher-student interactions. Except that would mean I would have to rewatch this movie.
11:49 p.m. Those drug dogs were on their way to a classroom and yet they didn't smell anything in the lockers? Really? I thought this was a public school.
11:53 p.m. Jason Segal went an entire school year without dating someone?! Poor Jason Segal.
11:54 p.m. Is it over yet?
11:55 p.m. Yay! She becomes the guidance counselor! (Spoiler alert!)
I have never wanted a movie to be over more in my entire life. What I learned:
- I hate Cameron Diaz
- I also hate Justin Timberlake outside of SNL
- Teaching is hard, I guess?
- If you meet a guy who doesn't mind your small boobs, then you save a ton of money.
So... Thanks for those lessons, I guess? I think I need to watch Stand and Deliver now...
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Mama Drama
Remember my excitement about returning to elementary school this week? Let's recap the last two days:
- Two 8-year-olds passed notes that included the words "I want to kill her" and "She's a dumb b!tch."
- I managed to remain somewhat professional by not yelling, "What the f&ck is wrong with you?! You're 8 years old!"
- Aforementioned 8-year-olds were referred to the office and notes were sent home.
- Mother of the 8-year-old who was most likely the author of the "dumb b!tch" comment wrote back saying that it wasn't her son and that she only signed the note so we know she received it. But clearly we/I were/was wrong.
- The mother of said 8-year-old listed the following as evidence:
- He said he didn't do it
- She's never heard him use profanity
- He doesn't even know how to spell those words
Monday, October 24, 2011
You must be this tall to teach
So here's the thing: I do not like working in high schools. I feel terrible for thinking it. I really, truly do. I try to be sensitive to the fact that high school can be really rough and that the kids are probably going through emotional hell or emotional detachment or something else. The thing is, I can't actually keep that in mind because I am too busy being annoyed by the constant belligerence and attitude and insubordination. I can never believe how many kids I meet with a "me against the world" perspective. I'm sure it is not an unwarranted perspective: I will never really know what a kid has had to endure prior to the 90 minutes I spend with him/her. But sometimes I just want to shake them and explain that not everyone in the school system is out to get them, and that "me against the world" doesn't get you much in life because if you make everything a competition then the world is probably always going to win.
It's not that I don't like teenagers in general. When I was roadrunning and talked to them individually or in small groups, I loved hearing about their plans for the future and how they're coping with the transitional phase in their lives. There's just something about the high school setting that morphs teenagers into... what is the socially acceptable word for "not-nice mutant creatures?"
Part of me thinks that my issues with high school students are based in countertransference. I never thought of my high school years as particularly atrocious, but thinking about them makes me feel so awkward and anxious. When I re-dated my high school boyfriend I practically (and by practically I mean definitely) had a panic attack when it came time for me to re-meet his family. Once I dissected those feelings, I realized that I was horrified about the idea of spending three solid days with people who knew me exclusively from high school. That is not the version of myself I like to remember, and it's definitely not a version of myself that I like to be reminded of. And even though high schools are filled with plenty of teachers my age, I still feel like too much of a peer to the students. Perhaps by the time I finish my degree I will feel old enough to work with that age group, but now it might be a bit too close to home.
The thing that I'm questioning is how much I should push myself to work with middle/high school students while I'm subbing. Part of me feels that I should get experience with all age groups since I don't know where I'll end up as a counselor. Better to be overprepared, right? On the other hand, maybe it's okay that I have a preference of age group and that I stick to it. I really feel that I have more opportunities to set kids on the right path by working at an elementary school. By the time they're in middle/high school, personalities are set and it becomes more difficult to 1. make time to meet with them, 2. unite stakeholders, and 3. implement effective behavior modification techniques. Today a teacher was talking about the vocational test that the seniors will take this semester, and all I could think was, "Isn't it a little late?" I feel that a lot of the tools and interventions that counselors are using in high school are about eight years too late. (As a counselor, I'm hoping to implement a lot of vocational programming into my curriculum. I just don't think it's fair to let kids get to their teenage years without any sort of guidance about what they want out of life. Indecision is fine, paralysis is not.) All tangents aside, I am torn between sticking to what I know/enjoy or going outside of my comfort zone. The thing is, I'm not convinced that leaving one's comfort zone is always a good or meaningful experience. Taking risks can certainly lead to personal growth, but sometimes I think people are pushed into risk-taking just for its own sake. If a person is open to growth or change in other ways, do we really need to force them to climb a mountain or sing karaoke? Anxiety is a powerful catalyst for change, but if we aren't using it consciously and intentionally then there really isn't a point. Then again, I am a huge wimp in a lot of ways and really cannot be trusted with this self-serving monologue.
Tomorrow I am back in the same position as today; hopefully I will gain some wonderful new insights, or at least partake in some wonderfully disgusting tater tots. However, I am very much looking forward to my third grade jobs later in the week.
It's not that I don't like teenagers in general. When I was roadrunning and talked to them individually or in small groups, I loved hearing about their plans for the future and how they're coping with the transitional phase in their lives. There's just something about the high school setting that morphs teenagers into... what is the socially acceptable word for "not-nice mutant creatures?"
Part of me thinks that my issues with high school students are based in countertransference. I never thought of my high school years as particularly atrocious, but thinking about them makes me feel so awkward and anxious. When I re-dated my high school boyfriend I practically (and by practically I mean definitely) had a panic attack when it came time for me to re-meet his family. Once I dissected those feelings, I realized that I was horrified about the idea of spending three solid days with people who knew me exclusively from high school. That is not the version of myself I like to remember, and it's definitely not a version of myself that I like to be reminded of. And even though high schools are filled with plenty of teachers my age, I still feel like too much of a peer to the students. Perhaps by the time I finish my degree I will feel old enough to work with that age group, but now it might be a bit too close to home.
The thing that I'm questioning is how much I should push myself to work with middle/high school students while I'm subbing. Part of me feels that I should get experience with all age groups since I don't know where I'll end up as a counselor. Better to be overprepared, right? On the other hand, maybe it's okay that I have a preference of age group and that I stick to it. I really feel that I have more opportunities to set kids on the right path by working at an elementary school. By the time they're in middle/high school, personalities are set and it becomes more difficult to 1. make time to meet with them, 2. unite stakeholders, and 3. implement effective behavior modification techniques. Today a teacher was talking about the vocational test that the seniors will take this semester, and all I could think was, "Isn't it a little late?" I feel that a lot of the tools and interventions that counselors are using in high school are about eight years too late. (As a counselor, I'm hoping to implement a lot of vocational programming into my curriculum. I just don't think it's fair to let kids get to their teenage years without any sort of guidance about what they want out of life. Indecision is fine, paralysis is not.) All tangents aside, I am torn between sticking to what I know/enjoy or going outside of my comfort zone. The thing is, I'm not convinced that leaving one's comfort zone is always a good or meaningful experience. Taking risks can certainly lead to personal growth, but sometimes I think people are pushed into risk-taking just for its own sake. If a person is open to growth or change in other ways, do we really need to force them to climb a mountain or sing karaoke? Anxiety is a powerful catalyst for change, but if we aren't using it consciously and intentionally then there really isn't a point. Then again, I am a huge wimp in a lot of ways and really cannot be trusted with this self-serving monologue.
Tomorrow I am back in the same position as today; hopefully I will gain some wonderful new insights, or at least partake in some wonderfully disgusting tater tots. However, I am very much looking forward to my third grade jobs later in the week.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Blue Screen of Death
THIS JUST IN: The computer age is a sham!
I literally spent the entire day teaching ten-year-olds how to save documents and view powerpoints and find things on the computer menu. I realize that I am a fetus myself, but these kids are zygotes: they have literally never known a time without computers. Shouldn't they be teaching me? An assignment that consisted of four research questions was unfinished after 25 minutes because by the time they opened two documents and a web browser we were out of time. I was shocked.
I discussed it with the TA, and she said that although the kids occasionally get computer time in school, it always consists of clicking on a link that is provided for them and then playing an educational video game. Are we really not teaching kids how to use computers for things other than Starfall? This was not a particularly well-to-do school, and the TA mentioned that there were families who could not afford home computers, but I feel like this is one area where the school should pick up some of the slack. How can we be sending kids to middle school with no idea how to do anything except log on and off of a PC? That seems irresponsible to me. These are kids who will be in college using technology we can't even imagine, and yet we're not even giving them the basic skills to take advantage of today's inventions? Have they even seen a Mac*?!
To this day I still consider typing to be the most useful class I took in high school. If nothing else, it shaves accumulated hours off my blogging time each year. But more than that, when writing papers it allows me to get my (cleaned up) thoughts on paper almost as quickly as I think them. (Assuming I'm not drunk... then most of my thoughts are typed exactly like they sound in my head: "whaatthe geiull tarte wegteackinggh theseafegt kkpdisds?????????!!!!!!!111!!!!!>????" #20somethingproblem) I'm just saying, I know I complained that these kids are still on subtraction in third grade (the TA confirmed that this school is behind others in the county), but computer skills are the most unquestionably useful knowledge these kids could take away from school. They will all need those skills down the line. Maybe instead of cramming fifty thousand word webs into the day, we could spend 15 minutes a day working on things like, "This is a word document. You type in it. This is how you open a document. Say it with me class: Ctrl+O. This is how you save it. Say it with me class: Ctrl+S. Good!"
Anyway. I'd hate to cut this rant/ode to computer overlords short, but I have to go play trivia with my roommate. If only smartphones were allowed...
*Yes, that was my tribute to Steve Jobs. Thanks, bro.
I literally spent the entire day teaching ten-year-olds how to save documents and view powerpoints and find things on the computer menu. I realize that I am a fetus myself, but these kids are zygotes: they have literally never known a time without computers. Shouldn't they be teaching me? An assignment that consisted of four research questions was unfinished after 25 minutes because by the time they opened two documents and a web browser we were out of time. I was shocked.
I discussed it with the TA, and she said that although the kids occasionally get computer time in school, it always consists of clicking on a link that is provided for them and then playing an educational video game. Are we really not teaching kids how to use computers for things other than Starfall? This was not a particularly well-to-do school, and the TA mentioned that there were families who could not afford home computers, but I feel like this is one area where the school should pick up some of the slack. How can we be sending kids to middle school with no idea how to do anything except log on and off of a PC? That seems irresponsible to me. These are kids who will be in college using technology we can't even imagine, and yet we're not even giving them the basic skills to take advantage of today's inventions? Have they even seen a Mac*?!
To this day I still consider typing to be the most useful class I took in high school. If nothing else, it shaves accumulated hours off my blogging time each year. But more than that, when writing papers it allows me to get my (cleaned up) thoughts on paper almost as quickly as I think them. (Assuming I'm not drunk... then most of my thoughts are typed exactly like they sound in my head: "whaatthe geiull tarte wegteackinggh theseafegt kkpdisds?????????!!!!!!!111!!!!!>????" #20somethingproblem) I'm just saying, I know I complained that these kids are still on subtraction in third grade (the TA confirmed that this school is behind others in the county), but computer skills are the most unquestionably useful knowledge these kids could take away from school. They will all need those skills down the line. Maybe instead of cramming fifty thousand word webs into the day, we could spend 15 minutes a day working on things like, "This is a word document. You type in it. This is how you open a document. Say it with me class: Ctrl+O. This is how you save it. Say it with me class: Ctrl+S. Good!"
Anyway. I'd hate to cut this rant/ode to computer overlords short, but I have to go play trivia with my roommate. If only smartphones were allowed...
*Yes, that was my tribute to Steve Jobs. Thanks, bro.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
How's my learning?
There is nothing more satisfying as a substitute than working with a class a second (or third) time and seeing the kids' reactions when they see that you're back in their classroom. It's that special look that says, "Oh no, not this bitch again!" If you're every feeling really depressed or insignificant, I recommend immersing yourself in this situation; it will warm your heart.
I spent the morning with a class I had a few weeks ago. Yeesh. I notice that kids at this school tend to be more unruly than at my other schools, although I also wonder if it's behavior confirmation on my part. Anyway, I had this class before, and they would not just quiet down so we could... well, do anything. At the beginning of the day I wrote "RECESS" on the board and told them that every time they took too long to quiet down I would erase part of a letter and they would lose time from their recess. The way I explained it, if they were going to waste my teaching time then I was going to waste their fun time. They didn't get recess that day. Even if I had a change of heart that morning they would not have been able to go outside because they would not stop talking long enough to get lined up. So you can imagine their joy when they walked into school this morning and saw my smiling face in the classroom. But you know what happened today? They were better behaved. It's nice being able to say to a class, "You have had me before. You know I am not kidding. You know what will happen if you break my rules." And it's a good thing that they didn't owe me time today, because it was gorgeous outside and I would have been super upset if I missed my recess.
I would be overselling the effectiveness of clear expectations if I didn't mention this confounding variable: I also used an incentive program with them that I didn't use last time. I am inconsistent with using this program since I like to feel out a class first, but here's the basic premise: if a student is doing a good job, they get a post-it or index card (depending on what is in my Mary Poppins bag at the time). Whenever I catch them doing what they're supposed to, they get a stamp/signature/sticker (again, depending on the vagaries of the bag). If they get a predetermined number of stamps/signatures/stickers by the end of our time together, they get a prize. If they start getting off-task they can lose stamps/signatures/stickers. With classes like these it's a great way to give students constant feedback, and even though I would never do something like this as a regular teacher, I find that as a substitute it can be nice to have a more immediate reward dangling in front of them than, "I'll give you a [insert mascot here] dollar so you can eventually get a pencil from the school store." Is it bribery? Yes. Is it effective? Usually. And since I have this class again in a few days, I'm betting that they'll be as good as they were today because they know the consequences for their behavior, both positive and negative.
One more braggy note before I go: I got two recesses today! I went to kindergarten for the afternoon (a class I taught yesterday) and got to spend a full 30 minutes outside with them. It was nice getting to see two very different ages today: it reminded me what was great about both.Then again, that could just be the sunshine talking.
I spent the morning with a class I had a few weeks ago. Yeesh. I notice that kids at this school tend to be more unruly than at my other schools, although I also wonder if it's behavior confirmation on my part. Anyway, I had this class before, and they would not just quiet down so we could... well, do anything. At the beginning of the day I wrote "RECESS" on the board and told them that every time they took too long to quiet down I would erase part of a letter and they would lose time from their recess. The way I explained it, if they were going to waste my teaching time then I was going to waste their fun time. They didn't get recess that day. Even if I had a change of heart that morning they would not have been able to go outside because they would not stop talking long enough to get lined up. So you can imagine their joy when they walked into school this morning and saw my smiling face in the classroom. But you know what happened today? They were better behaved. It's nice being able to say to a class, "You have had me before. You know I am not kidding. You know what will happen if you break my rules." And it's a good thing that they didn't owe me time today, because it was gorgeous outside and I would have been super upset if I missed my recess.
I would be overselling the effectiveness of clear expectations if I didn't mention this confounding variable: I also used an incentive program with them that I didn't use last time. I am inconsistent with using this program since I like to feel out a class first, but here's the basic premise: if a student is doing a good job, they get a post-it or index card (depending on what is in my Mary Poppins bag at the time). Whenever I catch them doing what they're supposed to, they get a stamp/signature/sticker (again, depending on the vagaries of the bag). If they get a predetermined number of stamps/signatures/stickers by the end of our time together, they get a prize. If they start getting off-task they can lose stamps/signatures/stickers. With classes like these it's a great way to give students constant feedback, and even though I would never do something like this as a regular teacher, I find that as a substitute it can be nice to have a more immediate reward dangling in front of them than, "I'll give you a [insert mascot here] dollar so you can eventually get a pencil from the school store." Is it bribery? Yes. Is it effective? Usually. And since I have this class again in a few days, I'm betting that they'll be as good as they were today because they know the consequences for their behavior, both positive and negative.
One more braggy note before I go: I got two recesses today! I went to kindergarten for the afternoon (a class I taught yesterday) and got to spend a full 30 minutes outside with them. It was nice getting to see two very different ages today: it reminded me what was great about both.Then again, that could just be the sunshine talking.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
I heart you mocho
It's hard for me to tell if I'm on the minority side of the immigration issue in our country, or if it's an availability heuristic and I only remember the people who scream, "It's America, speak English!" at whatever newscaster is listening at the moment. I just thought that I should preface this post by acknowledging that I know that some people who read it (those of you who are not my roommate?) will have different opinions on the matter. It's cool. I'm not trying to start a debate here. As always, I'm just trying to share a part of my amazing job.
In the past few weeks I've spent a lot of time at a particular elementary school. I met a little girl who does not speak any English and has somehow made it to first grade. (I don't know anything about her history, so it could be that she is new to the school this year. I would assume that's the case.) Her teacher does not know any Spanish. The day I met her I happened to be in the classroom to work one-on-one with another student, when the little girl was trying to tell the teacher something. It wasn't working. I studied Spanish from middle school all the way through freshman year of college (and promptly forgot most of it by the end of sophomore year) and knew enough to translate. The teacher looked at me like I was a godsend and the little girl lit up knowing that I could at least try to speak to her in her native tongue. I've been in the classroom a few more times, and even though the teacher didn't recognize me as the Spanish-speaking sub, the little girl continued to glance my way and share knowing smiles with me.
Friday when I worked in the media center I had this girl's class with me. While I read a story to the class I watched as she and her friends whispered in the back. I told them multiple times to stop, but since the only Spanish I remembered would have been literally "shut up!" I stuck with English. Then finally I blurted out, "No me gusta!" The girl looked at me, puzzled, and then turned to her friend to ask, "No le gusta que?" Her friend explained in Spanish that I didn't want her talking while I was reading the story and understanding dawned instantly. When we moved onto our next activity, I decided to try to stretch my Spanish a bit further. I would ask a question to the class and then, if I knew how, translate it into Spanish. Instantly this girl was more engaged and would raise her hand. Her responses would be in Spanish, but either I or one of her friends (more often the latter- seriously, I need to take some more classes!) would translate for the class. It was that simple. I didn't know enough (or have enough time) to say everything in Spanish, but it didn't matter: as soon as she heard me speaking it a little, she was like a totally different student.
Regardless of one's opinion on what I did, you have to admit that it would be pretty frustrating and scary to spend one third of your day in a place where most people didn't understand you. Hearing your native language from a stranger (even if it is español mocho) must be a huge comfort. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to say
that I was a hero who changed this kid's life or inspired her to learn
or anything like that. I suppose what I'm trying to say is: considering
the growing number of families dealing with language barriers with the
local schools, sometimes simple gestures can go a long way. And it
doesn't seem like a major commitment for school staff to sprinkle a few
Spanish phrases into their lessons if it means making some students feel
more comfortable. And couldn't making students feel more comfortable
and welcome improve things like academic engagement, attendance, and
graduation rates? Perhaps this is the idealistic guidance counselor in
me talking? I'm constantly trying to think of ways to improve students'
attitudes toward school and learning, and my method seemed to work for
this child and her friends. Now if only I could find ways to reach out
to remaining 28 kids in the class...
Thursday, September 29, 2011
A Hall Lot of Nothing
My four-day stint in special education is now over, and tomorrow I return to the same school as the librarian. I look forward to throwing the lesson plans out the window and forcing all classes to read The Velveteen Rabbit or Mr. Popper's Penguins. Or my all-time favorite, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.
I think I will miss hallway duty the most. I had to man my post for 30 minutes each morning and again in the afternoon. That's an hour a day spent watching students coming and going. I loved how I could tell what day of the week it was based solely on how the kids were walking: Friday they pranced, Monday they trudged, Tuesday and Wednesday they were more alert and walked briskly. Tomorrow the prancing will return. And even though my main job was to make sure no one was running down the halls or swinging backpacks around, I loved (in my head at least) having the ability to start their day off on a positive note. When I was in elementary school, having a teacher give me a sincere, friendly greeting instantly put me in a good mood. (Note: I was very lame in elementary school.) I wanted to ensure that even if kids were tired or cranky or fought with their mom ten minutes earlier, that they felt welcome in school and knew that it could be a great day. I'm sure this would have been more effective if the kids actually knew who I was, but that was the plan.
One day I even had a friend join me for hall duty. A beetle was crawling around, and even when he looked like he was making a beeline (haha) for the adjacent corridor he always returned to my area. Since he was in the hall I named him Oates and decided that he would be my mascot. Then a second grader stepped on him. Needless to say, Oates was not the only one crushed that day.
I think I will miss hallway duty the most. I had to man my post for 30 minutes each morning and again in the afternoon. That's an hour a day spent watching students coming and going. I loved how I could tell what day of the week it was based solely on how the kids were walking: Friday they pranced, Monday they trudged, Tuesday and Wednesday they were more alert and walked briskly. Tomorrow the prancing will return. And even though my main job was to make sure no one was running down the halls or swinging backpacks around, I loved (in my head at least) having the ability to start their day off on a positive note. When I was in elementary school, having a teacher give me a sincere, friendly greeting instantly put me in a good mood. (Note: I was very lame in elementary school.) I wanted to ensure that even if kids were tired or cranky or fought with their mom ten minutes earlier, that they felt welcome in school and knew that it could be a great day. I'm sure this would have been more effective if the kids actually knew who I was, but that was the plan.
One day I even had a friend join me for hall duty. A beetle was crawling around, and even when he looked like he was making a beeline (haha) for the adjacent corridor he always returned to my area. Since he was in the hall I named him Oates and decided that he would be my mascot. Then a second grader stepped on him. Needless to say, Oates was not the only one crushed that day.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
And three times one?
Hello again from Panera, the official* sponsor of this blog.
I have a routine this week! It's an amazing feeling. Same school, same kids, same schedule. I'm working in special ed for kindergarten through 3rd grade, so I get to pop in and out of classrooms to monitor and observe and staple pots to children's heads in honor of Johnny Appleseed's birthday. (I <3 kindergarten.)
It's strange being back in elementary school and trying to compare it to my childhood. I swear these kids are learning completely different things than I did in school. In 3rd grade today they were adding three different three-digit numbers together, and I'm just sitting there thinking, "Wait, didn't we start multiplication in 2nd grade? What happened to the times tables?" And the long vs. short vowel sounds... wow, they are very important these days. (My favorite part of yesterday was watching the teacher give a lesson on changing the vowel sound from a short /i/ to a long /i/ by adding an e to the end of the word. Rip becomes ripe, din becomes dine, slid becomes slide, etc. etc. But for some reason she only did the short /i/ sound when she wrote "win" on the board. Curious.) I was very much under the impression that these classes as a whole are not remedial in any way, which means either: 1. I was very wrong, and these are classes that receive some extra TLC, or 2. They did away with multiplication and division because no one uses them, anyway. I suppose other options could include: 3. I was a mega genius in elementary school and was advanced in ways that modern teachers can't even fathom (hint: it is not option 3), or 4. I am misremembering childhood (it is also not this option, because I have a very vivid recollection of my lightbulb moment in Ms. Fastige's class when I realized that multiplying just meant counting to one number so many times.) Can anyone with more experience in the schools offer some insight? I find it strange that teachers are expected to cram so much into these kids' heads while working from a slower-paced curriculum. Perhaps option 1 is the best explanation?
Tomorrow I'm looking forward to reading a story about a boy who dreams he's a wolf. I'll let you know how that goes.
*In the event that Panera rejects my offer of official sponsorship, I will also accept donations from my loyal reader(s) in the form of gift cards. Or maybe in the form of gym memberships since I have gotten fat and lazy since moving to Baltimore and consuming nothing but pumpkin spice lattes and Cheetos.
I have a routine this week! It's an amazing feeling. Same school, same kids, same schedule. I'm working in special ed for kindergarten through 3rd grade, so I get to pop in and out of classrooms to monitor and observe and staple pots to children's heads in honor of Johnny Appleseed's birthday. (I <3 kindergarten.)
It's strange being back in elementary school and trying to compare it to my childhood. I swear these kids are learning completely different things than I did in school. In 3rd grade today they were adding three different three-digit numbers together, and I'm just sitting there thinking, "Wait, didn't we start multiplication in 2nd grade? What happened to the times tables?" And the long vs. short vowel sounds... wow, they are very important these days. (My favorite part of yesterday was watching the teacher give a lesson on changing the vowel sound from a short /i/ to a long /i/ by adding an e to the end of the word. Rip becomes ripe, din becomes dine, slid becomes slide, etc. etc. But for some reason she only did the short /i/ sound when she wrote "win" on the board. Curious.) I was very much under the impression that these classes as a whole are not remedial in any way, which means either: 1. I was very wrong, and these are classes that receive some extra TLC, or 2. They did away with multiplication and division because no one uses them, anyway. I suppose other options could include: 3. I was a mega genius in elementary school and was advanced in ways that modern teachers can't even fathom (hint: it is not option 3), or 4. I am misremembering childhood (it is also not this option, because I have a very vivid recollection of my lightbulb moment in Ms. Fastige's class when I realized that multiplying just meant counting to one number so many times.) Can anyone with more experience in the schools offer some insight? I find it strange that teachers are expected to cram so much into these kids' heads while working from a slower-paced curriculum. Perhaps option 1 is the best explanation?
Tomorrow I'm looking forward to reading a story about a boy who dreams he's a wolf. I'll let you know how that goes.
*In the event that Panera rejects my offer of official sponsorship, I will also accept donations from my loyal reader(s) in the form of gift cards. Or maybe in the form of gym memberships since I have gotten fat and lazy since moving to Baltimore and consuming nothing but pumpkin spice lattes and Cheetos.
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