One thing that you should never do if you want to have any sort of balance in your life is to become a student teacher. Everything is off-kilter: whatever youthful idealism I have left, my philosophies as an educator, my sleep, my ideas for great lessons, my social life, my sleep, my relationship with dogs and family, my sleep... Any attempt I make at putting one of these back into balance winds up throwing all the others even further off balance. I've come to grips with this and decided that everything's just going to be out of whack for a while. The worst part is that I really miss personal relationships with people and feel incredibly guilty whenever I can't spend the time I'd like with friends, or God forbid, even go out on a date. It's a shame, too, because there are a few great friends out there whose company would be incredibly energizing right now, and there's even a girl out there who seems like she has the potential to be amazing. I just hope they all have patience with me.
And I feel guilty that I started this journal and have little time to add to it. I know of at least three people that have been reading it, and now that I know there's an audience I feel guilty that I haven't been filling them in with all the good stories. There's been so much on my mind since I last posted that I had trouble deciding where to start.
So I've decided not to start. At this point there's no value in going back through the last few weeks' experiences to catch up. Instead, I feel like it's time to write about something that's been on my mind for the last few years and that has become increasingly important since I started teaching this fall. There's one question that has motivated me (through both inspiration and guilt) to get through quite a few rough spots: If not me, who?
If I'm not willing to put forth the effort to work hard to help the troubled kids in school, who will? If I'm not willing to work hard to make my classes interesting enough for students to want to be there, who will? If I'm not willing to break up a fight, who will? If I'm not willing to stand up and say "we're not doing things very well and we need to change," who will? It sure as hell ain't a lot of the teachers I've seen.
I almost didn't write about this, if for the sole reason that I hope to substitute this journal for a paper and want to get credit without making the professor feel like I'm kissing up, but the synergy I felt when Bill Washburn asked this same question in our seminar a few weeks ago made me think that this is the time to write about it.
Nearly all the problems I've encountered (and I mean anywhere, not just in schools) seem to stem from apathy or laziness. Kids are getting lost in the system because adults are unwilling to do what it takes to make them succeed. I don't believe it's because they can't do it, I believe it's because it's hard. When I was working on a new seating chart with my new cooperating teacher, she mentioned that one of the boys wasn't doing very well and that he might benefit from being placed in a group that can help him. I asked if he had a learning disability or if she thought he just wasn't doing the work and she replied that he very well might have a learning disability, but he probably hasn't been tested. I'm new, so I don't know all the procedures involved, but I asked if it's possible for a teacher who suspects a learning disability to refer the student for evaluation The answer is yes. I thought that I posed the question in such a way that it should be obvious that maybe she should refer the kid for testing if possible, but the conversation hasn't gone anywhere. I asked the question twice, and her answer the second time made it apparent that she is not going to do anything. I just met her, so I'm not going to push it yet, but if I find real signs of a disability in this kid you can bet your ass that he's going to be evaluated before I leave the school in 6 weeks.
If I don't do it, who will?
Before I close this, I want to introduce you folks to Jayme Velez. Jayme's a friend going through her student teaching trials as well. I've read some of her lesson plans, and I honestly think that I'd learn more by observing her in action than I did from experienced teachers. If I had to assemble a task force of guerrilla educators to parachute in to a troubled school armed with whatever tools and weapons we need to fight the good fight she'd be on the A team. Whenever I feel like there are insurmountable obstacles, it's people like Jayme that make me believe that there are ways to get over them.
Monday, October 31, 2005
Monday, October 17, 2005
I'm a tool.
In some ways I'm a new-age kind of a guy. I had an idea of how well I'd done with the 11th grade class, but I wanted to know what they thought, so I asked them. Today's journal entry was the only one they turned in to me, without names on them. I told them I wanted their honest feedback about how the last 6 weeks have gone, what I should keep doing, what I could do to improve, etc. I promised not to read them until after I graded their last assignment, but this one was on top and one of the girls just had to show someone the last line: "P.S. Nice shoes." (I'm pretty sure that this remark was sarcastic as my shoes are nothing special.)
So I couldn't help but read the rest of it as they were on their way out. The first line was "You're a tool." They ended it by saying that I wasn't a tool and had a couple of decent comments in the middle, and I probably should have expected this. It was a tough unit of Puritan lit, some of the most boring stuff they'll read all year. I was at a loss as to how to make it interesting, engaging, or valuable, and Mrs. Teacher was no help. In fact, she laughed at me when I told her what the in-class reading was one day. "They're going to hate it," she said. I knew that already. But when I asked what she normally does for the unit I got no response. I should have expected that too. She's the kind of teacher that goes in chronological order, and this is what was next in the textbook.
So, I'm a tool. It's been cast in stone for all eternity. At least in the eyes of these 11th graders.
So I couldn't help but read the rest of it as they were on their way out. The first line was "You're a tool." They ended it by saying that I wasn't a tool and had a couple of decent comments in the middle, and I probably should have expected this. It was a tough unit of Puritan lit, some of the most boring stuff they'll read all year. I was at a loss as to how to make it interesting, engaging, or valuable, and Mrs. Teacher was no help. In fact, she laughed at me when I told her what the in-class reading was one day. "They're going to hate it," she said. I knew that already. But when I asked what she normally does for the unit I got no response. I should have expected that too. She's the kind of teacher that goes in chronological order, and this is what was next in the textbook.
So, I'm a tool. It's been cast in stone for all eternity. At least in the eyes of these 11th graders.
What do you want to do?
I started class last Tuesday by asking the 12th graders something I don't think they'd ever been asked before: "What do you guys want to do?"
I believe strongly in a student-centered classroom, although I'm fudging it a little bit since in a true student-centered class the students would help design the curriculum. We're stuck with the reading list that was chosen for us, and I admitted to them that I was out of ideas on how to make The Canterbury Tales more interesting and engaging. So I asked them "What do you guys want to do?"
It's easy to tell that they had never been asked this question before because they had given it no thought. They seemed sure that their job was to come to class, and that my job was to tell them what to do. A couple of them said that they just wanted to read the book and take a test, but that was completely out of the question. First of all, I'd feel lazy and uninteresting doing something like that to them. That's the sort of thing that made me hate English classes when I was in high school and I am not going to torture my students that way. And I didn't admit this to them, but it would also require me to read the book much more carefully to create a good test, and I was just barely keeping up with their reading and finding meaning to discuss only through the Spark Notes for the book.
After a week, they finally started to realize that choice is good, although it requires more effort on their part. I gave them two choices for their final assignment: one a creative work and the other a traditional research paper, for those that are less creative. The only complaint: the 10th grade had three choices for their final assignment.
I believe strongly in a student-centered classroom, although I'm fudging it a little bit since in a true student-centered class the students would help design the curriculum. We're stuck with the reading list that was chosen for us, and I admitted to them that I was out of ideas on how to make The Canterbury Tales more interesting and engaging. So I asked them "What do you guys want to do?"
It's easy to tell that they had never been asked this question before because they had given it no thought. They seemed sure that their job was to come to class, and that my job was to tell them what to do. A couple of them said that they just wanted to read the book and take a test, but that was completely out of the question. First of all, I'd feel lazy and uninteresting doing something like that to them. That's the sort of thing that made me hate English classes when I was in high school and I am not going to torture my students that way. And I didn't admit this to them, but it would also require me to read the book much more carefully to create a good test, and I was just barely keeping up with their reading and finding meaning to discuss only through the Spark Notes for the book.
After a week, they finally started to realize that choice is good, although it requires more effort on their part. I gave them two choices for their final assignment: one a creative work and the other a traditional research paper, for those that are less creative. The only complaint: the 10th grade had three choices for their final assignment.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
What happened to being on time?
I don't know if everyone will see the humor here that I do, but...
Second day of school, first time that the 11th grade has English this year. The teacher is nowhere to be found. I'm the student teacher and it's my third day, I still need to think twice to remember which hall leads to the library. And the teacher is nowhere to be found. Apparently she didn't think it was important as I did for her to be present for the first day of class.
Mrs. Cavanaugh is at a huge advantage because this is a small school and she taught all of these kids before, but she didn't even bother to tell me what the plan was for the first day.
This poses something of a problem for me.
I let the kids talk for about 5 minutes, then decided to close the door so that the din wouldn't disturb the other classrooms. I took a minute to stick my head in the hallway to see if Mrs. C. was out there, but saw only the empty hallway. I'm a take-charge kind of guy and decided that if Mrs. C didn't have anything for the first day then I needed to have something.
They're good kids and only had to be asked to quiet down twice so I could introduce myself. After a very quick intro I asked what they wanted to do, and one of them jokingly said that we should play "7-up." There's the plan! Twenty minutes of the first day were spent playing 7-up with 16 year olds. For those that don't know this game, the only explanation I'll give is that I first played it in 3rd grade, maybe earlier. At least it gave me a chance to start learning their names.
The only times Mrs. Cavanaugh has been here for the start of class have been the times when she was already at her desk.
Second day of school, first time that the 11th grade has English this year. The teacher is nowhere to be found. I'm the student teacher and it's my third day, I still need to think twice to remember which hall leads to the library. And the teacher is nowhere to be found. Apparently she didn't think it was important as I did for her to be present for the first day of class.
Mrs. Cavanaugh is at a huge advantage because this is a small school and she taught all of these kids before, but she didn't even bother to tell me what the plan was for the first day.
This poses something of a problem for me.
I let the kids talk for about 5 minutes, then decided to close the door so that the din wouldn't disturb the other classrooms. I took a minute to stick my head in the hallway to see if Mrs. C. was out there, but saw only the empty hallway. I'm a take-charge kind of guy and decided that if Mrs. C didn't have anything for the first day then I needed to have something.
They're good kids and only had to be asked to quiet down twice so I could introduce myself. After a very quick intro I asked what they wanted to do, and one of them jokingly said that we should play "7-up." There's the plan! Twenty minutes of the first day were spent playing 7-up with 16 year olds. For those that don't know this game, the only explanation I'll give is that I first played it in 3rd grade, maybe earlier. At least it gave me a chance to start learning their names.
The only times Mrs. Cavanaugh has been here for the start of class have been the times when she was already at her desk.
The importance of one minute
It takes only one minute to change a student's day.
It might not even take that long. Make sure that it's a positive change.
All day, every day, these kids are surrounded by people telling them what to do and that they aren't doing it well enough, and rarely telling them how to do it better. I can see it in their faces as they move through the hallways. They walk smiling with their heads held high past some teacher's rooms, then stare at their shoes passing others. The practices we try to put into place in our lesson plans to help the students grow academically are not put into practice in our hallways to help them grow in the same way.
There will always be plenty of people working in a school playing the role of the drill sergeant to get the kids in line with all of the rules. If there's a reason for everything, then the reason I'm here is to help the kids smile and be confident.
If I can do this in a minute or less, then there is no excuse for not doing it.
It might not even take that long. Make sure that it's a positive change.
All day, every day, these kids are surrounded by people telling them what to do and that they aren't doing it well enough, and rarely telling them how to do it better. I can see it in their faces as they move through the hallways. They walk smiling with their heads held high past some teacher's rooms, then stare at their shoes passing others. The practices we try to put into place in our lesson plans to help the students grow academically are not put into practice in our hallways to help them grow in the same way.
There will always be plenty of people working in a school playing the role of the drill sergeant to get the kids in line with all of the rules. If there's a reason for everything, then the reason I'm here is to help the kids smile and be confident.
If I can do this in a minute or less, then there is no excuse for not doing it.
Be positive. Try hard
"Be positive, try hard." This is my new mantra. It's amazing how effective it is, and how easily it applies to everything in my life.
This was my zen lesson for a class of freshman honors English students who, after a week and a half of class, were convinced that their teacher hated them. Mrs. Cavanaugh is not the kind of person that most students would find endearing right away. She only yells at someone she cares about, and you know that if she stops then you've really done something wrong. These kids had not yet figured out her personality, and were pretty badly shaken when she rode them pretty hard about their first quiz. I thought the scores showed decent performance from most of the class, but Mrs. Cavanaugh focused on the fact that the lowest score was in the 40s and there were no perfect scores, even though the huge majority of the scores were between 85 and 92. The kids picked up on the negative statements and took them personally, which leached all of their enthusiasm out into the ether and left no obvious way to bring them back.
The next week Mrs. Cavanaugh left early to attend a conference, which left me as the substitute for the remainder of the class. I don't teach the freshmen but I'm usually in the room while they're here and they know me, so it didn't surprise me much when they said "She hates us," almost in unison.
I knew this was coming, and I'd already realized that no one had ever explained to these kids what is really expected of honors students. So before they started their assignment for the day I tried to spend a couple of minutes explaining that Mrs. Cavanaugh didn't hate them, but that she didn't think they were performing the way honors students should and outlined what was expected for a minute or two. Deaf ears. They heard what I was trying to say as a deriding lecture. This was obvious when every one of them started quietly working. I had not delivered the motivational talk that I wanted to.
Fortunately for everyone, tomorrow is always a new day, and with young people one day is completely different than the next. When they started filing in for class the next day, I could see the trepidation in their faces. They all wanted to do well and have fun here, but none of them knew how to make this happen and it showed on nearly every one of their faces.
The five-second zen lesson : "Be positive, try hard, and you'll do well with her." I said this to every one of them was as much encouragement and authority as I could manage before Mrs. Cavanaugh came to class. It was a different class that day. You have not lived until you've seen a group of 15 ninth graders who are suddenly determined to do well, and know how to make it happen. These kids will change the world one day if we can keep the rest of their teachers from taking this away.
Be positive. Try hard.
This was my zen lesson for a class of freshman honors English students who, after a week and a half of class, were convinced that their teacher hated them. Mrs. Cavanaugh is not the kind of person that most students would find endearing right away. She only yells at someone she cares about, and you know that if she stops then you've really done something wrong. These kids had not yet figured out her personality, and were pretty badly shaken when she rode them pretty hard about their first quiz. I thought the scores showed decent performance from most of the class, but Mrs. Cavanaugh focused on the fact that the lowest score was in the 40s and there were no perfect scores, even though the huge majority of the scores were between 85 and 92. The kids picked up on the negative statements and took them personally, which leached all of their enthusiasm out into the ether and left no obvious way to bring them back.
The next week Mrs. Cavanaugh left early to attend a conference, which left me as the substitute for the remainder of the class. I don't teach the freshmen but I'm usually in the room while they're here and they know me, so it didn't surprise me much when they said "She hates us," almost in unison.
I knew this was coming, and I'd already realized that no one had ever explained to these kids what is really expected of honors students. So before they started their assignment for the day I tried to spend a couple of minutes explaining that Mrs. Cavanaugh didn't hate them, but that she didn't think they were performing the way honors students should and outlined what was expected for a minute or two. Deaf ears. They heard what I was trying to say as a deriding lecture. This was obvious when every one of them started quietly working. I had not delivered the motivational talk that I wanted to.
Fortunately for everyone, tomorrow is always a new day, and with young people one day is completely different than the next. When they started filing in for class the next day, I could see the trepidation in their faces. They all wanted to do well and have fun here, but none of them knew how to make this happen and it showed on nearly every one of their faces.
The five-second zen lesson : "Be positive, try hard, and you'll do well with her." I said this to every one of them was as much encouragement and authority as I could manage before Mrs. Cavanaugh came to class. It was a different class that day. You have not lived until you've seen a group of 15 ninth graders who are suddenly determined to do well, and know how to make it happen. These kids will change the world one day if we can keep the rest of their teachers from taking this away.
Be positive. Try hard.
Who thought it would be this much work?
There was some delusional part of me that thought I would actually have time to do things like update my blog regularly while doing this student teaching gig. Holy caffeine, Batman! On the few nights that I have enough work done by 10 PM that I feel like I can spend a little time with the dogs, with the guitars, or watching "Dukes of Hazzard" reruns, I get so excited that the elation of finally feeling like I'm no longer sinking in a sea of yet-to-be-read papers and books keeps me up anyway. I think I'm averaging about 5 1/2 hours of sleep on school nights.
I'm not complaining, not by a long shot. I love what I'm doing and learned a long time ago that nothing is ever going to be quite as perfect as I'd like, so I'm taking the good with the bad. So far the only real downside is all of the reading that I have to keep up with. I'm teaching 3 different subjects with books that I've never read before (and in fact, I've avoided reading a lot of them as much as I could until now), I'm reading for my student teaching seminar every week, and taking a Spanish class as well. Two weeks ago one of my students asked what I read for fun, and I kind of laughed. I had to quickly explain to her that English teachers have the least free-reading time of anyone, and told her how happy I was two nights before to take half an hour to read a bit of one of my aviation magazines.
One of the big things I've learned so far this semester is to realign my expectations with reality. I am not going to have as much time to spend with friends as I want for a while. I am not going to give the dogs as much attention as they need. I am not going to be playing at the open mic very much. I am not going to have as much time as I'd like to put into a relationship (should this one become an issue. I'm working on it...) A lot of sacrifice goes along with this part of my life, and this is something I'm willing to accept because the rest of this gig is so rewarding and I know it's not going to last forever.
Zen lesson of the day (and every day), given to me by Dr. Bill Washburn, who may or may not know what an incredible influence he is on my teaching: Learn to spend your energy wisely while being present in the places where you find yourself.
I'm not complaining, not by a long shot. I love what I'm doing and learned a long time ago that nothing is ever going to be quite as perfect as I'd like, so I'm taking the good with the bad. So far the only real downside is all of the reading that I have to keep up with. I'm teaching 3 different subjects with books that I've never read before (and in fact, I've avoided reading a lot of them as much as I could until now), I'm reading for my student teaching seminar every week, and taking a Spanish class as well. Two weeks ago one of my students asked what I read for fun, and I kind of laughed. I had to quickly explain to her that English teachers have the least free-reading time of anyone, and told her how happy I was two nights before to take half an hour to read a bit of one of my aviation magazines.
One of the big things I've learned so far this semester is to realign my expectations with reality. I am not going to have as much time to spend with friends as I want for a while. I am not going to give the dogs as much attention as they need. I am not going to be playing at the open mic very much. I am not going to have as much time as I'd like to put into a relationship (should this one become an issue. I'm working on it...) A lot of sacrifice goes along with this part of my life, and this is something I'm willing to accept because the rest of this gig is so rewarding and I know it's not going to last forever.
Zen lesson of the day (and every day), given to me by Dr. Bill Washburn, who may or may not know what an incredible influence he is on my teaching: Learn to spend your energy wisely while being present in the places where you find yourself.
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