Chickening Out...

Fridays are unpredictable. Some Fridays, students walk in, a mile high on sugar. Seriously. On those Fridays, teaching is like riding a roller coaster - I'm just trying to keep all body parts inside the classroom at all times. Other Fridays, it's like my classroom becomes Chill-ville. Students listen, work, and chat quietly without a problem. 

Previous to today's epiphany, I was pretty panicked about my policy to not give students homework other than reading. I just couldn't fathom how I would be able to get all the work done that these students needed to do in a single class period.

After today, I'm not so panicked. 

Students will work. And they will work HARD . . . if you create a sense of urgency and help them see the purpose of the work. 

I told students to write their narratives in a day. I know. I thought I was mental too. How could they possibly write an entire narrative in one day?

Well, most of them did. And they were good. 

I told students that they had 20 minutes for their peer revisions today. I helped them by calling out cues - "You should be done filling out the plot line by now," or "You should be moving on to the feedback for the STEAL strategies." This worked SOOO well. It was like they finally got into the right gear and sailed off into the land of Holy-Cow-These-Students-Are-So-Smart-And-Capable. 

But I was supposed to be doing more than just watching them be awesome. I was supposed to be conferencing with students about their DRP scores. It really wasn't that big of a deal - I just wanted students to know how they did and set some goals to improve their reading comprehension.

But I chickened out. Though their scores didn't make me cry, nearly half of all my students in each period are reading below grade level. Almost a quarter of those are severely below grade level. I just didn't know how to say, "Wow, (Student), you are officially reading at a 2nd grade level. That's a problem." 

So, I didn't even attempt a single student conference. Not a one. 

This was me. 

In reality, I think I just wasn't prepared. I hadn't thought it through. So here's my weekend goal: I'm going to create bookmarks for my students with different reading strategies they can use to improve their comprehension. It was actually an assignment I did once for my Teaching Reading class in college, and it may just end up as one of the many crumpled papers at the bottom of their backpack, but I think it will give me a starting point for those conversations. 

Hello, weekend. I hope you're ready for work. ;)

A Reputation of Understanding...

After yesterday's less-than-professional lesson, I was bound and determined to build up a better reputation for myself. What I'm learning is that this construction has to be brick by brick, student by student.

I had invited a few students to conference with me after school. One had been absent for almost 3 weeks (I actually thought she'd withdrawn from the school or moved or something) and the other just didn't do one of our large assignments and I wanted to force him to work for something!

I was conferencing with them about the first novel they were supposed to read and finish by Sept. 11th. Obviously the young girl who was actually in the hospital wasn't here when the project for the novel was due. They were both going to summarize their book for me, come up with a theme and defend their choice with evidence from the book. It's an alternative assignment, and I thought it was a good idea.

The young man, who was simply too lazy/busy/unengaged to do the assignment went first. It was obvious he read the book (I googled the book review before he met with me) and I was impressed by his understanding of theme. I hassled him for not getting the assignment done and told him I wouldn't give him the points for the project, but I wouldn't give him a zero. He seemed pleased.

But the young woman was a different story. She had picked a book from my shelf: Island of the Blue Dolphins. One of my childhood favorites. When I excitedly asked her to tell me what the story was about she began by telling me it was about a group of people - a large group of people - who lived on an island. Then a boat came with food and supplies and the island people loved all of the new things, so they had a really hard time when the boat had to leave. There was a girl and her brother who tried to make some of the things the boat brought to them but couldn't. Around this point, I started to mentally panic.

I knew she was lying. The book was actually about a girl who was deserted on an island by herself for years and years. But should I call her out on the lie? And how? She was so sweet and shy - I knew the "I'm so disappointed in you" Mrs. Brown was not the option for this situation.

When she finished, I took the book off of the desk (she had been fingering it during her summary, but I guess she'd never thought to read the teaser on the back!). I said, "(Student), you do know it's okay if you didn't actually read the book, right?"

"But I did, Mrs. Brown. I did read it."

"Hun, this is one of my all time favorite stories. It's actually about a girl who was deserted on an island all by herself for several years. It's about how she survives."

"Wait, but . . ."

I can see her eyes start to fill with tears. I put my hand upon hers and looked at her with compassion. "(Student), it's okay. You were in the hospital! I do not expect your number one concern to be MY homework when you're sick!"

I could tell she still didn't believe me. "(Student), I would so much rather you be honest with me - that way I can help! I can know what's going on and we can work together! Were you scared to tell me you didn't get to finish the book?"

"I just didn't want to disappoint you, Mrs. Brown."

I literally wanted to just take her in my arms and love her forever. "Oh, (Student), being sick and absent would never disappoint me. I had students who were here everyday that you were gone that still didn't read the book! Now that's disappointing! I am not disappointed in you, in the least."

The rest of our conversation was lovely. Her tears turned to smiles and laughs and she left my room with a sweet parting: "Thanks for being so understanding, Mrs. Brown."

I'm telling you - reputations are built one brick at a time. I know at least one student has the confidence to turn to me in times of need, and, for now, that feels great. Sometimes I have to remind myself to pause my curriculum, my lessons, and my plans and remember these students are human. And sometimes, the human lessons are much more important than mine.

Can I Take That Back?

So, I'm a very off-the-cuff kind of person. Typically this is a good thing - I like thinking on my feet because it allows me to read the situation, the students, and the classroom a little bit more easily. But sometimes - just sometimes - it gets me in some serious trouble.

We're writing narratives. Yay. So fun. My mentor teacher encouraged me to write with them (which I was doing anyway because I LOVE it) but he also encouraged me to write about my experiences in middle school. To make myself more human to them, more relatable I suppose.

Well we had a prompt about our most embarrassing stories and mine just happened to be from middle school. I thought it would be perfect. Of course.

Here's the beginning of my narrative that I wrote with the class:

The Puddle of Shame

         I raised up my arms -- the volleyball was out-of-bounds. The crowd roared at me with disappointment at the call, but I couldn’t hear them. The only thing I heard was my pulse drumming in my ears.

         I’m never going to make it, I thought. My game’s after this and there’s just no time!

         My feet did a dance beneath me and my legs tightened. The pressure was unbearable.

I'll just let you imagine where it goes from there...

It was a nice example to stress the difference between "showing" and "telling" in a narrative, but it was probably the worst example I could have chosen.

My 7th graders? Ate it up. Laughed until they peed. I couldn't wipe the smile off of their faces.

My 8th graders? Less than pleased. I had one period reply, "Mrs. Brown, you're disgusting" after I finished my story. I mostly got oh-my-gosh-I-can't-believe-my-teacher-had-an-accident-when-she-was-in-seventh-grade kind of looks.

My rep with them? Totally gone. Swirling down the drain of shame.

Don't ask me how to get it back. I'm working on it though. Mostly by displays of power. If they are going to laugh and make fun of me while I'm trying to get their attention, they'll owe me all of that time. That usually gets them quiet. But it's Wednesday and I'm already dreading the story that will spread around the school about Mrs. Brown. Oh well. Remember that island that I'm building where I'm in charge of who stays and who goes? Right now, those 8th graders can take a tug boat outta here, because I'm not going to let it ruin my day. I just know now not to use my most embarrassing stories. Definitely TMI.

But, it was a great day. I went to the library to schedule one of the computer labs for next week (when we'll be creating the final drafts of our narratives). The librarian was surprised to hear from me. She said, "Wow, you must be a planner. No one else schedules labs that far in advance. They usually tell me a day or two before! Way to go."

Yeah. I'm a planner. (NOT). I have been feeling like this week has been just one day at a time, adjusting and reevaluating after each day, making future plans more difficult to establish, of course. However, I'm feeling good. Is everything going to go according to plan? No. But I have one, and I'm ready for whatever gets thrown at me!

"It Could Not Be Written..."

In the scriptures, there are several accounts of experiences that are so celestial, so transcendent, so spiritually remarkable that the details "could not be written."

Yesterday was one of those days for me.

So, I'm not going to say anything about the refiner's fire I went through to get there, but I am grateful for a loving Father in Heaven who knows my needs and my weaknesses, who caters so specifically to those needs and weaknesses to help me become stronger. I am grateful for supportive parents who are there to listen and remind me of my own hypocrisy: I can't blame myself for students' failures if I'm also not willing to acknowledge my part in student successes. I am grateful for my own mental island (that I'm starting to build) where I get to dictate who stays and who goes - who affects me - and cast away those who don't belong. I am grateful for an administration that's willing to look at the facts, that acknowledges the efforts I did put forth. I am grateful for the people and mentors in my life who are willing to listen and wipe away a few tears. Mostly, I am grateful for the overwhelming number of parents who I can count on as my allies, who understand that I am only trying to help their children succeed.

After my "could not be written" experiences yesterday, I came into my room this morning and faced my new biggest fear - parent contact. I picked up the phone and dialed the number of a parent whose student had been complaining that he couldn't do any of my homework because reading hurt his eyes and gave him a severe headache (granted he hasn't even picked a book yet for our second novel which is due in a week). He said he was supposed to get glasses soon, but he didn't know when. I spoke with this mother and felt my fears dissipate when I realized that she was just like me - someone who is just trying to do her best to help her son. When I explained the situation and asked what I could do to help, she was extremely supportive and expressed gratitude that someone cared enough to call. Does it mean the problem is completely solved? No. But I know there's a bridge there now I can count on, and we're both making steps on both ends.

It's an incredible feeling to know you're not alone. What's an adventure without some help along the way?

Sticking to Your Guns...

Monday is just hard. Good, but hard.

The day always leaves me questioning, "Am I doing anything right here? At all?" but, thankfully, I have to give students some credit, too. They're just as tired and just as desirous for the return of the weekend where they can eat whatever they want to and sleep in until noon. Ahh... the memory.

So after first period, I was ready to throw Monday's "Reader Response" procedure right out the window. It just isn't working, I said to myself. They're just not getting the idea behind it all! 

Keep in mind, this is the 3rd week we've tried it. Talk about tossing the baby out with the bathwater.

Okay, so it's not perfect and the students are - well - less than thrilled about what they've realized is just a glorified grammar lesson (those intelligent kids! gah!). But that doesn't mean it's not working.

In that same first period, my students were throwing around those "subject" and "verb" terms that we reviewed last week (when I had that epiphanic moment about what 7th graders know and don't know). Something, obviously, got through.

I just have to stick to my guns. In my first month of teaching, I have created dozens of unit plans in my mind, only to change ideas at the last minute, and it only leaves me scrambling.

JUST BECAUSE SOMEONE'S DOING SOMETHING DIFFERENT DOESN'T MEAN THAT WHAT I'VE CHOSEN TO DO IS WRONG. - this is the message I've been trying to get across to myself for the past month or so. Thus the caps, my friends, are for me.

So, I'm sticking to it. Reader's Response will continue on Mondays; however, that doesn't mean that procedures don't need some adaptations.

Ideas for future Mondays:

• Have students share passages in partnerships and submit ideas for "power" sentences into a bucket for me to pull out of (pros: everyone's engaged and everyone's prepared to contribute / cons: I lose the ability to monitor students' comprehension of the book they are reading). 
• Have students act as teacher and begin the "What do you notice?" discussion (pros: student led means more learning and encourages a more student-directed discussion / cons: I can't always trust students to take it seriously or stay focused; students may not have the vocabulary or background knowledge to be able to talk about sentence structure).
• Have students still present their Readers Responses, but have my own sentence ready to be able to discuss what makes that sentence powerful (pro: this allows me to use my assessment of student needs [i.e. if students need a mini-lesson on using quotations marks correctly, I can choose a sentence that forces us to look at how quotation marks are used] / con: students are less involved in the appraisal of sentence power or what makes a sentence work).

And - I can't take it personally. Every glance that seems to shoot arrows of "You really think we're actually going to do this?" or "This is so incredibly lame," or "Bored out of my flippin' mind," isn't an estimation of my success as a teacher. It's good feedback for me to include more engagement opportunities, but it doesn't mean I'm failing. 

Thank goodness for that. 

Here's to Tuesday's adventures. Personal narrative, here we come. 

The Fragile Years...

Okay - laugh - this is my second post of the day.

Getting excessive? Oh yeah.

I'm literally getting ready to leave my classroom when another staff member at the school comes to talk to me about one of my students (the one I spoke about on the day of parent teacher conferences).

She says, "I noticed that (Student) is missing several assignments for your class. I asked her if she knew what they were and she said no because she was absent the days you did them."

Of course she was absent, I thought. She's always absent. 

"We just wanted to know if there was any way she could turn them in now."

Um. Yup. I have an extremely flexible late policy that I told (Student) about the day before. But of course she didn't tell this staff member that.

"Well, I know that (Student) has a lot of issues. She's actually friends with my daughter, so I know that she sometimes has seizures which are very serious. I mean, I had a friend die from that a couple years ago."

Gah. Straight to the heart. Thank you for that. That's not implying anything like I should be treating her with much more fragile care, is it?

I explained to this staff member that I had spoken with (Student) about her work just previous to their discussion. She found an assignment that was already done in her backpack - shocker - and I had her turn it in. I then gave her a second copy of the other assignment she was missing and wrote down instructions for her on the assignment so that she wouldn't forget what she needed to do. I also had her write it in her planner to remember.

"I just think she's a little afraid to talk to you about it. Do you get that feeling?"

WHY? Why on earth is she afraid to talk to me? I have given her every extension, I have told her that I'll accept her late work assignments long after they were due, I have even edited assignments for her so that they are more doable! But I won't let her off the hook. Why is that so scary? What is so scary about Mrs. Brown?

Am I not doing enough? Am I being too hard on her? Am I not being understanding enough of individual situations? I want to make sure I hold high expectations for my students, especially when I can see that they CAN! But should I be rethinking that belief?

I could probably be more inquisitive with my students - taking the time to have them sit down and tell me what's really going on. But when I try to do that, I'm usually met with shoulder shrugs. GAH. My mentor uses humor to defuse the situation - but my humor can be much more sarcastic, which is not going to help. So I came up with some goals...

My de-scary-fying plan:

• Be all smiles no matter who I'm talking to or what their situation is.
• Use a gentle voice with students that I talk to individually. Actually, let's go with overly gentle.
• Be consistently encouraging; say things like, "I believe in you and I know you can do this," rather than saying things like, "This is unacceptable. I know you can do better."
• Focus and play up the positive. It's not just about what they haven't done, it's about what they have done and how what they HAVE done is going to make what they NEED to still do that much easier. 
• Have students come and meet me after school for one-on-one discussions. The during-passing conversations are usually rushed and soaked in my stress of preparing for the next class, so they are probably not sending the message I intend to be sending. 
• Write notes to students who I already know are feeling "iffy" about me. Hopefully that personal attention will be evidence of some kind of love and care.
• Be proactive and contact the parents after tense situations. Maybe that will allow me to preempt the inevitable "Mrs. Brown isn't accommodating my student" phone call. And hopefully that will build a bridge that will make it easier for the parents and the student to talk to me when there are concerns. 
• Remember that these are sensitive years. If I say one negative word in a stream of positive words, they will only walk out with that ounce of negativity. 

So for now, I'm all smiles and gentle voices with a hand on the shoulder, a high five or fist bump. And on Monday, I might wear a shirt that says, "I'm a nice person. I promise." It might not meet with the dress code, but we'll see if that works. :D

The Aftermath...

Today we talked about direct/indirect characterization for our narratives that we'll be working on next week. Little did my students know that the following example of characterization I used was to toot my own little, worn-out horn:

"Guys, which do you think is more powerful? Saying 'Suzie was tired,' or saying, 'Suzie walked into class, her eyes dark and swollen, and rested her head upon the desk to sleep.'"

(Obvious, I know. But obvious works with 7th graders. 8th graders just choose the obviously wrong answer to goof off. Still learning about that...)

I didn't actually sleep on my desk today, but - BOY - did I want to.

When my students were dawdling or refusing to write, they would tell me, "Mrs. Brown, I'm just really tired."

To one student I actually said, "I know. I'm tired too. I was at school last night until 8:30pm! But I'm still doing my best to be a good teacher. Can you do your best to be a good student?"

So, it probably wasn't the best thing to say, but hey - I'm learning.

After 6 hours of parent teacher conferences in heels, I totally understood why most teachers chose for today to be a not-so-structured day. Many of the teachers I talked to did some fun expansion activities like radio shows or reader's theater so that they could rest a little.

So this weekend, I'm leaving school at school. Yes, there are journals to grade. Yes there are lessons to plan. Yes, there are emails to send and documents to revise, but they are all going to wait until Monday. I'm going to go home and schmooze my husband into taking me out to dinner.

Cause heaven knows I'm not up for the cooking adventure tonight!

It's called Accountability

Remember my earlier rant on how 7th and 8th graders don't understand responsibility? I take it back.

They understand. They're just learning.

Tonight was parent teacher conferences. From the recesses of my brain, memories of MY parent teacher conferences were very different. My parents and I individually conferenced with my teachers during an actual parent/teacher appointment that lasted about 5-10 minutes. 

So maybe that was elementary school, but still. I was a little overwhelmed to learn that parent teacher conferences would last for SIX HOURS and parents/students would just come into my classroom  throughout that period to talk with me. All at once, in some instances.

So I did everything I could to make those six hours flow seamlessly. I created a class newsletter for parents to inform them about things happening in our class. I also included "Round the Table" questions for them to be able to ask their students (to replace the classic, "What did you learn at school today?" which was never that fruitful in my memory. Parents loved that. I played a slideshow with pictures of my students working in class, participating in White Board Discussions, viewing different student assignments during our museum walks, etc. I even played music from UP to tie the classroom all together.

But it was what I did with my students that day that really stamped Parent/Teacher conferences with a brand of success. I had printed out individual progress reports for each student. That day in class, since we're talking about different writing genres, we talked about the "rules" of a letter. They were great at it - we talked about the greeting and the closing, as well as the traditional organization of a letter. Then, they wrote their own. They wrote a letter to their parents to inform them about what we're doing in class, to explain their grades (good or bad), and to set goals for improvement. 

Best. Idea. Ever.

When parents came in the door, students knew to go and get the letter they had written. I watched from a distance as some of the parents started to cry, smile, or burst a blood vessel. Then, I joined the conversation. I placed myself beside the parent and simply turned the time over to the student to have him or her report on what we were seeing. Gah. So wonderful. I saw so many students taking ownership for their grades - "Mom, I know I can do better. I just have a hard time keeping track of the work I have to do" or "Dad, I really work hard in this class and I talk to Mrs. Brown a lot to make sure that I really understand what we're doing in class and the projects and stuff."

They were like tiny little adults stuck in pubescent bodies. 

Loved it. It made the night incredibly easy for me, allowing me to team up with the parents for their child's success rather than feel targeted as the grade giver. 

Plus, it just felt so good to let parents know how wonderful their children are. Most of them probably know, but I have a feeling that some students don't hear it a lot and it felt so good to watch them start to blush or smile as I sang their praises and encouraged them to improve. 

But Parent Teacher Conferences weren't without a few hiccups. During class, I had one student (who is typically absent about 2-3 days every week) refuse to write a letter. She sat there for all of class with her head on her desk (which I wasn't aware of until the end of class because another student was crying to me - a whole other story, but wonderful, nonetheless), and when I collected the letters from them, her attempt stuff her progress report into her bag without me noticing was anything but obvious. I kept her in class after the bell and asked why.

"I went to the dentist yesterday [another absence from my class] and I just have a really painful toothache today. I'm just in so much pain."

You have to understand . . . this student is gone ALL THE TIME. She said that she has lots of doctor's appointments and MRIs, but a person can only get so many MRIs in a single month, right? I want to sympathize. But her mom has yet to bring in a doctor's note even after the insistence of the school counselor. Hmmm....

I'm not judging in any way, but I do, as her teacher, have to have expectations and requirements for her. So when she had chosen to sit all period long and not do a thing, I called her on it.

"(Student), why didn't you let me know?"

shoulder shrug 

"Nope, shoulder shrugs don't work with me. This [the blank progress report which showed that I have no work from her at all] doesn't tell me you were in pain. This tells me you didn't even try. At least if you had tried to write, Dear Mom, I'm in so much pain right now... I would have been able to see you try!"

"Well, my tooth just really hurts..."

"I know, (Student), and I don't wish that kind of pain on anyone, but what do you want me to do? Do you think it's fair if I just say, Don't worry about doing any of the work for my class? I don't have anything for you at this point, (Student). I have no way to even assess where you are at right now as a student because I have no work from you." 

Pause.

"What do you want me to do for you?" I asked her.

Shoulder shrug.

"(Student), I'm sorry. But you will not be able to leave this classroom until you write the letter for your mom. At least let her know that you're in so much pain that you can't even do the work for my class. That's a serious problem and she needs to know that." 

So she walked back to her desk and wrote for the next three minutes, proving to me that she could do the work. 

The minute school was over, the counseling office got a call from her mother complaining that I was not accommodating her as a student and that I was forcing her to do work that she shouldn't have to be doing. I panicked about meeting this parent for the next six hours, but she never showed up.

The counselor let me know that I did the right thing for now - that specific accommodations can't be rightfully given until we do have a doctor's note. 

I guess I was just spoiled with parents who demanded more from me. I remember my dad literally dragging me out of bed to go to seminary even though I said I felt tired and sick (when really I had made some not so wise choices the night before and stayed up late). He taught me about accountability, and I'm so grateful for the parents who see that as a valuable lesson. 

It's not just about English here. It's about recognizing the expectations of our society and our culture. You still have to do your taxes, even if you have a headache. You still have to take a test for your driver's license, even if you forgot to study. You still have to go to work each day, even if you are tired and worn out and stressed.

My dad taught me that. I'm realizing that my dad taught me a lot of what has helped me be successful today. All of growing up, I never saw my dad call in sick to work. Not a once. He still got sick, but he knew he still had responsibilities, and he wouldn't let me off the hook on mine either. 

I know - super long post. But I am so grateful for the parents who are involved. Who have high expectations for their students. Who challenge them and praise them and love them. Kudos to those parents because their children know it.

And to those students whose parents may not be ready or willing to do the same, I hope they know that I have high expectations for them. It's definitely something I know I can work on. 

Here's to learning the balance between justice and mercy. Not an easy task...but it's my new adventure.

Giving Up the Reins

I am a nerd - an English nerd. Language and themes and plot lines excite me! I love to see what choices writers are making and try to make guesses as to why they made those decisions. I'm a nerd. 'Nuff said.

My students? Less nerdy. Way less nerdy. And that's okay.

However, sometimes the little English nerd inside of me just wants to crawl up out of my stomach, do a back flip out of my mouth and end in a gaspingly suspenseful split on the floor. Long story short, I'm having a hard time suppressing the little guy.

We've been reading Langston Hughes' Thank You, M'am to investigate plot line and writer's craft. The idea that writers are making choices to create specific effects or establish certain ideas is still a little abstract for these students. But I see it! I see how Hughes uses a completely unconventional plot line (starting with the climax) to create a foundation for his ideas - the plot structure itself is literally creating a theme for him: "Sometimes people can surprise you," or "Don't judge a book by its cover." His story structure is doing something unexpected, just like the Mrs. Jones character.

When I came to that discovery, my little nerd did a happy dance. I shared it with my 3rd period and what happened? They stared at me. Like I was speaking a different language. Which I was.

So, 4th period, I made some adjustments. I let the students make the discoveries. I asked questions - very guided questions, I suppose - that drew their attention to their understanding of plot and compared it with what they were reading.

Did they get to the same conclusion? No.

But they got somewhere cool. Somewhere they hadn't been before.

My discoveries mean little to them. Their discoveries could mean the world.

My job is not to show off how my brain works, but to help their brains continue to develop in new and exciting ways. Not surprisingly, this takes more time; however, it means more in the end. It's a trade off I'm willing to make.

So, little English nerd, I'll let you out every now and then, but you're going to need to take a back seat to all of the potential inner nerds in my class. They may never grow up to be like you, but there are some special discoveries for them to make this year.

Yup. Giving up the reins. A whole new adventure.

Grown-Up Time

Second supervisor observation today.

No fear anymore. Just love.

Seriously - every teacher needs someone in their classroom (another teacher preferably) to just watch, observe and give suggestions. Sometimes my supervisors gives me some advice which I immediately use in my next period and it's like night and day difference! Every teacher - no matter how old or how many years of experience - needs an extra pair of eyes in their room to see what they may be blind to.

After her observation, I sat and chatted with her for the next 45 minutes.

(Sorry Dr. Coombs for chatting your ear off.)

But it made me realize this: I need more adult time. The kind of time where I'm not a teacher and I can talk about grown-up things. Where I don't have to say something 14 different times in 16 different ways. I need me time...

So I left school at 3:00pm today to get some me time... okay, it was for a doctor appointment, but that counts, right?

Cheers to being a grown-up ... well, sort of. :D

Anyone have a time machine?

I cannot begin to express how much I want a time machine. Desperately need a time machine.

Throughout my study at college, I was captivated by the idea of teaching students how to break the grammar rules. I couldn't wait to show them sentences that started with "But" or "And" to show them how their old English teachers were just too lazy to explain that they could do this...just in the right way. I understood the students needed to know the rules in order to be able to "break" them the right way, but I just didn't realize how much they DON'T know.

Today was our READER RESPONSE day.

I'm not going to talk about the fact that most of my students completely forgot or weren't prepared. Nope. Not going to talk about it.

Monday, or READER RESPONSE day, is a chance for the students to share what they've been reading at home with the rest of the class. It's the way that I decided I wanted to consistently draw attention to sentence structure, grammar, etc. In some classes, it totally worked. At least it did until I asked the question, "So guys, where is the subject in this sentence?"

Blank stares.

Possible crickets.

"The subject guys....?"

Still blank crickets.

"The person or thing doing the action?..."

Response: "Uh...the eyes?"

"Do you guys know what I mean when I say the subject of the sentence?"

Response: "Like what the sentence is about?"

I had to take a moment to compose myself and completely readjust my entire perspective of this lesson.

Where is that book that no one ever wrote that tells me what seventh graders can and cannot do by the time they start school? Because I thought I remembered covering subject and verb much earlier in my schooling! Seriously - please - I need that book. Someone write it. Like now.

Honestly, I already feel like I've done these students a complete disservice by being their teacher. I had no idea that they had no conception of the basics of grammar at this point in their lives! PLEASE! I need a time machine. I need to know how and when I learned these things because I feel like I've known in my whole life! Which is so not the case but still....

So it's back to the drawing board again, with a better idea of what to expect. This READER RESPONSE idea could still work, but I'm definitely going to have to take a much more "basic" perspective to talk about sentence structure.

I'm praying that these students still learned something. I have nightmares at times about students going on to 8th or 9th grade: their teachers will say something like, "Didn't your 7th/8th grade teacher teach you anything?" and they'll say, "No," or "Not really."

At least each day is a chance to reevaluate my expectations of what the students can and cannot do. At least I'm learning. I'm crossing my fingers I can say the same for them.

For now - fake it 'til you make it, right?

It's Clicking...

Hello, my name is Cali, and I'm addicted to mental light bulbs - those few seconds when eyes widen, mouths open, and a soothing "Ohhh...I get it!" fills the space. It's thrilling. It's earth-shattering. It's the greatest moment of my day.

So today, when I saw lightbulbs blinking on above the heads of my students, I felt like a teaching-junkie. Give me more. Must have more.  

My lesson wasn't earth-shattering at all. It wasn't even on the Richter scale. It was a repeat of what we had done the day before (the says/does chart) just with a different genre: OP-ED. Most of my students had no idea what OP-ED was and some of them even guffawed at the question, "Do any of you read the newspaper?" Yeah - I probably should have thought that one through. 

But it was an OP-ED story on football and head injuries. Hello, eighth grade boys. It's nice to see you that you are interested in class today. 

I'm serious. It was magic. 

All of a sudden they got it - they understood that we can read something like this article not just for the information it offers, but also to analyze what makes good writing. It was like pulling teeth at first, but then they were the ones saying, "Oh, and the writer used facts! Like stats and stuff!" Yes, dear student. Awesome. 

What was really fun was how everything seemed to be contextualized - I mean it. If there was a skill I could brag about as a first year teacher (which I can't, but for the sake of my weekend, I need a confidence pick-me-up), it would be my completely unconscious ability to contextualize things on the fly.  

The journal prompt for today was, "Write something to persuade me to never give you homework again! What genre would work best? A song? A letter? An essay? Choose a genre and write! Good luck!" Honestly, the prompt came out of that ugly place where I was still angry that so many of them aren't doing my super easy just-read-at-home homework. However, the purpose of the article was to persuade and I was able to turn back to that prompt several times over the course of the lesson as students were discovering things that the writer was DOING (writing choices) and ask them if they had done that with their journal response. Some were like, "Yeah! I totally used real life examples to persuade!" or "Yeah. I wrote about the things that homework was good for too, just so that you could see that I understood the purpose for homework even though I don't like it." Say what? Are you already aware of opposing-viewpoints?

Sweet Victory. 

And, of course, the principal came for his 5 minute visit today. 

His comments: 

Keepers: Good activity and engaging article to utilize on concussions. T columns in journals to write what the article says and does is a great task to keep students engaged. 

Polishers: How would posting your I can statement help keep students focused and assist you in planning?

So that I-Can statement will probably get posted before parent-teacher conferences next week, but for today, I'm just going to do a little victory dance while sitting here in my swirly chair feeling like I just lit up the world with tiny little light bulbs. 

Yes, my friends, teaching is the ultimate adventure. 

Getting Off the Conveyor Belt

There is not enough time in the day to do everything that is asked of you. I have all these great intentions to call the parents of those students who have been absent for a week now without any explanation, to email the parents of those students who reported that they weren't reading at all (which is my only homework!) to encourage more reading and responsibility from home, to create  and send out newsletters to let the parents know about what's going on in class.

I'm telling you, they're good intentions. I really do intend to do it.... :(

I still don't understand how some teachers can walk out of here at 3:30 and go home to the place where they are not constantly thinking about their students, their lesson plans, and their grading.

I've found myself over the past week falling onto the conveyor belt mentality of teaching - which is somewhat logical since the education system itself is uniquely modeled after the Industrial Revolution. Students = parts or products of the assembly line. Teacher = worker in charge of a specific duty of assembly. Then student moves down the conveyor belt and out into the world as a marketable product. Hmmm.... If only it worked that way.

But there's one student in my class that just won't move down the belt. He's taken out of my class every Tuesday for the entire period for speech instruction (gah), and it's almost like he doesn't understand me at all. I've been hypersensitive to him and his needs over the past few days because he has done NOTHING for my class. Nothing. Not even in class. I could be standing right next to him, giving him instructions, and he just looks at me blankly like, "I'm sorry, I'm not understanding what language you are speaking," which is obviously a legitimate concern.

So, I wait. After about 20 seconds, he may or may not answer my question after looking all around the room.

So, I emailed his IEP case manager. He needs extended time for assignments. Check. He needs directions read aloud. Check. He needs limited distractions. Check.

So what more can I do? So many of these students just need some individualized instruction but - oh wait, I'm sorry, do I have 160+ other students who need my attention? oh yeah.

How do teachers do it? Cause this conveyor belt of mine just keeps chugging along.

So I'm pulling the emergency brake. I'm sorry friends, my lesson plans are going to look extremely similar to the day before and the day before. We're going to be doing some of the same kinds of strategies over and over and over again with different texts, as a whole class, as groups, as individuals, and then we'll do it all over again. So that day by day plan I had for my unit is taking a vacation in what-on-earth-was-i-thinking land and I'm going to see that all of these students get some individual instruction.

Plus, who are we kidding? Since when do those "smart" students not benefit from review? They all do.

Right now, we're spending our days with Dr. Dean's "Says/Does" chart. I've told the students it's the key to thinking like a reader and a writer at the same time! I told them we were going to be genre investigators! I just didn't tell them we were going to do it for the next little - okay, long - while. Don't worry, one class of seventh graders applauded the idea. My eighth graders? Rolled their eyes. One day I'll master the difference between the two.

Here's to getting off the conveyor belt!

(The funny thing is that I've realized that college was definitely a conveyor belt. If students weren't getting it or if they fell in a rut and didn't turn in assignments, most of them failed. Period. No questions asked. They had to take the class again. So, how do you change the entire system? Or, better yet, how do you coexist? Am I not preparing them for college? Goodness...this is hard.)

Adapting

I realized after the upheaval of emotions yesterday why it's so easy to become cynical about teaching and why some of the teachers here chuckle when they hear that students didn't turn in book reports (even though it was fun. gah).

So, to avoid that cynicism, I'm adapting. I'm not lowering expectations of students, I'm just figuring out what will work best for them. And for me. And for them. Okay - for me.

Today, I instituted a new procedure. Students will get out their planners the minute they come into class and turn to the page for that week. This is so that when I say, "This is what you need to do tonight, so write it in your planners," they already have it out and ready to go. Also, it allows me to hold them accountable so when they say, "I forgot" I can have them show me their planners. Also, hopefully it will encourage them to use those planners!

Next, I revised my latework policy. I've set deadlines for assignments and have put them on the board. I've also set "LATE" deadlines, so that students know the last day that they will actually get credit for an assignment. Don't worry, I've already thought that this may bite me in the butt later, but I'm going to try it. I sure as heck don't want students waiting until the day before the term ends to turn things in to me.

In other revisions, students will not be able to revise assignments if they did not turn it in on time. Hopefully this is some kind of motivation for them to get work done!

And - sad day of sad days - I'm going to dedicate class periods to students working on these big assignments IN CLASS (this makes me sad because I feel like that limits so many different possibilities for them, but we'll see how it goes). Most of the teachers here have told me that they made that decision shortly after learning that most students were cheating/plagiarizing if they did it at home. Because of this, most of the teachers have assessed that students were lying when they said they were reading at home. Yay for sad learning experiences.

Lastly - I'm going to give more time. Not more time to read, but more time in class for students to work. It has been something I've struggled with because I see each day as a limited opportunity and I want to be able to move forward, but it does no good to move forward if the sacrifice is leaving students behind. I have to see lessons and objectives in terms of achievement, not time. That means staying flexible. Shuffling assignments. Moving deadlines. Changing plans. Sacrificing entire units even. But I think it will make me a better teacher in the end.

So thanks, Reflection, for saving my sanity.

Here we go again!

I should be...

I should be grading.

I should be revising the rest of the week's lesson plans.

I should be noting students who are not doing well and planning interventions.

But all I can do is sit here and cry.

Remember that big assignment that was due today? Their Reading at Home book poster?

Two of my periods had less than 50% of the students turn something in.

I still have two more periods to go.

What did I do wrong?

I spent most of those periods on my soap box, lecturing on the importance of responsibility in real life. Contextualizing responsibility for them.

"Most of you said you just forgot to do the assignment. You had a responsibility. In a few years when you get your driver's licenses, what's going to happen if you just forgot to stop at the stop sign?" (timid student replies, "You'll get a ticket.") "Yeah - you'll get a fine, your insurance costs could go up, and you may get points on your license. There are consequences! What happens when you get your first job and you sleep in? Or you forget to do a project you were assigned? Is your boss going to take the excuse that you were really busy? That you were really tired? That at least you did 30% of the project?" (less timid student replies, "No. You'd get fired.")

I proceeded to tell the students that school is their job right now. I told them that school wasn't just there for them to learn multiplication tables and grammar. It was to teach them how to exist in this world, in this society where they will have certain responsibilities and expectations.

I told them I wasn't going to lower my expectations for them.

Still, what did I do wrong?

I provided time in class for them to find a book. I provided practice exercises in class for some of the requirements of the poster. I reminded them every single day of the September 11th deadline. I offered help to those who were worried about finishing in time. What more could I have done?

I realize this is our first big project of the year. I realize they are probably still trying to understand my expectations. I realize that I could probably afford to give them more time to work on these things in class. But where's the balance between keeping those high expectations for them to be proactive students and providing opportunities for them to do the work on your time so that they don't fall so desperately behind?

The sad part is that I want to put a lot of this blame on the students - THEY didn't do it. THEY forgot. THEY didn't make it a priority for the past 3 weeks.

But I know I can do better to help them, and it will probably start by taking time out of my schedule for units and lesson plans to give them opportunities to start assignments in class, to read their books, to - well - I don't know just yet, but I'm working on it. I guess that's the first sacrifice.

Today was an adventure that I'll be grateful for - in about 10 years.

But today... I'm just going to cry a little.

Sometimes...

Sometimes you leave work with only one thought: where did I go wrong...?

The first book assignment is due tomorrow - students were required to be reading at home for the past 3 weeks, and it's pretty much the only homework I give each day. Every day last week I said, "Come and see me this week if you are worried about finishing in time and we'll talk about a deadline extension." Every flippin day I made this announcement. On Friday, I warned that I wouldn't be making any exceptions to the deadline on Monday.

How many students came to me with sad little puppy eyes today, saying, "Mrs. Brown, I just can't/couldn't finish my book by the deadline. I was so busy. My mom has a boyfriend and he's over a lot and so I really can't do my homework a lot of the time...[insert any possible excuse here]"?

There were 15 students.

Not to mention the 5 who still haven't picked a book, by the way.

Where did I go wrong?

Do I stick to my guns and keep that deadline in place or do I cave? Everything in me says stick to the deadline and keep to your expectations, but those puppy dog eyes really get to me.

We'll see what tomorrow brings.

More grading tonight. I-time (intervention) starts tomorrow, so that will be fun!

Oh Adventure, you never do stop.

Grading

Biggest let-down of my education: there was not an education class dedicated to teaching me how to grade or how to handle the onslaught of student assignments from a single day.

Whewy, it's hard.

You give out one assignment and get 170+ papers in return.

It's hard, but what I've found that works for me is giving purpose to my points. If the purpose of an assignment was to have them practice summary and theme while using transition words in their summary, give a certain amount of points from the total to each of those tasks.

It has saved my little teacher butt, so far. It keeps me from playing favorites - in fact, I don't even look at the name before I grade the assignments (I know, I know, there are problems with that, too. I do take into account the student, their circumstances, and their past performance, but it helps me stay objective with grading).

However, I have absolutely no experience with this! Already students are failing my class (mostly because they don't turn anything in, despite my numerous and varied reminders), and I keep thinking, Am I actually qualified to be giving these grades? Am I really qualified to say that a student hasn't achieved a specific standard? 

Fake it til you make it, right?

I am having fun though. Especially with themes - some of these students are so incredibly profound without even realizing it. It blows my mind every time I read my seventh graders coming up with themes like "Truly loving someone means showing respect."

Say what? Let me pick my jaw up off the floor.

So though I'm overwhelmed by the stack of papers I'll be carrying home like little Gus-Gus from Cinderella with his little kernels of corn, this weekend should be fun. There's nothing like grading papers to bring me and my hubby together! :D

I'm looking forward to my future grading adventures.

All the world's a stage...

Several days ago, the principal came into my room with a visitor during the last two minutes of the period. Hello, Anxiety. And thank you visitors for coming to see the last minutes of class which just happen to be the most chaotic minutes of the period - turning papers in, returning journals, going over homework details. Loved it.

I just learned, the visitor was an individual from the district who was assessing the percentage of engaged students in the class while I was teaching.

Seriously - they had to observe the last two minutes of class?

Oh well.

To be honest, I'm not worried (okay, I'm freaking out, but for the sake of my own sanity, I'm lying). I feel like most of my students stay on task and are anxiously engaged in my lessons. Why? Because I feel like every day, every lesson, is a new performance. I am putting on a beautiful show that they'll walk away from with new lessons and new tools to use to analyze the world around them. And they know how much I love it.

I've talked to many teachers who believe that it's not their job to make their content entertaining and exciting to their students, and though I see where they're coming from, I can't surrender to those thoughts! Right now, I have the energy to entertain, to be big and bold and say things that will make the students laugh and remember what theme really is!

Maybe I'm wrong, but since I can already infer that most of my class observations will be assessing student engagement, I'm sure going to keep trying to get each student excited and energized to be talking about our content.

And maybe it's working.

I got this note from a student yesterday - tender mercies get you every time, don't they?

"Dear Mrs. Brown,
I thought about you for the past hour of my day and decided to write you a letter.
While writing this letter, I was thinking about your smile and how funny and exciting you are.
I just wanted to tell you that you teach in such an awesome way that sticks.
I made this sign for you: (hope you like it! :)
Sincerely,
(the sweetest student ever)"

Don't worry. The sign she made said "Mrs. Brown Rocks!"

Yes, it fed my little teacher ego. And tomorrow, I'll probably have an experience that deflates it.

Either way, tomorrow, I'll take to the stage of my little classroom again and hopefully my students will join me there along the way, too.

The Hard Lesson...

I chose to be a teacher because I believe: I believe in the power of learning, the power of ideas; I believe in students and in their potential to succeed; I believe in people.

But today, I learned that everyone doesn't believe the way that I do. And today, I learned that, more often than not, there's only so much I can do for those people.

I can't force students to remember their work and turn it in on time.

I can't force students to actively listen to me in class.

I can't force students to know that they are capable of so much more than they could imagine.

Don't get me wrong, I can post deadlines in three different places and make announcements about those same deadlines five different times in a class.

I can be an engaging teacher that comes up with exciting, collaborative ideas to try to maintain student attention and engagement.

I can care for my students and offer them opportunities to try again when I see them performing far below their abilities.

But when those efforts don't work, what do you do?

I had an assignment due today - I took the time to explain it several times, I answered questions and had students repeat the directions back to me.

My rate of return on those assignments was about 50% for all of my classes.

Why?

Most of them are human and forgot.

Some of them just didn't care.

So my gradebook has all these zeros staring me in the face, taunting, Look at me... I'm failing already! Hahaha.

The hard part is, I know I can't fix those zeros for them. And as much as I say, "Come and talk to me, I'm here to help," they have to do the work.

Here's to never giving up on them, even if they've given up on themselves. And here's to not taking any of it personally.

Oh yeah... I did that on purpose....

 All of my college Education professors made teaching seem as easy as sleeping in on vacation - where it wasn't just easy, it was also obvious. They just knew. They knew the right thing to say, the right procedures to include in a given class, the right assignments to challenge a student without paralyzing him or her with fear.

So when one of your professors comes to observe your teaching, it puts your nerves in an inexplicably sensitive place, like a microscopic vice just waiting to be tightened at the instant you see a pair of raised eyebrows, a yawn, a shake of the head...

So when my supervisor entered my rowdiest eighth grade period, I had to pretend she wasn't there.

She's not there...

She's not there...

She's not taking notes on every erroneous word I say...

She's not there...

In hindsight, my fears were utterly unwarranted. Don't get me wrong, there were moments during class that I wanted to look at her and say, Help. But I realized that I knew how to teach.

We had some time during my prep to reflect on that period, and during that reflection, many of the moments she pointed out as good teaching techniques were completely off-the-cuff. I suppose this is more of a confession (since my supervisor is one of the only readers of this silly little blog), but it's true! That moment where a student asked a question for the 1000th time and I turned to the rest of the class and said, "Who can answer that for (student name)?"- that was not planned! Though I'd love to take credit for being the genius who gives Master's-Thesis attention to every word that comes out of my mouth, I can't.

Do you know how comforting that is? Don't get me wrong, many of my gut urges aren't always spot on with the latest teaching and classroom management techniques, but I'm learning that teaching can be intuitive.

It was extremely beneficial to reflect with her - and the opportunities for improvement are numerous, of course, but doable! It makes me feel like every teacher needs someone to come observe them every 10 days, too! You just don't think about different kinds of organizational techniques unless someone else offers a new eye to the situation.

So next time, maybe those emotional vices can take a break while I teach with confidence, knowing I'm not perfect but allowing myself to trust that new teacher gut that I seem to be growing inside of me. Keep growing, little teacher gut. I know I'll need you tomorrow.