That's right. End of term 1, friends. I have made it through an entire term and.....
(drumroll please...)
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I still love this job.
Especially on days like today.
I have a genre analysis activity that they will be doing with a sub next week (and I'm dreading what is going to happen in my class on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday), so I spent today's shortened periods explaining the assignment they will be required to turn in and modeling it for them. Purpose? So I can effectively hold them accountable if they don't do it or don't do it right next week with the sub.
But since it was Friday, I had to liven all of it up somehow....
So we analyzed the genre of SONG!
And Bruno Mars sang to me every period. Surprisingly, his "It Will Rain" song is incredibly juicy and full of opportunities for analysis.
My seventh graders had a hard time paying attention. Why? Because they were singing along. Not timidly, by the way. So the periods after that, I made sure I reminded students during the song that they should be taking notes and I walked around the class to monitor. Problem solved.
My eighth graders? They tried to pretend they were too cool for Bruno and that Mrs. Brown was so out of touch with what was cool, but I saw a few of them mouthing along, bouncing their heads to the beat and tapping their feet.
It really was fun.
And what, you ask, have I learned over the course of term 1?
Read the blog. Cause I've learned a lot.
However, one of my most valuable lessons is this: SMILE. A simple smile is often the difference between a student knowing you care about them and a student thinking you could care less. Just today, I had a student who was SO not focused and after multiple reminders, I stood in front of his desk and gave him the stinkiest stink eye I could muster. He got the message, but I also saw a look of fear pass over his face. So the next time I walked by his desk, I could tell he wasn't sure how to act. I gave him a smile, and the fear and trepidation disappeared. He smiled back and started writing some more notes (while he sang along with Bruno, of course).
Is it serious? Oh yeah. But each day doesn't have to be a life or death situation about grades or about responsibility or about life. Some days, it does, but mostly it's about getting to tomorrow and trying again which is okay.
Here's to term 2 and a whole new line-up of adventures!
Friday, October 26, 2012
Thursday, October 25, 2012
If You Close Your Eyes...
....you'll miss it. You'll miss the whole point of it all.
Today was so much fun for me - If only Dr. Dean could see me now. :D We started our genre exploration unit where our essential question poses a much larger idea than I had anticipated when I first chose it: "How do we learn?"
(Sidenote: White board discussions are gold. They are like golden gold. I wrote the question "How do we learn?" on the board. When the students saw it, they were engaged from that second on. The students see they get to do a white board discussion and they start jumping out of their seats. I secretly think they are celebrating because it gets them out of their journals, but the joke's on them. They are still writing and brainstorming ideas. Honestly, I think they love the social collaboration. They can watch their friend go up to the board and write, and they can respond to it. I had one student respond from his chair, "I don't even get what that answer means!" so I told him to go up there and write that! It triggered this whole onslaught of ideas. It was great! Thanks to Heather Wing for that idea!)
We looked at a poem from Poetry 190 (#007) and I reminded them about our analysis activity we started the first week of class (and they remembered it!!!!). We analyzed the poem to come up with "rules" for a poem and the students made guesses about purpose and audience. It was so great.
Then I showed them a NIKE advertisement. Hello middle school boys. So glad to see you came to school today. We analyzed the rules of an advertisement (an ad needs a logo, a slogan, a product, a brand, a celebrity to endorse the product or brand), and we talked about audience and purpose.
Then I showed them a poster for Red Ribbon Week.
Each item worked so well!
I had students so excited, it was contagious! And it was like everything we've ever learned came together! We were referencing strategies, we were talking about similarities between genres that we have read/written before, we were talking about it all!
Then, after class, I had a sweet student approach my desk and ask if she could read her poem out loud to me. I almost missed it. I almost missed it. I almost - looking at my pile of late/revised/missing work to grade - told her I didn't have time.
She read me her sweet poem about her longing for someone to be there for her, to love her, to care for her. And over the course of her poem, she realizes that she is the strongest person she knows. She is there for herself.
I almost missed it. I almost told her, "You're going to be late to your next class, so you'd better save that for later."
The best part? She read her poem to me and said, "I still have to fix it since I didn't use the rules for poetry we talked about today."
(she didn't organize her poem into stanzas. :D)
Now - I know you can't do it all the time. In the middle of my 4th period class I had a student (from an earlier period) open my door and ask to talk to me outside the door. I had to say, "I'm sorry. I can't right now. I'm teaching." She was at lunch and wanted to talk about her grade...
But those moments when you can pause your 100 mph to-do list are the moments that make the day the sweetest.
Other day sweeteners:
Today was so much fun for me - If only Dr. Dean could see me now. :D We started our genre exploration unit where our essential question poses a much larger idea than I had anticipated when I first chose it: "How do we learn?"
(Sidenote: White board discussions are gold. They are like golden gold. I wrote the question "How do we learn?" on the board. When the students saw it, they were engaged from that second on. The students see they get to do a white board discussion and they start jumping out of their seats. I secretly think they are celebrating because it gets them out of their journals, but the joke's on them. They are still writing and brainstorming ideas. Honestly, I think they love the social collaboration. They can watch their friend go up to the board and write, and they can respond to it. I had one student respond from his chair, "I don't even get what that answer means!" so I told him to go up there and write that! It triggered this whole onslaught of ideas. It was great! Thanks to Heather Wing for that idea!)
We looked at a poem from Poetry 190 (#007) and I reminded them about our analysis activity we started the first week of class (and they remembered it!!!!). We analyzed the poem to come up with "rules" for a poem and the students made guesses about purpose and audience. It was so great.
Then I showed them a NIKE advertisement. Hello middle school boys. So glad to see you came to school today. We analyzed the rules of an advertisement (an ad needs a logo, a slogan, a product, a brand, a celebrity to endorse the product or brand), and we talked about audience and purpose.
Then I showed them a poster for Red Ribbon Week.
Each item worked so well!
I had students so excited, it was contagious! And it was like everything we've ever learned came together! We were referencing strategies, we were talking about similarities between genres that we have read/written before, we were talking about it all!
Then, after class, I had a sweet student approach my desk and ask if she could read her poem out loud to me. I almost missed it. I almost missed it. I almost - looking at my pile of late/revised/missing work to grade - told her I didn't have time.
She read me her sweet poem about her longing for someone to be there for her, to love her, to care for her. And over the course of her poem, she realizes that she is the strongest person she knows. She is there for herself.
I almost missed it. I almost told her, "You're going to be late to your next class, so you'd better save that for later."
The best part? She read her poem to me and said, "I still have to fix it since I didn't use the rules for poetry we talked about today."
(she didn't organize her poem into stanzas. :D)
Now - I know you can't do it all the time. In the middle of my 4th period class I had a student (from an earlier period) open my door and ask to talk to me outside the door. I had to say, "I'm sorry. I can't right now. I'm teaching." She was at lunch and wanted to talk about her grade...
But those moments when you can pause your 100 mph to-do list are the moments that make the day the sweetest.
Other day sweeteners:
- Sara Bareilles (my prep is not the same without her right now)
- The 55" TV sitting against my wall right now (though it may become less sweet if they decide to install it during my 6th or 7th period, which may be the case.)
- The grades in my gradebook (I looked at them for the last time, and though I have students failing, it looked right. The grades look like the matched the student and their performance in my class. Mmmm....feels good.)
- My bowl full of brownie points (I get to draw for prizes tomorrow!)
- The pile of revision work sitting next to my computer (which tells me that students DID learn something and are learning from their mistakes!)
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Oh Bother...
When I was a little girl, I fell in love with Winnie the Pooh, that chubby little yellow bear whose shirt is too small, whose arms are too big for his honey pot, and whose characteristic phrase is "Oh, bother..."
I didn't quite understand the phrase when I was little. He was just cute.
But today, I understood.
Nothing went wrong exactly, but it just didn't feel right.
Starting in 3rd period, several students from my classes were absent (several of my failing students) because there was a mile race against Centennial. It's OBVIOUSLY a big deal, being rivals and all. When the announcement came, they just up and left.
Well, today they were working on a pretty large assignment for my class.
I got a little perturbed that they would allow students with multiple I's (incomplete grades) to leave the school for this athletic jubilee when they especially needed that time in class.
And then, in class, I discovered that several of my students aren't doing reading at home: my only homework. Though I had warned them at the beginning of the year that they would NOT pass my class if they did not read at home (which they remembered), their justification was, "Well, I have a C in your class now so I didn't think I needed to do anything else."
C. We're shooting for C's here?
With the end of term approaching, I'm just pooped. I am working 10 times harder for them to succeed than they are (or so it feels). I allow them to redo any assignment (so long as they turn it in on time) for points back. Did anyone turn in revisions today? No.
But I'm planning accordingly. Tomorrow is my mercy day. Those students who are not on top of their work have a chance to revise and make things up. Those students who are and have been on top of their work get to get a head start in reading. I've reminded them for the last week to check their grades on Powerschool. I had them write it in their planners several times. Seriously. I'm working hard here.
I was even going to print off individual progress reports for each student to let them know what assignments they were missing or needed improvement on, but I stopped myself. I should not be doing the work that students can do for themselves (even though it might make tomorrow less stressful for me when a student comes and says, "Mrs. Brown, I have an I in your class. Why?" even though I warned them not to ask me that question).
Where is the balance people? I know I'm supposed to be solution oriented! I know I'm supposed to think of alternative ways to reach students who obviously didn't get the message. But what if students just don't care? Doesn't there HAVE to be some consequences for that?
This particular district has some issues - you can't FAIL middle school (which I've learned is a "middle school principle altogether"). There are no D or F grades. If you do fail a term, you're "invited" to attend summer school, but you are not required to. You can still progress on to high school if you got less than 30% in all of your middle school classes. What kind of a message is that? What kind of leverage does that give me as a teacher?
And more importantly, why do I need leverage? I've tried to make this learning as authentic as possible, even admitting to students that the importance of middle school isn't WHAT you learn, it's about learning HOW to learn. That these strategies are vital to succeeding in life, not just in school.
But still...
Like I said: "Oh, bother..."
Tomorrow..... will be crazy. And there are a million things I can do to prevent that, but there are also things students can do to prevent that. And I have to give them the chance to do it. I have to let them understand the consequences... I can't do it for them.
Easier said than done.
Monday, October 22, 2012
All at once...
Term 1 ends on Friday. Yikes.
With all of this need for improvement and review, did I feel like I'd failed? Yes! Oh goodness, yes! But I took a day to digest it all and realized that review is a good thing!
So today's Reader Response was very authentic and purposeful. I had students working in pairs to share their responses (this worked well in some classes, not so much in others, though I liked that more students were engaged than they were when one student presented at the front of the class), and I simply asked how many of them shared a favorite passage that included dialogue. I had students turn in their novels to an example of dialogue to tell me what they noticed about quotations.
Then I pulled up my own example (from The Maze Runner) and looked at it specifically. We got to talk about a lot of different elements, but I hit the problems I saw in their narratives. And I hit it hard. With all of the student involvement, it was evident that students knew the answers - they just forgot about paying attention to those elements in their narratives!
What did I learn? It means something more when I can say, "I'm going over this because I saw this as an issue in your narratives! I would pay attention so you know how to revise your narrative dialogue correctly before Wednesday!"
I love this "Assessment informs teaching" thing. Yeah, it sometimes feels like I'm not making any headway (if I get them to format their quotations correctly, they forget to write in complete sentences), but I'm also teaching strategies here. If they forget (down the line, hopefully!) how to correctly write a quote, they know they can look at a book and figure it out! And I definitely made them aware of that.
It's all about why. And about being transparent enough to ensure that the why isn't a secret to them!
I planned ahead and told students that all missing, late, and revised work had to be turned in on Wednesday by 3:00pm.
(I started telling them that last week and even had them write it down in their planners. We'll see how that goes.)
But that means I have to have all work turned back to them for revisions with enough time for them to revise! So my weekend was full of personal narratives. You're talking narratives coming out of my ears.
What did I learn from my overdose of 7th and 8th grade writing?
Their metaphors and similes are hilarious. They've definitely got the meaning of the term down, but I didn't expect them to be so dramatic...
"I sprinted for the door like a cheetah taking off after its prey in the wilderness..."
"My head hit the ground like a bouncy ball on the concrete..."
It was so great - I shared a lot of the stories with my husband and we had a blast.
What else did I learn?
Students obviously didn't digest dialogue and quotation marks very well. While grading the narratives by period, I was able to see some patterns that informed my instruction today and my instruction for term 2.
Here are my notes:
Post Narrative Must Review:
1st period: Quotation (changing paragraphs when changing speakers), "are" vs. "our"
2nd period: Quotation formatting, read aloud punctuation
3rd period: Caps (when to use, when not to use), caps for proper nouns,
4th period: Quotation (changing paragraphs when changing speakers)
6th period: Run ons
7th period: punctuation (read aloud to hear the breaks and pauses), narrative doesn’t = summary
ALL: Difference between metaphor and simile, compound nouns ("I and my teammates"), when and when not to use all caps, thoughts in italics, quotation formatting, compound sentences,
1st period: Quotation (changing paragraphs when changing speakers), "are" vs. "our"
2nd period: Quotation formatting, read aloud punctuation
3rd period: Caps (when to use, when not to use), caps for proper nouns,
4th period: Quotation (changing paragraphs when changing speakers)
6th period: Run ons
7th period: punctuation (read aloud to hear the breaks and pauses), narrative doesn’t = summary
ALL: Difference between metaphor and simile, compound nouns ("I and my teammates"), when and when not to use all caps, thoughts in italics, quotation formatting, compound sentences,
So today's Reader Response was very authentic and purposeful. I had students working in pairs to share their responses (this worked well in some classes, not so much in others, though I liked that more students were engaged than they were when one student presented at the front of the class), and I simply asked how many of them shared a favorite passage that included dialogue. I had students turn in their novels to an example of dialogue to tell me what they noticed about quotations.
Then I pulled up my own example (from The Maze Runner) and looked at it specifically. We got to talk about a lot of different elements, but I hit the problems I saw in their narratives. And I hit it hard. With all of the student involvement, it was evident that students knew the answers - they just forgot about paying attention to those elements in their narratives!
What did I learn? It means something more when I can say, "I'm going over this because I saw this as an issue in your narratives! I would pay attention so you know how to revise your narrative dialogue correctly before Wednesday!"
I love this "Assessment informs teaching" thing. Yeah, it sometimes feels like I'm not making any headway (if I get them to format their quotations correctly, they forget to write in complete sentences), but I'm also teaching strategies here. If they forget (down the line, hopefully!) how to correctly write a quote, they know they can look at a book and figure it out! And I definitely made them aware of that.
It's all about why. And about being transparent enough to ensure that the why isn't a secret to them!
Friday, October 19, 2012
Oh Sweet Victory...
Maybe it's just one day. Or one lesson. Or one individual student who asks the question, "Mrs. Brown, I understand that story tellers use a 'tone' when they read a story, but how can I use 'tone' in my writing?"
It could just be one thing - but for that moment, I am the victor. I am the victor of student learning and I have conquered my disengaged, apathetic enemy.
All you need is one.
Today, it was 4th period, which is a HUGE deal.
I spoke with some other teachers during lunch and decided to forsake all fears of parent retribution or student disrespect. I was going to make an impression in an unemotional, distanced kind of way.
I have a policy that I've let slide (because of some disgruntled parent comments I received at parent teacher conference): students are to be in their seat with their materials ready to go by the time the bell rings. I haven't really stuck to that policy since the 4th or 5th week of school because of the aforementioned comments. But today, I drove it home.
I warned the students who came early that I was marking anyone who didn't have their journal, pencil, and planner out with their seat in their seat by the time the bell rang. Those students began to panic and spread the word down the hall (funniest thing to watch). Students began to run into my classroom, sitting in trepidation for what was going to happen next.
The bell rang. One student (one of my lovely little sassy-pants) stood up and walked to the pencil sharpener.
"(Student), you're tardy."
The response was instantaneous: "Say what? Seriously? I'm just sharpening my pencil."
And (NOW) I know better than to get in a power struggle. So, I turned to the class and simply asked: "Raise your hand: what are my expectations for you at the moment the bell rings?"
And I had several students respond appropriately and that ended it. Right then and there.
And they knew I meant business.
Every question out of my mouth for the rest of the period was proceded by a statement like, "Raise your hand:...." or "By show of hands..." and that worked well too.
And then, they had a worksheet. I established the expectation that they would not talk, and if they finished early, they would take out their books to read.
And it worked. It worked! It worked! It worked!
Was it miserable for me because I knew we could be having a lot more fun with this reflection assignment? YES! But, for today, it worked.
Because we were talking about strategies and looking at how we used strategies with our reflection writing, I ended the class with a small and very controlled discussion about the strategies I was using with them.
And, for the first time in about 3 weeks, that class was let out at the bell.
Today was a small victory for me. I will ride my victorious float all the way into my weekend (upon which float you will find me grading the 170+ narratives that my students just turned in. Yay for end of term!)
I love teaching. And at the end of the day, that feels like the biggest victory of all.
It could just be one thing - but for that moment, I am the victor. I am the victor of student learning and I have conquered my disengaged, apathetic enemy.
All you need is one.
Today, it was 4th period, which is a HUGE deal.
I spoke with some other teachers during lunch and decided to forsake all fears of parent retribution or student disrespect. I was going to make an impression in an unemotional, distanced kind of way.
I have a policy that I've let slide (because of some disgruntled parent comments I received at parent teacher conference): students are to be in their seat with their materials ready to go by the time the bell rings. I haven't really stuck to that policy since the 4th or 5th week of school because of the aforementioned comments. But today, I drove it home.
I warned the students who came early that I was marking anyone who didn't have their journal, pencil, and planner out with their seat in their seat by the time the bell rang. Those students began to panic and spread the word down the hall (funniest thing to watch). Students began to run into my classroom, sitting in trepidation for what was going to happen next.
The bell rang. One student (one of my lovely little sassy-pants) stood up and walked to the pencil sharpener.
"(Student), you're tardy."
The response was instantaneous: "Say what? Seriously? I'm just sharpening my pencil."
And (NOW) I know better than to get in a power struggle. So, I turned to the class and simply asked: "Raise your hand: what are my expectations for you at the moment the bell rings?"
And I had several students respond appropriately and that ended it. Right then and there.
And they knew I meant business.
Every question out of my mouth for the rest of the period was proceded by a statement like, "Raise your hand:...." or "By show of hands..." and that worked well too.
And then, they had a worksheet. I established the expectation that they would not talk, and if they finished early, they would take out their books to read.
And it worked. It worked! It worked! It worked!
Was it miserable for me because I knew we could be having a lot more fun with this reflection assignment? YES! But, for today, it worked.
Because we were talking about strategies and looking at how we used strategies with our reflection writing, I ended the class with a small and very controlled discussion about the strategies I was using with them.
And, for the first time in about 3 weeks, that class was let out at the bell.
Today was a small victory for me. I will ride my victorious float all the way into my weekend (upon which float you will find me grading the 170+ narratives that my students just turned in. Yay for end of term!)
I love teaching. And at the end of the day, that feels like the biggest victory of all.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Getting Over it All...
So, I spent about 15 minutes of my prep ranting about my eighth graders on this blog.
Yes, I cried today.
I was at a complete loss. It was out of control. I got little to no response from hardly anyone in the class today except for sarcasm, sass, and sleepiness. I guess Tuesday's outburst wasn't as effective as I imagined it was.
And then, my prep ended, 6th period came in, and all of the confidence that had been drained from me began to refill within myself.
I can teach. I can. I had students throwing around parts of speech vocabulary, we had a great discussion about tone, and they were even coming up with their own examples of story-telling expression (they were presenting their personal narratives in groups today). It was great.
So I deleted my previous rant, wiped away any stray tears, and set off to get my 4th period back.
I've just got a period of eighth graders full of students dying for attention (for lots of different, heart-wrenching reasons), who can get it by doing the exact things that get under my skin. And they know it - I've been an open book and they're playing me like a fiddle. But, as I've reflected on my frustration, it seems to stem most out of my love and care for these students. I see fully capable students who could care less about getting anything out of my class. I see them stomping out the flames of their own potential, and it's frustrating to care more about them and fight more for them than they care or fight for themselves.
So, I'm creating a new seating chart. Again.
And I'm lining up a secret team of Student Starters. I spoke with one of my incredibly studious, attentive, and equally frustrated eighth graders and asked him how class was going. He definitely confirmed the class awareness of my frustration, but admitted that the class as a whole has lots of individuals who seem to slow the class down or bring it to a halt with their offhand comments.
I asked him what he thought I could do as a teacher to put a stop to this snowballing effect. He recognized that I had already made some changes and that it was somewhat working, but not completely. So I asked him if he'd be my team captain (this kid is a big kid, football player, and incredibly respectful), and if he'd have the courage to speak up in class when he sees that I'm waiting for students to follow instructions or give me their attention. He seemed to accept the idea though I told him that he could take the night to think about it. I told him I'd approach some other students privately so he wouldn't be taking on those students alone.
And, I'm going to stop caring so much. Not about the students but about my constant fight to work for them. If they can't handle a fun, energetic, lively classroom of discussion, we can try some powerpoint lectures and some class worksheets...
It kills me, but I'll give it a try tomorrow.
I'll keep you posted! :D
How do you achieve that balance between caring deeply about your students, but not getting worked up about them and their behavior?
Yes, I cried today.
I was at a complete loss. It was out of control. I got little to no response from hardly anyone in the class today except for sarcasm, sass, and sleepiness. I guess Tuesday's outburst wasn't as effective as I imagined it was.
And then, my prep ended, 6th period came in, and all of the confidence that had been drained from me began to refill within myself.
I can teach. I can. I had students throwing around parts of speech vocabulary, we had a great discussion about tone, and they were even coming up with their own examples of story-telling expression (they were presenting their personal narratives in groups today). It was great.
So I deleted my previous rant, wiped away any stray tears, and set off to get my 4th period back.
I've just got a period of eighth graders full of students dying for attention (for lots of different, heart-wrenching reasons), who can get it by doing the exact things that get under my skin. And they know it - I've been an open book and they're playing me like a fiddle. But, as I've reflected on my frustration, it seems to stem most out of my love and care for these students. I see fully capable students who could care less about getting anything out of my class. I see them stomping out the flames of their own potential, and it's frustrating to care more about them and fight more for them than they care or fight for themselves.
So, I'm creating a new seating chart. Again.
And I'm lining up a secret team of Student Starters. I spoke with one of my incredibly studious, attentive, and equally frustrated eighth graders and asked him how class was going. He definitely confirmed the class awareness of my frustration, but admitted that the class as a whole has lots of individuals who seem to slow the class down or bring it to a halt with their offhand comments.
I asked him what he thought I could do as a teacher to put a stop to this snowballing effect. He recognized that I had already made some changes and that it was somewhat working, but not completely. So I asked him if he'd be my team captain (this kid is a big kid, football player, and incredibly respectful), and if he'd have the courage to speak up in class when he sees that I'm waiting for students to follow instructions or give me their attention. He seemed to accept the idea though I told him that he could take the night to think about it. I told him I'd approach some other students privately so he wouldn't be taking on those students alone.
And, I'm going to stop caring so much. Not about the students but about my constant fight to work for them. If they can't handle a fun, energetic, lively classroom of discussion, we can try some powerpoint lectures and some class worksheets...
It kills me, but I'll give it a try tomorrow.
I'll keep you posted! :D
How do you achieve that balance between caring deeply about your students, but not getting worked up about them and their behavior?
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Doing it Wrong, Doing it Right
Oh how I love growth and learning. I had the chance over fall break to participate in a panel for preservice teachers - to impart to them all of my "veteran" wisdom. Though it was fun to reminisce about a time that I was starving for guidance (which I still am), I loved being able to reflect on what I had learned. I knew things and had ideas that they rushed to scribble down in their notes like it would be their lifeline during their student teaching. It was fun. I'm learning, people, and I'm getting somewhere new. Somewhere improved.
So today, I made gains . . . and then had those gains somewhat robbed from me.
Remember the student who I pulled out in the hallway during the 1st week of school because of his attitude? And then I felt really bad about it? Yeah - him.
Well, we had another incident today. I've started a different procedure with my 4th period that requires students to raise their hands because I was having a hard time keeping control of the discussion in class and the same people would just shout out answers (serious and not) like nobody's business. So, it's all raised hands. Is it perfect yet? No, but it's getting better and I don't have to do as many reminders.
Well, this student, right after one of my consistent reminders about raised hands, shouted out the answer to my question. Very deliberately, I ignored his outburst, and called on someone raising their hand by saying, "Thank you so much for raising your hand, (Student). What do you think?" When I validated her answer with a "RIGHT!" this somewhat ruffled student (quite loud and directed at the class) said, "See, I got it right. Yeah, I'm sexy."
Seriously?
Because I KNEW I had established expectations contrary to his outburst and to its content, I simply said, "(Student), that's a warning." It's part of my procedures. It's not punitive. It's simply a signal to tell the student that their current behavior isn't going to fly and they need to make a change.
Well, I got a huge attitude outburst in return.
"SERIOUSLY? Everyone else was talking! Why do I get in trouble if everyone else is talking? This is so stupid. You don't even know what you're doing."
To concede, other people had been shouting out answers occasionally, some of which I addressed with explicit instructions to "Raise your hand, please," while others I addressed by increasing my proximity to the person talking. However, my warning to him was because of the outburst and the appropriateness of his comment.
I raised my voice in a way that got everyone's attention and was probably dripping with frustration, I responded, "Excuse me. I will not tolerate being talked to in that way. You can see me after class if you have a problem."
Hindsight: my response was somewhat emotional and I shouldn't have let him get to me; I probably shouldn't have made my personal response to him something the whole class became audience to; I should have been more consistent with my procedures - if one student spoke out of turn or interrupted, they should have received a similar warning.
Counter Hindsight: the response on my part was emotional enough that it was surprising to the class - for the rest of the period students were very attentive to my hand raising expectations, so maybe something worked?
Of course I knew he wasn't going to voluntarily stay after class, so I asked him to stay seated once the bell rang. I took my time helping other students, recording notes, and picking up my classroom (since I remembered Dr. Crowe encouraging us to make students accountable for the time they wasted in class) before I addressed him.
I was not emotional. I simply said, "What's going on today, (student)?"
Super defensive and someone disrespectful response: "Nothing's going on. What's going on with you?"
"Well, I'm just a little worried about you. Did something happen over Fall break that was upsetting?" (See me trying to get to some background information here before coming to a conclusion? Oh yeah.)
"No," he responded. "I just slept."
"Well, do you want to tell me what happened today?"
Frustrated vent: "I just don't understand why I got in trouble. I mean, everyone else was talking and I was even shhhh-ing them to be quiet but they didn't. But the second I spoke up, you got mad at me. I just don't get it. I mean, all I did was answer your question."
"(Student), you're very right. I'm glad that you said this. First of all, my "That's a warning" comment was exactly that. It wasn't saying you were in trouble or that you are a bad student; it was simply my way of letting you know that you were making choices that need to be changed according to my rules for my classroom. It was just a signal to you to stop the behavior. But my comment was not just a warning about talking, it was also in response to the appropriateness of what you were saying."
He gawks at me and retorts, "What did I say?"
"Let's replay the situation. What do you remember saying?"
"I just answered your question."
"That's right. And then you rewarded your correct answer by...."
"I don't know..."
"I believe one of your comments was, 'I was so right. I'm sexy.'"
"Oh yeah."
"You tell me - do you think that was an appropriate comment in my class?"
"Well.... Now that I think about it... No."
"I know, right? Hindsight's always 20/20. Then I gave you a warning simply to let you know that the road you were headed down wasn't going to fly in my class. And how did you respond?"
"I talked back."
"(Student), maybe that's why I got so frustrated. Multiple times during our brief conversation here you've admitted that you knew better: you were shh-ing students because you understood my expectations, you understand now that some kinds of comments aren't appropriate in my class. This is evidence to me that you understand what's going on! You understood the expectations but didn't behave accordingly."
Silence.
"(Student), have you ever thought of being a comedian?"
"Yeah. I do comedy routines all the time. I've been doing it for like the past 4 years."
"I can tell. Just like you saw, other students were talking, right? But you have a gift. You've got perfect timing - you know just the right moment to say something to get everyone's attention. The only problem is, my class isn't a comedy stage. Write those thoughts down! Keep note of them for a future comedy routine, but use your best judgement in my class."
After this, he was somewhat responsive (which was better than most days with him). I had him fill out a behavioral contract, and was very careful to let him know that the contract wasn't punitive. It was simply something that I could use to remind him of the commitments he made to improve if I don't see a change in behavior. I got a phone number to call home and told him that I would do so, again not in a punitive way but in a way that would give him reminders at home and at school.
When he asked for a late pass, I simply said, "Why do you think I'm reluctant to give you a late pass?"
He didn't really answer my question but said, "Mr. _______ is really strict about tardies."
"Well, this is a great lesson to learn then! If you follow directions and stick to the commitments you've made, then I won't need to keep you after class again to talk about behavior changes."
As he made the way to the door he seemed to plead, "Well, if I get one more tardy, I'm going to have to go to truancy court."
"Is that my fault or yours?"
With a roll of his eyes, he called out, "It's my family's fault," and exited my classroom.
Did I handle things perfectly? Heck no. So feel free to give me advice and feedback here.
I did call home to speak with his sister in law, whom he lives with because of some very exhaustive circumstances. I learned that this student doesn't just struggle with this attitude issue in my class, which was somewhat of a comfort to me. He's been known to be even more aggressive. I was grateful for the background knowledge she gave me, and let her know about the behavior contract we began together. I encouraged her to talk about it with this student (though it seemed she was more afraid of him than I was).
I entered some log notes about the situation and continued through the day feeling like I'd done okay. I hadn't screwed everything up and I felt like progress was made.
An hour or so later I received an email from the vice principal about when we enter a log note about an incident and when we don't. I thought I was doing it right, but it can't be coincidence that this is my first log note and moments later I get instruction on what not to do, right?
Should I talk to the administration about it? Several other teachers have said to use log notes for every little thing - it's a security issue for teachers! You can document efforts made so you have something to hearken back to. But the email we just received was definitely contrary to that teacher-based instruction.
I don't know.
I had a game planned for commonly confused words today. I told students when I started that if they didn't listen and follow directions they would get a spelling test. And I made good on that threat with 2 periods. It definitely worked. I just need to remember to vary my instruction - I'm a much more energetic and active teacher, so I shouldn't be surprised when my students return energy back at me. I've got to be able to create quiet, to-yourself activities as well.
It's not about how I like to learn or how I like to teach. It's about what works best for my students.
What a day.
I'm off to grade narratives - ta-ta!
So today, I made gains . . . and then had those gains somewhat robbed from me.
Remember the student who I pulled out in the hallway during the 1st week of school because of his attitude? And then I felt really bad about it? Yeah - him.
Well, we had another incident today. I've started a different procedure with my 4th period that requires students to raise their hands because I was having a hard time keeping control of the discussion in class and the same people would just shout out answers (serious and not) like nobody's business. So, it's all raised hands. Is it perfect yet? No, but it's getting better and I don't have to do as many reminders.
Well, this student, right after one of my consistent reminders about raised hands, shouted out the answer to my question. Very deliberately, I ignored his outburst, and called on someone raising their hand by saying, "Thank you so much for raising your hand, (Student). What do you think?" When I validated her answer with a "RIGHT!" this somewhat ruffled student (quite loud and directed at the class) said, "See, I got it right. Yeah, I'm sexy."
Seriously?
Because I KNEW I had established expectations contrary to his outburst and to its content, I simply said, "(Student), that's a warning." It's part of my procedures. It's not punitive. It's simply a signal to tell the student that their current behavior isn't going to fly and they need to make a change.
Well, I got a huge attitude outburst in return.
"SERIOUSLY? Everyone else was talking! Why do I get in trouble if everyone else is talking? This is so stupid. You don't even know what you're doing."
To concede, other people had been shouting out answers occasionally, some of which I addressed with explicit instructions to "Raise your hand, please," while others I addressed by increasing my proximity to the person talking. However, my warning to him was because of the outburst and the appropriateness of his comment.
I raised my voice in a way that got everyone's attention and was probably dripping with frustration, I responded, "Excuse me. I will not tolerate being talked to in that way. You can see me after class if you have a problem."
Hindsight: my response was somewhat emotional and I shouldn't have let him get to me; I probably shouldn't have made my personal response to him something the whole class became audience to; I should have been more consistent with my procedures - if one student spoke out of turn or interrupted, they should have received a similar warning.
Counter Hindsight: the response on my part was emotional enough that it was surprising to the class - for the rest of the period students were very attentive to my hand raising expectations, so maybe something worked?
Of course I knew he wasn't going to voluntarily stay after class, so I asked him to stay seated once the bell rang. I took my time helping other students, recording notes, and picking up my classroom (since I remembered Dr. Crowe encouraging us to make students accountable for the time they wasted in class) before I addressed him.
I was not emotional. I simply said, "What's going on today, (student)?"
Super defensive and someone disrespectful response: "Nothing's going on. What's going on with you?"
"Well, I'm just a little worried about you. Did something happen over Fall break that was upsetting?" (See me trying to get to some background information here before coming to a conclusion? Oh yeah.)
"No," he responded. "I just slept."
"Well, do you want to tell me what happened today?"
Frustrated vent: "I just don't understand why I got in trouble. I mean, everyone else was talking and I was even shhhh-ing them to be quiet but they didn't. But the second I spoke up, you got mad at me. I just don't get it. I mean, all I did was answer your question."
"(Student), you're very right. I'm glad that you said this. First of all, my "That's a warning" comment was exactly that. It wasn't saying you were in trouble or that you are a bad student; it was simply my way of letting you know that you were making choices that need to be changed according to my rules for my classroom. It was just a signal to you to stop the behavior. But my comment was not just a warning about talking, it was also in response to the appropriateness of what you were saying."
He gawks at me and retorts, "What did I say?"
"Let's replay the situation. What do you remember saying?"
"I just answered your question."
"That's right. And then you rewarded your correct answer by...."
"I don't know..."
"I believe one of your comments was, 'I was so right. I'm sexy.'"
"Oh yeah."
"You tell me - do you think that was an appropriate comment in my class?"
"Well.... Now that I think about it... No."
"I know, right? Hindsight's always 20/20. Then I gave you a warning simply to let you know that the road you were headed down wasn't going to fly in my class. And how did you respond?"
"I talked back."
"(Student), maybe that's why I got so frustrated. Multiple times during our brief conversation here you've admitted that you knew better: you were shh-ing students because you understood my expectations, you understand now that some kinds of comments aren't appropriate in my class. This is evidence to me that you understand what's going on! You understood the expectations but didn't behave accordingly."
Silence.
"(Student), have you ever thought of being a comedian?"
"Yeah. I do comedy routines all the time. I've been doing it for like the past 4 years."
"I can tell. Just like you saw, other students were talking, right? But you have a gift. You've got perfect timing - you know just the right moment to say something to get everyone's attention. The only problem is, my class isn't a comedy stage. Write those thoughts down! Keep note of them for a future comedy routine, but use your best judgement in my class."
After this, he was somewhat responsive (which was better than most days with him). I had him fill out a behavioral contract, and was very careful to let him know that the contract wasn't punitive. It was simply something that I could use to remind him of the commitments he made to improve if I don't see a change in behavior. I got a phone number to call home and told him that I would do so, again not in a punitive way but in a way that would give him reminders at home and at school.
When he asked for a late pass, I simply said, "Why do you think I'm reluctant to give you a late pass?"
He didn't really answer my question but said, "Mr. _______ is really strict about tardies."
"Well, this is a great lesson to learn then! If you follow directions and stick to the commitments you've made, then I won't need to keep you after class again to talk about behavior changes."
As he made the way to the door he seemed to plead, "Well, if I get one more tardy, I'm going to have to go to truancy court."
"Is that my fault or yours?"
With a roll of his eyes, he called out, "It's my family's fault," and exited my classroom.
Did I handle things perfectly? Heck no. So feel free to give me advice and feedback here.
I did call home to speak with his sister in law, whom he lives with because of some very exhaustive circumstances. I learned that this student doesn't just struggle with this attitude issue in my class, which was somewhat of a comfort to me. He's been known to be even more aggressive. I was grateful for the background knowledge she gave me, and let her know about the behavior contract we began together. I encouraged her to talk about it with this student (though it seemed she was more afraid of him than I was).
I entered some log notes about the situation and continued through the day feeling like I'd done okay. I hadn't screwed everything up and I felt like progress was made.
An hour or so later I received an email from the vice principal about when we enter a log note about an incident and when we don't. I thought I was doing it right, but it can't be coincidence that this is my first log note and moments later I get instruction on what not to do, right?
Should I talk to the administration about it? Several other teachers have said to use log notes for every little thing - it's a security issue for teachers! You can document efforts made so you have something to hearken back to. But the email we just received was definitely contrary to that teacher-based instruction.
I don't know.
I had a game planned for commonly confused words today. I told students when I started that if they didn't listen and follow directions they would get a spelling test. And I made good on that threat with 2 periods. It definitely worked. I just need to remember to vary my instruction - I'm a much more energetic and active teacher, so I shouldn't be surprised when my students return energy back at me. I've got to be able to create quiet, to-yourself activities as well.
It's not about how I like to learn or how I like to teach. It's about what works best for my students.
What a day.
I'm off to grade narratives - ta-ta!
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Why So Serious?
I came into work early this morning - the day before Fall break - and practiced my breathing. I knew today was going to be crazy, but I had planned for students to turn in a final draft of their narrative today. I warned them to get it done earlier so they could use today as a reading day, but.... 'Nuff said.
Moral of the story: big mistake.
Second moral of the story: flexibility is everything (does this sound familiar? Oh yeah. Even I need to learn lessons multiple times. I guess I was meant for middle school!).
1st period? Everything went love-er-ly. Students printed without a problem and even submitted their final drafts on Edmodo. They left with smiles on their faces and a shout-out of "Have a great break Mrs. Brown!" and "We're going to whip your butt in the soccer game today, Mrs. Brown!" Loved it.
2nd period? Super chatty. Won't listen to directions. I got to practice my procedures a lot here. "I expect to hear nothing but the clicking of your computer keys in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1..." I'm realizing that count downs are GOLD in getting student attention. I don't know why I ever thought students could give me all of their undivided attention at the drop of a hat. Expectations adjusted and feeling great.
3rd period? Will not sit still. I stood at the front of the class for a good three minutes before students got a hold of themselves. They were firing questions off at me like firecrackers on the 4th of July. I finally just stopped trying to explain things and (very quietly) reminded them that Mrs. Brown's super power is over-explaining and that I would probably answer all of their questions if they just listened. Isn't it amazing what a quiet voice will do to get a class to listen in comparison to a loud, booming one? They got their narratives printed and turned in (though my stapler decided to act like a hormonal teenage girl after the first staple. Temperamental as heck!).
4th period? Oh. My. Gosh. I had the chance to talk to some of those students I referenced yesterday. I made sure to keep everything positive and I put the challenge on them. Coolest moment ever: about 20 minutes after I had this conversation with one student, he started fooling around in the computer lab again. All I had to do was put my hand on his shoulder and say his name quietly and he responded. Immediately. "Sorry, Mrs. Brown." It was the greatest feeling. However, just as I'm having students print and upload their assignments to Edmodo, the fire alarm goes off. I felt like throwing my hands up in the air. I got the students outside (it was a drill that we hadn't been warned about. yay.) and thought to myself, I need to be okay with things not going according to plan. I have to be flexible. Yes, half of my class didn't turn in their narratives, but that's okay. We'll get it all worked out after fall break. Then the librarian tells me that people will be coming to take the computers in the lab we've been using over the break... so all the work these students did will be gone if they didn't save it to edmodo. No biggy. Well, that's technology for you. Flexibility, I will conquer you.
6th period? The class did surprisingly well. Most all of them got drafts turned in, but guess when the printer decided to stop working? Yes. 6th period. Again. I felt so bad for these students (and I'd even planned some procedures that would prevent them from overwhelming the printer with print jobs). I just clasped my hands in gratitude that so many of them were able to send it to me over edmodo.
7th period? Forget plans. The day before, the administration let us know that we would be having a student vs. staff soccer game during 7th period. 7th graders would play the faculty during the first half of class and 8th graders the second. I had (stupidly) thought that students would still be able to accomplish things during that last half of class - I'd even warned them the day before to get as much done as they could because they would have half the time that everyone else had. After the faculty whooped on the 7th graders (2 to 0, baby! 2 to 0! I'm going to pretend like my lame defense had something to do with that), my students came back to the classroom and I just knew - my plans were never going to work. So, I showed students how to upload documents on edmodo in case they wanted to work on it over the weekend. And the class went berserk for the idea. We'll see if anything happens over the weekend! But I feel no guilt - there was no way that they were going to work for the last 15 minutes of the last period of the last day before fall break.
This is me. Getting real.
In college, I used to shake my metaphorical fist at the professor who assumed that his class was the most important thing in my life, as if I had nothing better to do than all the work he had assigned. Now I'm forced to eat that same fist - I think I've been treating my students like my class was the most important thing at that moment in their lives. With that mentality, I find myself getting frustrated in nanoseconds when students misbehaved, when technology failed, when things didn't go according to my plans. And when I get frustrated, my students know it; however, I've learned that 7th and 8th graders internalize that frustration and conclude that I don't like them. I've got to be able to just let it go. Yeah, it's frustrating, but I can't lose my head over it.
Roll with the punches, my friends. Roll with the punches.
And NEVER EVER EVER plan for large assignments to be turned in the day before a vacation or break. Just don't do it.
And if you ever get frustrated, go play soccer with a bunch of 7th graders. You'll feel like an idiot because, if you're like me, you haven't played soccer since you were ten years old. But your students will make you feel like you're on top of the world as they shout out, "Go Mrs. Brown!" or "Yeah, Mrs. Brown!" And when they rush to the field after you win to come and give you a hug and a smile, you realize that this is what you want them to learn more than anything: how to build someone up and make them feel good about themselves. Then they walk back to the classroom at your side like you're the coolest thing since sliced bread.
Here's to a vacation filled with jeans (gosh I miss wearing them everyday!), with exercise (since I could actually have time for myself!), and with lots of papers and journals to grade. It's going to be a blast.
Moral of the story: big mistake.
Second moral of the story: flexibility is everything (does this sound familiar? Oh yeah. Even I need to learn lessons multiple times. I guess I was meant for middle school!).
1st period? Everything went love-er-ly. Students printed without a problem and even submitted their final drafts on Edmodo. They left with smiles on their faces and a shout-out of "Have a great break Mrs. Brown!" and "We're going to whip your butt in the soccer game today, Mrs. Brown!" Loved it.
2nd period? Super chatty. Won't listen to directions. I got to practice my procedures a lot here. "I expect to hear nothing but the clicking of your computer keys in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1..." I'm realizing that count downs are GOLD in getting student attention. I don't know why I ever thought students could give me all of their undivided attention at the drop of a hat. Expectations adjusted and feeling great.
3rd period? Will not sit still. I stood at the front of the class for a good three minutes before students got a hold of themselves. They were firing questions off at me like firecrackers on the 4th of July. I finally just stopped trying to explain things and (very quietly) reminded them that Mrs. Brown's super power is over-explaining and that I would probably answer all of their questions if they just listened. Isn't it amazing what a quiet voice will do to get a class to listen in comparison to a loud, booming one? They got their narratives printed and turned in (though my stapler decided to act like a hormonal teenage girl after the first staple. Temperamental as heck!).
4th period? Oh. My. Gosh. I had the chance to talk to some of those students I referenced yesterday. I made sure to keep everything positive and I put the challenge on them. Coolest moment ever: about 20 minutes after I had this conversation with one student, he started fooling around in the computer lab again. All I had to do was put my hand on his shoulder and say his name quietly and he responded. Immediately. "Sorry, Mrs. Brown." It was the greatest feeling. However, just as I'm having students print and upload their assignments to Edmodo, the fire alarm goes off. I felt like throwing my hands up in the air. I got the students outside (it was a drill that we hadn't been warned about. yay.) and thought to myself, I need to be okay with things not going according to plan. I have to be flexible. Yes, half of my class didn't turn in their narratives, but that's okay. We'll get it all worked out after fall break. Then the librarian tells me that people will be coming to take the computers in the lab we've been using over the break... so all the work these students did will be gone if they didn't save it to edmodo. No biggy. Well, that's technology for you. Flexibility, I will conquer you.
6th period? The class did surprisingly well. Most all of them got drafts turned in, but guess when the printer decided to stop working? Yes. 6th period. Again. I felt so bad for these students (and I'd even planned some procedures that would prevent them from overwhelming the printer with print jobs). I just clasped my hands in gratitude that so many of them were able to send it to me over edmodo.
7th period? Forget plans. The day before, the administration let us know that we would be having a student vs. staff soccer game during 7th period. 7th graders would play the faculty during the first half of class and 8th graders the second. I had (stupidly) thought that students would still be able to accomplish things during that last half of class - I'd even warned them the day before to get as much done as they could because they would have half the time that everyone else had. After the faculty whooped on the 7th graders (2 to 0, baby! 2 to 0! I'm going to pretend like my lame defense had something to do with that), my students came back to the classroom and I just knew - my plans were never going to work. So, I showed students how to upload documents on edmodo in case they wanted to work on it over the weekend. And the class went berserk for the idea. We'll see if anything happens over the weekend! But I feel no guilt - there was no way that they were going to work for the last 15 minutes of the last period of the last day before fall break.
This is me. Getting real.
In college, I used to shake my metaphorical fist at the professor who assumed that his class was the most important thing in my life, as if I had nothing better to do than all the work he had assigned. Now I'm forced to eat that same fist - I think I've been treating my students like my class was the most important thing at that moment in their lives. With that mentality, I find myself getting frustrated in nanoseconds when students misbehaved, when technology failed, when things didn't go according to my plans. And when I get frustrated, my students know it; however, I've learned that 7th and 8th graders internalize that frustration and conclude that I don't like them. I've got to be able to just let it go. Yeah, it's frustrating, but I can't lose my head over it.
Roll with the punches, my friends. Roll with the punches.
And NEVER EVER EVER plan for large assignments to be turned in the day before a vacation or break. Just don't do it.
And if you ever get frustrated, go play soccer with a bunch of 7th graders. You'll feel like an idiot because, if you're like me, you haven't played soccer since you were ten years old. But your students will make you feel like you're on top of the world as they shout out, "Go Mrs. Brown!" or "Yeah, Mrs. Brown!" And when they rush to the field after you win to come and give you a hug and a smile, you realize that this is what you want them to learn more than anything: how to build someone up and make them feel good about themselves. Then they walk back to the classroom at your side like you're the coolest thing since sliced bread.
Here's to a vacation filled with jeans (gosh I miss wearing them everyday!), with exercise (since I could actually have time for myself!), and with lots of papers and journals to grade. It's going to be a blast.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Plan of Attack
Several weeks ago, one of my supervisors gave me some feedback about the atmosphere of my classroom. I would ask questions to the entire class and have them shout out, but still have the expectation on my next discussion question that students would raise their hands.
I mean, really. Can't middle school students read my mind? :D Just kidding...
I took it to heart and started verbally setting my expectations for certain questions and discussions: "Raise your hand: What is a metaphor?" or "Let's here some of your ideas - shout them out. What are some of the rules of a narrative?"
But today - my expectations collided.
My fourth period class is pretty energetic. It's right after lunch and the majority of my class is boys. Seriously. You're talking 80%. Who set that up?
Because of this, I have a class with several show-offs. You know, the students who think that any attention is good attention. I got frustrated with several of those students who refused to acknowledge my verbal expectation of raised hands as well as my physical cue (I stood at the front of the classroom raising my own hand and pointing to it with the other. Obvious? I thought so).
And still, I had two students who would answer my purposeful questions with random comments like, "I don't know" or "So, do we have to keep this paper?"
I paused - my face sternly statuesque - and let the class laugh. I reminded them that they were in charge of how much time we spent in the computer lab but they were still responsible to have their final drafts finished by tomorrow.
When I got after one of these students specifically, he (still outloud and not under his breath) responded by saying, "Jeez, I just thought you wanted participation. I guess I won't say anything anymore. I'm going on strike."
I talked with him after class, letting him know that I wanted his participation, but I wanted him to be sincere about it. "Use your good judgement," I told him. "I know how smart you are, but I also know how it feels to want to be the center of attention. My class isn't the place for that kind of participation."
Of course he raised his eyebrows at me like he had no idea what I was talking about.
So when I joined the rest of the class in the computer lab, I wasn't surprised to see my class-clown students goofing off. I warned them that if they didn't work well, I would have them print off their drafts right then and there and that would be their final work. But I knew after the words exited my mouth that they straightaway exited their ears too. Threats like that (if that's the right term) mean nothing to students who don't care about their grades.
How do you manage students who don't seem to care? I know some of them do, mostly because they have parents who won't accept anything lower than a "B." But what about the others - what kind of power do I have in my class if they don't care about my status as the Grade Giver? I've even tried challenging them to see the long term - the choices they make here determine the classes they take in high school which determine the classes they take in college which determines where you end up in life...
But to most teenagers, that's too far away to think about right now.
I see the rest of the class losing engagement during the whole fiasco as well. Oh dear....
Plan of attack:
I mean, really. Can't middle school students read my mind? :D Just kidding...
I took it to heart and started verbally setting my expectations for certain questions and discussions: "Raise your hand: What is a metaphor?" or "Let's here some of your ideas - shout them out. What are some of the rules of a narrative?"
But today - my expectations collided.
My fourth period class is pretty energetic. It's right after lunch and the majority of my class is boys. Seriously. You're talking 80%. Who set that up?
Because of this, I have a class with several show-offs. You know, the students who think that any attention is good attention. I got frustrated with several of those students who refused to acknowledge my verbal expectation of raised hands as well as my physical cue (I stood at the front of the classroom raising my own hand and pointing to it with the other. Obvious? I thought so).
And still, I had two students who would answer my purposeful questions with random comments like, "I don't know" or "So, do we have to keep this paper?"
I paused - my face sternly statuesque - and let the class laugh. I reminded them that they were in charge of how much time we spent in the computer lab but they were still responsible to have their final drafts finished by tomorrow.
When I got after one of these students specifically, he (still outloud and not under his breath) responded by saying, "Jeez, I just thought you wanted participation. I guess I won't say anything anymore. I'm going on strike."
I talked with him after class, letting him know that I wanted his participation, but I wanted him to be sincere about it. "Use your good judgement," I told him. "I know how smart you are, but I also know how it feels to want to be the center of attention. My class isn't the place for that kind of participation."
Of course he raised his eyebrows at me like he had no idea what I was talking about.
So when I joined the rest of the class in the computer lab, I wasn't surprised to see my class-clown students goofing off. I warned them that if they didn't work well, I would have them print off their drafts right then and there and that would be their final work. But I knew after the words exited my mouth that they straightaway exited their ears too. Threats like that (if that's the right term) mean nothing to students who don't care about their grades.
How do you manage students who don't seem to care? I know some of them do, mostly because they have parents who won't accept anything lower than a "B." But what about the others - what kind of power do I have in my class if they don't care about my status as the Grade Giver? I've even tried challenging them to see the long term - the choices they make here determine the classes they take in high school which determine the classes they take in college which determines where you end up in life...
But to most teenagers, that's too far away to think about right now.
I see the rest of the class losing engagement during the whole fiasco as well. Oh dear....
Plan of attack:
- Change seats again. Will I ever get it right?
- Change my procedures to an "ALWAYS RAISE YOUR HAND" classroom (at least for that class). I hate to do it, but it just might help give me back some sense of control.
- Talk to some of my more trusted students and encourage them to speak up in class when they see others misbehaving (though I will totally understand when they turn me down - I wouldn't want to take on the "popular" kids in class either). Maybe if I talk to several of them at once, that will give them the courage to band together. Positive peer pressure. Done.
- Call home - not in a punitive way, but in a "I feel like your son is just not feeling engaged in class. Can you tell me what he likes or what he cares about so that I could incorporate some of those things into my classes? Are there things you do at home that I could remind them about to motivate them to put in more dedicated work in class?" It's more of a call to gain information than a call to inform them, though I hope it would do both.
- Make good on some of my threats with those students (but then I have to worry about what to do with them for the rest of the period since I made them turn in their drafts early).
- Ask other teachers/past teachers for ideas. Really. I'm scraping the bottom of my bucket here.
My greatest fear is that I've become the unwise mother who lectures about attitude and submits students to punishments that only solidify their desire to continue the behavior: they frustrated me, so I frustrate them, so they frustrate me back. I've followed most of these discussions and situations with an increase of love, but when students roll their eyes at me, I get the feeling it's not getting through.
But it's a process, and there's never a point of no return. There are points of it-will-be-really-hard-to-return-after-this, but I'm not giving up any time soon.
Monday, October 8, 2012
The Brain Vomit...
My sub plans went well other than some printer issues with my two last periods (which made today's plans extremely adventurous). I decided that we would combine our grammar instruction with our narrative revising. To keep grammar authentic (which has always been my goal), I had students trade their narratives with partners, choose the "most powerful sentence" and write it up on the white board.
It was fun to see what students were doing well - I couldn't believe all of the similes and metaphors! And it was a great way to point out that commas should be used with compound sentences, that each sentence should have punctuation appropriate to the tone of the piece, and that a change in dialogue should be shown with quotation marks and a new paragraph.
I realized (with some help from a valuable supervisor) that I am a spontaneous teacher. In my efforts to make my instruction optimally authentic, I am giving students full reign of what we focus on in class. There are pros to this: each student gets to feel a sense of published accomplishment with one of their skilled sentences on the board; each student has to be engaged and that engagement is visible; and feedback is direct to that specific student's need. There are also cons: I am leaving my grammar instruction up to chance, so to speak - if students need direct instruction about a specific rule or practice, I have to cross my fingers that some student brings up a related example; I lose a lot of explicit instruction time by having students write their sentences on the board (I only have so many white board markers); I become easily frustrated with my clowning-around students who wrote sentences on the board that were obviously ordinary ("It was cool." Seriously? Gah.).
It was good to learn ways that I could still make this grammar instruction authentic and fat with contextualization while still taking charge of what we focused on as a class. I can pick sentences from their work that relate to topics I need to work with them on. It's still authentic and I'm in charge of what we talk about. Best of both worlds, no?
But at the end of the day, I still felt like the day was a waste. Did they really get anything out of this? I just can't be afraid to include some mini-lessons for extra clarification during this short week, and Heaven knows my rubric for this assignment will need to be a little more explicit, too.
Well - that was some valuable reflection. But I feel a brain vomit coming on. Ready, Set, VENT!
It was fun to see what students were doing well - I couldn't believe all of the similes and metaphors! And it was a great way to point out that commas should be used with compound sentences, that each sentence should have punctuation appropriate to the tone of the piece, and that a change in dialogue should be shown with quotation marks and a new paragraph.
I realized (with some help from a valuable supervisor) that I am a spontaneous teacher. In my efforts to make my instruction optimally authentic, I am giving students full reign of what we focus on in class. There are pros to this: each student gets to feel a sense of published accomplishment with one of their skilled sentences on the board; each student has to be engaged and that engagement is visible; and feedback is direct to that specific student's need. There are also cons: I am leaving my grammar instruction up to chance, so to speak - if students need direct instruction about a specific rule or practice, I have to cross my fingers that some student brings up a related example; I lose a lot of explicit instruction time by having students write their sentences on the board (I only have so many white board markers); I become easily frustrated with my clowning-around students who wrote sentences on the board that were obviously ordinary ("It was cool." Seriously? Gah.).
It was good to learn ways that I could still make this grammar instruction authentic and fat with contextualization while still taking charge of what we focused on as a class. I can pick sentences from their work that relate to topics I need to work with them on. It's still authentic and I'm in charge of what we talk about. Best of both worlds, no?
But at the end of the day, I still felt like the day was a waste. Did they really get anything out of this? I just can't be afraid to include some mini-lessons for extra clarification during this short week, and Heaven knows my rubric for this assignment will need to be a little more explicit, too.
Well - that was some valuable reflection. But I feel a brain vomit coming on. Ready, Set, VENT!
- Oh my gosh, could my classroom have been any hotter today? Typically my classroom is an icicle, which I love because it keeps my students awake. But over the weekend, there was a complete climate change! I was sweating throughout the whole day and most of my students couldn't help but put their heads on their desks and check out. Why do I have no control over this? And how can the success of a day feel so dependent on the temperature of the room? It seems so trivial...
- Seriously, grown ups. Do we have to use the majority of our PLC time arguing about terminology? What really is the meaning of "main idea" vs. "theme?" And though I understand the importance of teaching students specific terms, there is no guarantee that their future teachers are going to use the same terms! Our emphasis should be on the meaning of the word, not the terms that we use to signify it. We have to prepare our students for teachers who will teach differently! Teach them strategies, not absolutes! Strategies are portable. Absolutes are forsaken the second someone teaches it differently.
- Yes, dear student who decided to talk back to me today, I meant "move!" And yes, class, I am going to be the strictest teacher you've ever had if you can't listen to my simplest instructions without making every disrespectful side comment imaginable. So go ahead and roll your eyes at my classroom management, but, boy, you'd better think twice before talking back to me about it. (Do I sound like a mom? Is that a bad thing?)
- Is there a group of parents somewhere that think it would be funny to take their student out of school multiple times in multiple weeks? How am I supposed to teach your student if he/she has been gone for 15 days because of your hunting trips? Isn't school important to you? I swear - my parents never let me even miss school unless I was sick or had a doctor's appointment, and even then there were efforts to get missed work or schedule appointments during a time when it would be the least disruptive to my school day. What happened to school taking priority?
- I Bcc-ed the principal on our PLC notes today. It was really at the recommendation of our department chair, but is it extremely self-centered to admit that I was giddy to show that I was doing something valuable for our department by taking notes every Monday? Cause I was... And then I was even more giddy to receive a reply from the principal reminding other departments about reporting back on our common assessments (which just happened to be the topic of the notes I'd sent to him just hours earlier). Even the hint that I could be doing something right is heart-warming. I can do this... I can do this... I can do this...
- My mentor teacher came to chat with me today and gave me one of the nicest compliments I've ever received: "Everything you do just seems to work together so nicely." He was commenting on how every assignment I give is not only related to the activity or text we're reading, it also turns student attention to valuable student skills. Yes, dear mentor, I've been working on that for a long time. Thank you for taking the time to notice and for offering up a sincere compliment. Why don't teachers do that more?
- Be solution oriented people! Don't turn down a lowly intern's simple suggestion just because you have 40+ students in your i-time and "there's no way" that the suggestion could ever work for you. Really - I was just trying to help. It had worked for me and I was excited to contribute. Well, here's to another month of getting up the courage to try again. This time, dear colleague, please don't shoot me down point blank.
- I need to go spend some time at the BYU library in the juvenile lit section. Those children's books are so valuable - it gets students into a text and engages them while offering opportunities to draw attention to good writing. I wish I was Deborah Dean and had her office full of children's books. Please, please, please, can I be Debbie Dean? That is probably the biggest frustration of being a new teacher: my supply of texts (both literary and informational) is so slim. I feel like this is the biggest time concern for me - I have to find valuable texts to use in each of my units, and I have no idea where to start!
- Why do you have to remove my entire front white board to put in the new technology? I understand that's the best place, but really?
- Please, please, please fix the locks on the faculty Women's bathroom soon. PLEASE! I can't keep being afraid to use the bathroom during the day. I just can't. So please. Yes, I'm begging.
- I spend way too much time thinking about all of this... I'm going to go home, put in a movie, and get to grading. Oh yeah. Bring it on. I'm already feeling overwhelmed, and it's only Monday.
- If this entire post felt soggy with cynicism, I apologize. I promise everything is great - I just needed a day to complain "aloud." Here's to returning to my chipper self tomorrow!
Thank heavens for Fall break.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Mom Syndrome
When I was 13 years old, I made my way in life as a babysitter. Any day, any night, I was available for the best babysitting service the world had to offer (well, any other 13-year-old had to offer, that is).
My biggest pet peeve as a babysitter? The I-have-to-prepare-for-every-possible-scenario-since-I-won't-be-here-with-my-kids kind of mom. Don't get me wrong, they were great mothers, but I felt like their little babysitter kit accompanied by a novel of instructions was overkill.
I mean - I knew how to take care of a child for a couple hours.
So, in my preparation for my first substitute tomorrow (since I'm going to the Utah Council of Teachers of English conference in Salt Lake!), I made a monumental discovery: I have the same mom syndrome.
I wrote a letter to my substitute with a breakdown for each period. I identified students that he should watch closely and students that would be great helpers to turn to. I gave him an idea of what to expect: "This is my talkative class..." or "This class period is right after lunch so they're going to be incredibly energetic, especially since it's Friday." I even told him about some of my class procedures to help him deal with any behavior issues.
The letter . . . is 2 pages long.
And then, in addition to that, I included my lesson plan.
And I might have also highlighted things I wanted to make sure he didn't miss. And I might have had a degree of importance with my highlighting: really BOLDED highlighting for things that really CAN'T be ignored, slight underlining highlight for things that are good to know, etc.
And then I might have added a few sticky notes with messages about what happened today so he knew some students would just be reading.
And then I put together a complete "SUB" binder full of my class seating charts, lists of emergency procedures, and the bell schedule, all in sheet protectors in case the sub would like to mark up the charts with a wet erase marker.
Yeah. I am a control freak. When did this happen exactly?
After I finished highlighting, I realized that this substitute, this stranger, is probably fully capable of reading a letter and following directions. Yeah - I might be going through some separation anxiety with my own classes. Wow.
Is that even normal?
At least I can say that if things go to pieces tomorrow, it's not because I didn't prepare enough! (Though it might be because I overwhelmed the sub with so many directions that he keels over!) :D Now I understand why teachers like to have the same substitute in their class - it's a pain to do this kind of preparation every time you have to leave!
Well - here's to an adventurous day away and the inevitable adventure of the Sub notes I'll read on Monday!
My biggest pet peeve as a babysitter? The I-have-to-prepare-for-every-possible-scenario-since-I-won't-be-here-with-my-kids kind of mom. Don't get me wrong, they were great mothers, but I felt like their little babysitter kit accompanied by a novel of instructions was overkill.
I mean - I knew how to take care of a child for a couple hours.
So, in my preparation for my first substitute tomorrow (since I'm going to the Utah Council of Teachers of English conference in Salt Lake!), I made a monumental discovery: I have the same mom syndrome.
I wrote a letter to my substitute with a breakdown for each period. I identified students that he should watch closely and students that would be great helpers to turn to. I gave him an idea of what to expect: "This is my talkative class..." or "This class period is right after lunch so they're going to be incredibly energetic, especially since it's Friday." I even told him about some of my class procedures to help him deal with any behavior issues.
The letter . . . is 2 pages long.
And then, in addition to that, I included my lesson plan.
And I might have also highlighted things I wanted to make sure he didn't miss. And I might have had a degree of importance with my highlighting: really BOLDED highlighting for things that really CAN'T be ignored, slight underlining highlight for things that are good to know, etc.
And then I might have added a few sticky notes with messages about what happened today so he knew some students would just be reading.
And then I put together a complete "SUB" binder full of my class seating charts, lists of emergency procedures, and the bell schedule, all in sheet protectors in case the sub would like to mark up the charts with a wet erase marker.
Yeah. I am a control freak. When did this happen exactly?
After I finished highlighting, I realized that this substitute, this stranger, is probably fully capable of reading a letter and following directions. Yeah - I might be going through some separation anxiety with my own classes. Wow.
Is that even normal?
At least I can say that if things go to pieces tomorrow, it's not because I didn't prepare enough! (Though it might be because I overwhelmed the sub with so many directions that he keels over!) :D Now I understand why teachers like to have the same substitute in their class - it's a pain to do this kind of preparation every time you have to leave!
Well - here's to an adventurous day away and the inevitable adventure of the Sub notes I'll read on Monday!
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
When a Door Closes...
...five other doors open. And these are not doors of opportunity. They are doors of improvements to be made... and they just keep opening!
I had the opportunity after school yesterday to phone several parents. I've realized that my choice to make the call first makes ALL the difference.
I had one student in my class who has a hard time staying focused and actually doing any work. His journal is full of scribbles and stick people, his assignments are missing or drastically incomplete and he hasn't been reading at all for the last month and a half. I had some luck several weeks ago getting him to do some assignments in class, but since that point, he has shut down on me completely any time I talk to him about missing work or class expectations. So, yesterday, when we were doing the project for our second book (a tribute letter), he refused to work. I knew he hadn't actually read a biography book, but I'd asked him to write a letter to me with his commitments for improvement.
3...2...1.... Shut down.
He wouldn't do a thing, and any time I would approach him, he would only cower deeper into his shell.
I was frustrated. I didn't know what to do. So - of course - I did the wrong thing. I told him he would not be able to leave my classroom until the letter was completed. This has worked before with students who are just lazy or who fooled around during class, but it didn't work for him. In fact, it backfired. He stood against the wall refusing to look at or talk to me. He took the pencil he borrowed from me at the beginning of class, put it in front of my face, then snapped it in half.
I knew at that moment I had lost him. That any further attempt to get him to work would not be successful. I didn't even know what to say. Probably reading my hopelessness, he glared at me and stomped out of the room.
So I rummaged through the contact information I had collected at Back To School Night (best idea ever). I found his mother's phone number and called. Turns out, several other teachers had called home as well in the last few days. This student is failing most of his classes. In speaking with the mom I learned that her son was feeling cripplingly overwhelmed by middle school - so many assignments, so much homework, so much to remember and do. She was worried about him, but was committed to helping him. Speaking with her, we set some goals for collaboration to help her son, and I made some adjustments to my own mindset: positive reinforcement is 1000 times more powerful than my, "You'll stay in class til this is finished" threats. I realized that my actions had probably only added to his heightened anxiety about school. Keeping him after class meant he would be late to his next and miss the work there too. Continually reminding him of the work he was missing only added to his mental list of to-dos. I have to make some changes - he needs to know, more than any other message I could possibly send, that I believe he CAN do it.
I called a few other students' homes because some were looking really depressed in class or had been struggling with some family issues and I just wanted to check up on them. I just wanted my students and their parents to know I cared. And they were more grateful for the simple call than I had expected.
I walked away from the day feeling great - I loved my students and my students knew it.
So when I walked into the faculty room before school started today and was met by another teacher with a message of, "One of my students just feels like you're really picking on him in class, and he feels really embarrassed by it," I was like, Seriously?! My one step forward feels more like two steps back! I was so grateful that she told me, but I waited anxiously for that student to walk into class. I didn't make a big deal about it, but I apologized to the student for anything I had said or done to make him feel uncomfortable. I promised him that it was not my intention to pick on him or make him feel wrongfully targeted in class. He was very "chill" about it, waving away my apology, telling me he had never felt embarrassed or anything. Classic middle school guy response. I pleaded with him to signal me or talk to me if he ever felt unsafe or uncomfortable in class. I told him how impressed I was with his work and how grateful I was to have him as a student. He smiled ever so briefly, chuckled to himself, and walked back to his seat.
All I could ever remember saying was, "(Student), do you need to go get a drink?" It was obviously my way of letting him know that he needed to get a hold of himself, but I suppose the true purpose behind my question could have been obvious to the rest of the class, too.
I swear, every day of this journey brings to light one more thing I could do better or that I did wrong. As an epic perfectionist, it's challenging but invigorating. Each criticism, each shortcoming, feels stifling at first - like there's a cumbersome rock lodged in my throat, threatening to make a permanent home in my stomach. But, more often than not, I face that rock and find a pebble. Something that needs to be attended to, but not something to take personally.
No one every told me how sensitive middle school students were. These sweet students just need someone to care, and I'm afraid I've taken my own teaching and curriculum too seriously to see that. No one ever told me that you would need to think of absolutely everything as a teacher: the student in front that can't function with distractions, the handful of students that were absent from class the day before and won't actually think to talk to you about what they missed, and the sweet emotions of each of my students that can erupt at any moment with the most unintentionally hurtful comment.
So, how do I stop taking it all so seriously? Right now, every period starts with a simple prayer: Please help me remember that each of my students is a child of God, that each of them just needs someone to prove that they are loved and cared for. And please . . . please help me be to be that proof.
I suppose if I can remember that, the rest will follow.
I had the opportunity after school yesterday to phone several parents. I've realized that my choice to make the call first makes ALL the difference.
I had one student in my class who has a hard time staying focused and actually doing any work. His journal is full of scribbles and stick people, his assignments are missing or drastically incomplete and he hasn't been reading at all for the last month and a half. I had some luck several weeks ago getting him to do some assignments in class, but since that point, he has shut down on me completely any time I talk to him about missing work or class expectations. So, yesterday, when we were doing the project for our second book (a tribute letter), he refused to work. I knew he hadn't actually read a biography book, but I'd asked him to write a letter to me with his commitments for improvement.
3...2...1.... Shut down.
He wouldn't do a thing, and any time I would approach him, he would only cower deeper into his shell.
I was frustrated. I didn't know what to do. So - of course - I did the wrong thing. I told him he would not be able to leave my classroom until the letter was completed. This has worked before with students who are just lazy or who fooled around during class, but it didn't work for him. In fact, it backfired. He stood against the wall refusing to look at or talk to me. He took the pencil he borrowed from me at the beginning of class, put it in front of my face, then snapped it in half.
I knew at that moment I had lost him. That any further attempt to get him to work would not be successful. I didn't even know what to say. Probably reading my hopelessness, he glared at me and stomped out of the room.
So I rummaged through the contact information I had collected at Back To School Night (best idea ever). I found his mother's phone number and called. Turns out, several other teachers had called home as well in the last few days. This student is failing most of his classes. In speaking with the mom I learned that her son was feeling cripplingly overwhelmed by middle school - so many assignments, so much homework, so much to remember and do. She was worried about him, but was committed to helping him. Speaking with her, we set some goals for collaboration to help her son, and I made some adjustments to my own mindset: positive reinforcement is 1000 times more powerful than my, "You'll stay in class til this is finished" threats. I realized that my actions had probably only added to his heightened anxiety about school. Keeping him after class meant he would be late to his next and miss the work there too. Continually reminding him of the work he was missing only added to his mental list of to-dos. I have to make some changes - he needs to know, more than any other message I could possibly send, that I believe he CAN do it.
I called a few other students' homes because some were looking really depressed in class or had been struggling with some family issues and I just wanted to check up on them. I just wanted my students and their parents to know I cared. And they were more grateful for the simple call than I had expected.
I walked away from the day feeling great - I loved my students and my students knew it.
So when I walked into the faculty room before school started today and was met by another teacher with a message of, "One of my students just feels like you're really picking on him in class, and he feels really embarrassed by it," I was like, Seriously?! My one step forward feels more like two steps back! I was so grateful that she told me, but I waited anxiously for that student to walk into class. I didn't make a big deal about it, but I apologized to the student for anything I had said or done to make him feel uncomfortable. I promised him that it was not my intention to pick on him or make him feel wrongfully targeted in class. He was very "chill" about it, waving away my apology, telling me he had never felt embarrassed or anything. Classic middle school guy response. I pleaded with him to signal me or talk to me if he ever felt unsafe or uncomfortable in class. I told him how impressed I was with his work and how grateful I was to have him as a student. He smiled ever so briefly, chuckled to himself, and walked back to his seat.
All I could ever remember saying was, "(Student), do you need to go get a drink?" It was obviously my way of letting him know that he needed to get a hold of himself, but I suppose the true purpose behind my question could have been obvious to the rest of the class, too.
I swear, every day of this journey brings to light one more thing I could do better or that I did wrong. As an epic perfectionist, it's challenging but invigorating. Each criticism, each shortcoming, feels stifling at first - like there's a cumbersome rock lodged in my throat, threatening to make a permanent home in my stomach. But, more often than not, I face that rock and find a pebble. Something that needs to be attended to, but not something to take personally.
No one every told me how sensitive middle school students were. These sweet students just need someone to care, and I'm afraid I've taken my own teaching and curriculum too seriously to see that. No one ever told me that you would need to think of absolutely everything as a teacher: the student in front that can't function with distractions, the handful of students that were absent from class the day before and won't actually think to talk to you about what they missed, and the sweet emotions of each of my students that can erupt at any moment with the most unintentionally hurtful comment.
So, how do I stop taking it all so seriously? Right now, every period starts with a simple prayer: Please help me remember that each of my students is a child of God, that each of them just needs someone to prove that they are loved and cared for. And please . . . please help me be to be that proof.
I suppose if I can remember that, the rest will follow.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
I've Got the Power!
Oh English Department - how you conflict me.
Since the beginning of the school year, our department decided that our "common assessment" for term 1 would be on Summary and Main Idea. We decided what stories to use for 7th and 8th grades, we scheduled a week that we each agreed to do the assessment in our classes, and we came up with a plan for helping those students who didn't pass the test. It's all in my notes.
This is the week we chose for the assessment; so Monday's staff meeting comes around, and - well - all heck breaks loose.
We've got arguments about how to score the assignment. We've got arguments about the texts we initially chose. We've got arguments about how we each taught summary and main idea (because we each taught it differently so we're each going to have a different emphasis on our assessments).
Is it bad that I kind of tuned out after the emotions escalated? I did. I jotted down the necessary notes (since I elected to make myself the notetaker of the group. I've got to contribute somewhere, right?), and then just started down my own to-do list until I felt the tension dissipate.
When I spoke with my mentor, he said he was going to set aside several days of class for the assessment: students need a day to read, a day to skim through again and begin the assessment, and another day to finish it off. Since I had only set aside one day for the entire assessment, I panicked and made some last minute changes. That day we read the short story they would be using for their assessment in class. I thought it went well and a beneficial use of time.
I got to school this morning and greeted some of my fellow English teachers. Without being too specific, criticisms were thrown around to all of the teachers in the department and feelings were made known. I was even told that I had polluted the results of this common assessment by reading the story with the students. In addition to that, rumors were spread that the department chair had switched the story the eighth graders were required to read for the assessment.
WHAT IS GOING ON?
The frustration is tangible. I feel like I'm in an educational soap opera.
So I hid in my room for the rest of the morning before school started and was greeted by a friendly English teacher face. "Don't worry about this," she comforted. "Just do what you feel is going to be most beneficial to your students. We're all going to do things differently, and if we need get everyone on a similar page, we need to do it earlier than the week of the test."
Do I know that some of my students aren't going to pass the test? I have some suspicions. But, overall, I am confident in my students. I'm excited to see what they CAN do.
And in regards to the department, I've learned that I may face power struggles. And that's okay. Heaven knows I have strong opinions and make them known often in other areas (not as an intern, when I know that I have very little credibility). But you take it with a grain of salt. Oh is that what you're doing in your class? Maybe I'll give it a try in the future... I'm sure some of these teachers would gawk at the idea that I am doing a genre exploration assignment with my 7th and 8th graders and that I'm focusing on inductive learning, but I'm trying it out for me and my students. I'm willing to get their input, but that doesn't mean that I have to cater to their curriculum ideas.
And, here's the great thing: I have the power to change it if I find a better way. Maybe it will be their way - they have been teaching since "the dinosaurs roamed the earth" (their words, not mine). But maybe I'll get something completely new to really stick too.
Middle school drama - always an adventure, even as an adult!
Since the beginning of the school year, our department decided that our "common assessment" for term 1 would be on Summary and Main Idea. We decided what stories to use for 7th and 8th grades, we scheduled a week that we each agreed to do the assessment in our classes, and we came up with a plan for helping those students who didn't pass the test. It's all in my notes.
This is the week we chose for the assessment; so Monday's staff meeting comes around, and - well - all heck breaks loose.
We've got arguments about how to score the assignment. We've got arguments about the texts we initially chose. We've got arguments about how we each taught summary and main idea (because we each taught it differently so we're each going to have a different emphasis on our assessments).
Is it bad that I kind of tuned out after the emotions escalated? I did. I jotted down the necessary notes (since I elected to make myself the notetaker of the group. I've got to contribute somewhere, right?), and then just started down my own to-do list until I felt the tension dissipate.
When I spoke with my mentor, he said he was going to set aside several days of class for the assessment: students need a day to read, a day to skim through again and begin the assessment, and another day to finish it off. Since I had only set aside one day for the entire assessment, I panicked and made some last minute changes. That day we read the short story they would be using for their assessment in class. I thought it went well and a beneficial use of time.
I got to school this morning and greeted some of my fellow English teachers. Without being too specific, criticisms were thrown around to all of the teachers in the department and feelings were made known. I was even told that I had polluted the results of this common assessment by reading the story with the students. In addition to that, rumors were spread that the department chair had switched the story the eighth graders were required to read for the assessment.
WHAT IS GOING ON?
The frustration is tangible. I feel like I'm in an educational soap opera.
So I hid in my room for the rest of the morning before school started and was greeted by a friendly English teacher face. "Don't worry about this," she comforted. "Just do what you feel is going to be most beneficial to your students. We're all going to do things differently, and if we need get everyone on a similar page, we need to do it earlier than the week of the test."
Do I know that some of my students aren't going to pass the test? I have some suspicions. But, overall, I am confident in my students. I'm excited to see what they CAN do.
And in regards to the department, I've learned that I may face power struggles. And that's okay. Heaven knows I have strong opinions and make them known often in other areas (not as an intern, when I know that I have very little credibility). But you take it with a grain of salt. Oh is that what you're doing in your class? Maybe I'll give it a try in the future... I'm sure some of these teachers would gawk at the idea that I am doing a genre exploration assignment with my 7th and 8th graders and that I'm focusing on inductive learning, but I'm trying it out for me and my students. I'm willing to get their input, but that doesn't mean that I have to cater to their curriculum ideas.
And, here's the great thing: I have the power to change it if I find a better way. Maybe it will be their way - they have been teaching since "the dinosaurs roamed the earth" (their words, not mine). But maybe I'll get something completely new to really stick too.
Middle school drama - always an adventure, even as an adult!
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