I have had more self-imposed breaks from writing since I came back than ever before. I have this rule for myself that if something particularly controversial comes along, I will take a mental break before I write about it. This protects everyone involved from rash words which have a tendency to come out in haste during the most explosive moments in life.
On Thursday something happened with one of my students that made me question my entire approach all year long. There's no other way to explain it (trust me, I've spent the last several days trying) than to say that one of my students absolutely and completely freaked out.
What you need to know:
Personality - sweet, quiet, insecure (she is a little bit bigger than my other girls, hates gym, and always wears a large baggy sweater), always respectful, always does what she is told, slightly lazy (does the bare minimum to get by).
Back story - On the very first day day of school I asked my students to work oh an all-about-me type of book to get them started with writing. One of the requirements was to write about their future goals in regards to occupation. As I watched my student stare blankly at the paper I came to sit next to her and we started to talk and brainstorm things that she liked and how those things could translate into different careers. As I poked and prodded I found that her goals simply did not exist. She was not trying to be obstinate, she just simply didn't care about anything except sleep and TV. It worried me (as did several of the things that I noticed throughout the first week, like reports of her penchant for missing school...alllll the time) so I referred her to social work. A week later she was seen, but she didn't claim to have any real life worries, so she was not picked up on the case load.
*While never becoming more motivated, my student stopped missing school this year. She also opened up to me on numerous occasions, talking to me about her family, her birthday party, and even bringing me pozole (my favorite) after week had a conversation about it one day. She did not, however, ever become more open or confident in herself and so on Tuesday, May 25 when we were asked to make social work recommendations for the middle school, I again put her name on the list.*
Thursday, May 27 (one week before the end of the school year)
I get a call in the office 2 minutes after the students enter that my girl student is in the office with her mother and she refuses to come to class. The assistant principal came to my class to cover for me as I went to the office to translate/sort things out. I walked my student (sobbing) and her mom into the principal's office and we began to talk. Her mom spouted some story about how my student was upset with her sister from an argument that they had the night before and my student wasn't saying a thing. I didn't buy that as the issue because the sisters never really get along. I told my student, "___________, your mom did the right thing by bringing you to school...and now, she is going to leave." Mom stood up (still crying about her daughter's anguish) and with the principal's help, was shoved out the door while daughter tried frantically to follow. Then, to make a long story short, my child became a different person. Between hysterical sobs she adopted a hideous speech pattern (one that I have never heard from her and could never believe he capable of) accusing my principal of "talking smack" and explaining that she hated school, has always hated school, found nothing redeeming in it EVER, and would not be coming back. Then, she demanded that we call her mother so that she could go home. Her responses to my principal, while totally illogical and said in the heat of passion, were little windows into a secret side of my student. She said to my principal at one point that she didn't need an education, that she didn't care who she was hurting by acting this way, that she's rather be in juvy than at school, and that nobody knew about her or her life and that we didn't care about her. It was at that point that tears starting streaming down my face and I had to walk out.
I had to go pick up my students from Gym and when she refused to follow me, I left her there, walking away from someone who I didn't know...who I haven't known for an entire year. It took THREE truancy officers to get her to class 3 hours later and I felt sick to my stomach as they stood outside my room watching to see if she would bolt. But she didn't...
Perhaps the scariest thing of all is that, upon seconds of returning, she was back to her "normal" self. She was smiling with friends, answering questions in class, even talking to me as if nothing had happened. She showed up on Friday the exact same way, choosing to work one on one with me during her math test. I rolled along with it, because I wasn't sure what to do. In the back of my mind though, I couldn't help but think of the secret person lurking inside my girl, and it scares me that I don't know how to free her.
The one positive thing to come out of possibly the most stressful situation of my teaching career thus far, is that I've changed my ideas for my end-of-the-year student gift. I'm going to dial it back down to mean something more for us. I know each of my students on a personal level and I have a good idea of the struggles that each of them will face as they go to middle school. This weekend, I've chosen to write a letter to each of my students, extolling their strengths and providing the advice that I believe will make them the most successful once they leave my doors, and therefor my guidance, this Friday.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Sahara Special
Sometimes something profound comes along at the exact moment that you need it to touch your heart. For me, it was kind of a mix of things. First, my life and the lives of my students were irreversibly altered when I took a chance on a then unknown book to me, "Sahara Special" by Esme Raji Codell. This is, incidentally, the author of the beloved book, "Educating Esme: Diary of a First Year Teacher" but this time she's writing for young adults.
As a culmination to the year, and a kind of graduation of sorts, I presented my students with three chapter books, one of which they would select to read for the last month of school and perform literature circle tasks with. The students have taken a great liking to the idea that they are responsible for discussing their books, and that each of them has a very special role to fulfill within the group. They have also blossomed under the notion that they are to take the role of teacher, ensuring all group members' understanding and explaining past tasks to their new owner.
As every teacher hopes to do, I chose books that were relevant and completely dynamic. I described them each in turn, read some excerpts aloud, and challenged my students to make a choice for themselves. They were to pick the book that THEY wanted to read (they weren't even allowed to be seen talking to a peer while filling out their secret ballot. I also did not sugar coat things, explaining that "Sahara Special" was indeed the longest and most challenging of the selections and asking students to step up if they felt they were ready. "Sahara Special" is, in fact, my biggest literature circle group.
Yesterday one of my girls was clutching her book to her chest as I talked about how each of our books have different personalities. She just kept professing her love over and over again. Another of my much more shy students came up to me privately yesterday and confessed that she wasn't really interested in reading until she started reading her story, "Tales of the 4th Grade Nothing" and now she is surprised how much she really loves reading. (Don't I wish I had done this earlier in the year!?)
"Good try," said Miss Pointy, "but I don't know if that's a lesson that is always so. What else can we come up with?"
"Wishes are powerful," said Dominique.
"Good," said Miss Pointy.
"Things change. They don't always stay the same," said Cordelia. "Like, you don't have to stay a kid."
"That's a good one, too. Anyone else?"
"School is a powerful place where things change and wishes come true," Paris said slowly. "It's a place where you can grow up, if you let yourself."
As a culmination to the year, and a kind of graduation of sorts, I presented my students with three chapter books, one of which they would select to read for the last month of school and perform literature circle tasks with. The students have taken a great liking to the idea that they are responsible for discussing their books, and that each of them has a very special role to fulfill within the group. They have also blossomed under the notion that they are to take the role of teacher, ensuring all group members' understanding and explaining past tasks to their new owner.
As every teacher hopes to do, I chose books that were relevant and completely dynamic. I described them each in turn, read some excerpts aloud, and challenged my students to make a choice for themselves. They were to pick the book that THEY wanted to read (they weren't even allowed to be seen talking to a peer while filling out their secret ballot. I also did not sugar coat things, explaining that "Sahara Special" was indeed the longest and most challenging of the selections and asking students to step up if they felt they were ready. "Sahara Special" is, in fact, my biggest literature circle group.
Yesterday one of my girls was clutching her book to her chest as I talked about how each of our books have different personalities. She just kept professing her love over and over again. Another of my much more shy students came up to me privately yesterday and confessed that she wasn't really interested in reading until she started reading her story, "Tales of the 4th Grade Nothing" and now she is surprised how much she really loves reading. (Don't I wish I had done this earlier in the year!?)
"Good try," said Miss Pointy, "but I don't know if that's a lesson that is always so. What else can we come up with?"
"Wishes are powerful," said Dominique.
"Good," said Miss Pointy.
"Things change. They don't always stay the same," said Cordelia. "Like, you don't have to stay a kid."
"That's a good one, too. Anyone else?"
"School is a powerful place where things change and wishes come true," Paris said slowly. "It's a place where you can grow up, if you let yourself."
Monday, May 24, 2010
Out There Looking
Previously, I kind of thought my duty as an educator was to help screen candidates in order to find the best person to work with/understand our student population with a willingness to collaborate and work cooperatively on an ever growing and changing team.
I learned today that that is simply not true. It is so much worse than that.
Today I met three fantastic candidates. They are each beautiful and fantastic individuals who are all trying to make it in the worst job market my lifetime has ever seen. As I sit from my cushy side of the conference table, I just feel my heart breaking for all of the candidates that will be seen who are more than passionate and qualified, but who will be left out in the cold when our time here is done.
This decision sucks and I feel like a bad person.
I learned today that that is simply not true. It is so much worse than that.
Today I met three fantastic candidates. They are each beautiful and fantastic individuals who are all trying to make it in the worst job market my lifetime has ever seen. As I sit from my cushy side of the conference table, I just feel my heart breaking for all of the candidates that will be seen who are more than passionate and qualified, but who will be left out in the cold when our time here is done.
This decision sucks and I feel like a bad person.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Interview Questions
Calling all teachers: I am going to be sitting in on interviews for an open 5th grade teaching position this week. I was asked by The Powers to have a list of interview questions ready. Now obviously I can make some up and fare pretty well...but I just realized that I have a wealth of talent and brilliance out there and I would love to tap into it. So what do you, my fellow educators, consider to be the most important factors in hiring a candidate?
What would you ask?
What would you ask?
Friday, May 21, 2010
Sometimes...
Sometimes I am amazed by the maturity with which my students handle disappointment.
Sometimes I wonder where their strength and poise comes from...and it makes me sad to think that they might have been trained through years of suffering disappointments the likes of which I was blessed not to face until adulthood.
Sometimes my students amaze me. Sometimes they act like 3 years olds and annoy the you-know-what out of me. But today, they were phenomenal. We were scheduled to have field day, a pirate theme, and some of them were so into it that they came in costume (something I totally encourage). We got to wear normal clothes instead of our stuffy uniforms (yes, that's right, my teacher clothes bind me and hinder my ability to be as bubbly and vivacious as I would be if I felt like myself, so I feel their pain). We had the most fantastic activities planned.
But then, mother nature happened. It rained, and rained, and continued to rain some more. Some evil and omenous weather person even predicted thunder storms as if it were just another day in the hood...not the most important day ever...the day that we stretched our wings, shed the shackles of the classroom, and displayed the awesome amount of team spirit that has been instilled in us over the year. (Epic, right?)
When my students walked in to school, one of them looked up at me and said dejectedly, "Field Day is canceled." It wasn't a question. I nodded, though it was a highly unnecessary action. Then, the students set about unpacking their backpacks, checking in the homework, and getting ready for the day. I thought, "Hmmm...I probably shouldn't let this go. Maybe I should say something about it." But nobody really looked like they needed anything said. I waited and let them learn about the rescheduled date on the announcements. One of them asked me what day of the week that would be. I hyped it up by adding that they would now get to wear regular clothes TWICE and that our last week of school would include a day off, a half day, a one hour day, AND field day. How lucky they were! They looked at me encouraged and with TOTAL trust that it would happen eventually, and that they could bide their time until then.
I didn't even offer consolation prizes (movies instead of "real work", indoor games and activities, etc.). They didn't ask. I just took them to Art class with a new sense of pride and admiration. These are not the whiny babies of years past, not even the less than mature students who I started the year with. These are the big kids, the kings and queens of our school. It is their last chance to be at the top for a while and they are wearing their crowns with grace and elegance today.
Sometimes I wonder where their strength and poise comes from...and it makes me sad to think that they might have been trained through years of suffering disappointments the likes of which I was blessed not to face until adulthood.
Sometimes my students amaze me. Sometimes they act like 3 years olds and annoy the you-know-what out of me. But today, they were phenomenal. We were scheduled to have field day, a pirate theme, and some of them were so into it that they came in costume (something I totally encourage). We got to wear normal clothes instead of our stuffy uniforms (yes, that's right, my teacher clothes bind me and hinder my ability to be as bubbly and vivacious as I would be if I felt like myself, so I feel their pain). We had the most fantastic activities planned.
But then, mother nature happened. It rained, and rained, and continued to rain some more. Some evil and omenous weather person even predicted thunder storms as if it were just another day in the hood...not the most important day ever...the day that we stretched our wings, shed the shackles of the classroom, and displayed the awesome amount of team spirit that has been instilled in us over the year. (Epic, right?)
When my students walked in to school, one of them looked up at me and said dejectedly, "Field Day is canceled." It wasn't a question. I nodded, though it was a highly unnecessary action. Then, the students set about unpacking their backpacks, checking in the homework, and getting ready for the day. I thought, "Hmmm...I probably shouldn't let this go. Maybe I should say something about it." But nobody really looked like they needed anything said. I waited and let them learn about the rescheduled date on the announcements. One of them asked me what day of the week that would be. I hyped it up by adding that they would now get to wear regular clothes TWICE and that our last week of school would include a day off, a half day, a one hour day, AND field day. How lucky they were! They looked at me encouraged and with TOTAL trust that it would happen eventually, and that they could bide their time until then.
I didn't even offer consolation prizes (movies instead of "real work", indoor games and activities, etc.). They didn't ask. I just took them to Art class with a new sense of pride and admiration. These are not the whiny babies of years past, not even the less than mature students who I started the year with. These are the big kids, the kings and queens of our school. It is their last chance to be at the top for a while and they are wearing their crowns with grace and elegance today.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
The End Times
It's true what they say, you never really realize what you have until it's gone (or almost gone). My students seem to be experiencing this mentality in droves (possibly for the first time in their lives).
Every day my 5th graders do something new and interesting to surprise me. I don't know why, after all these years, that it actually surprises me...but hey, maybe I'm a slow learner. In any case, they are starting to get this sense of The End Times and losing everything that they are comfortable and safe with as we heartlessly kick them out of the nest and send them out into the cruel cruel world (aka Middle School).
The evidence started small. I have this one kid (who actually isn't even a 5th grader, he's just moving over the summer), we'll call him Bob (no seriously, we do. even in class. It's a long story.) He has always been very wary of any physical contact from anyone. He doesn't appreciate a friendly pat on the shoulder and when his friends try to grab him for an enthusiastic hug he complains loudly and tries to get them off. We've all established that you just don't touch Bob because he doesn't like it. Throughout the year, my students have learned to respect that. Anyway, about two weeks ago, Bob started to randomly pat me on the arm as he passed me. The other day (completely out of nowhere and in the middle of a spelling lesson) he declared in sing-song voice, "Ms. Teach in the best teacher in the wooooorld." Yesterday when he put his hand up to answer a question I gave him five (because I'm goofy like that) and he grabbed my hand and held on.
Then, yesterday I was in the middle of a math lesson and it was just not going well. The students were frustrated, and I don't think I showed that I was, but they must have picked up on it. I gave up on the lesson half-way through, explained that we needed a break, and that we would pick it up again tomorrow. One of my students asked, "Well what are we going to do now?" to which my (secret) Favorite Pumpkin (the one with ADHD who has revolutionized my entire teaching process this year) responded promptly, "Hug Ms. Teach!!!" Then, all of a sudden, I had a swarm of small people all around me. May I remind you that these are FIFTH graders?! In my world, for the majority of the time, 5th graders are a little too cool for hugging their teacher.
My students are safe with me. This makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside, but I think it makes their transition process even harder. If they were looking forward to leaving me, maybe things would be different. I'm trying to guide them through this just as I've guided them through everything else this year, but as I try to gradually let go, they are clinging to me for dear life.
Every day my 5th graders do something new and interesting to surprise me. I don't know why, after all these years, that it actually surprises me...but hey, maybe I'm a slow learner. In any case, they are starting to get this sense of The End Times and losing everything that they are comfortable and safe with as we heartlessly kick them out of the nest and send them out into the cruel cruel world (aka Middle School).
The evidence started small. I have this one kid (who actually isn't even a 5th grader, he's just moving over the summer), we'll call him Bob (no seriously, we do. even in class. It's a long story.) He has always been very wary of any physical contact from anyone. He doesn't appreciate a friendly pat on the shoulder and when his friends try to grab him for an enthusiastic hug he complains loudly and tries to get them off. We've all established that you just don't touch Bob because he doesn't like it. Throughout the year, my students have learned to respect that. Anyway, about two weeks ago, Bob started to randomly pat me on the arm as he passed me. The other day (completely out of nowhere and in the middle of a spelling lesson) he declared in sing-song voice, "Ms. Teach in the best teacher in the wooooorld." Yesterday when he put his hand up to answer a question I gave him five (because I'm goofy like that) and he grabbed my hand and held on.
Then, yesterday I was in the middle of a math lesson and it was just not going well. The students were frustrated, and I don't think I showed that I was, but they must have picked up on it. I gave up on the lesson half-way through, explained that we needed a break, and that we would pick it up again tomorrow. One of my students asked, "Well what are we going to do now?" to which my (secret) Favorite Pumpkin (the one with ADHD who has revolutionized my entire teaching process this year) responded promptly, "Hug Ms. Teach!!!" Then, all of a sudden, I had a swarm of small people all around me. May I remind you that these are FIFTH graders?! In my world, for the majority of the time, 5th graders are a little too cool for hugging their teacher.
My students are safe with me. This makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside, but I think it makes their transition process even harder. If they were looking forward to leaving me, maybe things would be different. I'm trying to guide them through this just as I've guided them through everything else this year, but as I try to gradually let go, they are clinging to me for dear life.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Help Me Help You
My roommate and I (who conveniently teach in exactly the same school in exactly the same hallway and have exactly the same lunch period) were discussing our day yesterday and, as the year comes to an end, we were boiling down to the same theme in both of our classes.
The end of the year is home to all the good stuff: parties, Field Day, recognition ceremonies, etc. The fun is endless. For most (all) teachers this also provides a fair amount of leverage. And for most children, it works. But then, you have the student who needs to go outside and run around during field day more than anyone else, and yet they can't seem to make the right choices that will get them there.
And you play the loving teacher card: "I really WANT everyone to get to go to Field Day and have a great time. I don't want you to have to sit inside in the office and do work while everyone else is enjoying such a glorious day. But friend, how many chances can I give you?"
They inevitably stare up at you blankly with the beginning of a tear forming in their eyes because they know they've pushed you too far this time. But then you give them hope, that maybe if they turn things around in the next 3 days, you'll reconsider.
The next morning rolls around and the same kid who you really thought you had gotten through to yesterday is missing the same darn thing that they've been missing every day, the same thing that got them into this mess in the first place.
I guess the truth is that they've made their bed. Why then, do I have such a hard time letting them lie in it?
The end of the year is home to all the good stuff: parties, Field Day, recognition ceremonies, etc. The fun is endless. For most (all) teachers this also provides a fair amount of leverage. And for most children, it works. But then, you have the student who needs to go outside and run around during field day more than anyone else, and yet they can't seem to make the right choices that will get them there.
And you play the loving teacher card: "I really WANT everyone to get to go to Field Day and have a great time. I don't want you to have to sit inside in the office and do work while everyone else is enjoying such a glorious day. But friend, how many chances can I give you?"
They inevitably stare up at you blankly with the beginning of a tear forming in their eyes because they know they've pushed you too far this time. But then you give them hope, that maybe if they turn things around in the next 3 days, you'll reconsider.
The next morning rolls around and the same kid who you really thought you had gotten through to yesterday is missing the same darn thing that they've been missing every day, the same thing that got them into this mess in the first place.
I guess the truth is that they've made their bed. Why then, do I have such a hard time letting them lie in it?
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