I don't really think that this week was quite as interesting as the one before, and interestingly enough I struggle to recall the details as I start this update. But never fear! I imagine they will come to me as I move along.
This week was the first week where I attempted to do straight instruction; TFA had warned us that we would spend the first several weeks of school doing nothing of substance other than establishing procedures, and this turned out to be the case for me as well. I started a story out of our reading textbooks on Monday with a spelling test and a preview of the selection vocabulary. I assigned homework more regularly than ever before, which meant that the papers piled up quickly. I think my students managed to learn a few things along the way, but our behavior issues still proved to be a substantial obstacle. I could not get through the lessons as smoothly or as timely with my behavior-challenged class as I did with my homeroom, though my homeroom also struggled with the structure. I can only hope that this aspect will improve as we settle into a routine, which is still lacking to the extent I would prefer. I pray that we will get there sooner rather than later!
The school was in a tizzy a few times this week as our superintendent made some unexpected visits. I am sure he is a nice guy and a respectable leader, but all that I can gather from his presence is one of pure intimidation. He strikes me as the type of person I never want to meet, unless he is in charge of granting some type of award or recognition, in which case I would KNOW that I wasn't in trouble. Any other type of meeting would probably make me break out in anticipatory sweats as I wait for this fierce power to break his tablet over my head. And don't worry; I'm not the only one who gets nervous at the very mention of the superintendent's name. I have never seen so many grown, experienced teachers suddenly turn to hyped-up, shaky children as the news spread that the superintendent was in the building. I personally prayed with fervent energy that he would not walk into my class at a moment of chaos, which was the state of my classroom most of the time. Thankfully, I was spared that embarrassment....this time....
Tuesday was probably the lowest point of the year thus far. I was exhausted by my attempts to gain control over my students and to get through one simple lesson. My co-teacher had suggested that I teach around and ignore the misbehavior, but that is more complicated than it seems. I am fully aware of my high standards by now, and so are my students, but we still have not settled on the terms for making this work. My heart constantly goes out to the students who are already prepared to learn and who beg their classmates to be quiet and listen, AND who beg me to pour all of the "caught being good" beans out of the jar. By the end of last week, I was not the only one trying to bribe the miscreants, but all of us still failed. These challenges persisted into this new week, and left me completely drained by Tuesday. But what really bothered me was the realization that I had not yet seen the bottom of this teaching free-fall. Some day, when I least expect it, I will find the bottom, but I bet even then I will think that I have even deeper to go.
Wednesday was an entirely new experience for me, which is saying a lot given the warp speed at which I have moved since June. My misbehavior class was suddenly incredible; I couldn't even believe the transformation that had come over them. I can tell you I did nothing different, because I had tried positive reinforcement everyday before, but something about this day was magical for my students. They earned stickers galore and their bean jar was half full by lunch (compared to empty by the end of Tuesday). I was so tickled by the sudden change that I got out my stamp that says, "Super!" and proceeded to tattoo their hands and arms with it. They were completely enamored with this reward, and begged me to stamp them again and again. I refrained, fearful of a confused parent's admonishments or a random ink allergy (you never know), but they loved it all the same. But then, at some point during lunch, four little boys were teasing one little girl, who burst into tears. I couldn't make any sense of who started what, who was actually involved, and what were the meanings behind the unfamiliar derogatory jabs they used. Cognizant of my lacking racial awareness in this territory, I referred all five of them to the office, and even the principal struggled to find coherence in the scene. But I think that one ended justly.
Simultaneously as this incident, a similar uproar erupted at the opposite end of the table as another little girl burst into tears, this time at the taunting of four little girls. But unlike the previous event, absolutely no resolution could be found. Just as I had done with the other tearful child, I pulled victim #2 to the side, asking for the cause of the disruption. All I could get from her was that "the devil, the enemy, was making her do mean things" to another little girl, who I had thought was the instigator. It was at this point that I left behind all semi-familiar territory and entered a bewildering new arena. I honestly had no idea how to handle it in the moment, but upon reporting the incident to my principal at the end of the day, I ended up referring the girl to the school counselor. My principal was surprised to a point, but upon reflection she found the girl's behavior fitting with odd circumstances of previous years. I too find the girl slightly odd; I have caught her many times in the process of taunting or bullying another student, but as soon as I reprimand her on it, she gets a huge, doe-eyed, innocent expression on her face. This automatic response had always tested my patience, but since Wednesday I can honestly say that her wide-eyed expression drives me insane. She should save this funny business for poorly made horror films.
And after lunch on Wednesday, the good behavior in my misbehavior class continued with a surprising enthusiasm. I was starting to think I was getting somewhere, and I was overwhelmingly thrilled. BUT, in the same amount of time it takes to flip a light switch, this class went from the best day they have ever had to the single WORST day they could ever possibly experience. Without any perceived trigger, the room combusted into chaos; a handful of girls started crying, several others started screaming, a fight broke out in the back of the room, boys were rolling on the floor, and the rest were variously contributing to the noise and tumult. One little girl asked me if she could go get the principal, which I tried to avoid for a few minutes, but ultimately agreed that might be the best course. Eventually they calmed down enough to switch classrooms, but the principal never came and my best day on record quickly became the oddest combination of factors I had ever seen in my life. As it stands now, no real progress has been made with that class...
Other interesting highlights: 1) I had to tell one little boy to stop trapsing the floor on his knees because he was getting all dirty. Shortly thereafter, I noticed the strong odor of hand sanitizer, only to find him once again on the floor, this time giving himself a substantial bath in sanitizer... 2) Another little boy decided it would be a good idea to eat a marker, which made him look like he was wearing lipstick and stained his mouth a brownish color. Another student brought him to my attention, and when I asked the marker-eater incredulously, "You ate a marker?!" he just smiled up at me as if I had just thanked him warmly for giving me the complete works of Shakespeare. Thankfully, the marker was not toxic...
Today I attended the Real Faith Christian Church, where one of my students was getting baptized and another sang in the choir. It was the closest glimpse into Southern black culture I had ever experienced, and gave me new insight into the family life of many of my students. As I sat through the three-hour service, I spent a great deal of time pondering how I could possibly use these new understandings to better serve my students, without too much success. But we shall see as the weeks progress...
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
It's actually much harder than I thought...
Well, two full weeks later, and I have to say that I cannot believe how much has happened since the first days. I know all of my students' names, which is good, and I am still loving my school, where I live, my co-workers, etc. But I have come across many struggles in the first weeks, some of which still have my head spinning. I feel like I have covered a significant portion of the teaching-experience-gamut:
Last week, a student had an accident after I refused to let her go during a test, AND after I was informed that she had a bladder control problem. Her mother was not happy, but the principal defended me, saying that students are not allowed out of class unless they have a note explaining the situation. I have had 2 students steal things off my desk, I have sent 5 students to the office--1 of whom went 3 times. Two of the 5 were paddled, once in front of me, once within my hearing, and many parents promised me that the children would experience even more at home. The three-timer was paddled two of the times. I spent 15 minutes getting a tangled hairpiece off a little girl's head and sent a note home with another student explaining that I was the reason she was late for pick-up, all so that they could escape a paddling from their parents. I sent a child running to the office (I don't ever allow running from ANY student, not just my own) in order to prevent one little boy from wrongly getting the paddle; I had sent him with a written message to the principal, but he had misinterpreted the mission as one where he carried his own sentence, and had begun to fearfully confess all his perceived sins. I have come to both understand and hate the phrase that the principal or parent or teacher is "going to get" a student, but I have also sent students to the office with the full knowledge that a paddle was the likely consequence.
I have become an awkward combination of teaching qualities as a result. Students have sensed my dislike of corporal punishment, but they have also come to understand that I will not stop them from experiencing it if the situation warrants a trip to the office. A part of me has been hardened by the exposure, but I still am a softer presence than some of these children have ever experienced. I am not afraid to yell even though I hate it more than anything, and I have seen more elephant tears than any child should ever feel the need to create. Some of my children are so incredibly in need of affection that I have given up on maintaining any semblance of personal space: they determinedly steal my hugs, my hands, and my caresses. As my friends and roommates know, I have always clung to my personal space with iron resolve, but apparently even iron crumbles eventually. I have received more presents and love notes than I ever imagined possible; at the very beginning of school I had started to hang the cutesy drawings in my room as a reminder on bad days, but I abandoned the idea by the end of the week. I have no desire to vainly wallpaper my room with my students' mementos.
I struggle to penetrate the harsh reality of corporal punishment in schools; I have too many students who are afraid of no consequence except the paddle, and even that only temporarily. I can't control my frustration with the amount of hitting, kicking, and spitting that these children do to one another, and I resent the double standard of paddling a child for hitting another child. My roommate remarked last night that she wonders if anyone in the state education department has made the connection between Mississippi's consistent presence at the bottom of the nation's academic performance pile and the fact that our state is one of the last to still practice corporal punishment.
I personally notice a huge difference between my kids here and my kids in Houston, but I refuse to change my standards. Perhaps that is the essential problem: a self-fulfilling prophecy. If we only expect bottom barrel from these students, then that is what they will give us. I have pounded it into my students' heads that I will not settle for less than their best, and slowly they are beginning to show it. I have approached my principal, my TFA program director, and other teachers in my desperation to achieve better classroom management, and all of them remark that they are impressed with what I have already achieved thusfar with this truly challenging group. Some think it is good enough, but I know that these students are capable of more. I can't give up on them. I don't question the power of high standards.
I have a student who wouldn't complete any of my morning assignments because he could not read them. I get the feeling that other teachers have dismissed him as uncommitted to learning and a troublemaker, but I made him persist by sounding out letters in his reading. He is afraid to admit his weakness, so he would rather take the failing grade than tell me the truth that he does not understand. But yesterday during our silent reading block, he finally raised his hand to ask for help and he quickly sounded out the word without too much work from me. It would sound like something small to anyone else, but I saw then just how hard he might be willing to work. AND he wrote more for me yesterday than he ever has before...
After my first 12 days, I am now more mindful of the realities that I face here. A fairly large part of me comes home each night in despair, but I never was one to quickly cut my losses. I am doing the best that I can while also expecting the absolute best from my students. Even if my execution is flawed, I still have a little bit of faith in my expectations, which might help me to make up the difference. And when I look into my children's eyes, I cannot help but set aside my own personal struggles in order to wholeheartedly work to eradicate theirs.
Last week, a student had an accident after I refused to let her go during a test, AND after I was informed that she had a bladder control problem. Her mother was not happy, but the principal defended me, saying that students are not allowed out of class unless they have a note explaining the situation. I have had 2 students steal things off my desk, I have sent 5 students to the office--1 of whom went 3 times. Two of the 5 were paddled, once in front of me, once within my hearing, and many parents promised me that the children would experience even more at home. The three-timer was paddled two of the times. I spent 15 minutes getting a tangled hairpiece off a little girl's head and sent a note home with another student explaining that I was the reason she was late for pick-up, all so that they could escape a paddling from their parents. I sent a child running to the office (I don't ever allow running from ANY student, not just my own) in order to prevent one little boy from wrongly getting the paddle; I had sent him with a written message to the principal, but he had misinterpreted the mission as one where he carried his own sentence, and had begun to fearfully confess all his perceived sins. I have come to both understand and hate the phrase that the principal or parent or teacher is "going to get" a student, but I have also sent students to the office with the full knowledge that a paddle was the likely consequence.
I have become an awkward combination of teaching qualities as a result. Students have sensed my dislike of corporal punishment, but they have also come to understand that I will not stop them from experiencing it if the situation warrants a trip to the office. A part of me has been hardened by the exposure, but I still am a softer presence than some of these children have ever experienced. I am not afraid to yell even though I hate it more than anything, and I have seen more elephant tears than any child should ever feel the need to create. Some of my children are so incredibly in need of affection that I have given up on maintaining any semblance of personal space: they determinedly steal my hugs, my hands, and my caresses. As my friends and roommates know, I have always clung to my personal space with iron resolve, but apparently even iron crumbles eventually. I have received more presents and love notes than I ever imagined possible; at the very beginning of school I had started to hang the cutesy drawings in my room as a reminder on bad days, but I abandoned the idea by the end of the week. I have no desire to vainly wallpaper my room with my students' mementos.
I struggle to penetrate the harsh reality of corporal punishment in schools; I have too many students who are afraid of no consequence except the paddle, and even that only temporarily. I can't control my frustration with the amount of hitting, kicking, and spitting that these children do to one another, and I resent the double standard of paddling a child for hitting another child. My roommate remarked last night that she wonders if anyone in the state education department has made the connection between Mississippi's consistent presence at the bottom of the nation's academic performance pile and the fact that our state is one of the last to still practice corporal punishment.
I personally notice a huge difference between my kids here and my kids in Houston, but I refuse to change my standards. Perhaps that is the essential problem: a self-fulfilling prophecy. If we only expect bottom barrel from these students, then that is what they will give us. I have pounded it into my students' heads that I will not settle for less than their best, and slowly they are beginning to show it. I have approached my principal, my TFA program director, and other teachers in my desperation to achieve better classroom management, and all of them remark that they are impressed with what I have already achieved thusfar with this truly challenging group. Some think it is good enough, but I know that these students are capable of more. I can't give up on them. I don't question the power of high standards.
I have a student who wouldn't complete any of my morning assignments because he could not read them. I get the feeling that other teachers have dismissed him as uncommitted to learning and a troublemaker, but I made him persist by sounding out letters in his reading. He is afraid to admit his weakness, so he would rather take the failing grade than tell me the truth that he does not understand. But yesterday during our silent reading block, he finally raised his hand to ask for help and he quickly sounded out the word without too much work from me. It would sound like something small to anyone else, but I saw then just how hard he might be willing to work. AND he wrote more for me yesterday than he ever has before...
After my first 12 days, I am now more mindful of the realities that I face here. A fairly large part of me comes home each night in despair, but I never was one to quickly cut my losses. I am doing the best that I can while also expecting the absolute best from my students. Even if my execution is flawed, I still have a little bit of faith in my expectations, which might help me to make up the difference. And when I look into my children's eyes, I cannot help but set aside my own personal struggles in order to wholeheartedly work to eradicate theirs.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Two Days of Teaching In...
...and it has been an adventure!! I spent the first three days of this week going through professional development...again. Monday we went to an inspirational talk at the high school with the entire district, which actually did turn out to be pretty inspirational. By then, I was so bogged down in the details of long-term plans and big goals and cleaning a classroom and, well, not freaking out about 27 faces staring up at me all day, that I was getting quite discouraged. I have always found it to be difficult to start something new and unfamiliar, but something about teaching little people for their first high-stakes testing year seems like a little more pressure than usual.
When I left the school Wednesday night, I felt fairly satisfied with my classroom. I had worked for six days to get it ready, throwing away an impossible amount of old materials (including a huge world map that had the Soviet Union on it...yeah) and probably over-thinking every organizational decision I ever made. But everyone who walked into my classroom was pretty impressed with the transformation and with the atmosphere I had created. But honestly, my classroom was a little pocket of preparedness within a school of chaotic disorder. All of the teachers who had been nowhere in sight for the entire summer and who had left promptly at 3:15 from professional development were suddenly cleaning out their classrooms and decorating for the new school year. The areas that had previously been havens of readiness had transformed into the same mess that still existed outside my classroom. Rather than getting closer and closer to looking like a real school, Oliver Elementary was a few steps away from being a garbage dump. I walked away at about 5pm, shaking my head and wondering if I would witness the effects of a miracle the next morning. A small part of me had my doubts.
But I have to say I was pleasantly surprised when the school was in pristine condition first thing Thursday...as long as you didn't look out the side exit doors to the mounds and mounds and mounds of...yeah....
In any case, the day started off in complete disarray, just as it should. I didn't expect to be entirely informed in the day's agenda, but a little more guidance may have been helpful. The school did not open until about 10 minutes before teachers were told to arrive at 7 (I was there at 6:30), which was a full 20 minutes AFTER the first students started arriving. For the next two hours, students trickled into the cafeteria with parents and family as we waited for the opening welcome from Principal Montgomery. At the end, each of the teachers got on the microphone to call his/her roll and line up the class of students. I was proud of myself in that I had asked SEVERAL teachers for name pronunciations beforehand so that I would not completely embarrass myself in front of hundreds and hundreds of people, and I managed to set an authoritative tone for my students. I gave explicit directions for lining up as I called names (something many of the veteran teachers failed to do, and more chaos ensued), and I lined them up outside my classroom, giving them even more stern directions, all while their parents looked on. Talk about an introduction to teaching! There is nothing more intimidating than instructing a child on behavior expectations in front of the child's family, trust me on that one.
Instead of switching the third grade classes at some point during the day--as I had wanted, I ended up keeping my homeroom all day. It took forever to set up the rules, the big goals, and just a small portion of the procedures I wanted in place, and I hate how long it is still taking me to get comfortable with names. But by the end, I think I had a very successful first day of school. The intervention specialist, who observed for the last half hour of the day, complimented me on winning the students' respect and setting a positive tone. Every veteran teacher who saw me that day praised me on what they felt was a solid start and offered continued support as I got even further into the school year. I will be the first and loudest to always acknowledge how WONDERFUL all of my fellow teachers are at Oliver. I have already heard horror stories from other schools in the district and in the Delta, but I am beyond blessed in the support and welcome that I have received.
But I digress. If you had asked me at 8pm on Thursday night, I would have told you that my first day failed to live up to my high expectations and I would have been discouraged by the start of this pivotal year. But that was BEFORE Friday happened, and BEFORE I met my other third grade class...
I started out day two with my same homeroom, and I worked hard to correct the flaws I had perceived from the day before. I wanted to make sure I did everything right, because I do NOT want to be in the worst-case-scenario videos they show at Institute. I wanted to be one of the success videos if I ended up in any video at all (not to say that this is an inevitability, just that it is a small nightmare I have occasionally...). After a couple hours, I was running out of activities and I was anxious to meet the other class. So Mrs. Johnson and I did our best to attempt our first class switch of the year. It wasn't a complete failure, even though my homeroom performed miserably in the "quickly and quietly cubby procedure" we had been practicing all morning. I did, however, catch Mrs. Johnson giving a warning to her homeroom students: "Now listen up boys and girls. Ms. Cook comes to us after teaching in Texas. They don't play down in Texas. Ms. Cook don't play, so you better be on your best behavior with her, cuz she will get you."
I could have kissed her for scaring her kids, and giving me the inadvertent confidence boost I needed to come out strong with the new batch. So let me tell you, my introduction to Mrs. Johnson's homeroom was pretty phenomenal. I don't mind admitting it, especially since Principal Montgomery got to observe the best of it, and especially since, well, the success did not last very long. This group of kids was much larger than mine--25 kids rather than the 19 I had taken for granted--and they are frightfully unused to structure. Sure, there were several, as usual, who hung on my every word and aimed to please me beyond all other earthly concerns, but I was honestly troubled and surprised by the lack of respect these kids showed for one another and for education in general. I have never seen such aggressive testosterone in an eight-year-old, nor such blatant apathy. I sit here now still reeling from the reality of the challenges that will greet me on Monday and that will continue to haunt our progress this year. Everyone has warned us of the obstacles, but I could help but hope with every fiber of my naivete that my class would be the exception. The truth I should have expected all along is a little difficult to handle.
But when I rightfully put the first two days into perspective, I have to say that I am THRILLED by what awaits me. When my homeroom came back for the last hour of the day, they greeted me with hugs, warmth, and excellent behavior. All I had to do to restore order was put my hand on the top of the "caught being good" bean jar. They dreaded the moment they would lose any of those beans. The other class, in contrast, had lost every single bean that they could have hoped to gain for weeks...
I have already learned some important lessons. The good kids in both classes remind me why I love teaching, and the bad kids remind me of why I have to keep trying. Every child deserves my absolute best each and every day, and every child to have a learning breakthrough. In my room, I have displayed my iceberg poster that craftily shows the amount of ice above water, and the enormous depths we never get to see and we often forget all about (sometimes with titanic consequences...haha...ok, bad joke). I told my students that they are all icebergs. They have gigantic potential that we have not yet gotten to see, but each day we are going to work hard to uncover it. Above the poster I hung the words, "Show your potential." This summer I got to see just how true this analogy is. My mission is to find the iceberg in even the most unwilling of students this year.
On my parent survey, I asked the students' families to tell me about their child's strengths, in whatever form that may take. I had some who commented on a student's warm personality or enthusiasm for learning. I had one who responded with a question mark. Even if it takes me all year, I will make sure that that parent knows EXACTLY how to answer that question.
When I left the school Wednesday night, I felt fairly satisfied with my classroom. I had worked for six days to get it ready, throwing away an impossible amount of old materials (including a huge world map that had the Soviet Union on it...yeah) and probably over-thinking every organizational decision I ever made. But everyone who walked into my classroom was pretty impressed with the transformation and with the atmosphere I had created. But honestly, my classroom was a little pocket of preparedness within a school of chaotic disorder. All of the teachers who had been nowhere in sight for the entire summer and who had left promptly at 3:15 from professional development were suddenly cleaning out their classrooms and decorating for the new school year. The areas that had previously been havens of readiness had transformed into the same mess that still existed outside my classroom. Rather than getting closer and closer to looking like a real school, Oliver Elementary was a few steps away from being a garbage dump. I walked away at about 5pm, shaking my head and wondering if I would witness the effects of a miracle the next morning. A small part of me had my doubts.
But I have to say I was pleasantly surprised when the school was in pristine condition first thing Thursday...as long as you didn't look out the side exit doors to the mounds and mounds and mounds of...yeah....
In any case, the day started off in complete disarray, just as it should. I didn't expect to be entirely informed in the day's agenda, but a little more guidance may have been helpful. The school did not open until about 10 minutes before teachers were told to arrive at 7 (I was there at 6:30), which was a full 20 minutes AFTER the first students started arriving. For the next two hours, students trickled into the cafeteria with parents and family as we waited for the opening welcome from Principal Montgomery. At the end, each of the teachers got on the microphone to call his/her roll and line up the class of students. I was proud of myself in that I had asked SEVERAL teachers for name pronunciations beforehand so that I would not completely embarrass myself in front of hundreds and hundreds of people, and I managed to set an authoritative tone for my students. I gave explicit directions for lining up as I called names (something many of the veteran teachers failed to do, and more chaos ensued), and I lined them up outside my classroom, giving them even more stern directions, all while their parents looked on. Talk about an introduction to teaching! There is nothing more intimidating than instructing a child on behavior expectations in front of the child's family, trust me on that one.
Instead of switching the third grade classes at some point during the day--as I had wanted, I ended up keeping my homeroom all day. It took forever to set up the rules, the big goals, and just a small portion of the procedures I wanted in place, and I hate how long it is still taking me to get comfortable with names. But by the end, I think I had a very successful first day of school. The intervention specialist, who observed for the last half hour of the day, complimented me on winning the students' respect and setting a positive tone. Every veteran teacher who saw me that day praised me on what they felt was a solid start and offered continued support as I got even further into the school year. I will be the first and loudest to always acknowledge how WONDERFUL all of my fellow teachers are at Oliver. I have already heard horror stories from other schools in the district and in the Delta, but I am beyond blessed in the support and welcome that I have received.
But I digress. If you had asked me at 8pm on Thursday night, I would have told you that my first day failed to live up to my high expectations and I would have been discouraged by the start of this pivotal year. But that was BEFORE Friday happened, and BEFORE I met my other third grade class...
I started out day two with my same homeroom, and I worked hard to correct the flaws I had perceived from the day before. I wanted to make sure I did everything right, because I do NOT want to be in the worst-case-scenario videos they show at Institute. I wanted to be one of the success videos if I ended up in any video at all (not to say that this is an inevitability, just that it is a small nightmare I have occasionally...). After a couple hours, I was running out of activities and I was anxious to meet the other class. So Mrs. Johnson and I did our best to attempt our first class switch of the year. It wasn't a complete failure, even though my homeroom performed miserably in the "quickly and quietly cubby procedure" we had been practicing all morning. I did, however, catch Mrs. Johnson giving a warning to her homeroom students: "Now listen up boys and girls. Ms. Cook comes to us after teaching in Texas. They don't play down in Texas. Ms. Cook don't play, so you better be on your best behavior with her, cuz she will get you."
I could have kissed her for scaring her kids, and giving me the inadvertent confidence boost I needed to come out strong with the new batch. So let me tell you, my introduction to Mrs. Johnson's homeroom was pretty phenomenal. I don't mind admitting it, especially since Principal Montgomery got to observe the best of it, and especially since, well, the success did not last very long. This group of kids was much larger than mine--25 kids rather than the 19 I had taken for granted--and they are frightfully unused to structure. Sure, there were several, as usual, who hung on my every word and aimed to please me beyond all other earthly concerns, but I was honestly troubled and surprised by the lack of respect these kids showed for one another and for education in general. I have never seen such aggressive testosterone in an eight-year-old, nor such blatant apathy. I sit here now still reeling from the reality of the challenges that will greet me on Monday and that will continue to haunt our progress this year. Everyone has warned us of the obstacles, but I could help but hope with every fiber of my naivete that my class would be the exception. The truth I should have expected all along is a little difficult to handle.
But when I rightfully put the first two days into perspective, I have to say that I am THRILLED by what awaits me. When my homeroom came back for the last hour of the day, they greeted me with hugs, warmth, and excellent behavior. All I had to do to restore order was put my hand on the top of the "caught being good" bean jar. They dreaded the moment they would lose any of those beans. The other class, in contrast, had lost every single bean that they could have hoped to gain for weeks...
I have already learned some important lessons. The good kids in both classes remind me why I love teaching, and the bad kids remind me of why I have to keep trying. Every child deserves my absolute best each and every day, and every child to have a learning breakthrough. In my room, I have displayed my iceberg poster that craftily shows the amount of ice above water, and the enormous depths we never get to see and we often forget all about (sometimes with titanic consequences...haha...ok, bad joke). I told my students that they are all icebergs. They have gigantic potential that we have not yet gotten to see, but each day we are going to work hard to uncover it. Above the poster I hung the words, "Show your potential." This summer I got to see just how true this analogy is. My mission is to find the iceberg in even the most unwilling of students this year.
On my parent survey, I asked the students' families to tell me about their child's strengths, in whatever form that may take. I had some who commented on a student's warm personality or enthusiasm for learning. I had one who responded with a question mark. Even if it takes me all year, I will make sure that that parent knows EXACTLY how to answer that question.
Moving to the Delta!
Hey all, this is my post from last week, which never actually made it to my blog. A new one yet to come! :)
Well, this is my LAST free weekend before school starts! I report for three days of training starting Monday, and then students arrive on Thursday! Within the span of just a few minutes, I go from extreme excitement to a near nervous breakdown as I contemplate what awaits me this week. I think part of the problem is that I have had a lot of time to think about the gravity of starting my first year of teaching; when I started Institute, I quite literally jumped right in. I never once had a moment to stop and completely comprehend what I was doing, so the transition didn't really exist. The mentality was, just do it. Don't take time to think about it!
But since I have returned from Houston, the start of the school year has been playing a major role in my musings. Sure, I had to find a house and move in, and I got to enjoy a wonderful visit from my parents, but ultimately I was always in the community where I would be teaching. There was no separation of being in a different state or a different town. Everything I have done has somehow been in preparation for school. I think I feel excitement whenever I manage to recover my Institute mentality of, just get up there and teach. Don't over-think it. Well, I can safely say now that I am exhausted from weeks of over-thinking it!
I suppose I used the term "free weekend" pretty lightly: my major goal this weekend is to figure out just how I am going to teach for an entire school year. I am literally swimming in resources: my students will receive 4 textbooks and 7 workbooks for language arts ALONE. I have a textbook and workbook for social studies as well. I also found my predecessor's lesson plans from the disaster zone that is my new classroom, and I have a copy of the pacing guide from Jackson Public Schools. I haven't a clue where to start, and TFA has deeply ingrained in me the urgency of teaching. There is no time to waste while I try to figure out what I am going to do; I need to hit the ground running. If I mess up, there won't be any penalty for me, but it will have HUGE consequences for my students. The pressure from TFA and the school principal is intense, but I also suspect, given my well-established modus operandi, that much of this pressure is self-inflicted.
Even though that realization doesn't make me feel any better, I do take a modicum of comfort in the idea that one particular personality trait might finally come into good use. My high school guidance counselor once responded to a recommendation question that my greatest weakness was the fact that I held others to impossibly high standards, since I held those same high standards for myself. Essentially, I expect as much out of others as I do out of myself, which meant people would often disappoint me. Now, however, I can hold my students to the same high standards I have for myself, and I can use those expectations to drive my students to success. After all, how many times have I heard that sometimes all it takes is someone to hold students accountable and to believe that they can achieve so much more for themselves than what they have previously settled for? I hope I can use my high standards in a positive way this year, if nothing else.
At this point, I have spent three days working on my classroom. It would be an understatement to say my room has been a challenging near-disaster--the teacher before me retired after 30-some years of teaching, and so she left nearly EVERYTHING from those 30 years. That equates to a lot of great resources, and an overwhelming amount of pure junk. The custodians were appalled at just how much came out of that room, and how much is STILL coming out of that room. But I am excited at how much I have managed to do with the space with a little creativity and a huge garbage bin. Though I am not quite finished, I have really managed to make the classroom my own, and I can't wait to fill it with students!
Probably enough for now; I have to lesson plan! This is the most stressful part, but once established, the days can progress smoothly. So wish me lots of luck, and feel free to send words of encouragement/advice/commiseration my way! :)
Well, this is my LAST free weekend before school starts! I report for three days of training starting Monday, and then students arrive on Thursday! Within the span of just a few minutes, I go from extreme excitement to a near nervous breakdown as I contemplate what awaits me this week. I think part of the problem is that I have had a lot of time to think about the gravity of starting my first year of teaching; when I started Institute, I quite literally jumped right in. I never once had a moment to stop and completely comprehend what I was doing, so the transition didn't really exist. The mentality was, just do it. Don't take time to think about it!
But since I have returned from Houston, the start of the school year has been playing a major role in my musings. Sure, I had to find a house and move in, and I got to enjoy a wonderful visit from my parents, but ultimately I was always in the community where I would be teaching. There was no separation of being in a different state or a different town. Everything I have done has somehow been in preparation for school. I think I feel excitement whenever I manage to recover my Institute mentality of, just get up there and teach. Don't over-think it. Well, I can safely say now that I am exhausted from weeks of over-thinking it!
I suppose I used the term "free weekend" pretty lightly: my major goal this weekend is to figure out just how I am going to teach for an entire school year. I am literally swimming in resources: my students will receive 4 textbooks and 7 workbooks for language arts ALONE. I have a textbook and workbook for social studies as well. I also found my predecessor's lesson plans from the disaster zone that is my new classroom, and I have a copy of the pacing guide from Jackson Public Schools. I haven't a clue where to start, and TFA has deeply ingrained in me the urgency of teaching. There is no time to waste while I try to figure out what I am going to do; I need to hit the ground running. If I mess up, there won't be any penalty for me, but it will have HUGE consequences for my students. The pressure from TFA and the school principal is intense, but I also suspect, given my well-established modus operandi, that much of this pressure is self-inflicted.
Even though that realization doesn't make me feel any better, I do take a modicum of comfort in the idea that one particular personality trait might finally come into good use. My high school guidance counselor once responded to a recommendation question that my greatest weakness was the fact that I held others to impossibly high standards, since I held those same high standards for myself. Essentially, I expect as much out of others as I do out of myself, which meant people would often disappoint me. Now, however, I can hold my students to the same high standards I have for myself, and I can use those expectations to drive my students to success. After all, how many times have I heard that sometimes all it takes is someone to hold students accountable and to believe that they can achieve so much more for themselves than what they have previously settled for? I hope I can use my high standards in a positive way this year, if nothing else.
At this point, I have spent three days working on my classroom. It would be an understatement to say my room has been a challenging near-disaster--the teacher before me retired after 30-some years of teaching, and so she left nearly EVERYTHING from those 30 years. That equates to a lot of great resources, and an overwhelming amount of pure junk. The custodians were appalled at just how much came out of that room, and how much is STILL coming out of that room. But I am excited at how much I have managed to do with the space with a little creativity and a huge garbage bin. Though I am not quite finished, I have really managed to make the classroom my own, and I can't wait to fill it with students!
Probably enough for now; I have to lesson plan! This is the most stressful part, but once established, the days can progress smoothly. So wish me lots of luck, and feel free to send words of encouragement/advice/commiseration my way! :)
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