I hope I don't sound preachy (I am trying to be supportive and helpful) when I tell Angela, the new member of the 5th grade team, to be grateful for small victories, because often that's the only kind you get.
So far this week, my small victory is that Dmytry had a conversation with me - one that he initiated and carried on for longer than needed for simple communication of basic needs. Dmytry is my sole Ukrainian kid, sorta sticks out a little. You might think of him as small blonde whitecap in a sea of earthy browns and tans.
Dmytry was here for third grade, went back to Ukraine for fourth, and returned to my threshold for fifth. He's clearly a smart kid, and a little frustrated at first with his inability to be immediately fluent in English. For the first month or two he pretty much kept his communication with me to a minimum, asking in a small, stilted voice "Can I go out?" for frequent bathroom and water breaks. (Recently, without any prompting from me, he has progressed to "May I go to the bathroom" and "May I drink water.") I'm really impressed with the speed at which he's developing English, and my heart was warmed today when he had several minutes-worth of things to tell me about. I only understood maybe 65% of it, but I beamed at him anyway and responded with a vague all-purpose comment that I hoped fit the topic at hand. But anyway, that's never happened before. It was nice. Small victory. Worth coming in on a frigid Monday feeling under the weather.
Add to the list of staircase questions: Why is the middle finger bad? and, How many zeroes does infinity have?
Also, just to clarify, all the names I'm using are pseudonyms. I just try to pick ones that match the kids.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Meet Georgie
Every year Georgie has a meeting with the the principal. Y'know, share some ideas about how to improve the school, what types of games would be good to have at the carnival, his opinions and insights and priorities for the school year. He's the only kid who does this.
I think it may have even started when I had him in first grade, when Candy saw him doing the Soldier Boy dance he had learned in after-school, which was incredibly hilarious since the dance itself is so atrocious, and he was always a little clumsy and uncoordinated, and he just did it with such gusto. So Candy took him down to perform for whoever happened to be in the back office at the time, and of course he agreed, because he adores the spotlight. He's one of those kids who adults notice -- probably because he spends most of his time seeking their attention. He is so totally un-shy, will talk to anyone about anything, especially strangers, and he's crown prince of the non sequitur. Everyone likes to mess with him, because he's just so mess-withable...
I will have to get you a copy of the letter he typed to the principal to schedule the meeting. It is hilarious. And, after pestering Candy incessantly about the meeting for a few days at arrival and dismissal, she gave him the principal's secretary's extension and had him call the main office to follow up about scheduling the meeting. And although it's mostly in jest, I couldn't help enjoying the valuable life lesson he is learning about persistence, and about speaking truth to power...
The other day something precious happened with him. A concerned parent had come to me to report a rumor that one of the students in the class had brought a knife to school. After some sleuthing, I deduced that the rumor had originated from one Beatriz, who is, at best, a less-than-reliable witness (and at worst, potentially a bold-faced liar who may or may not have stolen my entire tape dispenser through I can't prove it, and have yet to come up with a good reason why anyone would want to pilfer something as mundane as a tape dispenser.)
Anyway, Beatriz basically fell apart under questioning, never actually admitting to having seen any kind knife, or telling anyone that she had. She did claim to have seen "something green and hard" in Georgie's backpack, with an extremely circuitous explanation about what it might have been, involving her babysitter, a young boy that her babysitter also watches who may or may not know Georgie, and many other illogical and/or irrelevant statements.
But, wanting to be diligent, I had to question Georgie about the allegation. In my calm-but-stern, no-nonsense "you might be in really big trouble" voice, I invited Georgie into my office in the doorway.
"Georgie, I need to ask you something very important, and it's very important that you be honest with me... Did you bring anything to school recently that you are not supposed to have?"
His lower lip trembled. His eyes got wide. My stomach dropped. In a quivering, small voice, he confessed...
"My i-pod... I brought it on the field trip." Trying my best to suppress a smile, I probed further.
"Um.. ok. That's not really what I'm talking about. Did you bring something else you're not supposed to have?"
Longer pause. He thought for a moment. I thought I spied tears filling up his eyes.
"Sunflower seeds?"
Charmed by his innocence, honesty, and genuine remorse, I thought to myself, "No further questions."
Though they'd deny it vehemently in public, teachers do have favorites, (and others they just don't care for.) Georgie I love even more every day.
I think it may have even started when I had him in first grade, when Candy saw him doing the Soldier Boy dance he had learned in after-school, which was incredibly hilarious since the dance itself is so atrocious, and he was always a little clumsy and uncoordinated, and he just did it with such gusto. So Candy took him down to perform for whoever happened to be in the back office at the time, and of course he agreed, because he adores the spotlight. He's one of those kids who adults notice -- probably because he spends most of his time seeking their attention. He is so totally un-shy, will talk to anyone about anything, especially strangers, and he's crown prince of the non sequitur. Everyone likes to mess with him, because he's just so mess-withable...
I will have to get you a copy of the letter he typed to the principal to schedule the meeting. It is hilarious. And, after pestering Candy incessantly about the meeting for a few days at arrival and dismissal, she gave him the principal's secretary's extension and had him call the main office to follow up about scheduling the meeting. And although it's mostly in jest, I couldn't help enjoying the valuable life lesson he is learning about persistence, and about speaking truth to power...
The other day something precious happened with him. A concerned parent had come to me to report a rumor that one of the students in the class had brought a knife to school. After some sleuthing, I deduced that the rumor had originated from one Beatriz, who is, at best, a less-than-reliable witness (and at worst, potentially a bold-faced liar who may or may not have stolen my entire tape dispenser through I can't prove it, and have yet to come up with a good reason why anyone would want to pilfer something as mundane as a tape dispenser.)
Anyway, Beatriz basically fell apart under questioning, never actually admitting to having seen any kind knife, or telling anyone that she had. She did claim to have seen "something green and hard" in Georgie's backpack, with an extremely circuitous explanation about what it might have been, involving her babysitter, a young boy that her babysitter also watches who may or may not know Georgie, and many other illogical and/or irrelevant statements.
But, wanting to be diligent, I had to question Georgie about the allegation. In my calm-but-stern, no-nonsense "you might be in really big trouble" voice, I invited Georgie into my office in the doorway.
"Georgie, I need to ask you something very important, and it's very important that you be honest with me... Did you bring anything to school recently that you are not supposed to have?"
His lower lip trembled. His eyes got wide. My stomach dropped. In a quivering, small voice, he confessed...
"My i-pod... I brought it on the field trip." Trying my best to suppress a smile, I probed further.
"Um.. ok. That's not really what I'm talking about. Did you bring something else you're not supposed to have?"
Longer pause. He thought for a moment. I thought I spied tears filling up his eyes.
"Sunflower seeds?"
Charmed by his innocence, honesty, and genuine remorse, I thought to myself, "No further questions."
Though they'd deny it vehemently in public, teachers do have favorites, (and others they just don't care for.) Georgie I love even more every day.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Monday, December 5, 2011
Ain't nothing gonna break my stride
I should preface this by reiterating, this has been my best year yet. One of the most amazing differences I've been feeling is that of calm in the room. I'm relaxed and the kids are relaxed, enough so that I can make jokes and tease them a little now that I've gotten to know them. I feel more like myself while teaching than I ever have before - cheerful, low-key, sane, sometimes silly. The kids are quiet in the halls. My inner hose-beast has not so far had to rear its ugly head even once!
I realize I'm not the rookie anymore. I see first year teachers struggling through what I went through and I realize how far I've come. And I see my kids transforming, working hard, making new realizations...
And just when I had managed to forget the ignominy of the superintendent's vote of no confidence this summer, Candy mentioned that Superintendent Numbercrunch called to check up on me. Like peeling off a scab and watching fresh blood reappear, all that ICK raced back up to the surface.
It struck me that one thing you need as a teacher -- and it's not something you can fake -- is confidence. The kids need to be able to trust you to lead them in the right direction, and for that to happen, you have to be able to trust yourself. Much harder than it sounds.
But more than any other year, I'm starting to feel confident in what I'm doing, that, hey, this is working after all. And I remember some important advice I have received: to follow my internal compass (because it's always there if you look for it), and also when there is unpleasantness surrounding you, to step into a giant invisible condom until you are safely away, then peel it off your protective prophylactic and dispose of any unpleasantness-residue as expeditiously as possible.
RIght now my compass is telling me to keep doing what i am doing, because this time I'm pointed in the right direction. It's telling me to keep listening to my little ragtag posse of students who walk in the back of the line so they can be near me on the way up from lunch, so they can ask me questions like, do bearded dragons molt like snakes, and find out if I've read the Calvin and Hobbes where Calvin starts a tsunami in the bathtub, and ask how the universe began, or have I ever seen a shark tooth, and why did God invent paint?
And although part of me is conflicted about letting them talk in the hallways, a bigger part of me, the part that always seems to win, finds the questions irresistible. And the part of me that learned how T-bird's mom died in childbirth, and how his dad works all the time and his 16-year-old sister cooks for him and makes him do his homework, and the part of me that knows this kid is absolutely brilliant and really just needs someone besides his elderly babysitter to talk to, realizes that entertaining his questions on the way up the stairs might be the most important thing I do all day.
So I'm cueing my theme music for the day...
Ain't nothin' gonna to break my stride
Nobody's gonna slow me down, oh-no
I got to keep on movin'
Ain't nothin' gonna break my stride
I'm running and I won't touch ground
Oh-no, I got to keep on movin'
Nobody's gonna slow me down, oh-no
I got to keep on movin'
Ain't nothin' gonna break my stride
I'm running and I won't touch ground
Oh-no, I got to keep on movin'
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Back
It's kind of a miracle, when you think about it, how kids learn. I just did the second round of reading tests for the year, and I still find it incredible that somehow, kids can read words they couldn't read two months ago, that somehow they understand parts of stories that had eluded them the first time around.
Part of the miracle is not being sure exactly how it happens... I know I follow a curriculum that is supposed to have been researched and lab site-tested and ensures that kids will learn how to read... and yet I can't help feeling that the kids hear me the way Charlie Brown hears adults in his world: "Wah wah wah wah wah wee wah."
But somewhere along the lines, stuff sunk in! Somehow my voice managed to ooze into the cracks in their consciousness and there they are, mirroring things I've said like little parakeets.
***
In case you're wondering, I'm having the best year yet. According to Malcolm Gladwell, it takes about 10,000 hours to become completely proficient at something, and according to my calculations I recently reached that mark.
I did not heed my own advice and I acquiesced when MoLo asked if I would work after school this year. But after a couple of months of constant low grade exhaustion, I heard my inner Buddha's voice telling me to resign, and so I drummed up my courage and did it... and MoLo's reaction couldn't have been more positive. She said it demonstrated leadership qualities to be able to recognize where your priorities are and that you always have to put your kids first.
So now I'm hoping to use my extra 4-6 hours a week to get back to the blog. And I'm also starting a girls volleyball team which has been a dream of mine!
Part of the miracle is not being sure exactly how it happens... I know I follow a curriculum that is supposed to have been researched and lab site-tested and ensures that kids will learn how to read... and yet I can't help feeling that the kids hear me the way Charlie Brown hears adults in his world: "Wah wah wah wah wah wee wah."
But somewhere along the lines, stuff sunk in! Somehow my voice managed to ooze into the cracks in their consciousness and there they are, mirroring things I've said like little parakeets.
***
In case you're wondering, I'm having the best year yet. According to Malcolm Gladwell, it takes about 10,000 hours to become completely proficient at something, and according to my calculations I recently reached that mark.
I did not heed my own advice and I acquiesced when MoLo asked if I would work after school this year. But after a couple of months of constant low grade exhaustion, I heard my inner Buddha's voice telling me to resign, and so I drummed up my courage and did it... and MoLo's reaction couldn't have been more positive. She said it demonstrated leadership qualities to be able to recognize where your priorities are and that you always have to put your kids first.
So now I'm hoping to use my extra 4-6 hours a week to get back to the blog. And I'm also starting a girls volleyball team which has been a dream of mine!
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Flight attendants, prepare for takeoff
I only haven't written because I've been working non-stop. Everything's going really well. This week we are still on the tarmac - doing assessments, learning routines, assigning jobs, going over the rules, setting goals. I am waiting for liftoff.
I will let you know when we have reached our cruising altitude.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Start yer engines
The first day has come and gone. I prepared endlessly, it feels, and ultimately it paid off. One of the girls (quite honestly, I'm not sure which one because it takes a little time to distinguish between and among them) piped up on our way out the door (only 5 minutes late, and with none of the important papers and memos left behind, which is actually quite good for the first day...). She said "When I get home my mom is going to ask how was school and I'm going to say wonderful!" Which is a bit amusing given that it feels like all we did today was peel and stick name labels onto a million different notebooks and workbooks and folders...
But she's probably reacting to that same, hopeful anything-can-happen feeling the teachers get around this time of year, too. It's the one that popped me out of bed on several Saturday mornings before school started and had me analyzing the teacher's guide fpr math and creating a Student Math Goal Grid and a break-down of the Test Prep book according to skill... sounds like fun, doesn't it?
Anyway, everything went very smoothly, and I'm happy to report I am fully prepared for tomorrow and actually looking forward to it, in accordance with my personal goals for this year.
Also, another analogy for teaching dawned on me today as a trudged through the dampness of the day to the subway: Teaching is a 7-hour one-man show performed for 180 days in a row. Each show must be unique, enriching, and tailored to each of the audience members individually. The teacher is not only the actor, but also the writer, director, producer, usher, tech crew and props department.
As I told Shorty this evening, 10 months of being tired begins now.
I have to say, it has been so amazing to have Shorty here backing me up -- making me lunches, procuring dinners, doing laundry, giving me back massages, making sure I get to bed and wake up on time and take my medicine... It's like having my own pit crew in between performances. I'm like an acrobat realizing how much better it is to have a safety net, when all this time I was going without!
But she's probably reacting to that same, hopeful anything-can-happen feeling the teachers get around this time of year, too. It's the one that popped me out of bed on several Saturday mornings before school started and had me analyzing the teacher's guide fpr math and creating a Student Math Goal Grid and a break-down of the Test Prep book according to skill... sounds like fun, doesn't it?
Anyway, everything went very smoothly, and I'm happy to report I am fully prepared for tomorrow and actually looking forward to it, in accordance with my personal goals for this year.
Also, another analogy for teaching dawned on me today as a trudged through the dampness of the day to the subway: Teaching is a 7-hour one-man show performed for 180 days in a row. Each show must be unique, enriching, and tailored to each of the audience members individually. The teacher is not only the actor, but also the writer, director, producer, usher, tech crew and props department.
As I told Shorty this evening, 10 months of being tired begins now.
I have to say, it has been so amazing to have Shorty here backing me up -- making me lunches, procuring dinners, doing laundry, giving me back massages, making sure I get to bed and wake up on time and take my medicine... It's like having my own pit crew in between performances. I'm like an acrobat realizing how much better it is to have a safety net, when all this time I was going without!
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