OK, maybe this is just the hippy-dippy touchy-feely new-age crystal-holding incense-sniffing-chakra-aligning spirit-totem-Earth-Mother-worshipping womyn in me talking, but I seriously loooooooove the inner resilience program. It goes like this:
Eat free snack!
Moment of silence
Choose an image and explain why you were drawn to it today
Light a candle
Read something meaningful and talk about it
Meditate
Journal
Talk to someone for two minutes/listen to someone for two minutes
Write a letter to yourself
Blow out a candle
Eat free dinner!
Pack up leftover free dinner in take-out containers to become following day's free lunch!
It basically makes me feel like a better person and also want to be a better person. And it makes me appreciate the people in my life who already DO make me a better person, like Corky who let me spontaneously sleep over at her apartment last night to make sure my report card comments got done even though it was late and I was tired, and then dressed me and bought me breakfast for no reason at all... Or my roommates, I'll call them Harmony and Rose, who heroically cleaned the fridge today since it needed to be done, and who make me eat more kale.
A welcome transformation happens when I go to inner resilience... I feel capable of appreciating more and griping less. I feel confident, capable, balanced. I can focus on accomplishments and not aggravations. I become a different person. A better one? A mindful one?
At school, I spent the afternoon walking around with a knot in my stomach... too much time scrutinizing the data of deficiency, I suppose; a case of the Mondays coupled with anxiety over Math Topics Yet to be Covered...
And by the way, if you were wondering if testing is a disease and whether or not it fucks with your head, it is and it does. Because when the wonderful and benevolent and kind Ms. A, the school librarian, called to notify me that we had library (and as usual, it had slipped my mind) my response wasn't delight at this unexpected windfall of precious unstructured, joyful book-worship. My initial response was more expletive in nature, calculating ways I could make up for the math pages that would now be undone, and lamenting the empty boxes besmirhcing my spreadsheet for small group instruction.
And something about that just ain't right.
So leaving school wasn't easy while feeling the grains in the hourglass sliding by just a little too briskly as this week's Big To Do built up a head of steam. Cutting out early from Inquiry Planning felt like skulking away into the shadows, shirking my duties, disappointing my fans.
But I sometimes think of my life as a pie chart, with my time split among all my various roles as teacher and student and sister and daughter and colleague and friend and occassional athlete and wanna-be writer (and everything else that I wish I could be, and certainly would if I just had More Time... )And sometimes I have to elbow the other pie pieces out of the way in order to gather up a little more real estate for the slice designated... well, Inner Life Liver (hah, liver!), I guess, or Caretake of Myself or Seeker of Peace or something silly like that...But yeah, whatever it's called, this piece of the pie is special. Maybe it should be marked only with a symbol like the Artist Formerly Known as Prince...
Anyway, Inner Resilience Workshop is for that slice of me that doesn't really want to be named.
It is so great because it is a place and a time when I can stop self-censoring, monitoring my speech and my actions, stop searching for the most Appropriate Response, stop measuring and doling out emotions and ideas in easily digestible bite-sized tidbits, reduced and refined for ease of consumption.
It is a space that exists for Me and My Needs, and I can talk a lot or a little. Or I can choose not to speak, or to take a few extra minutes to finish something and not worry about how I will make up for them later on. I can lie down or sit or stand or walk or not. Fast or slow, loud or soft, off or on...it's all good. I don't have to worry about whether I am running off schedule, or whether I am correctly following the Architecture of the Mini-lesson or veering away from the acceptable protocol for one-on-one vs Small Group communication.
There, I am not right or wrong. I am not pedagocially sound and I don't have to be. Nor must I be efficient or effective or organized or responsible or even sensical. I am allowed to feel what I feel, say what I want, be what I am in that moment. I am speaking for myself, as myself, to others who understand me and do not wish me to be other than I am.
And finally, there also do I learn of tantalizing job openings in Manhattan schools where conference notes and massive assessment binders do not darken the desks; where sutainable agriculture can be a unit of study; and where students are allowed to skip (not run) in the halls...
Monday, March 8, 2010
Her Wiseness Martha Graham
I just got back from my second Inner Resilience workshop, I feel like I have so much to say...
Perhaps it is best to start with someone else's words?
A Message from Martha Graham to Agnes DeMille
There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening
that is translated through you into action,
and because there is only one of you in all time,
this expression is unique.
If you block it,
it will never exist through any other medium
and be lost.
The world will not have it.
It is not your business to determine how good it is;
nor how valuable it is;
nor how it compares with other expressions.
It is your business to keep it yours, clearly and directly,
to keep the channel open.
You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work.
You have to keep open and aware directly
to the urges that motivate you.
Keep the channel open.
No artist is pleased.
There is no satisfaction whatever at any time.
There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction;
a blessed unrest that keeps us marching
and makes is more alive than the others.
I feel like we, as teachers, are forced to spend SO much time "determining how good it is" (especially in report card season!) and comparing one with the other and telling the kids what of theirs is valuable and what is not.
(Even despite all the emphasis on DIFFERENTIATING INSTRUCTION! they all end up taking the same STANDARDIZED TEST in the end... sort of makes all that differentiation talk sound a bit disingenuous, no? Not to mention how kids who have spoken English for one year are graded on the same scales as those that have spoken nothing but English for their whole lives...)
I think the current trend in education views teaching as scientific, empirical, formulaic... say the right words in the right order at the right time, input the right data into the program, adjust the controls, and get the output that you damn well expect and paid good money for!
But I think anyone who's ever tried teaching (or even witnessed it) would agree it's not like that. The processes of teaching and learning are very irregular and amorphous, and no one (not even experts like Doug Lemov, who was featured in this weekend's thought-provoking New York Times magazine article) seems to be quite able to put their finger on what it is that makes a Good Teacher.
In truth, I feel it is just as much art as it is science, if not more so. And that is where we, as teachers, get to connect to Martha Graham and her cohort... that unattainable-ness, the drive, the never-endingness... the "divine dissatisfaction" and "blessed unrest that keeps us marching" applies, too, to my daily project, that Flow of the Day that I am incessantly crafting and re-shaping and perfecting and collapsing... Like art, teaching is never DONE, there is never a finish line (only checkpoints, but as soon as you reach one, new ones appear on the horizon). It is never perfected, nor, I suppose, should it be... like art, it is about striving, it is about imagining it always a new and better way, finding the right balance or seeing something there you never saw before, imagining it again anew and, like Martha, keeping on marching in hopes of becoming more alive than you have been before.
The other part that spoke to me was the part about not having to believe in yourself or your work, but rather, trusting the urges and motivations that brought you there.
There are, sadly but truly, so many occassions during the course of my workweek where I think to myself, wow, this is really stupid, or what a dumb way to waste everybody's time! But rather than dwelling on the more irksome details of the myriad of daily duties, I think an important surival skill is forgetting all the bullshit and letting it roll off your back, and instead remembering why you're there... the urge to try and DO something, dammit, and the motivating force of the kids, with their big eyes, looking up at you expectantly, trusting you with both the pretty and gritty daily details of their lives.
Perhaps it is best to start with someone else's words?
A Message from Martha Graham to Agnes DeMille
There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening
that is translated through you into action,
and because there is only one of you in all time,
this expression is unique.
If you block it,
it will never exist through any other medium
and be lost.
The world will not have it.
It is not your business to determine how good it is;
nor how valuable it is;
nor how it compares with other expressions.
It is your business to keep it yours, clearly and directly,
to keep the channel open.
You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work.
You have to keep open and aware directly
to the urges that motivate you.
Keep the channel open.
No artist is pleased.
There is no satisfaction whatever at any time.
There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction;
a blessed unrest that keeps us marching
and makes is more alive than the others.
I feel like we, as teachers, are forced to spend SO much time "determining how good it is" (especially in report card season!) and comparing one with the other and telling the kids what of theirs is valuable and what is not.
(Even despite all the emphasis on DIFFERENTIATING INSTRUCTION! they all end up taking the same STANDARDIZED TEST in the end... sort of makes all that differentiation talk sound a bit disingenuous, no? Not to mention how kids who have spoken English for one year are graded on the same scales as those that have spoken nothing but English for their whole lives...)
I think the current trend in education views teaching as scientific, empirical, formulaic... say the right words in the right order at the right time, input the right data into the program, adjust the controls, and get the output that you damn well expect and paid good money for!
But I think anyone who's ever tried teaching (or even witnessed it) would agree it's not like that. The processes of teaching and learning are very irregular and amorphous, and no one (not even experts like Doug Lemov, who was featured in this weekend's thought-provoking New York Times magazine article) seems to be quite able to put their finger on what it is that makes a Good Teacher.
In truth, I feel it is just as much art as it is science, if not more so. And that is where we, as teachers, get to connect to Martha Graham and her cohort... that unattainable-ness, the drive, the never-endingness... the "divine dissatisfaction" and "blessed unrest that keeps us marching" applies, too, to my daily project, that Flow of the Day that I am incessantly crafting and re-shaping and perfecting and collapsing... Like art, teaching is never DONE, there is never a finish line (only checkpoints, but as soon as you reach one, new ones appear on the horizon). It is never perfected, nor, I suppose, should it be... like art, it is about striving, it is about imagining it always a new and better way, finding the right balance or seeing something there you never saw before, imagining it again anew and, like Martha, keeping on marching in hopes of becoming more alive than you have been before.
The other part that spoke to me was the part about not having to believe in yourself or your work, but rather, trusting the urges and motivations that brought you there.
There are, sadly but truly, so many occassions during the course of my workweek where I think to myself, wow, this is really stupid, or what a dumb way to waste everybody's time! But rather than dwelling on the more irksome details of the myriad of daily duties, I think an important surival skill is forgetting all the bullshit and letting it roll off your back, and instead remembering why you're there... the urge to try and DO something, dammit, and the motivating force of the kids, with their big eyes, looking up at you expectantly, trusting you with both the pretty and gritty daily details of their lives.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
A resounding victory
So, Corky and I pitched the Star Wars themed test prep pep rally idea to the literacy coach, who pitched it to MoLo, the AP in charge of upper grade curriculum, who pitched it to Principal Peeves himself. And the response was one that I never could've anticipated in like 8 million years.
Not only does he want it to be a school-wide assembly for all three testing grades, he himself had the following brainchild: At the end of the assembly, he will come out and say to the kids, "You want a challenge? I'll give you a challenge! If you do well on these tests, I'll throw you a carnival!"
I was pretty blown away by this revelation, and undoubtedly wasn't the only one. (My shock was especially pronounced in light of my overwhelmingly negative past experiences with PP, notably him verbally belittling me after my first stunningly unsuccessful year of teaching, and more recently, unleashing his petulant wrath on my homeless student and her mom.) He is recently a grandpa, however -- perhaps this is gradually softening his heart of stone.
So, this is pretty much a high point of my teaching career I would say. Of course now there's a lot of pressure on this ridiculous skit idea, and I hope it isn't a flop. But that doesn't even matter to me so much. More important to me is that it has sort of tilted my thinking towards believing that change is possible? And that maybe the mission of the Teaching Fellows is not so far-fetched or unattainable after all... their whole "thing" is trying to bring positive changes into public schools a little bit at a time. This is maybe the first time when I have distinctly felt that my being there will have made a noticeable difference in the lives of the kids, that I am maybe making a mark, (even in the somewhat unconventional form of a star-wars- based assembly program) like my being there will have mattered in the long run. At last! Evidence that I am more than an infantry woman in an unjust war way bigger than I can wrap my head around, or an underpaid assembly line worker in an education factory.
Anyway, speaking of far-fetched and unattainable, I have a huge stack of report cards that need some attention, a doubly brutal task to face in light of my slightly addled state of mind from too much, ahem, socializing yesterday.
Not only does he want it to be a school-wide assembly for all three testing grades, he himself had the following brainchild: At the end of the assembly, he will come out and say to the kids, "You want a challenge? I'll give you a challenge! If you do well on these tests, I'll throw you a carnival!"
I was pretty blown away by this revelation, and undoubtedly wasn't the only one. (My shock was especially pronounced in light of my overwhelmingly negative past experiences with PP, notably him verbally belittling me after my first stunningly unsuccessful year of teaching, and more recently, unleashing his petulant wrath on my homeless student and her mom.) He is recently a grandpa, however -- perhaps this is gradually softening his heart of stone.
So, this is pretty much a high point of my teaching career I would say. Of course now there's a lot of pressure on this ridiculous skit idea, and I hope it isn't a flop. But that doesn't even matter to me so much. More important to me is that it has sort of tilted my thinking towards believing that change is possible? And that maybe the mission of the Teaching Fellows is not so far-fetched or unattainable after all... their whole "thing" is trying to bring positive changes into public schools a little bit at a time. This is maybe the first time when I have distinctly felt that my being there will have made a noticeable difference in the lives of the kids, that I am maybe making a mark, (even in the somewhat unconventional form of a star-wars- based assembly program) like my being there will have mattered in the long run. At last! Evidence that I am more than an infantry woman in an unjust war way bigger than I can wrap my head around, or an underpaid assembly line worker in an education factory.
Anyway, speaking of far-fetched and unattainable, I have a huge stack of report cards that need some attention, a doubly brutal task to face in light of my slightly addled state of mind from too much, ahem, socializing yesterday.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
just like alka-seltzer
What I love the most about Corky is that she effervesces. She is constantly bubbling over with ideas and opinions and plots and projects and plans... There is always something she is so excited to tell you about or something new that she can't wait to try! Her eyes crinkle cutely into a frequent smile accompanied by a squeal of delight, and she most often speaks in exclamation points... I often tease her about having been a cheerleader, but truth be told, I love having someone around with that kind of energy and spunk. (I think her full-throttleness nicely off-sets my sorta low-impact aerboics-ness)
Not to mention her thoughtfulness... sometimes she buys me seltzer for no other reason than she knows I am obsessed with it. And one time after I couldn't get into my can of soup at lunch, guess who left a can opener on my desk the very next day...
I'm only half joking when I say that I am looking for a straight male version of her.
Anyway, platonic co-worker/BFF love affair aside, I was telling her about my Test Prep Yoda idea on the train ride home. And because of her amazing ability to transform ideas into action, my little dress-up day has transformed, at least in our heads, into a plan for a grade-wide skit/ pep rally performed by all the fifth grade teachers, with costumes and "Use the force" banner hung up in the cafeteria. Knowing Corky, I wouldn't be surprised if at this very minute she is hard at work composing a call-and- response cheer (or chant or beat or whatever you call it) involving rhyming words for "strategies" and "protractors" and "main idea" and "rulers."
(By the way, I just want to point out that this type of thing was more what I had in mind when I decided to take my stab at being a teacher... elaborate performances and banners and theme days for inspiration and jubilation, yes. Conference notes and assessment binders, nahsomuch. Opportunities to indulge in frivolity are dishearteningly few and far between under the current regime.)
Now, we'll of course have to see if the other fifth grade teachers and the administration are on board, but basically, we wanna get pumped. If we're gonna have to do test prep, we're gonna seize the day, grab it by the gonads, and do it RIGHT.
These were aptly uplifting thoughts to cap off the day. Corky and Rosy and I stayed 'til six confronting the uglier face of Test Prep -- triangulating all the test prep practice pages we could find in the multiple books and programs we are using to coincide with the list of math topics we had prioritized in order of direness of necessity to teach or re-teach. Quite a thrill.
My confidence kind of took a blow recently because we got some other math test scores back and I fear I am passing my weakness in math along to my students... the other day I heard A-- say he hates math and I was like NNNNNNOOOOoooooo say it ain't so! At the beginning of the year it seemed like they all loved math so much, before I ruined it for them...I was hoping I could bluff my way through it, but I think my secret dysfunctional relationship with math has oozed out into the open.
Anyway, I was heartened to see that I did successfully bluff my way into making the kids be psyched for upcoming Literary Essay unit... we were reading stories and essays and responding to them by freewriting, and when it was time to stop, J-- was like, really? Do we have to? I want to keep going! And I was like mwaaaahahaha, you WILL love literature, I say!
I guess the difference there is I'm not really bluffing so much. I really do believe in reading good literature and responding to it in writing... isn't that pretty much how the world of collective knowledge and learning has functioned for like, eons now? But if you ask me to get all passionate about multiplying decimals, or mean, median and mode, well... that's a harder stunt for me to pull off.
Which brings me to another winding tangent about whether it might be a good idea for teachers to start specializing a little earlier on. I would've been happy to teach the Journalism writing unit all day long, and throw my heart and soul into it and really make it rock. But as it was, and as it more often than not turns out to be, journalism ended up being half-assed (or maybe even quarter-assed) as did the concurrent math and reading units, because I was simpy being stretched in too many different directions.
But anyway, going into March I feel determined. Whatever I have to offer, I plan to give it all I got. And as a person I felt kind of like, empowered and competent today. Not just at doing my job - that still feels quite tenuous at times, but I felt like I was making progress in knowing how to live. (Took long enough, I'm only at the midway mark of my twenties...) So I mean, I worked hard till six, but then I let myself leave, knowing what remained undone could remain that way until tomorrow if it had to. And then, even though I got off the train feeling all "wah wah wah, I'm stressed out and hungry and tired" I made myself keep my promise to go to the gym today - I was like, dude, suck it up, eat a protein bar, clothes are already in the bag, just go -- and it was a positively transcendent workout. The best kind. I hereby disallow and dissavow excuses for not doing the things I know are best for me.
And right now, what's best for me is to get a good night's sleep.
Not to mention her thoughtfulness... sometimes she buys me seltzer for no other reason than she knows I am obsessed with it. And one time after I couldn't get into my can of soup at lunch, guess who left a can opener on my desk the very next day...
I'm only half joking when I say that I am looking for a straight male version of her.
Anyway, platonic co-worker/BFF love affair aside, I was telling her about my Test Prep Yoda idea on the train ride home. And because of her amazing ability to transform ideas into action, my little dress-up day has transformed, at least in our heads, into a plan for a grade-wide skit/ pep rally performed by all the fifth grade teachers, with costumes and "Use the force" banner hung up in the cafeteria. Knowing Corky, I wouldn't be surprised if at this very minute she is hard at work composing a call-and- response cheer (or chant or beat or whatever you call it) involving rhyming words for "strategies" and "protractors" and "main idea" and "rulers."
(By the way, I just want to point out that this type of thing was more what I had in mind when I decided to take my stab at being a teacher... elaborate performances and banners and theme days for inspiration and jubilation, yes. Conference notes and assessment binders, nahsomuch. Opportunities to indulge in frivolity are dishearteningly few and far between under the current regime.)
Now, we'll of course have to see if the other fifth grade teachers and the administration are on board, but basically, we wanna get pumped. If we're gonna have to do test prep, we're gonna seize the day, grab it by the gonads, and do it RIGHT.
These were aptly uplifting thoughts to cap off the day. Corky and Rosy and I stayed 'til six confronting the uglier face of Test Prep -- triangulating all the test prep practice pages we could find in the multiple books and programs we are using to coincide with the list of math topics we had prioritized in order of direness of necessity to teach or re-teach. Quite a thrill.
My confidence kind of took a blow recently because we got some other math test scores back and I fear I am passing my weakness in math along to my students... the other day I heard A-- say he hates math and I was like NNNNNNOOOOoooooo say it ain't so! At the beginning of the year it seemed like they all loved math so much, before I ruined it for them...I was hoping I could bluff my way through it, but I think my secret dysfunctional relationship with math has oozed out into the open.
Anyway, I was heartened to see that I did successfully bluff my way into making the kids be psyched for upcoming Literary Essay unit... we were reading stories and essays and responding to them by freewriting, and when it was time to stop, J-- was like, really? Do we have to? I want to keep going! And I was like mwaaaahahaha, you WILL love literature, I say!
I guess the difference there is I'm not really bluffing so much. I really do believe in reading good literature and responding to it in writing... isn't that pretty much how the world of collective knowledge and learning has functioned for like, eons now? But if you ask me to get all passionate about multiplying decimals, or mean, median and mode, well... that's a harder stunt for me to pull off.
Which brings me to another winding tangent about whether it might be a good idea for teachers to start specializing a little earlier on. I would've been happy to teach the Journalism writing unit all day long, and throw my heart and soul into it and really make it rock. But as it was, and as it more often than not turns out to be, journalism ended up being half-assed (or maybe even quarter-assed) as did the concurrent math and reading units, because I was simpy being stretched in too many different directions.
But anyway, going into March I feel determined. Whatever I have to offer, I plan to give it all I got. And as a person I felt kind of like, empowered and competent today. Not just at doing my job - that still feels quite tenuous at times, but I felt like I was making progress in knowing how to live. (Took long enough, I'm only at the midway mark of my twenties...) So I mean, I worked hard till six, but then I let myself leave, knowing what remained undone could remain that way until tomorrow if it had to. And then, even though I got off the train feeling all "wah wah wah, I'm stressed out and hungry and tired" I made myself keep my promise to go to the gym today - I was like, dude, suck it up, eat a protein bar, clothes are already in the bag, just go -- and it was a positively transcendent workout. The best kind. I hereby disallow and dissavow excuses for not doing the things I know are best for me.
And right now, what's best for me is to get a good night's sleep.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Teach to the test, Yoda will
One of the things I decided I might need for the next unit, the dreaded Test Prep Unit, is a Yoda mask... I am envisioning myself picking the kids up in the morning on the first day of test prep in a Yoda mask and like, a blanket tied around me monk-style with a string.
I will tell them to envision a bunch of guys in suits all sitting around a giant conference table somewhere in a deep dark lair, rubbing their hands together and cackling evilly under their breath, but all wearing Darth Vader masks. Their sole purpose in life is to dream up new and nefarious ways to make the ELA test difficult.
I will them them the truth about how I feel about tests, at least a partial truth... Do I think it's an awesome way to spend time in school? No. Do I think it's fair how many they have to take and what they are like and how much they count for and what we have to do to get ready for them? No. Do I think they are important? Yes.
I will remind them that if they want to go to law school and be a lawyer? They have to take a test. If they want to go to medical school and become a doctor, they have to take a test. If they want to go to graduate school and become an archeologist or an astronaut or a newspaper editor, the have to take a test. If they want to be a teacher, they have to take lots and lots of tests. If they want to go to business school to learn how to make bucketloads of money, you get the picture...
I will also tell them that part of the reason they need to do well on these tests is so that they can grow up to be the principals and presidents and chancellors and mayors and other People with Power, and tell everyone, kids don't need tests! Kids need music and dancing and playgrounds and art and gardens and projects and field trips and outdoor time... But if they don't learn to play by the rules, they'll never get a chance, one day, to MAKE the rules.
So, according to my test prep fantasy, they will all become my jedi knights of test-taking, and teach them strategies, Ms. D will, to OWN the statewide tests. I will teach them how to use the force to overcome the evil plot of the test-making Vaders. And when the tests are over, I am also envisioning some sort of elaborate light-saber-bestowing ceremony to mark their achievement.
I had plenty of time to daydream about my Test-prep pep talk during the day-long unit planning meeting, as we discussed and debated the scintillating minutiae of test scoring and administration -- for example, whether a student could get full point value in the editing section for simply deleting the period without replacing it with a comma, and whether it would be more strategic to teach them to do notetaking using bullets, boxes and bullets, or an organizer with a pnuemonic.
I bet I'll have lots more to say on the topic of tests and test-taking and test-making and test-prepping. But it's late and waiting for me tomorrow, my Jedis will be.
I will tell them to envision a bunch of guys in suits all sitting around a giant conference table somewhere in a deep dark lair, rubbing their hands together and cackling evilly under their breath, but all wearing Darth Vader masks. Their sole purpose in life is to dream up new and nefarious ways to make the ELA test difficult.
I will them them the truth about how I feel about tests, at least a partial truth... Do I think it's an awesome way to spend time in school? No. Do I think it's fair how many they have to take and what they are like and how much they count for and what we have to do to get ready for them? No. Do I think they are important? Yes.
I will remind them that if they want to go to law school and be a lawyer? They have to take a test. If they want to go to medical school and become a doctor, they have to take a test. If they want to go to graduate school and become an archeologist or an astronaut or a newspaper editor, the have to take a test. If they want to be a teacher, they have to take lots and lots of tests. If they want to go to business school to learn how to make bucketloads of money, you get the picture...
I will also tell them that part of the reason they need to do well on these tests is so that they can grow up to be the principals and presidents and chancellors and mayors and other People with Power, and tell everyone, kids don't need tests! Kids need music and dancing and playgrounds and art and gardens and projects and field trips and outdoor time... But if they don't learn to play by the rules, they'll never get a chance, one day, to MAKE the rules.
So, according to my test prep fantasy, they will all become my jedi knights of test-taking, and teach them strategies, Ms. D will, to OWN the statewide tests. I will teach them how to use the force to overcome the evil plot of the test-making Vaders. And when the tests are over, I am also envisioning some sort of elaborate light-saber-bestowing ceremony to mark their achievement.
I had plenty of time to daydream about my Test-prep pep talk during the day-long unit planning meeting, as we discussed and debated the scintillating minutiae of test scoring and administration -- for example, whether a student could get full point value in the editing section for simply deleting the period without replacing it with a comma, and whether it would be more strategic to teach them to do notetaking using bullets, boxes and bullets, or an organizer with a pnuemonic.
I bet I'll have lots more to say on the topic of tests and test-taking and test-making and test-prepping. But it's late and waiting for me tomorrow, my Jedis will be.
Monday, March 1, 2010
time travel
One of the things we do at the monthly Inner Resilience workshop (for preventing teacher burn-out) is write a letter to our near-future selves - an affirmation, a reminder, advice, a realization, a prayer -- whatever it is that's on your mind in that moment. (You are perhaps aware how much I love that particular kind of cheese?)
I got it in the mail today, on pale yellow paper written in pink ink that had been slightly smeared by traveling through the ice and rain and snow. I wrote it last month at the workshop, which was the first time I really let myself acknowledge how upset I was at the loss of N--, and I really appreciated having a little window into that oasis of self-reflection. I said to myself:
You love them, and they know.
In the face of cruelty, model compassion.
In the face of frenzy, model peace.
Love yourself first, that they may also
learn to love themselves.
Be still. Be quiet. Let there be room
in your life to feel. Let them have
quiet moments of peace as well.
Thanks, inwardly resilient self!
I got it in the mail today, on pale yellow paper written in pink ink that had been slightly smeared by traveling through the ice and rain and snow. I wrote it last month at the workshop, which was the first time I really let myself acknowledge how upset I was at the loss of N--, and I really appreciated having a little window into that oasis of self-reflection. I said to myself:
You love them, and they know.
In the face of cruelty, model compassion.
In the face of frenzy, model peace.
Love yourself first, that they may also
learn to love themselves.
Be still. Be quiet. Let there be room
in your life to feel. Let them have
quiet moments of peace as well.
Thanks, inwardly resilient self!
pushing back
"Tomorrow it's March" said the singer last night at Phoebe's Cafe, Corky's and my usual Sunday evening spot. "So, congratulations I guess."
I get what she meant. It seems like the worst is over... maybe winter will end one day after all! Today when I woke up it wasn't dark out, the birds were singing, and there was just a hint of that feeling when you realize the wind isn't quite as frigidly cold that lets you dare to think of spring. What was that invigorating feeling... hope?
Sure, I know March is test prep season, and the long blocked-in month of of zero vacation days and dirty snow. And sure, mounds of brown and gray snow-turds are still piled up everywhere on the sidewalks, and most likely will be for a while. But as this last calendar page flipped over, we rounded a corner, and now the end is closer than the beginning.
***
Sunday nights at Phoebe's with Corky is probably the third most important thing I've done for myself this year in terms of improving my overall quality of life as a teacher. The first was locating and latching onto some totally amazing colleagues whom I rely on for absolutely everything imaginable, and with whom I divide and conquer the Goliath amount of work that is to be done. The second is getting my hands on a Smartboard, and using it for baaasically everything I do. And the third is Phoebe's.
Knowing that I have a standing work-date every Sunday eliminates the need for The Guilt, and related procrastination and Guilt-snowball- inducing behaviors. Always with good music, good company, friendly atmosphere, delectable eats close at hand and, most importantly, Sunday night happy hour beer specials, doing weekend school-work ends up being something I look forward to rather than dread, and something I can rely on myself for. Without it, I would be lost.
I get what she meant. It seems like the worst is over... maybe winter will end one day after all! Today when I woke up it wasn't dark out, the birds were singing, and there was just a hint of that feeling when you realize the wind isn't quite as frigidly cold that lets you dare to think of spring. What was that invigorating feeling... hope?
Sure, I know March is test prep season, and the long blocked-in month of of zero vacation days and dirty snow. And sure, mounds of brown and gray snow-turds are still piled up everywhere on the sidewalks, and most likely will be for a while. But as this last calendar page flipped over, we rounded a corner, and now the end is closer than the beginning.
***
Sunday nights at Phoebe's with Corky is probably the third most important thing I've done for myself this year in terms of improving my overall quality of life as a teacher. The first was locating and latching onto some totally amazing colleagues whom I rely on for absolutely everything imaginable, and with whom I divide and conquer the Goliath amount of work that is to be done. The second is getting my hands on a Smartboard, and using it for baaasically everything I do. And the third is Phoebe's.
Knowing that I have a standing work-date every Sunday eliminates the need for The Guilt, and related procrastination and Guilt-snowball- inducing behaviors. Always with good music, good company, friendly atmosphere, delectable eats close at hand and, most importantly, Sunday night happy hour beer specials, doing weekend school-work ends up being something I look forward to rather than dread, and something I can rely on myself for. Without it, I would be lost.
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