I have been wearing the bull head earrings I bought at a rodeo in Montana this summer as a reminder to grab this year by the horns, or, as I've been saying with my frolleagues (friends + colleagues, get it?!), I'm going to punch this year in the face! In a good way... like, you know, huge impact...
Nothing earth-shattering at the meeting. The part where they talked about the new tenure policy made my stomach hurt. The best part was when Principal P. heroically squashed a killer cockroach that scuttled by, as his usually stoic harem of Assistant Principals squealed and twitched in anguish! Also, they played a video, which I would like to share with you, of an adorable kid named Dalton who will get any educator at least a little pumped up for the coming school year:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HAMLOnSNwzA
So one more day until the kids arrive. By 4:30pm today I was viscerally reminded of what it feels like to work a full day. Better get used to it, quick
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Monday, September 5, 2011
teacher as interior decorator/systems analyst
Tomorrow will be my first official day on the job of the 11-12 school year. There is a breakfast, followed by a staff meeting, then time for scheduling, beginning of year paper work, planning, and finishing up preparing our rooms.
I would venture to say that only those who have helmed their own classrooms can truly understand just how much thought goes into their arrangement. If you're picturing several straight rows of desks and a blackboard with a piece of chalk, and maybe a pull-down map on the wall, you are picturing a very different era.
In elementary school these days (at least in mine), lessons happen with kids sitting cross-legged in the meeting area on the rug -- and given that some of the fifth graders will be about as big as I am, fitting them all into said area is no small feat. Then there is the placement of the Smartboard so all kids can see it during a lesson, as well as the easel and the chair from which I teach. Then there are desk arrangements: "cooperative learning" requires kids to sit in groups or clusters, and I like to have a "focus desk" for kids who occasionally have trouble, well, focusing while learning cooperatively. I also need a conferencing area for working with kids individually and in small groups. And, no matter where I am in the room, I have to be able to see all the kids at all times.
And that's just the furniture! From their desks, all the kids need to be able to see the word wall (for spelling), the math word wall for math vocabulary, the calendar, Flow of the Day, homework board and word of the day board, and all the different charts that will be hanging up reminding them of the various strategies they will be learning. In addition, kids also need to be able to access the fiction and non-fiction libraries ranging from reading levels L through X, the computers, science and social studies books, the writing center, art supplies, the sink, trash and recycling, the hermetically sealed varmint-proof lunch container, the coat closet, their mail boxes for the memos and reminders that are backapcked home, math tools, and they need space to line up when we go somewhere, and preferably not be tripping over each other when they move around the room...
So, essentially it's a 600-square foot logic puzzle. The only way to know for sure is to see it in action, but I think Sunny and I have finally cracked the code.
I would venture to say that only those who have helmed their own classrooms can truly understand just how much thought goes into their arrangement. If you're picturing several straight rows of desks and a blackboard with a piece of chalk, and maybe a pull-down map on the wall, you are picturing a very different era.
In elementary school these days (at least in mine), lessons happen with kids sitting cross-legged in the meeting area on the rug -- and given that some of the fifth graders will be about as big as I am, fitting them all into said area is no small feat. Then there is the placement of the Smartboard so all kids can see it during a lesson, as well as the easel and the chair from which I teach. Then there are desk arrangements: "cooperative learning" requires kids to sit in groups or clusters, and I like to have a "focus desk" for kids who occasionally have trouble, well, focusing while learning cooperatively. I also need a conferencing area for working with kids individually and in small groups. And, no matter where I am in the room, I have to be able to see all the kids at all times.
And that's just the furniture! From their desks, all the kids need to be able to see the word wall (for spelling), the math word wall for math vocabulary, the calendar, Flow of the Day, homework board and word of the day board, and all the different charts that will be hanging up reminding them of the various strategies they will be learning. In addition, kids also need to be able to access the fiction and non-fiction libraries ranging from reading levels L through X, the computers, science and social studies books, the writing center, art supplies, the sink, trash and recycling, the hermetically sealed varmint-proof lunch container, the coat closet, their mail boxes for the memos and reminders that are backapcked home, math tools, and they need space to line up when we go somewhere, and preferably not be tripping over each other when they move around the room...
So, essentially it's a 600-square foot logic puzzle. The only way to know for sure is to see it in action, but I think Sunny and I have finally cracked the code.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
September arrives
One of my colleagues updated her facebook status that on September eve, her eye started twitching again. Another colleague responded that she had started grinding her teeth again... and me, I've stopped sleeping through the night, though to be fair, I can't blame it totally on stress or anxiety because the throbbing pain from one of my wayward wisdom teeth that are slated to be removed could also be responsible.
The teachers have been bustling around at school readying our classrooms. Students arrive one week from today. Imagine one of those cartoon dust clouds, and out of it being flung bulletin board borders, colorful backing paper, and decorative die-cut shapes. If you don't know what those things are you've clearly never been to a teacher store, and depending on your taste for things that are totally adorable! or how jazzed you get if it matches my theme! you're either deprived or fortunate.
I can't say that bulletin board decor is one of my favorite parts of my job (not so for every elementary teacher - for some, it is truly an art.) But I can say that I have developed some speed and skill over the years. The trick is buying fadeless paper so that you don't have to do it again the following year, using a lot of staples and/or so it doesn't fall down mid-year, and picking a color scheme you can look at for 180 days straight without hating. I have embraced classroom decorating this year and am going with a theme of nature, specifically trees. And, in collaboration with Sunny, who has an identical room, and lots of trial and error throughout the last 2 years, I think we have finally discovered the ideal set-up for the classroom!
I'm actually in pretty good shape at the moment, owing partly to the fact that I put in quite a few hours organizing books and closet space at the end of last year. Not having to change rooms or grades is a total lifesaver.
Even though we're not being reimbursed for any expenses this year, I've been saving receipts just in case, and also out of curiosity. So far the tally rounds out to about $300.
But now my classroom is $300 more kickass than it was last year!
The teachers have been bustling around at school readying our classrooms. Students arrive one week from today. Imagine one of those cartoon dust clouds, and out of it being flung bulletin board borders, colorful backing paper, and decorative die-cut shapes. If you don't know what those things are you've clearly never been to a teacher store, and depending on your taste for things that are totally adorable! or how jazzed you get if it matches my theme! you're either deprived or fortunate.
I can't say that bulletin board decor is one of my favorite parts of my job (not so for every elementary teacher - for some, it is truly an art.) But I can say that I have developed some speed and skill over the years. The trick is buying fadeless paper so that you don't have to do it again the following year, using a lot of staples and/or so it doesn't fall down mid-year, and picking a color scheme you can look at for 180 days straight without hating. I have embraced classroom decorating this year and am going with a theme of nature, specifically trees. And, in collaboration with Sunny, who has an identical room, and lots of trial and error throughout the last 2 years, I think we have finally discovered the ideal set-up for the classroom!
I'm actually in pretty good shape at the moment, owing partly to the fact that I put in quite a few hours organizing books and closet space at the end of last year. Not having to change rooms or grades is a total lifesaver.
Even though we're not being reimbursed for any expenses this year, I've been saving receipts just in case, and also out of curiosity. So far the tally rounds out to about $300.
But now my classroom is $300 more kickass than it was last year!
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Garret Keizer for President!
I would like to report a fascinating article in the September issue of Harper's entitled Getting Schooled: The Re-education of an American Teacher. In it, Garret Keizer shares his observations on what has changed about being a public school teacher as he re-enters the school system from the vantage point of teaching at the same rural Vermont school at which he also taught thirty years prior.
One thought-provoking point that he makes is that, although he believes as much as the next guy in the importance of public education as an equalizing socio-economic force, there is danger in placing all of our societal eggs in that basket. Keizer points out that it might be just a little too comfortable to look at a child who is doing well in school and justify the fact that the child was living with no heat in the winter, for example, by saying that a child who is doing fine academically must be doing fine overall. "Hey, a baby sleeping in a stable might grow up to be the next Jesus Christ." Test scores are not indicators of a child's overall well-being or their chances at leading a successful life. (If only it were that simple.)
Public education alone is not a panacea for all the problems facing children, and a school's relative success despite the odds should not be used to assuage societal guilt that children in that school are living in sub-standard or inhumane conditions. We cannot forget that kids' lives have many more dimensions than their performance on The Test.
But the part of the article that most caused me to pump my metaphorical fist in the air was remarking on
"the number of people that need to believe you love [teaching.]...'I know the pay is not the greatest," [they say]. 'but you're doing what you love.' -- a sentiment that puts me in mind of the trope of the happy slave... This is not to suggest that contemporary teachers are slaves or that I was ever treated like one, only that I am inclined to distrust people who expect me to work for love, or who need a sentimental mythology to gloss over the impossibilities of my job and the daily injustices it lays bare."
I totally agree. I feel anyone who claims to love the job, which Keizer is careful to point out is different from enjoying the job, must be either blind or insensitive to some of the more perverse realities of the job. Maybe it's just the simplistic terminology of "love" that bothers me, because I certainly don't hate the job either. I have respect for the importance and monumentality of the task before teachers. I am amused by the more comical and/or absurd elements of the job. I appreciate the chance to connect with kids and colleagues. I feel pride at the positive changes I've been a part of. I feel tenderness for the simultaneous vulnerability and strength of my students. But the verb "love" doesn't encompass everything I feel about my job. Because, in a certain light, teaching is like the story of Tantalus, with the fruit tree eternally raising its branches out of reach and the water always running dry, and a big boulder dangling on the precipice above. "To teach with your eyes open in a region like this is ever to be on the verge of tears," Keizer writes. The odds we face are hard to love.
One thought-provoking point that he makes is that, although he believes as much as the next guy in the importance of public education as an equalizing socio-economic force, there is danger in placing all of our societal eggs in that basket. Keizer points out that it might be just a little too comfortable to look at a child who is doing well in school and justify the fact that the child was living with no heat in the winter, for example, by saying that a child who is doing fine academically must be doing fine overall. "Hey, a baby sleeping in a stable might grow up to be the next Jesus Christ." Test scores are not indicators of a child's overall well-being or their chances at leading a successful life. (If only it were that simple.)
Public education alone is not a panacea for all the problems facing children, and a school's relative success despite the odds should not be used to assuage societal guilt that children in that school are living in sub-standard or inhumane conditions. We cannot forget that kids' lives have many more dimensions than their performance on The Test.
Also, in another very resonant part of the article, Keizer writes, "In the increased emphasis on data and the imposed emphasis on standardized jargon and tests...I sense the encroachment of the totalitarian "business model" that has destroyed family farming as a way of life." A colleague remarked, "I'm afraid the day of the teacher-as-artist is drawing to a close."
My recent tenure troubles would certainly corroborate that. The Superintendent who denied my institutionalized pat on the back doesn't know me from a hole in the wall, has never met me or seen me teach or been in my classroom or spoken with any of my students or their families or discussed with me any of my ideas about education. If I'm an artist, then she has never seen any of my art. But what she has seen is a computer screen filled with numbers, and my numbers don't fit into her equation, and that makes it easy and convenient for her to decide remotely who is a good teacher and who isn't. So you see, teachers aren't artists, they're technicians, and students aren't kids, they are data.
But the part of the article that most caused me to pump my metaphorical fist in the air was remarking on
"the number of people that need to believe you love [teaching.]...'I know the pay is not the greatest," [they say]. 'but you're doing what you love.' -- a sentiment that puts me in mind of the trope of the happy slave... This is not to suggest that contemporary teachers are slaves or that I was ever treated like one, only that I am inclined to distrust people who expect me to work for love, or who need a sentimental mythology to gloss over the impossibilities of my job and the daily injustices it lays bare."
I totally agree. I feel anyone who claims to love the job, which Keizer is careful to point out is different from enjoying the job, must be either blind or insensitive to some of the more perverse realities of the job. Maybe it's just the simplistic terminology of "love" that bothers me, because I certainly don't hate the job either. I have respect for the importance and monumentality of the task before teachers. I am amused by the more comical and/or absurd elements of the job. I appreciate the chance to connect with kids and colleagues. I feel pride at the positive changes I've been a part of. I feel tenderness for the simultaneous vulnerability and strength of my students. But the verb "love" doesn't encompass everything I feel about my job. Because, in a certain light, teaching is like the story of Tantalus, with the fruit tree eternally raising its branches out of reach and the water always running dry, and a big boulder dangling on the precipice above. "To teach with your eyes open in a region like this is ever to be on the verge of tears," Keizer writes. The odds we face are hard to love.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Nerd Alert
Henrietta and I took a trip to the teacher store today which is still a super fun part of teaching for me. Of course, rumor has it that due to budget constraints we will not be getting the $150 Teacher's Choice reimbursement for our expenses that we've gotten in years past. But I think what I bought will be a worthwhile investment anyhow: I bought supplies to create a LERNO tree!
LERNO is a behavior management system that Sunny started using at her old school. She taught me how to do it and I tried it out at the end of last year when the kids were getting antsy, and it works better and is easier to do than anything else I've tried.
How it works (and the reason why it's called LERNO) is that each section of the tree corresponds with a letter of LERNO-- at the top, the sky is L, for leadership. The branches are E for effort. The trunk is R for ready. Below that in the roots is N for needs improvement, and the very bottom layer of dirt is O for off-track.
Each student gets a leaf that corresponds with their class number-- (Sunny's version is stars in the sky.) At the beginning of the week the kids start in the middle on "ready" because everyone is expected to come to class ready to learn. If they behave well, they get to move their leaf up, if they misbehave, they move it down. If they have a bad day, they get to reset back to "ready" the following day. The kids keep track of their scores for the week on a paper that goes home at the end of the week and must be signed by their parents.
Also, if they are in the dirt for more than a day or two, I contact the parents. If they are in the branches or sky for an entire week, then they earn a prize.
It's cool because it's a visual reminder of where they stand, and the cluster teachers or subs can use it too, so the kids are accountable for their behavior even if I'm not there. Sending the LERNO charts home is a good way to communicate regularly with the parents about behavior so there are no surprises come report cards. Plus it's a regular way of giving positive feedback to the kids who are always doing what they're supposed to.
Cool, huh?
LERNO is a behavior management system that Sunny started using at her old school. She taught me how to do it and I tried it out at the end of last year when the kids were getting antsy, and it works better and is easier to do than anything else I've tried.
How it works (and the reason why it's called LERNO) is that each section of the tree corresponds with a letter of LERNO-- at the top, the sky is L, for leadership. The branches are E for effort. The trunk is R for ready. Below that in the roots is N for needs improvement, and the very bottom layer of dirt is O for off-track.
Each student gets a leaf that corresponds with their class number-- (Sunny's version is stars in the sky.) At the beginning of the week the kids start in the middle on "ready" because everyone is expected to come to class ready to learn. If they behave well, they get to move their leaf up, if they misbehave, they move it down. If they have a bad day, they get to reset back to "ready" the following day. The kids keep track of their scores for the week on a paper that goes home at the end of the week and must be signed by their parents.
Also, if they are in the dirt for more than a day or two, I contact the parents. If they are in the branches or sky for an entire week, then they earn a prize.
It's cool because it's a visual reminder of where they stand, and the cluster teachers or subs can use it too, so the kids are accountable for their behavior even if I'm not there. Sending the LERNO charts home is a good way to communicate regularly with the parents about behavior so there are no surprises come report cards. Plus it's a regular way of giving positive feedback to the kids who are always doing what they're supposed to.
Cool, huh?
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Groundbreaking News
Just woke up from my first school dream about the first day. Two weeks until, the dreaming's nothing new. The groundbreaking part is that, in a refreshing spin, it wasn't a disaster. It was actually kind of fun. I'll take it as a good omen.
One thing I'm really excited about going into this year is that the kids don't seem anonymous to me, not at all! This year is special because, as a fifth grade teacher, I will be teaching some of my original first graders that I had my very first year, month, day as a teacher -- you might remember them as the ones whose lives I was sure I had ruined.
I'm excited first off, because they appear to have recovered from whatever damage I may have inflicted in my inexperience, and also because I already know them! For example, Johnny, from when he used to roll around in the coats, and of course Georgie is memorable both because, adorably, he could never pronounce the "g" sound until about a year ago, and also because he is the sponsor of my #1 teaching gross-out story: a snot-rocket launched inadvertently directly onto my face. Left cheek, if I recall correctly...
Anyway, I'm sure they'd all be horribly embarrassed if they knew I was telling you about all the things they did when they were little. They are big tall fifth graders now, arriving in my threshold in just a couple short weeks, bound to outgrow me by this time next year!
I also know Jono from after-school, a big, sweet, galumphing kind of guy, and I also know TT Cakes, a darling Burmese transplant who is fascinating because he is an excellent writer and has a very good command of the English language, but he doesn't talk, at all. Everyone speculates some kind of trauma, but no one seems to know for sure. The only exception to his silence was my friend Cassie when she was his ESL teacher -- apparently, in a mousy, tiny little whisper of a voice, he passed right out of the oral examination for ESL, with flying colors, of course. Cassie also wouldn't let him win Bingo until he said it out loud. (The nickname TT Cakes is an homage to to Cassie. For her, everyone is a something-cakes or a love-muffin or a darling dumpling. But not in an annoying way.)
So I'm excited. Trappings of teaching be damned, I'm excited to know, to love, to reach out to, to understand these precious people I get to borrow for a year. This is my first responsibility. Please remind me of this later if it seems I'm starting to forget.
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