Salvete,
As a professional, I have never been called racist except by students as a half-hearted retort to save face.
I mentioned in the previous post that we are reading Poisonwood Bible. That's right. We are reading a novel that is an Opera's Book Club selection, champion of human rights for the Congolese, denouncer of traditional gender roles, and embracer of inter-racial-social-cultural communication and relationships. How dare we.
I must admit, this parent must be a lot smarter than I am if they can read the back of a book and truly know the essence of what their child is learning. Anyone who can read a 105-word synopsis and know that young adults should not read the whole novel is far more perceptive than I, who have read the entire book as well as the criticism of it. It is outrageous that students should learn to embrace other cultures. It is barbaric that students should read about self-discovery and the complicated experience of being female in a male world. It is shocking that students might read a book that challenges white dominance and the legalistic strictures of the church.
So, I will call this parent, and I will arm myself with the mantra of student responsibility. Ultimately, however, I will give in. I know that a phone call is not going to change this parent's mind.
Yes, mother of my student, I am white.
Yes, I was raised in the culture of white privilege.
Yes, racism exists in this world.
But no, you do not get to decide that I chose this book because I am white. You do not get to make that generalization about me. You can make the decision that because it is set in Africa, your daughter cannot read it. However, you will be wrong.
And as I tell my students, it is OK to be wrong, but it is not OK to stay wrong. I hope your heart changes.
Valete,
Magistra
Thursday, November 17, 2011
LOLWUT???
Salvete,
I assigned Barbara Kingsolver's Poisonwood Bible as an outside novel. Every Thursday, we have literary circles where they talk about the book in a structured way in small groups. In this week's section of the novel, the village gets attacked by a ton of flesh eating ants. Whether or not it is a literal ton, I do not know, as there are a lot of ants but ants do not weigh much.
Anyway, here:
Student 1: "If the villagers are afraid of the river, why do they run there when the ants come?"
Me: "Maybe get eaten by crocs, or definitely get eaten by ants. Weigh the options. Which would you choose?"
Student 2: "That's when I start throwing rocks!"
Me: ...?
I'm still laughing, but the student has his back to me, so he doesn't know.
Also heard during literary circles:
Student 2: "I never said I was going to kill you."
Student 1: "Do you not have any common sense?"
Student 1: (Regarding shortening quotes by leaving out words and using elipses): "Just put the first letter and the last letter in quotes. They'll figure out what it is."
Valete,
Magistra
I assigned Barbara Kingsolver's Poisonwood Bible as an outside novel. Every Thursday, we have literary circles where they talk about the book in a structured way in small groups. In this week's section of the novel, the village gets attacked by a ton of flesh eating ants. Whether or not it is a literal ton, I do not know, as there are a lot of ants but ants do not weigh much.
Anyway, here:
Student 1: "If the villagers are afraid of the river, why do they run there when the ants come?"
Me: "Maybe get eaten by crocs, or definitely get eaten by ants. Weigh the options. Which would you choose?"
Student 2: "That's when I start throwing rocks!"
Me: ...?
I'm still laughing, but the student has his back to me, so he doesn't know.
Also heard during literary circles:
Student 2: "I never said I was going to kill you."
Student 1: "Do you not have any common sense?"
Student 1: (Regarding shortening quotes by leaving out words and using elipses): "Just put the first letter and the last letter in quotes. They'll figure out what it is."
Valete,
Magistra
Thursday, November 3, 2011
"Siren Song" by Margaret Atwood
Salvete,
Today, I had the kids read the awesome poem, "Siren Song" by Margaret Atwood. As an activity, I had them write two questions as original posts in a forum I had set up for their use. They were two create their two questions and then respond to two other questions that their classmates had created. I know from doing this activity in the past that they never want to stop at two comments, because they are teenagers and cannot hold in their opinions once formed.
I wanted to share some of their question and responses with you. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did:
Q: Why would Ulysses not stuff his ears with wax?
A: Because he didn't have wax.
Q: What could have been a way to avoid the siren's song, not including the way Ulysses did so?
A: Kill the sirens.
A: Bring women to kill the sirens.
Q: Would you save the men who fell overboard?
A: Yes I would, depending on who they were. If it was Justin Beiber...NO!
Q: What man would you save?
A: Anyone I didn't dislike.
Q: Who is telling about the "Siren Song"?
A: One of the sirens.
Response: How do you know? Please give text evidence.
That last one is a future teacher! Just kidding. But that is what we say to them...Please give textual evidence! So cute.
Valete, Magistra
I wanted to share some of their question and responses with you. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did:
Q: Why would Ulysses not stuff his ears with wax?
A: Because he didn't have wax.
Q: What could have been a way to avoid the siren's song, not including the way Ulysses did so?
A: Kill the sirens.
A: Bring women to kill the sirens.
Q: Would you save the men who fell overboard?
A: Yes I would, depending on who they were. If it was Justin Beiber...NO!
Q: What man would you save?
A: Anyone I didn't dislike.
Q: Who is telling about the "Siren Song"?
A: One of the sirens.
Response: How do you know? Please give text evidence.
That last one is a future teacher! Just kidding. But that is what we say to them...Please give textual evidence! So cute.
Valete, Magistra
Friday, October 28, 2011
Caution: Whining Ahead
Salvete,
I have not posted an angry blog entry in a while. It seems to me like it is time to rectify that.
Issue #1: It is Friday, and this is Texas, so I understand that football is more important than instruction. I get that. What I do not get is why people cannot take care of their business. Our pep rally was featured this morning on Fox 4 News, and only yesterday did Fox let us know that this would be the case.
Our administration, who is actually very good about letting us know things, told us as soon as they knew yesterday morning that our entire Friday would be flipped on its head. I suppose because they are Fox 4 News, they think, "Oh, I don't mind changing the schedules of 3000 students and 200 teachers." What they fail to realize is, high schoolers are like puppies. They need routine and structure, or they go positively nutty.
Issue #2: Our administration let us know yesterday morning about the aforementioned pep rally, but there was one thing they forgot to clarify. Yesterday afternoon during third period, they let us know that the students should check in with us first thing and then be collectively released for the pep rally. I hope I am not the only one who sees a problem here. Many teachers do not check their email until the end of the day (as we are busy teaching), and are not able to deliver a last minute announcement to their classes. The teachers I spoke to told their children to report straight to the pep rally in the morning. Some students took that to mean that they could opt out of the pep rally and arrive late to school. This morning was a giant mess of students not knowing where they were supposed to be. Honestly, it worked out fine and we went with the flow like we always do.
Issue #3: I have a new teaching partner this year. Everything has been going really well. She is very organized, great with the kids, and so kind as to let me know in advance changes in the schedule. I have greatly enjoyed working with her so far.
However.
She arrives late every day, because (as I previously understood it) she has to get the volley ballers started in the mornigns. Why their head coach cannot do that is beyond my understanding, but I Go With It, because that is what we do here. This morning, she was not there (per usual), but (not per usual) we were expecting a set of guest speakers to come talk to our kids. Please note that she had invited these speakers and had left instructions for the front desk to notify her when they were here.
Knowing that my partner is habitually late, I went to the front and ensured that the wonderful secretaries knew to call me to fetch the guests. I love taking care of other people's responsibilities.
I called my partner around 7:45 (the time we are supposed to be here per our contract) to ask if her guest speakers could use her laptop so that I could grade on mine. As it turns out, my partner was still at her significant other's house, and had no idea where her laptop was or was not, and oh, she would swing by her house and see if it was there on her way to school. I have no idea what time she got here, because (after I met her guest speakers and got them situated), I took our kids to the pep rally.
Issue #4: My partner fell asleep during our guest speakers' presentation.
I. Cannot. Even.
OK. Maybe I am too uptight. I have been told that before. I think the word was "anal". However, I do not think that advance notice, arriving on time to work, and being awake on the job are tremendous, unfulfillable expectations. They seem like normal things to expect of a human being, much less someone who is shaping the future of the nation.
I recently gave up on being an adult since I am not sure that "being an adult" actually exists. However, if we are going to expect things of the kids, we should also fulfill them ourselves. If we do not set an example for them, then what? How can we convict them to be on time when we are not on time ourselves? I woke up rather late on Tuesday, and still managed to make it here by 7:45, since that is when I am contracted to be here. Go me. Guess what being on time gets me? Additional responsibilties to compensate for the people who are late and who receive no consequences.
Valete,
Magistra
I have not posted an angry blog entry in a while. It seems to me like it is time to rectify that.
Issue #1: It is Friday, and this is Texas, so I understand that football is more important than instruction. I get that. What I do not get is why people cannot take care of their business. Our pep rally was featured this morning on Fox 4 News, and only yesterday did Fox let us know that this would be the case.
Our administration, who is actually very good about letting us know things, told us as soon as they knew yesterday morning that our entire Friday would be flipped on its head. I suppose because they are Fox 4 News, they think, "Oh, I don't mind changing the schedules of 3000 students and 200 teachers." What they fail to realize is, high schoolers are like puppies. They need routine and structure, or they go positively nutty.
Issue #2: Our administration let us know yesterday morning about the aforementioned pep rally, but there was one thing they forgot to clarify. Yesterday afternoon during third period, they let us know that the students should check in with us first thing and then be collectively released for the pep rally. I hope I am not the only one who sees a problem here. Many teachers do not check their email until the end of the day (as we are busy teaching), and are not able to deliver a last minute announcement to their classes. The teachers I spoke to told their children to report straight to the pep rally in the morning. Some students took that to mean that they could opt out of the pep rally and arrive late to school. This morning was a giant mess of students not knowing where they were supposed to be. Honestly, it worked out fine and we went with the flow like we always do.
Issue #3: I have a new teaching partner this year. Everything has been going really well. She is very organized, great with the kids, and so kind as to let me know in advance changes in the schedule. I have greatly enjoyed working with her so far.
However.
She arrives late every day, because (as I previously understood it) she has to get the volley ballers started in the mornigns. Why their head coach cannot do that is beyond my understanding, but I Go With It, because that is what we do here. This morning, she was not there (per usual), but (not per usual) we were expecting a set of guest speakers to come talk to our kids. Please note that she had invited these speakers and had left instructions for the front desk to notify her when they were here.
Knowing that my partner is habitually late, I went to the front and ensured that the wonderful secretaries knew to call me to fetch the guests. I love taking care of other people's responsibilities.
I called my partner around 7:45 (the time we are supposed to be here per our contract) to ask if her guest speakers could use her laptop so that I could grade on mine. As it turns out, my partner was still at her significant other's house, and had no idea where her laptop was or was not, and oh, she would swing by her house and see if it was there on her way to school. I have no idea what time she got here, because (after I met her guest speakers and got them situated), I took our kids to the pep rally.
Issue #4: My partner fell asleep during our guest speakers' presentation.
I. Cannot. Even.
OK. Maybe I am too uptight. I have been told that before. I think the word was "anal". However, I do not think that advance notice, arriving on time to work, and being awake on the job are tremendous, unfulfillable expectations. They seem like normal things to expect of a human being, much less someone who is shaping the future of the nation.
I recently gave up on being an adult since I am not sure that "being an adult" actually exists. However, if we are going to expect things of the kids, we should also fulfill them ourselves. If we do not set an example for them, then what? How can we convict them to be on time when we are not on time ourselves? I woke up rather late on Tuesday, and still managed to make it here by 7:45, since that is when I am contracted to be here. Go me. Guess what being on time gets me? Additional responsibilties to compensate for the people who are late and who receive no consequences.
Valete,
Magistra
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Death and All of His Friends
Salvete,
This is sort of a continuation of the previous post.
As some of you who (probably don't) read this blog may remember, I had a student (let's call him Christopher) attempt suicide last year. He shot himself through the chin, and fortunately did not have enough sense to angle the gun to do the job thoroughly. His lack of attention to detail led to him destroying his face and tongue, which had to be reconstructed through many painful surgeries. I went to visit him when he was in the hospital -- mouth wired shut, trach tube in, and down to a skeletal 95 pounds.
Late last week, Christopher opened my door and came into my classroom with the same goofy, optimistic smile that I remembered. His face is a bit different, and his teeth are not what they once were, but he still gave off that air of confidence and adolescent joy that he usually did around me. He hugged me and overwhelmed me with his repeated thanks of coming to see him in the hospital. He told me that not many people did, and that he appreciated me taking the time to visit. I was honestly surprised he remembered, as the number of drugs he must have been on at the time was probably substantial. He told me about the surgeries yet to come and told me he would come see me again.
Yesterday morning we got an email that an 11th grade student, though not one I know, had died at home the previous night. Word got around that it was suicide, though I have not had any official reports as far as the cause of death. The sorrow I feel for his family, teachers, and classmates connects directly to the sorrow I felt when I heard Christopher had shot himself last year. I am thankful that my student lived, and so sad that this other student died. These kids still have so much to do. Heck, I still have so much to do, so many people to meet, so many people to love.
So to you, my non-readers, I say, value the people in your life and know that your life is valued by others. Taking yourself away from them is not a solution, it is a creation of more problems. Take pity on those of us who love you and stay with us a while longer. Things will get better.
Valete,
Magistra
This is sort of a continuation of the previous post.
As some of you who (probably don't) read this blog may remember, I had a student (let's call him Christopher) attempt suicide last year. He shot himself through the chin, and fortunately did not have enough sense to angle the gun to do the job thoroughly. His lack of attention to detail led to him destroying his face and tongue, which had to be reconstructed through many painful surgeries. I went to visit him when he was in the hospital -- mouth wired shut, trach tube in, and down to a skeletal 95 pounds.
Late last week, Christopher opened my door and came into my classroom with the same goofy, optimistic smile that I remembered. His face is a bit different, and his teeth are not what they once were, but he still gave off that air of confidence and adolescent joy that he usually did around me. He hugged me and overwhelmed me with his repeated thanks of coming to see him in the hospital. He told me that not many people did, and that he appreciated me taking the time to visit. I was honestly surprised he remembered, as the number of drugs he must have been on at the time was probably substantial. He told me about the surgeries yet to come and told me he would come see me again.
Yesterday morning we got an email that an 11th grade student, though not one I know, had died at home the previous night. Word got around that it was suicide, though I have not had any official reports as far as the cause of death. The sorrow I feel for his family, teachers, and classmates connects directly to the sorrow I felt when I heard Christopher had shot himself last year. I am thankful that my student lived, and so sad that this other student died. These kids still have so much to do. Heck, I still have so much to do, so many people to meet, so many people to love.
So to you, my non-readers, I say, value the people in your life and know that your life is valued by others. Taking yourself away from them is not a solution, it is a creation of more problems. Take pity on those of us who love you and stay with us a while longer. Things will get better.
Valete,
Magistra
Tardies and Tartness
Savete,
It has been a while since anything really compelling has happened in my classroom. A few little incidents have occurred, and I will record them here today.
One of my very good students (shall we call him Roger?) walks into my class about five minutes tardy. I had seen Roger go in for a tardy during first period, as I was waiting in the office to attend a meeting. He walks into my room third period, and I ask for his pass. He does not have one, and tells me so as he shoves his backpack onto a computer table with controlled frustration. I ask him to please go get a tardy and he tells me, "I really don't want to do that, Miss. I'm already having a bad day." As I sigh with dejection and sorrow for the impending office referral that I sense, I ask him again to please go get a tardy. He thinks for a moment and says in a tone that does not reflect compliance, "OK! Here!" He pulls out a sheet of white paper which is - lo and behold - a tardy. Now, he saw me saw him get a tardy first period. He knows I am not stupid.
And yet...I look at the time stamp on the tardy, and it is most incorrect for the circumstances of this moment's particular tardy. I let him know that I realize what he is trying to pull, all the while maintaining my Sugar-Plum-Fairy-Smile-of-Goodness-and-Grace. I tell him he has tied my hands and left himself with only two choices. I can write him up for non-compliance or he can get a tardy. I "beg" him to get a tardy, and then move on with my life. I continue class (a lecture over the glorious topic of Archetypes) as I pull out an office referral form. He sees me do so, and I see him thinking. He interrupts my lecture with a sad but not unpleasant, "All right, Miss," and exits the room only to return with an appropriately time-stamped tardy several minutes later.
This experience was quite a show for my class, as they had never seen me have to discipline anyone outside of the occasional redirection. During my confrontation with Roger, they were watching with baited breath. Would I become angry at his defiance? Would I lose my temper? Would I let it slide because he was having a bad day? No, no, and again no. This is not personal. There was no reason to be mad. There was protocol to follow, and I followed it. All ended well, and Roger served his lunch detention the following day.
A few days later, a student (shall we call him Travis?) hung back once it was time to switch classes and waited for the rest of the students to leave. I had seen him do this before, usually to discuss some issue he was having with some class or teacher. Today, that issue turned out to be me.
I realize that my teaching style is what one might call "blatantly honest about real life and what I will and will not put up with." I make no efforts to spare the feelings of my students when it comes to how things are meant to run in my classroom. I have discussed before in this blog my policy for extra credit. I usually give the students two bathroom passes per 9-week semester. Each bathroom pass is worth 10 points of major grade credit.
On Wednesday, when I was explaining to the students how turning in bathroom passes works, this is what I said: "Make sure your name is on the passes, or I'm going to throw them away, because that is not my problem." They laughed a little and we moved on.
So, after class Travis stayed to tell me this: "Miss, did you know that sometimes you come across a little...well..."
I filled in for him, "Harsh?"
He blushed and nodded. He said, "I don't mind it so much, I kind of like it, but some other students might react negatively."
And I said, "Well, that's up to them; I just tell it how it is." He thanked me and left. So weird.
There was one more thing, but I think it should go in a separate post.
Valete,
Magistra
It has been a while since anything really compelling has happened in my classroom. A few little incidents have occurred, and I will record them here today.
One of my very good students (shall we call him Roger?) walks into my class about five minutes tardy. I had seen Roger go in for a tardy during first period, as I was waiting in the office to attend a meeting. He walks into my room third period, and I ask for his pass. He does not have one, and tells me so as he shoves his backpack onto a computer table with controlled frustration. I ask him to please go get a tardy and he tells me, "I really don't want to do that, Miss. I'm already having a bad day." As I sigh with dejection and sorrow for the impending office referral that I sense, I ask him again to please go get a tardy. He thinks for a moment and says in a tone that does not reflect compliance, "OK! Here!" He pulls out a sheet of white paper which is - lo and behold - a tardy. Now, he saw me saw him get a tardy first period. He knows I am not stupid.
And yet...I look at the time stamp on the tardy, and it is most incorrect for the circumstances of this moment's particular tardy. I let him know that I realize what he is trying to pull, all the while maintaining my Sugar-Plum-Fairy-Smile-of-Goodness-and-Grace. I tell him he has tied my hands and left himself with only two choices. I can write him up for non-compliance or he can get a tardy. I "beg" him to get a tardy, and then move on with my life. I continue class (a lecture over the glorious topic of Archetypes) as I pull out an office referral form. He sees me do so, and I see him thinking. He interrupts my lecture with a sad but not unpleasant, "All right, Miss," and exits the room only to return with an appropriately time-stamped tardy several minutes later.
This experience was quite a show for my class, as they had never seen me have to discipline anyone outside of the occasional redirection. During my confrontation with Roger, they were watching with baited breath. Would I become angry at his defiance? Would I lose my temper? Would I let it slide because he was having a bad day? No, no, and again no. This is not personal. There was no reason to be mad. There was protocol to follow, and I followed it. All ended well, and Roger served his lunch detention the following day.
A few days later, a student (shall we call him Travis?) hung back once it was time to switch classes and waited for the rest of the students to leave. I had seen him do this before, usually to discuss some issue he was having with some class or teacher. Today, that issue turned out to be me.
I realize that my teaching style is what one might call "blatantly honest about real life and what I will and will not put up with." I make no efforts to spare the feelings of my students when it comes to how things are meant to run in my classroom. I have discussed before in this blog my policy for extra credit. I usually give the students two bathroom passes per 9-week semester. Each bathroom pass is worth 10 points of major grade credit.
On Wednesday, when I was explaining to the students how turning in bathroom passes works, this is what I said: "Make sure your name is on the passes, or I'm going to throw them away, because that is not my problem." They laughed a little and we moved on.
So, after class Travis stayed to tell me this: "Miss, did you know that sometimes you come across a little...well..."
I filled in for him, "Harsh?"
He blushed and nodded. He said, "I don't mind it so much, I kind of like it, but some other students might react negatively."
And I said, "Well, that's up to them; I just tell it how it is." He thanked me and left. So weird.
There was one more thing, but I think it should go in a separate post.
Valete,
Magistra
Friday, October 7, 2011
So a Lawyer Walked into a Bar...
Salvete,
I meant to write this down a few days ago, but had not had the chance due to homecoming week taking over everyone's life at school. I wanted to take the time to write this blog entry because I never want to forget the event that inspired it. I believe that the following is a great reminder of why the job I do is important.
I got to school on Tuesday and met a student waiting for me. She is a good one, not the brightest, but definitely full of potential because of her desire to learn.
Somehow we got onto the topic of what she wanted to do after high school. She told me she wanted to be a lawyer. In the past, students have given their reason for wanting to be lawyers as they love to argue. While arguing is certainly part of a lawyer's job, there is much more too it (I would imagine, anyway).
When I asked my student why she wanted to be a lawyer, I expected the average answer. However, she said to me with such conviction, "I want to be a lawyer because I love justice."
"That's a good reason to be a lawyer," I replied.
She said to me, "Yes, miss, did you know that in Africa, if a man dies, his wife gets nothing? It all goes to his family? That is not right. They built that life together, and then she is not considered part of the family. No, miss, that is not right. I want to go back to Africa and I believe that I can make it right if I am a lawyer."
I hope that she does not lose that conviction. She said those words with so much belief, so much longing. She has lived in Africa before, and seen the injustice with her own eyes. Talking to her gave new meaning to what I do every day. I want to give the kids the skills to succeed, whatever that looks like for them. If they love justice, let them be lawyers. If they love healing, let them be doctors. If they love education, let them be teachers. And let me be ocean that helps their ship sail past the horizons of their dreams. Let them be "sailors of the world, bound for all ports," and let one of many currents along the way.
Valete,
Magistra
I meant to write this down a few days ago, but had not had the chance due to homecoming week taking over everyone's life at school. I wanted to take the time to write this blog entry because I never want to forget the event that inspired it. I believe that the following is a great reminder of why the job I do is important.
I got to school on Tuesday and met a student waiting for me. She is a good one, not the brightest, but definitely full of potential because of her desire to learn.
Somehow we got onto the topic of what she wanted to do after high school. She told me she wanted to be a lawyer. In the past, students have given their reason for wanting to be lawyers as they love to argue. While arguing is certainly part of a lawyer's job, there is much more too it (I would imagine, anyway).
When I asked my student why she wanted to be a lawyer, I expected the average answer. However, she said to me with such conviction, "I want to be a lawyer because I love justice."
"That's a good reason to be a lawyer," I replied.
She said to me, "Yes, miss, did you know that in Africa, if a man dies, his wife gets nothing? It all goes to his family? That is not right. They built that life together, and then she is not considered part of the family. No, miss, that is not right. I want to go back to Africa and I believe that I can make it right if I am a lawyer."
I hope that she does not lose that conviction. She said those words with so much belief, so much longing. She has lived in Africa before, and seen the injustice with her own eyes. Talking to her gave new meaning to what I do every day. I want to give the kids the skills to succeed, whatever that looks like for them. If they love justice, let them be lawyers. If they love healing, let them be doctors. If they love education, let them be teachers. And let me be ocean that helps their ship sail past the horizons of their dreams. Let them be "sailors of the world, bound for all ports," and let one of many currents along the way.
Valete,
Magistra
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Let's Get Personal.
Salvete,
Something one hears about work is: Keep your personal life and your work life separate.
I have always prided myself on being one of those teachers who never takes work home. I tell my students, "Work is work, and home is home." Some teachers grade at home over a glass of wine--or something stronger--and I have always imagined that if I did that, by the end of the evening, everyone would have A's. In your dreams, students.
On the other side of leaving papers at work to be graded, I also try to leave emotions at home to be forgotten until I walk back in the door to my charming abode around 4 o'clock each day. In my last post, I discussed being ON at work, so that one wears one's teacher hat around the kids. My particular metaphorical teacher hat looks something like a fedora--very cool--with some weird feathers and maybe a music box attached. The aura I try to portray around the children is quirky, organized, and interested in them. Quirky I am. Organized I also am. Whether or not I am interested in them is less certain. Either way, they generally see me as a personable and forgiving adult who will never rage at them. I may get serious for a few minutes while I discuss their bad behavior, but I immedately snap back into happy-go-lucky Magistra as soon as the berating is over.
Such snappage leads to one or more students a year suggesting I become a professional actress. In my more desperate moments, I entertain the notion, but then remember how actresses do not really get summer/winter vacations unless they are very good at what they do, or insanely hot, and I do not imagine myself to be either to the necessary degree.
Digression ended.
All this to say, lately I have been having a problem keeping the two separate. I feel that I am coping with the seepage in an unhealthy way. Some stuff is going on in my non-work-life, and has quietly leaked into my work-life thoughts. How do I deal? I put all of my ON energy into my kids during passing period or direct instruction at the start of class. Then, I launch them into whatever activity I have engineered for them that day. Do not misunderstand me here. The activities that I make require cooperation, critical thinking, sufficient homework, and plenty of reading and writing. However, once they have embarked on their activity, I sit at my desk and do a whole lot of nothing.
Papers get graded, things get done, but I feel that I am using work as a time to process all of the non-work things.
It is wearing me out. Before, I had work wearing me out at work, and home wearing me out at home. Now, I have work and home wearing me out at work. There, I compensate by ignoring my kids for the majority of the class period, which in turn makes me feel guilty. At home, I also compensate by systematically using every dish and leaving them all dirty, in addition to refusing to fold my clothes. Problem? I think so.
Anyone who knows me well knows that when I let things get messy, it is time to worry.
Solution? Quit work or quit life. Priorities! Just kidding. But I will figure something out. Until then, thank God my kids are really well behaved.
Valete,
Magistra
Something one hears about work is: Keep your personal life and your work life separate.
I have always prided myself on being one of those teachers who never takes work home. I tell my students, "Work is work, and home is home." Some teachers grade at home over a glass of wine--or something stronger--and I have always imagined that if I did that, by the end of the evening, everyone would have A's. In your dreams, students.
On the other side of leaving papers at work to be graded, I also try to leave emotions at home to be forgotten until I walk back in the door to my charming abode around 4 o'clock each day. In my last post, I discussed being ON at work, so that one wears one's teacher hat around the kids. My particular metaphorical teacher hat looks something like a fedora--very cool--with some weird feathers and maybe a music box attached. The aura I try to portray around the children is quirky, organized, and interested in them. Quirky I am. Organized I also am. Whether or not I am interested in them is less certain. Either way, they generally see me as a personable and forgiving adult who will never rage at them. I may get serious for a few minutes while I discuss their bad behavior, but I immedately snap back into happy-go-lucky Magistra as soon as the berating is over.
Such snappage leads to one or more students a year suggesting I become a professional actress. In my more desperate moments, I entertain the notion, but then remember how actresses do not really get summer/winter vacations unless they are very good at what they do, or insanely hot, and I do not imagine myself to be either to the necessary degree.
Digression ended.
All this to say, lately I have been having a problem keeping the two separate. I feel that I am coping with the seepage in an unhealthy way. Some stuff is going on in my non-work-life, and has quietly leaked into my work-life thoughts. How do I deal? I put all of my ON energy into my kids during passing period or direct instruction at the start of class. Then, I launch them into whatever activity I have engineered for them that day. Do not misunderstand me here. The activities that I make require cooperation, critical thinking, sufficient homework, and plenty of reading and writing. However, once they have embarked on their activity, I sit at my desk and do a whole lot of nothing.
Papers get graded, things get done, but I feel that I am using work as a time to process all of the non-work things.
It is wearing me out. Before, I had work wearing me out at work, and home wearing me out at home. Now, I have work and home wearing me out at work. There, I compensate by ignoring my kids for the majority of the class period, which in turn makes me feel guilty. At home, I also compensate by systematically using every dish and leaving them all dirty, in addition to refusing to fold my clothes. Problem? I think so.
Anyone who knows me well knows that when I let things get messy, it is time to worry.
Solution? Quit work or quit life. Priorities! Just kidding. But I will figure something out. Until then, thank God my kids are really well behaved.
Valete,
Magistra
Monday, September 19, 2011
Like a Lamp
Salvete,
As a teacher, one has to be ON all the time. What I mean by being ON is this: whatever mood you were in when you came to school, that mood is irrelevant. Figure it out. Get it together. Love the kids.
If one has a desk job, one can schlump a little bit in the cubicle and grouch around half-way through the morning until coffee time. If one has a job requiring manual labor, one can pour the hurt of the day before into the new day's physical task. If one works in retail or some other wage job, one can take "smoke" breaks or become consumed in a task.
Teachers have to be ON all the time.
This is not to say that other jobs are not taxing in various ways that teaching is not. I am not here to offend (well, maybe a little) or to qualify, just to talk about my thoughts. Get your own blog if you take issue with my opinions.
You may have had teachers who chose not to be ON. They were hateful towards the kids, or let their personal issues run their classroom. The best I can do for my students is to be ON every day, and be the same every day, as much as a human being can. I promised them that the first day of school, and I try to maintain that promise.
However, I have found that being ON from 7:15 to 3:45 takes a toll on my peronsal life. Either I treat my peers/parents like my students out of the habit of being in the teacher persona, or I allow the supressed frustration/grumpiness leak out into personal relationships. I find myself giving so much at work that I take too much when I am home.
Lately, I have had more migraines than usual. Since school started four weeks ago, I have had two severe ones, the aftermath of which has lasted for two or more days. Such frequency is not typical of my migraines. I have been forgetful and distracted, and have been having heart palpitations more than usual. All are signs of stress, insofar as I can tell.
Despite stress, or being ON, or whatever, I love my kids so much. They are incredible every day. I am fortunate to have them in my life. I have already learned from them this year, and they have learned from me. They feel safe in my class, and they feel smart.
Valete,
Magistra
As a teacher, one has to be ON all the time. What I mean by being ON is this: whatever mood you were in when you came to school, that mood is irrelevant. Figure it out. Get it together. Love the kids.
If one has a desk job, one can schlump a little bit in the cubicle and grouch around half-way through the morning until coffee time. If one has a job requiring manual labor, one can pour the hurt of the day before into the new day's physical task. If one works in retail or some other wage job, one can take "smoke" breaks or become consumed in a task.
Teachers have to be ON all the time.
This is not to say that other jobs are not taxing in various ways that teaching is not. I am not here to offend (well, maybe a little) or to qualify, just to talk about my thoughts. Get your own blog if you take issue with my opinions.
You may have had teachers who chose not to be ON. They were hateful towards the kids, or let their personal issues run their classroom. The best I can do for my students is to be ON every day, and be the same every day, as much as a human being can. I promised them that the first day of school, and I try to maintain that promise.
However, I have found that being ON from 7:15 to 3:45 takes a toll on my peronsal life. Either I treat my peers/parents like my students out of the habit of being in the teacher persona, or I allow the supressed frustration/grumpiness leak out into personal relationships. I find myself giving so much at work that I take too much when I am home.
Lately, I have had more migraines than usual. Since school started four weeks ago, I have had two severe ones, the aftermath of which has lasted for two or more days. Such frequency is not typical of my migraines. I have been forgetful and distracted, and have been having heart palpitations more than usual. All are signs of stress, insofar as I can tell.
Despite stress, or being ON, or whatever, I love my kids so much. They are incredible every day. I am fortunate to have them in my life. I have already learned from them this year, and they have learned from me. They feel safe in my class, and they feel smart.
Valete,
Magistra
Sunday, August 21, 2011
If You Teach It, They Will Come.
And if you do not teach it, they come anyway.
Salvete,
The kids are coming tomorrow whether we are ready for them or not. I have seen ample Facebook postage over the last couple days -- the heaving of sighs, the failing of courage, the braving of novelty! All from teacher, parent, and student alike. Parents taking their young men and women to college, exhausted moms returning home with school supplies, and the self-reassurance in order to remind...we can do this!
Do this we can. Do this we must.
Have a good first day of the new year.
Magistra
Salvete,
The kids are coming tomorrow whether we are ready for them or not. I have seen ample Facebook postage over the last couple days -- the heaving of sighs, the failing of courage, the braving of novelty! All from teacher, parent, and student alike. Parents taking their young men and women to college, exhausted moms returning home with school supplies, and the self-reassurance in order to remind...we can do this!
Do this we can. Do this we must.
Have a good first day of the new year.
Magistra
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Salvete,
What a week it has been! And it is only Thursday. Today was just awesome. If you are one of those people who thinks that one's job cannot bring joy, find a different career. You have been lying to yourself.
As I worked in my room today, I noticed kids in the hall. I remembered that they were due to pick up their schedules today so that they could find their way in the new building. So that they knew I was available for help, I propped open my door. Inevitably, a few stopped to say hello. Seeing my former students brought so much joy to my heart. Even one with whom I had issues here and there (a very good student with a chip on his shoulder) came by to see me. The students were generous with the hugs and open with their questions about everything from summer reading to class locations to you-name-it. I really cannot believe I tried to leave and go to graduate school.
The new students I met today also had parents in tow. Meeting parents is always such an interesting experience. Our principal reminds us that parents do not keep their best kids at home. The parents send us the very best they have, even when that "very best" is not so great. The parents all asked good questions and I was pleased as punch to meet them.
One of the really exciting things about working with AVID (besides that the kids are almost guaranteed to be good) is that I get to know who they are before the first day of school. I get to help interview them, hand select them with a group of my peers, and I get to help ensure their success. A weighty charge, ensuring success.
Back to work I go tomorrow to plan until I fall over. I can't believe they pay me to do this!
Valete,
Magistra
What a week it has been! And it is only Thursday. Today was just awesome. If you are one of those people who thinks that one's job cannot bring joy, find a different career. You have been lying to yourself.
As I worked in my room today, I noticed kids in the hall. I remembered that they were due to pick up their schedules today so that they could find their way in the new building. So that they knew I was available for help, I propped open my door. Inevitably, a few stopped to say hello. Seeing my former students brought so much joy to my heart. Even one with whom I had issues here and there (a very good student with a chip on his shoulder) came by to see me. The students were generous with the hugs and open with their questions about everything from summer reading to class locations to you-name-it. I really cannot believe I tried to leave and go to graduate school.
The new students I met today also had parents in tow. Meeting parents is always such an interesting experience. Our principal reminds us that parents do not keep their best kids at home. The parents send us the very best they have, even when that "very best" is not so great. The parents all asked good questions and I was pleased as punch to meet them.
One of the really exciting things about working with AVID (besides that the kids are almost guaranteed to be good) is that I get to know who they are before the first day of school. I get to help interview them, hand select them with a group of my peers, and I get to help ensure their success. A weighty charge, ensuring success.
Back to work I go tomorrow to plan until I fall over. I can't believe they pay me to do this!
Valete,
Magistra
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Here we go again.
Salvete.
School ended. I worked graduation. And now summer is almost over.
Graduation was interesting. I got to wear my regalia for the first time, which made me proud of myself. It felt like my own graduation, in a way. On my original graduation for my Masters of Education, I had to work, so I did not walk (nor did I really want to). This more recent experience of watching those kids walk across the stage was the best graduation ceremony I could have wanted for myself. In a way, it really was my graduation. My first ever group of students graduated from high school. I taught mostly freshmen my first year (in Houston), but I did have some sophomores in my two Latin classes. I keep up with five or six of them on Facebook (gasp!), so I have gotten to see their status updates -- waiting to hear from this or that college, attending senior prom, and experiencing the joy and anxiety that come with a new chapter of life. At my current job, where I have taught sophomores from the beginning, I had repeaters who were junior level age-wise. They too graduated this year.
As I sat with my row (row 13 pink! best row in the place!) and watched those people walk across the stage, I felt genuinely proud to have been a part of their lives. I do not know where their roads will lead them. For some of them, the only thought in my head was, "None of us ever thought this day would come." They were the ones who seemed to feel that their only mission in life was to make us miserable. However, there they went, there they walked. I hope they are ready.
The summer has sped on as I have done my best to slow it down. I have tried to savor every day of freedom, knowing what is coming. I suppose I am ready for the new year. For the past two weeks, my ever-present and ever-vivid dreams have been riddled with nightmares of disobedient students, humongous class sizes, and failed lesson plans. These phantoms have done nothing for my confidence, but I have tried to push them away in the morning light. It will be excellent to see my colleagues on Monday for our staff development, to see my desks neatly placed, to make copies, to walk the halls of a school I have loved for many years -- long before it was my employer.
And even if I am not ready, the children will come anyway. Whether or not you teach, they will come, so you might as well teach your heart out for them.
Believe me, I intend to.
Valete,
Magistra
School ended. I worked graduation. And now summer is almost over.
Graduation was interesting. I got to wear my regalia for the first time, which made me proud of myself. It felt like my own graduation, in a way. On my original graduation for my Masters of Education, I had to work, so I did not walk (nor did I really want to). This more recent experience of watching those kids walk across the stage was the best graduation ceremony I could have wanted for myself. In a way, it really was my graduation. My first ever group of students graduated from high school. I taught mostly freshmen my first year (in Houston), but I did have some sophomores in my two Latin classes. I keep up with five or six of them on Facebook (gasp!), so I have gotten to see their status updates -- waiting to hear from this or that college, attending senior prom, and experiencing the joy and anxiety that come with a new chapter of life. At my current job, where I have taught sophomores from the beginning, I had repeaters who were junior level age-wise. They too graduated this year.
As I sat with my row (row 13 pink! best row in the place!) and watched those people walk across the stage, I felt genuinely proud to have been a part of their lives. I do not know where their roads will lead them. For some of them, the only thought in my head was, "None of us ever thought this day would come." They were the ones who seemed to feel that their only mission in life was to make us miserable. However, there they went, there they walked. I hope they are ready.
The summer has sped on as I have done my best to slow it down. I have tried to savor every day of freedom, knowing what is coming. I suppose I am ready for the new year. For the past two weeks, my ever-present and ever-vivid dreams have been riddled with nightmares of disobedient students, humongous class sizes, and failed lesson plans. These phantoms have done nothing for my confidence, but I have tried to push them away in the morning light. It will be excellent to see my colleagues on Monday for our staff development, to see my desks neatly placed, to make copies, to walk the halls of a school I have loved for many years -- long before it was my employer.
And even if I am not ready, the children will come anyway. Whether or not you teach, they will come, so you might as well teach your heart out for them.
Believe me, I intend to.
Valete,
Magistra
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Nothing Gold Can Stay.
Salvete,
I have surrendered Anime Club. It's for the best, you know.
We have this week and next week to meet, then we will be done for the year. And I will not be the sponsor.
Will I have less weirdness to blog about? Probably. Will I regret the choice to no longer sponsor Anime Club? Maybe.
But I doubt it.
In other news, it is nearly summer. While the rest of the world is getting out of school this week or next week, our district felt compelled to extend school until June 9th. Whoever was responsible for this situation obviously cares greatly for the district's budget, because the longer we keep the chilren, the more money we get. On the flip side of this, the longer we keep the children, the more likely teachers are to go berserk and hurt themselves or someone else.
Speaking of hurting oneself, I had a former student attempt suicide. The finer details of his attempt are not important, and when I went to visit him in the hospital, he seemed alert enough. It was a weird thing, driving to the hospital to see a student. Old people, not children, are supposed to be in hospitals. It was inevitable, I suppose, that one of my students would eventually end up attempting suicide, but the thought never really crossed my mind until now--until it happened. I'm going back to visit on Thursday.
The latest, up to date moment in Anime Club: Some people have really piercing voices.
Valete,
Magistra
I have surrendered Anime Club. It's for the best, you know.
We have this week and next week to meet, then we will be done for the year. And I will not be the sponsor.
Will I have less weirdness to blog about? Probably. Will I regret the choice to no longer sponsor Anime Club? Maybe.
But I doubt it.
In other news, it is nearly summer. While the rest of the world is getting out of school this week or next week, our district felt compelled to extend school until June 9th. Whoever was responsible for this situation obviously cares greatly for the district's budget, because the longer we keep the chilren, the more money we get. On the flip side of this, the longer we keep the children, the more likely teachers are to go berserk and hurt themselves or someone else.
Speaking of hurting oneself, I had a former student attempt suicide. The finer details of his attempt are not important, and when I went to visit him in the hospital, he seemed alert enough. It was a weird thing, driving to the hospital to see a student. Old people, not children, are supposed to be in hospitals. It was inevitable, I suppose, that one of my students would eventually end up attempting suicide, but the thought never really crossed my mind until now--until it happened. I'm going back to visit on Thursday.
The latest, up to date moment in Anime Club: Some people have really piercing voices.
Valete,
Magistra
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Who knew?
Salvete,
My students are doing research papers for or against a controversial topic of my choosing. The topics available to them are:
-Abortion
-Euthanasia
-Video games causing violence
-Death penalty
-War on Terror
-Health care reform
In the course of his research, one student solved the problem of why so many people are getting pregnant, and also discovered the key reason why abortion should be illegal for people who are irresponsible. He wrote the following:
"Abortion is the cause of a huge amount of fetuses."
What a strange world we live in.
Salvete,
Magistra
My students are doing research papers for or against a controversial topic of my choosing. The topics available to them are:
-Abortion
-Euthanasia
-Video games causing violence
-Death penalty
-War on Terror
-Health care reform
In the course of his research, one student solved the problem of why so many people are getting pregnant, and also discovered the key reason why abortion should be illegal for people who are irresponsible. He wrote the following:
"Abortion is the cause of a huge amount of fetuses."
What a strange world we live in.
Salvete,
Magistra
Friday, April 1, 2011
Let's Make it a Hat Trick.
Salvete,
Today was a big day as far as blog-worthy items. I cannot help myself.
When a student fails, a few things have to happen.
First, the student has to be determined to fail. This may look like: not paying attention, not turning in notes, overconfidence, etc. If you ever failed a high school class, do us all a favor and stop blaming anyone but yourself. Do not talk to me about how you are the exception to the rule, the teacher was too hard/too mean/hated you.
Second, the student has to maintain his determination to fail for a while. One day of determination to fail is not enough to glean a failing grade. This is not college where you only get graded on two things the whole semester. This nine-weeks alone, my students had 31 assignments. I also take late work, albeit withe a penalty, until the day grades are due.
Third, the teacher has to notify the parent. This is not a part of the actual failure process, but it does have to happen in order for the teacher to submit a failing grade. This is the most unpleasant part of the process, in my opinion, and the part on which I will focus for the rest of this post.
When calling parents, I never know what I am going have answering the phone. It may not speak English, it may be driving or at work, it may be the student himself, or it may be four years old. Regardless of who answers, the next 3 to 30 minutes of my life are guaranteed to be unpleasant. No one likes to hear that their kid is failing. To a (reasonable) parent, a child is the symbol of the best one has to offer the world. If the child fails, the parent feels that failure as well, and perhaps more acutely than does the child. Years of money, time, patience, and heartache go into the child (so do joy and pride and stuff, but those are not as poignant).
When I call a parent, if I am not having to speak in broken Spanish, I try just to listen and allow them to vent. Then I go into the issues I have with the child.
OK, this is boring even me. Let's get to the anecdote.
Today was the day when I call parents. I only had four to call, which is pretty good. That's a 6% failure rate.
The last parent (TLP) I called was very frustrated with me. TLP said the following things to me. I have included my mental and actual responses:
1) I know [student] is very smart but very lazy.
MENTAL RESPONSE: Yes.
ACTUAL RESPONSE: Yes.
2) How should I know to check if [student] is failing when the teacher never calls me?
M. RESPONSE: Because you know #1 in this list.
A. RESPONSE: Are you able to access the online gradebook? No? Oh. Did you get the two progress reports I sent home with [student]?
3) The rest of [student]'s teachers called me, but I did not know he was failing in your class.
M. RESPONSE: Good for them. If he was failing all their classes, it's like DUH that he was failing my class.
A. RESPONSE: I know that must be frustrating.
4) Can [student] come in this afternoon to do extra credit and bring up the grade?
M. RESPONSE: Do you really think I am going to be here after lunch? Do you really think I am going to let [student] made up a semester's worth of work in one afternoon? There is no afternoon long enough.
A. RESPONSE: No. (etc...See post including my Extra Credit philosophy)
5) It doesn't seem fair for you to just be calling now and not let [student] do extra credit.
M. RESPONSE: I would like to point you in the direction of my blog. Reference link in #4.
A. RESPONSE: It would not be fair for me to allow [student] to do extra credit now, when the rest of the students have taken care of their business. I gave an extra credit opportunity, due today, that [student] chose not to do, and that was up to [student].
It went on like this for a while, with TLP variously venting here and there.
Should I ever bear a child into this cold, cruel, unfair world where teachers are blamed for student failure, I hope that someone makes me reread my own blog every day before I send the kid to school.
Valete,
Magistra
Today was a big day as far as blog-worthy items. I cannot help myself.
When a student fails, a few things have to happen.
First, the student has to be determined to fail. This may look like: not paying attention, not turning in notes, overconfidence, etc. If you ever failed a high school class, do us all a favor and stop blaming anyone but yourself. Do not talk to me about how you are the exception to the rule, the teacher was too hard/too mean/hated you.
Second, the student has to maintain his determination to fail for a while. One day of determination to fail is not enough to glean a failing grade. This is not college where you only get graded on two things the whole semester. This nine-weeks alone, my students had 31 assignments. I also take late work, albeit withe a penalty, until the day grades are due.
Third, the teacher has to notify the parent. This is not a part of the actual failure process, but it does have to happen in order for the teacher to submit a failing grade. This is the most unpleasant part of the process, in my opinion, and the part on which I will focus for the rest of this post.
When calling parents, I never know what I am going have answering the phone. It may not speak English, it may be driving or at work, it may be the student himself, or it may be four years old. Regardless of who answers, the next 3 to 30 minutes of my life are guaranteed to be unpleasant. No one likes to hear that their kid is failing. To a (reasonable) parent, a child is the symbol of the best one has to offer the world. If the child fails, the parent feels that failure as well, and perhaps more acutely than does the child. Years of money, time, patience, and heartache go into the child (so do joy and pride and stuff, but those are not as poignant).
When I call a parent, if I am not having to speak in broken Spanish, I try just to listen and allow them to vent. Then I go into the issues I have with the child.
OK, this is boring even me. Let's get to the anecdote.
Today was the day when I call parents. I only had four to call, which is pretty good. That's a 6% failure rate.
The last parent (TLP) I called was very frustrated with me. TLP said the following things to me. I have included my mental and actual responses:
1) I know [student] is very smart but very lazy.
MENTAL RESPONSE: Yes.
ACTUAL RESPONSE: Yes.
2) How should I know to check if [student] is failing when the teacher never calls me?
M. RESPONSE: Because you know #1 in this list.
A. RESPONSE: Are you able to access the online gradebook? No? Oh. Did you get the two progress reports I sent home with [student]?
3) The rest of [student]'s teachers called me, but I did not know he was failing in your class.
M. RESPONSE: Good for them. If he was failing all their classes, it's like DUH that he was failing my class.
A. RESPONSE: I know that must be frustrating.
4) Can [student] come in this afternoon to do extra credit and bring up the grade?
M. RESPONSE: Do you really think I am going to be here after lunch? Do you really think I am going to let [student] made up a semester's worth of work in one afternoon? There is no afternoon long enough.
A. RESPONSE: No. (etc...See post including my Extra Credit philosophy)
5) It doesn't seem fair for you to just be calling now and not let [student] do extra credit.
M. RESPONSE: I would like to point you in the direction of my blog. Reference link in #4.
A. RESPONSE: It would not be fair for me to allow [student] to do extra credit now, when the rest of the students have taken care of their business. I gave an extra credit opportunity, due today, that [student] chose not to do, and that was up to [student].
It went on like this for a while, with TLP variously venting here and there.
Should I ever bear a child into this cold, cruel, unfair world where teachers are blamed for student failure, I hope that someone makes me reread my own blog every day before I send the kid to school.
Valete,
Magistra
Pomp and Circumstances.
Salvete!
If you read the previous post about today's duty, you might have gotten a little laugh. I thought I would add this post separately because it deals with a different matter than goofy children acting a fool in the hallway. It involves one sweet child affirming the reason I do this job.
Once Joe had moved along, I switched sides of the hall, as I usually do, to assist with the flow of traffic. One of my former students walked by holding a sheet that looked like a withdrawal form. I called her back to me with concern, as she had been an at risk child, a Repeater when she had me for class last year. I asked her if that was a withdrawal form, and with the biggest smile I have ever seen on her face, she told me that, no, it was not. It was a form to show that she was graduating. She was positively ecstatic as I told her how proud I was of her and shared in her joy. She gave me a big hug, not something I am used to getting from students (Rule #3: Keep all physical items to yourself). I hugged her back, so glad to have been part of her life.
It has not been an easy road for her, and seeing the expression on her face was enough to remind me again, as I am reminded almost every day, what I come to this building to do. These kids are becoming whom they are going to be. I hope that I play a positive part in that. I hope that I never collectively contribute to a student giving up, or to a child losing hope. I hope I can teach them that yes, life is hard, and yes, you are going to have to work. Sometimes things will seem unfair. Sometimes it will seem like all of life is working against you. But, I want them to learn that if you work hard, you will probably succeed. Success is never a guarantee, but with hard work, it is a leaps and bounds more likely than if you do nothing.
Salvete,
Magistra
If you read the previous post about today's duty, you might have gotten a little laugh. I thought I would add this post separately because it deals with a different matter than goofy children acting a fool in the hallway. It involves one sweet child affirming the reason I do this job.
Once Joe had moved along, I switched sides of the hall, as I usually do, to assist with the flow of traffic. One of my former students walked by holding a sheet that looked like a withdrawal form. I called her back to me with concern, as she had been an at risk child, a Repeater when she had me for class last year. I asked her if that was a withdrawal form, and with the biggest smile I have ever seen on her face, she told me that, no, it was not. It was a form to show that she was graduating. She was positively ecstatic as I told her how proud I was of her and shared in her joy. She gave me a big hug, not something I am used to getting from students (Rule #3: Keep all physical items to yourself). I hugged her back, so glad to have been part of her life.
It has not been an easy road for her, and seeing the expression on her face was enough to remind me again, as I am reminded almost every day, what I come to this building to do. These kids are becoming whom they are going to be. I hope that I play a positive part in that. I hope that I never collectively contribute to a student giving up, or to a child losing hope. I hope I can teach them that yes, life is hard, and yes, you are going to have to work. Sometimes things will seem unfair. Sometimes it will seem like all of life is working against you. But, I want them to learn that if you work hard, you will probably succeed. Success is never a guarantee, but with hard work, it is a leaps and bounds more likely than if you do nothing.
Salvete,
Magistra
Exams are for the Weak.
Salvete,
I was done with students at 9:00 this morning, due to exams and it being a half day, but I still had to go to duty. The students attended third and fourth only today, so I saw third period first thing this morning.
Out in the hall, before school, Joe was hanging around outside my room talking to some friends. I asked him why he was not at his usual post yesterday (he had deprived me of the daily dose of attitude, for whatever reason). He babbled on about this or that, and I told him I missed bothering him. He just laughed and smiled with those vacant eyes.
Later, as I walked to my duty station, I saw a young lady push a young man, and the young man retaliated by whacking her on the head with a rolled up piece of paper. I told them to be nice to one another, and who should the young man chance to be upon turning around? My favorite duty-time trouble maker, the aforementioned Joe!
He still had about thirty feet to cover in order to beat me to my duty station, so he laughed an insane cackle and ran ahead of me to get there first. Once I got there, he asked how I was doing, and we exchanged pleasantries. I asked him if he got an A on his third period final (I knew he hadn't, because he spent third standing in the hall making bird noises), and he told me that of course he had. I congratulated him and then told him to move along. Again he laughed an insane laugh, and walked on down the hallway with a bounce in his silly step.
Oh, my job.
Remind me why I wanted to leave again?
Salvete,
Magistra
I was done with students at 9:00 this morning, due to exams and it being a half day, but I still had to go to duty. The students attended third and fourth only today, so I saw third period first thing this morning.
Out in the hall, before school, Joe was hanging around outside my room talking to some friends. I asked him why he was not at his usual post yesterday (he had deprived me of the daily dose of attitude, for whatever reason). He babbled on about this or that, and I told him I missed bothering him. He just laughed and smiled with those vacant eyes.
Later, as I walked to my duty station, I saw a young lady push a young man, and the young man retaliated by whacking her on the head with a rolled up piece of paper. I told them to be nice to one another, and who should the young man chance to be upon turning around? My favorite duty-time trouble maker, the aforementioned Joe!
He still had about thirty feet to cover in order to beat me to my duty station, so he laughed an insane cackle and ran ahead of me to get there first. Once I got there, he asked how I was doing, and we exchanged pleasantries. I asked him if he got an A on his third period final (I knew he hadn't, because he spent third standing in the hall making bird noises), and he told me that of course he had. I congratulated him and then told him to move along. Again he laughed an insane laugh, and walked on down the hallway with a bounce in his silly step.
Oh, my job.
Remind me why I wanted to leave again?
Salvete,
Magistra
Thursday, March 31, 2011
All's Fair...
Salvete,
Today, I would like you to join me in a meditation on Fairness. What does "fair" mean? What does it mean "be fair"?
Dictionary.com defines "fair" as "free from bias, dishonesty, or injustice." Definition number two works for my purposes as well: "legitimately sought, pursued, done, given, etc; proper under the rules."
I assigned a mid-term review, to be completed at the students' discretion for extra credit. The students were not required to turn it in or complete it, or any combination of those two. The ones who did the review did better on the exam than those who did not do the review. Those who chose not to do it may have done so because of priorities, laziness, or spite. Say they had a Chemistry test the same day as my exam. Everyone knows that Chemistry is harder than English, or at least more useful and important. Perhaps the child has no intrinsic motivation. He certainly should not be blamed for predisposition to laziness. Maybe the child hates his parents, and refuses to study in order to spite them. I will not even go into how that simply proves to the parents that they are right, and damages the child's future. I am sure some wise and witty teenager would confirm that I am simply old fashioned or something, and say that I should be affirming him and telling him how special he is.
Regardless the reasons, the students had a review, and it was extra credit. Before I begin my meditation on fairness (which may actually become more of an anecdote), I should tell my dear readers, should they exist, my policy on extra credit. I believe that extra credit is simply that: extra. I owe the students nothing in the realm of bonus points. You will not ever find a bonus question on a quiz I have written, nor will you find many opportunities for extra credit in my class. If a student asks me for an extra credit assignment, I will not grant that opportunity until I have looked at the gradebook and asked myself the following questions:
1. Has the student turned in all of his regular credit (no zeroes)?
2. Has the student tried hard this year and is still struggling?
3. Is the student a jackass?
If the answers are 1) yes, 2) yes, 3) no, then I will allow the student to do extra credit. Some students complain that I do not give extra credit until I explain this policy to them. Then, after receiving the explanation, they walk thoughtfully away and are quiet for some time.
Now, on to the anecdote.
A young lady walked into my room during fourth period. In her hand she held a review. Lo! It was the afore mentioned review that I had assined as extra credit. As it happens, the review was due the moment before the start of the test during first period. I had asked for the review in that very moment, and received nine. Coincidentally, there was a tenth review, but it was on the young lady who walked into my room during fourth period. That young lady was (gasp) tardy to my class this morning, as she is most mornings, and missed the call for the review. Now here she was, standing before me, asking me to take the review despite the fact that I already took it approximately six hours ago.
After telling her I would not take it (a delicious moment for any teacher), she begged me to be fair and to enter the wee numbers into the gradebook for her immaculately completed-the-night-before review. Again I told her no. I also asked her what she meant by asking me to be fair. I reminded her that it would not be fair at all for me to take it, as the rest of the students who turned theirs in did so this morning at the deadline.
As our conversation went on, she reminded me of her tardy, which she apparently thought would help her case. It did not, but gave me ammunition, as up to that moment I had not remembered she was tardy (since it happens about three times a week, her tardiness has stopped being something I notice and remember). I reminded her that the rest of the students were here on time to turn in their reviews in at the deadline. For me to take her review now would, again, be unfair.
As a last ditch effort to reap what extra credit she could, she bunted with, "But no one is watching!" I then whipped out the plaque I have that says, "Integrity is doing the right thing when no one else is watching." It has come in handy many times for manipulating students, as it did today. With the saddest puppy dog face you have ever seen, she finally gave in and skulked out of my room, probably not realizing she was the poster child for teenagers thinking that them not getting their way is "unfair."
As a teacher, being fair is difficult. I do not always succeed at it, but I do try to when I can. Naturally, I like some students better than others, because in life, no matter what your education classes try to tell you, some people are just generally more likable than others. I try to assign fair assignments that are completable for all students. I try to make small groups that will consist of students who can help one another.
Inevitably, I have to have a "life isn't stinking fair" paragraph. When these kids get out of this building, and go into the real world, they will and do find that life is indeed unfair sometimes. People will cheat you, you will cheat people. People let you down, etc. As an educator and a pseudo-parent to these children, it is my duty to be as fair as I possibly can. In my mind, "fair" means "stable." It means "dependable." The rules are always the same, and they are the same for everyone. We could all use a little bit more of that in our lives, I think. So many of my kids have really horrible home lives, and if I can provide that stability for them, then good for me (and them). They may not like it sometimes that they cannot do whatever they please, but they will be better for it in the end. At least, I hope so.
Dum spiro spero, mei amici.
Valete, Magistra
Today, I would like you to join me in a meditation on Fairness. What does "fair" mean? What does it mean "be fair"?
Dictionary.com defines "fair" as "free from bias, dishonesty, or injustice." Definition number two works for my purposes as well: "legitimately sought, pursued, done, given, etc; proper under the rules."
I assigned a mid-term review, to be completed at the students' discretion for extra credit. The students were not required to turn it in or complete it, or any combination of those two. The ones who did the review did better on the exam than those who did not do the review. Those who chose not to do it may have done so because of priorities, laziness, or spite. Say they had a Chemistry test the same day as my exam. Everyone knows that Chemistry is harder than English, or at least more useful and important. Perhaps the child has no intrinsic motivation. He certainly should not be blamed for predisposition to laziness. Maybe the child hates his parents, and refuses to study in order to spite them. I will not even go into how that simply proves to the parents that they are right, and damages the child's future. I am sure some wise and witty teenager would confirm that I am simply old fashioned or something, and say that I should be affirming him and telling him how special he is.
Regardless the reasons, the students had a review, and it was extra credit. Before I begin my meditation on fairness (which may actually become more of an anecdote), I should tell my dear readers, should they exist, my policy on extra credit. I believe that extra credit is simply that: extra. I owe the students nothing in the realm of bonus points. You will not ever find a bonus question on a quiz I have written, nor will you find many opportunities for extra credit in my class. If a student asks me for an extra credit assignment, I will not grant that opportunity until I have looked at the gradebook and asked myself the following questions:
1. Has the student turned in all of his regular credit (no zeroes)?
2. Has the student tried hard this year and is still struggling?
3. Is the student a jackass?
If the answers are 1) yes, 2) yes, 3) no, then I will allow the student to do extra credit. Some students complain that I do not give extra credit until I explain this policy to them. Then, after receiving the explanation, they walk thoughtfully away and are quiet for some time.
Now, on to the anecdote.
A young lady walked into my room during fourth period. In her hand she held a review. Lo! It was the afore mentioned review that I had assined as extra credit. As it happens, the review was due the moment before the start of the test during first period. I had asked for the review in that very moment, and received nine. Coincidentally, there was a tenth review, but it was on the young lady who walked into my room during fourth period. That young lady was (gasp) tardy to my class this morning, as she is most mornings, and missed the call for the review. Now here she was, standing before me, asking me to take the review despite the fact that I already took it approximately six hours ago.
After telling her I would not take it (a delicious moment for any teacher), she begged me to be fair and to enter the wee numbers into the gradebook for her immaculately completed-the-night-before review. Again I told her no. I also asked her what she meant by asking me to be fair. I reminded her that it would not be fair at all for me to take it, as the rest of the students who turned theirs in did so this morning at the deadline.
As our conversation went on, she reminded me of her tardy, which she apparently thought would help her case. It did not, but gave me ammunition, as up to that moment I had not remembered she was tardy (since it happens about three times a week, her tardiness has stopped being something I notice and remember). I reminded her that the rest of the students were here on time to turn in their reviews in at the deadline. For me to take her review now would, again, be unfair.
As a last ditch effort to reap what extra credit she could, she bunted with, "But no one is watching!" I then whipped out the plaque I have that says, "Integrity is doing the right thing when no one else is watching." It has come in handy many times for manipulating students, as it did today. With the saddest puppy dog face you have ever seen, she finally gave in and skulked out of my room, probably not realizing she was the poster child for teenagers thinking that them not getting their way is "unfair."
As a teacher, being fair is difficult. I do not always succeed at it, but I do try to when I can. Naturally, I like some students better than others, because in life, no matter what your education classes try to tell you, some people are just generally more likable than others. I try to assign fair assignments that are completable for all students. I try to make small groups that will consist of students who can help one another.
Inevitably, I have to have a "life isn't stinking fair" paragraph. When these kids get out of this building, and go into the real world, they will and do find that life is indeed unfair sometimes. People will cheat you, you will cheat people. People let you down, etc. As an educator and a pseudo-parent to these children, it is my duty to be as fair as I possibly can. In my mind, "fair" means "stable." It means "dependable." The rules are always the same, and they are the same for everyone. We could all use a little bit more of that in our lives, I think. So many of my kids have really horrible home lives, and if I can provide that stability for them, then good for me (and them). They may not like it sometimes that they cannot do whatever they please, but they will be better for it in the end. At least, I hope so.
Dum spiro spero, mei amici.
Valete, Magistra
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Doodie.
Salvete,
Every day, after third period, I have to stand in the hall for 10 minutes and do "duty" (laugh, go ahead). The hall in question is a cross-roads. It intersects the bottom of a set of stairs, two major hallways, a bathroom, and is 20 feet from the cafeteria. My only job here is to make sure the children keep walking. That is it. That is all I have to do.
For your convenience, I have provided a diagram.
While the whole duty thing may sound easy, and easy it can be, there are children who do not want to make it easy.
While the whole duty thing may sound easy, and easy it can be, there are children who do not want to make it easy. Take Joe for example (code name in effect). Every day, Joe stands at the same spot. He is the red dot on the diagram above. And every day, I walk out there during passing period, and politely ask him to move. I say, "Sir, I need you to continue walking, please." I say it with a smile. I say it with sweetness. I should be the Sugar Plum Fairy. Where is my freaking tutu?
Usually, Joe rolls his eyes, stands there just long enough to make it look like he is not moving because I asked him to but of his own free will, then goes on his way. Today, however, was special.
I put on my usual sugary sweetness, and for the first time, he retaliates! He says confrontationally, "Don't you have anything to do besides bother me? Gah! Get a new hobby!" I say, "Sir, I'm only doing my job. I ask the same thing of everyone." This is where I wanted to tell him he is not special, but I held it in. I am a professional, after all. He continued in the same veine for about a minute, going on about my "hobby" of harassing him in particular.
But you know what? At the end of his harangue, he moved on, like he does every day. Perhaps he thinks I will not bother him tomorrow, since he verbally abused me today. Actually, his "rapier wit" makes me want to go out there even sooner. I am motivated to go to duty! It is a miracle, and I have Joe to thank. I should make him a card. You know what it would say?
It would say, "Thank you. See you tomorrow."
Valete,
Magistra
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
S! F! D! B!
Salvete,
A student got up and went outside to blow his nose. Though this student is usually flippant and somewhat offensive, he was actually very polite and wore nice clothes today.
Anyway, he finished his nose-blowing and came back in. He shoots, he misses! He said, "S!" Another student went, "F!" They said the letters. As if I would not know what they were abbreviating. They do think I am dumb, since I am an adult and have had life experiences, so why wouldn't they abbreviate?
I said, "Please do not use such harsh letters." They did not get it. I am not kidding.
Valete,
Magistra
A student got up and went outside to blow his nose. Though this student is usually flippant and somewhat offensive, he was actually very polite and wore nice clothes today.
Anyway, he finished his nose-blowing and came back in. He shoots, he misses! He said, "S!" Another student went, "F!" They said the letters. As if I would not know what they were abbreviating. They do think I am dumb, since I am an adult and have had life experiences, so why wouldn't they abbreviate?
I said, "Please do not use such harsh letters." They did not get it. I am not kidding.
Valete,
Magistra
?
Salvete.
Same kid as the backpack locker infuriation post.
I give the kids a worksheet as a tool to help them with a debate on Friday.
He asks, "Do we have to fill this out?"
Really?
REALLY?
Ok.
_____
I wrote the above post in a flourish of disgust and anger. However, upon further reflection, I feel that the episode as described is insufficient. It looks like the kind of thing any high schooler would say. I like this kid, in a way. The way is: He is good at academics. The way I get frustrated with this kid is he gives me attitude about everything I say. He was butting into a conversation I was having with another student, and I asked him to please mind his own business. He goes off and makes a huge deal about, "OK IF THAT'S HOW YOU WANT TO BE!" In fact, it was not how I wanted to be. I wanted to tell him to take his arrogance out of my classroom until he could act his age, but I did not. Because I am an adult. I AM AN ADULT.
The thing is, when you think you are an adult, you think you can say whatever you want. However, when you are an adult, you cannot just go around spouting whatever you want. We call people who do that "unlikable" or "rude" or "idiots." We call children who do that "unparented" or "in need of better teachers." Do you see the issue here? When adults do those behaviors, it is on the adults. When children do those behaviors, it is on the adults. Therefore, these children who have never been held accountable for their I-think-I-am-an-adult attitudes become adults. Then, they are mystified when they lose their job.
Now the blog post feels sufficient.
Valete,
Magistra
Same kid as the backpack locker infuriation post.
I give the kids a worksheet as a tool to help them with a debate on Friday.
He asks, "Do we have to fill this out?"
Really?
REALLY?
Ok.
_____
I wrote the above post in a flourish of disgust and anger. However, upon further reflection, I feel that the episode as described is insufficient. It looks like the kind of thing any high schooler would say. I like this kid, in a way. The way is: He is good at academics. The way I get frustrated with this kid is he gives me attitude about everything I say. He was butting into a conversation I was having with another student, and I asked him to please mind his own business. He goes off and makes a huge deal about, "OK IF THAT'S HOW YOU WANT TO BE!" In fact, it was not how I wanted to be. I wanted to tell him to take his arrogance out of my classroom until he could act his age, but I did not. Because I am an adult. I AM AN ADULT.
The thing is, when you think you are an adult, you think you can say whatever you want. However, when you are an adult, you cannot just go around spouting whatever you want. We call people who do that "unlikable" or "rude" or "idiots." We call children who do that "unparented" or "in need of better teachers." Do you see the issue here? When adults do those behaviors, it is on the adults. When children do those behaviors, it is on the adults. Therefore, these children who have never been held accountable for their I-think-I-am-an-adult attitudes become adults. Then, they are mystified when they lose their job.
Now the blog post feels sufficient.
Valete,
Magistra
It's Like A Chicken...
Salvete,
One of my kids just started making chicken noises. Ah, the dream job!
So, I only have six students right now, due to two absences, two in ISS, one at a tennis tournament, and two in TELPAS. I think it really may be the dream job. I did not get into graduate school, so it is time once again to start accentuating the positive. I only "work" 187 days a year. On top of that I have eight days I can take off at will. I get to make a difference (every teacher has to tell herself this). I get to make a difference. I have to make a difference or why am I here?
Anyway, the kids have been good. None of them have gotten beaten up in the last two weeks, and though some of them just informed me they have never heard of the "Oregon Trail" computer game, they are being generally likable. I know that them being likable is not really interesting or blogworthy, but I thought I would report it anyway (since we are accentuating the positive, after all). I was not assigned an Advisory class (20 minute TAKS instruction class on Tuesday/Wednesday/Thursday), so I get an extra break after second period to breathe. Things at work really could not be better, unless second period had a vocalchordectomy.
Today is the first day of Lent. What better time than to reflect on the joy of my job? In a season of self examination and self sacrifice, I would say there is real happiness in being a teacher. At this moment, writing this blog, I really believe that.
Salvete,
Magistra
One of my kids just started making chicken noises. Ah, the dream job!
So, I only have six students right now, due to two absences, two in ISS, one at a tennis tournament, and two in TELPAS. I think it really may be the dream job. I did not get into graduate school, so it is time once again to start accentuating the positive. I only "work" 187 days a year. On top of that I have eight days I can take off at will. I get to make a difference (every teacher has to tell herself this). I get to make a difference. I have to make a difference or why am I here?
Anyway, the kids have been good. None of them have gotten beaten up in the last two weeks, and though some of them just informed me they have never heard of the "Oregon Trail" computer game, they are being generally likable. I know that them being likable is not really interesting or blogworthy, but I thought I would report it anyway (since we are accentuating the positive, after all). I was not assigned an Advisory class (20 minute TAKS instruction class on Tuesday/Wednesday/Thursday), so I get an extra break after second period to breathe. Things at work really could not be better, unless second period had a vocalchordectomy.
Today is the first day of Lent. What better time than to reflect on the joy of my job? In a season of self examination and self sacrifice, I would say there is real happiness in being a teacher. At this moment, writing this blog, I really believe that.
Salvete,
Magistra
Friday, March 4, 2011
Go with the Fluo[rine] (or, What Happens When You Assign An Asinine Project)
Salvete,
During my conference period, as I come around the corner and start to unlock my room, I hear, "Are you Mrs. ----?"
This could mean one of several things:
1) The Anime Children have recruited another Anime Child.
2) I am in trouble (unlikely).
3) I am getting interviewed for the paper or yearbook.
4) I have something someone wants.
In this case, the answer was behind door number four. The students asked, "Can we use your classroom to make a science video?"
This is not something you expect to hear in my hallway. The closest science room is, well, not very close. So, like the pro I am, I make a face expressing my confusion but let them in anyway. It is not like I have kids right now, and clearly, since I am blogging, I do not have a whole lot else on my plate at the moment.
They proceed to get on a computer, and door number four is opened again. They need speakers, so I provide. I ask what their project is over, and they answer, Platinum, and once the speakers are hooked up proceed to play an odd version of "Poker Face" by Lady Gaga. It might be as bad as the Glee version, though I am not sure anything is that awful.
Ladies and Gentlemen, the hit you have been waiting for: Platinum Rap by Things 1&2, feat. Mutant Poker Face.
To close, because I could not resist some periodic table joke...
Q: Why did Chuck Norris destroy the periodic table?
A: Because he only recognizes the element of surprise.
Valete,
Magistra
During my conference period, as I come around the corner and start to unlock my room, I hear, "Are you Mrs. ----?"
This could mean one of several things:
1) The Anime Children have recruited another Anime Child.
2) I am in trouble (unlikely).
3) I am getting interviewed for the paper or yearbook.
4) I have something someone wants.
In this case, the answer was behind door number four. The students asked, "Can we use your classroom to make a science video?"
This is not something you expect to hear in my hallway. The closest science room is, well, not very close. So, like the pro I am, I make a face expressing my confusion but let them in anyway. It is not like I have kids right now, and clearly, since I am blogging, I do not have a whole lot else on my plate at the moment.
They proceed to get on a computer, and door number four is opened again. They need speakers, so I provide. I ask what their project is over, and they answer, Platinum, and once the speakers are hooked up proceed to play an odd version of "Poker Face" by Lady Gaga. It might be as bad as the Glee version, though I am not sure anything is that awful.
Ladies and Gentlemen, the hit you have been waiting for: Platinum Rap by Things 1&2, feat. Mutant Poker Face.
To close, because I could not resist some periodic table joke...
Q: Why did Chuck Norris destroy the periodic table?
A: Because he only recognizes the element of surprise.
Valete,
Magistra
No.
Salvete.
This was written in frustration.
"No" is not a word students like to hear. Heck, adults do not like to hear it either. Let's be honest with ourselves. When someone tells us no, it makes us feel like less of a human since our choice is being taken from us.
"Can I go to my locker?" the student asks. I at least have the (feigned) courtesy to ask why. He says, "Because I have stuff in my bag that I don't need."
Now, you would think that perhaps I might say yes. Such a request to relieve oneself of unneeded school supplies is not unreasonable. If it had been during passing period I would have said yes. If he had not already asked to go somewhere and received an answer to the negative, I would have said yes. If he didn't treat me like a jerk every day for the last four months, I would have said yes.
And yet, when I said no, he acted as though I were imposing some sort of unreasonable restriction on him. What a horror, not to be able to go to your locker at will! What an inconvenience. Heaven forbid he be inconvenienced. (Added later) I just asked him, "Please pick your head up." He moved it so that it was still down but he could see. I said again, "Please pick your head up." He made the tongue-click-I'm-so-inconvenienced-by-your-request noise. ARG! (End of late addition).
Don't get me wrong. I like this kid. He is a great student, very intelligent. We had a good rapport at the start of the year. What happened? Who can say? My first inclination is to blame myself, but I choose not to do so. I have treated him with nothing but courtesy, and if he wishes to hold some sort of odd grudge for no apparent reason, who am I to deny him that? I dare not withhold the rights to which a sixteen-year-old is entitled. I dare not inconvenience the poor boy.
Valete,
Magistra
This was written in frustration.
"No" is not a word students like to hear. Heck, adults do not like to hear it either. Let's be honest with ourselves. When someone tells us no, it makes us feel like less of a human since our choice is being taken from us.
"Can I go to my locker?" the student asks. I at least have the (feigned) courtesy to ask why. He says, "Because I have stuff in my bag that I don't need."
Now, you would think that perhaps I might say yes. Such a request to relieve oneself of unneeded school supplies is not unreasonable. If it had been during passing period I would have said yes. If he had not already asked to go somewhere and received an answer to the negative, I would have said yes. If he didn't treat me like a jerk every day for the last four months, I would have said yes.
And yet, when I said no, he acted as though I were imposing some sort of unreasonable restriction on him. What a horror, not to be able to go to your locker at will! What an inconvenience. Heaven forbid he be inconvenienced. (Added later) I just asked him, "Please pick your head up." He moved it so that it was still down but he could see. I said again, "Please pick your head up." He made the tongue-click-I'm-so-inconvenienced-by-your-request noise. ARG! (End of late addition).
Don't get me wrong. I like this kid. He is a great student, very intelligent. We had a good rapport at the start of the year. What happened? Who can say? My first inclination is to blame myself, but I choose not to do so. I have treated him with nothing but courtesy, and if he wishes to hold some sort of odd grudge for no apparent reason, who am I to deny him that? I dare not withhold the rights to which a sixteen-year-old is entitled. I dare not inconvenience the poor boy.
Valete,
Magistra
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Anime Club Shirts!
Salvete!!!!!!!!!
I'm so excited about our shirts for Anime Club. here is the design!
Front:
Back:
Awesome, I know! They are $12 if you want one. Just send me an email or something! Sales run through March 11th!
Valete,
Magistra
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
OK ONE MORE TODAY THEN I'LL STOP
Salvete,
Anime Club is being cute and successful today!
They put two dudes at the front of the room and forced everyone to draw a picture of them. Because this is Anime Club and we are being organized now.
At first, I thought this was a bad idea to make everyone participate. It felt like a class, in that the officers made sure everyone was working and turned in a paper to the front. I felt constricted!
Then, they turned on the document camera and went through the drawings. I thought they would all be sort of lame and the same. Same Lame! But they were definitely not.
The two dudes became dinosaurs, sea-monster dinner, weird doom elevator fodder, and all kinds of talented things. I was hoping they would do another one but now they have moved on in their distracted way to some other discussion!
Valete,
Magistra
Anime Club is being cute and successful today!
They put two dudes at the front of the room and forced everyone to draw a picture of them. Because this is Anime Club and we are being organized now.
At first, I thought this was a bad idea to make everyone participate. It felt like a class, in that the officers made sure everyone was working and turned in a paper to the front. I felt constricted!
Then, they turned on the document camera and went through the drawings. I thought they would all be sort of lame and the same. Same Lame! But they were definitely not.
The two dudes became dinosaurs, sea-monster dinner, weird doom elevator fodder, and all kinds of talented things. I was hoping they would do another one but now they have moved on in their distracted way to some other discussion!
Valete,
Magistra
Now For Some Frivolity!
Salvete,
Yesterday, my kids were cute.
One of my former students stopped in during third period to say hi. He is a cheerleader, a junior, and a good-looking young man. He comes by almost every day, sometimes twice or three times. Anyway, my student left after bidding me hello, and I saw one girl lean to another and mouth, "He is so cute!"
No one else saw this exchange, and as they were supposed to be paying attention, I mildly chastised them (honestly, I couldn't help but laugh as I did so), and they dissolved into giggle fits. No one else in the class had heard what they said, so they were somewhat confused by our laughter. I got them back on track and the rest of class was uneventful.
My former student came back in after I had sent the class on their way to my teaching partner's room.
I told him what had happened (though I did save the girls' dignity by not telling him which they were). He decided to drop in on my teaching partner to say hi. When he popped out and then popped in again, he reported that upon his entrance some girls had once again dissolved in fits of giggles, and he got a big kick out of being admired. Silly children!
That story sounded better when I told it out loud before.
Valete,
Magistra
Yesterday, my kids were cute.
One of my former students stopped in during third period to say hi. He is a cheerleader, a junior, and a good-looking young man. He comes by almost every day, sometimes twice or three times. Anyway, my student left after bidding me hello, and I saw one girl lean to another and mouth, "He is so cute!"
No one else saw this exchange, and as they were supposed to be paying attention, I mildly chastised them (honestly, I couldn't help but laugh as I did so), and they dissolved into giggle fits. No one else in the class had heard what they said, so they were somewhat confused by our laughter. I got them back on track and the rest of class was uneventful.
My former student came back in after I had sent the class on their way to my teaching partner's room.
I told him what had happened (though I did save the girls' dignity by not telling him which they were). He decided to drop in on my teaching partner to say hi. When he popped out and then popped in again, he reported that upon his entrance some girls had once again dissolved in fits of giggles, and he got a big kick out of being admired. Silly children!
That story sounded better when I told it out loud before.
Valete,
Magistra
You Are Not Special.
Salvete,
I was listening to a sermon the other day, and it was about how we are not special. I liked it.
I have been saying this for years, and no one seems to believe me except other people who work with teenagers. And then, even some of them do not believe me, for reasons which seem extremely pendulumerific, and which I will not elaborate upon in this post, as it promises to be long enough without such annoyances.
How can I, who believes in the Divine touch in man, say that we are not special?
Because, thankfully, we are all kind of the same. Anyone who argues that one is not alone in the world simply cannot believe that people are special. Being special would not allow for a common human experience--the very thing on which the great works of my content area are based. What greater comfort is there than to know that, despite pain or grief or joy or whatever, that one is not alone? that one inevitably shares their state with someone else? that somewhere, someone in the world has endured the same thing and has survived? Not only survived, even, because surivival is not enough. No, they have gone beyond survival into triumph!
I want my students to see this.
I want them to see that they are not special. To be special is to be isolated. To be special is to be alone. Now, one might argue that being alone is good, or that being isolated can lead to excellent thoughts. Just look at Henry David Thoreau. He chose to leave the World and allow himself to grow through his isolation with nature. He produced some of the most studied Transcendentalist literature of anyone else (I am sure there is a joke in here somewhere about how people who study Transcendentalist literature are not alone or something, but I just cannot pull it out today).
And yet, he wrote. He gathered followers of his philosophy. He was not alone. If he truly wanted to be isolated (read: special), he would have refrained from sharing his experience. However, he did what all good thinkers do, and knew what all good thinkers know: that to remove relatability is to remove being human. He may never have expressly said such a thing, but why else share the revelations of isolation? What is the meaning of isolation if it is not shared?
I feel like I am digressing. Shall I now tangentially mention the merits of prewriting and drafting? No.
Anyway, this particular post, besides stemming from the aforementioned sermon, is also inspired by my co-worker across the hall. Her kids this semester (and in the past as well, though to a lesser degree) are hellians. They have this sense of entitlement built into their brains that baffles me. I always have to be careful when criticizing the next generation, as they may not be any worse than my own, but really, they seem worse. I would never have talked back to, cussed in front of, or refused to do work for a teacher. However, it is possible that in my WASPy-AP Class bubble, I missed out on the essence of being a teenager (if that essence includes being a huge jerk to everyone but myself).
Maybe if the students could understand that the rules apply to them--that they are not special--then the problems caused by entitled teenagers would subside (though I doubt they could be totally eradicated).
The next post (which I am about to write) will be much more frivolous, I promise.
Valete,
Magistra
I was listening to a sermon the other day, and it was about how we are not special. I liked it.
I have been saying this for years, and no one seems to believe me except other people who work with teenagers. And then, even some of them do not believe me, for reasons which seem extremely pendulumerific, and which I will not elaborate upon in this post, as it promises to be long enough without such annoyances.
How can I, who believes in the Divine touch in man, say that we are not special?
Because, thankfully, we are all kind of the same. Anyone who argues that one is not alone in the world simply cannot believe that people are special. Being special would not allow for a common human experience--the very thing on which the great works of my content area are based. What greater comfort is there than to know that, despite pain or grief or joy or whatever, that one is not alone? that one inevitably shares their state with someone else? that somewhere, someone in the world has endured the same thing and has survived? Not only survived, even, because surivival is not enough. No, they have gone beyond survival into triumph!
I want my students to see this.
I want them to see that they are not special. To be special is to be isolated. To be special is to be alone. Now, one might argue that being alone is good, or that being isolated can lead to excellent thoughts. Just look at Henry David Thoreau. He chose to leave the World and allow himself to grow through his isolation with nature. He produced some of the most studied Transcendentalist literature of anyone else (I am sure there is a joke in here somewhere about how people who study Transcendentalist literature are not alone or something, but I just cannot pull it out today).
And yet, he wrote. He gathered followers of his philosophy. He was not alone. If he truly wanted to be isolated (read: special), he would have refrained from sharing his experience. However, he did what all good thinkers do, and knew what all good thinkers know: that to remove relatability is to remove being human. He may never have expressly said such a thing, but why else share the revelations of isolation? What is the meaning of isolation if it is not shared?
I feel like I am digressing. Shall I now tangentially mention the merits of prewriting and drafting? No.
Anyway, this particular post, besides stemming from the aforementioned sermon, is also inspired by my co-worker across the hall. Her kids this semester (and in the past as well, though to a lesser degree) are hellians. They have this sense of entitlement built into their brains that baffles me. I always have to be careful when criticizing the next generation, as they may not be any worse than my own, but really, they seem worse. I would never have talked back to, cussed in front of, or refused to do work for a teacher. However, it is possible that in my WASPy-AP Class bubble, I missed out on the essence of being a teenager (if that essence includes being a huge jerk to everyone but myself).
Maybe if the students could understand that the rules apply to them--that they are not special--then the problems caused by entitled teenagers would subside (though I doubt they could be totally eradicated).
The next post (which I am about to write) will be much more frivolous, I promise.
Valete,
Magistra
Friday, February 18, 2011
LIE: First is the Worst, Second is the Best
Salvete,
I am here to debunk the lie that first is the worst, second is the best.
First is actually really good. They cooperate, and are quiet. Sure, they are usually half asleep and it is pulling teeth to get them to read, but they get the job done.
Second is not the best.
Second tries me. They have been a challenge all year, as you will see if you read over previous blog posts. Second cannot be quiet. They cannot leave one another alone. They cannot refrain from singing under their breath. I still love them, though. Don't get me wrong.
However, the occasional funny thing happens in the second part of second period. Within second period, First really is the Worst, and Second is indeed the Best. I guess the phrase is not all lie. [Since I wrote this post, we have swapped the kids so that the lie now holds. The world makes sense again.]
(If at some point in all this blogging you missed that my 1.5 hour periods are cut into 45minute periods and the class is halved and I share the kids with my teaching partner, well, it is too complicated to get into here. My partner and I switch kids halfway through the 1.5 hour period, and that is all you need to know.)
Today, one of my students was reading the part of Cassius in Julius Caesar. Halfway through a line, his voice trailed off in the promise of a large glob of something being coughed up. He had the nastiest throat-clear I have ever heard in my life. And, I teach high school, so you know I have heard some nasty throat-clears. The whole class recoiled at the intensity of whatever it was trying to get out of the student's throat. I gagged, noticeably, and tried not to throw up. The kids saw, of course, and laughter proceded for the next 3 minutes. The student himself found the whole event quite entertaining, as I'm sure you can imagine.
The next episode I have to share is not so much funny as flattering/odd.
I sat at my desk as students came in the room during the switch between Special Program and my class. I do not usually feel compelled to get up during this switch, since it is not technically passing period. Anyway, the students came in, and while we waited on the lolly-gaggers, one girl said, "Miss, I don't know how you sit cross-legged on that stool. I went home and tried it, and I can't get it without falling off." For your mental-imaging pleasure: I sit on my stool Indian-style, or with my knees pulled up to my chest (arms wrapped around my shins with heels perched on the front edge of the stool). The stool has no back and a seat no more than 1 foot in diameter, so sitting as mentioned can appear/be precarious. I must admit that I have wondered if any of them marvel at how I can stay balanced on a small stool while thus sitting. Apparently some of them do, and more than one, because another girl said, "I know! How do you sit like that? I wonder every time you sit that way!"
Anyway, we have a long weekend with Monday being President's Day, so I am in good spirits!
Valete,
Magistra
I am here to debunk the lie that first is the worst, second is the best.
First is actually really good. They cooperate, and are quiet. Sure, they are usually half asleep and it is pulling teeth to get them to read, but they get the job done.
Second is not the best.
Second tries me. They have been a challenge all year, as you will see if you read over previous blog posts. Second cannot be quiet. They cannot leave one another alone. They cannot refrain from singing under their breath. I still love them, though. Don't get me wrong.
However, the occasional funny thing happens in the second part of second period. Within second period, First really is the Worst, and Second is indeed the Best. I guess the phrase is not all lie. [Since I wrote this post, we have swapped the kids so that the lie now holds. The world makes sense again.]
(If at some point in all this blogging you missed that my 1.5 hour periods are cut into 45minute periods and the class is halved and I share the kids with my teaching partner, well, it is too complicated to get into here. My partner and I switch kids halfway through the 1.5 hour period, and that is all you need to know.)
Today, one of my students was reading the part of Cassius in Julius Caesar. Halfway through a line, his voice trailed off in the promise of a large glob of something being coughed up. He had the nastiest throat-clear I have ever heard in my life. And, I teach high school, so you know I have heard some nasty throat-clears. The whole class recoiled at the intensity of whatever it was trying to get out of the student's throat. I gagged, noticeably, and tried not to throw up. The kids saw, of course, and laughter proceded for the next 3 minutes. The student himself found the whole event quite entertaining, as I'm sure you can imagine.
The next episode I have to share is not so much funny as flattering/odd.
I sat at my desk as students came in the room during the switch between Special Program and my class. I do not usually feel compelled to get up during this switch, since it is not technically passing period. Anyway, the students came in, and while we waited on the lolly-gaggers, one girl said, "Miss, I don't know how you sit cross-legged on that stool. I went home and tried it, and I can't get it without falling off." For your mental-imaging pleasure: I sit on my stool Indian-style, or with my knees pulled up to my chest (arms wrapped around my shins with heels perched on the front edge of the stool). The stool has no back and a seat no more than 1 foot in diameter, so sitting as mentioned can appear/be precarious. I must admit that I have wondered if any of them marvel at how I can stay balanced on a small stool while thus sitting. Apparently some of them do, and more than one, because another girl said, "I know! How do you sit like that? I wonder every time you sit that way!"
Anyway, we have a long weekend with Monday being President's Day, so I am in good spirits!
Valete,
Magistra
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Miss, You Look Exhausted.
Salvete,
I am exhausted, oh observant-student-who-made-the-title-of-this-post.
I was up here last night until 8PM. When I posted yesterday, I still had two and a half hours to go! WHY?
Today, I had a student come in with his tattoo uncovered. I ask him to cover it every day that he has his long sleeves pushed up. He has never come in here with it showing that I have not asked him to cover it. It's the rules, it's dress code, and there are no two ways about it.
So today, apparently he thought the world had changed and the Code of Conduct had been revised for his benefit. Thankfully, he's a good kid (good=mostly cooperative), and didn't give me any trouble. He left the room, presumably to go attempt to cover the tattoo. When he came back, it was still uncovered, and he sent himself to ISS. I didn't even have to do anything. It was sort of surreal.
Hopefully he showed up to ISS, so that when I call to check on him, there isn't trouble.
What else will this day bring? I may leave early.
Valete,
Magistra
I am exhausted, oh observant-student-who-made-the-title-of-this-post.
I was up here last night until 8PM. When I posted yesterday, I still had two and a half hours to go! WHY?
Today, I had a student come in with his tattoo uncovered. I ask him to cover it every day that he has his long sleeves pushed up. He has never come in here with it showing that I have not asked him to cover it. It's the rules, it's dress code, and there are no two ways about it.
So today, apparently he thought the world had changed and the Code of Conduct had been revised for his benefit. Thankfully, he's a good kid (good=mostly cooperative), and didn't give me any trouble. He left the room, presumably to go attempt to cover the tattoo. When he came back, it was still uncovered, and he sent himself to ISS. I didn't even have to do anything. It was sort of surreal.
Hopefully he showed up to ISS, so that when I call to check on him, there isn't trouble.
What else will this day bring? I may leave early.
Valete,
Magistra
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
I Convinced Someone I Was A 21 Year Old Dentist From Dallas
Salvete,
When you are the Anime Club sponsor, you hear things like the title above.
You also get a headache.
Today has been and will continue to be one of those days that makes me tired. Here is my day.
7:38AM: OH CRAP THERE IS A FACULTY MEETING THIS MORNING? There goes my morning planning time. Thanks for sending the reminder email at 6:40 last night.
8:17AM: I have to teach Julius Caesar today. Let's skip like 200 lines to keep myself sane!
8:18AM: First period, why are you asleep?
10AM: Second period, why can't you go to sleep and leave me alone?
11:12AM: Oh my gosh, it is 11:12 am and I still have 9 hours to go.
11:19AM: Advisory class, why are you so cute? Also, why do I have to teach you how to take an asinine test that you all are going to pass just fine? I say to them, "Let's have a good attitude and make the most of this time!" This is my face ----> :D This is my heart ----> D:
11:39AM: Oh my gosh it is 11:39 am and I still have 8.5 hours to go.
11:50AM Third period, why are you so chatty today? I proceed to yell at third period in a loving way. They proceed to shape up.
12:13PM: OMG IT IS LUNCH AND THERE IS FREE CAKE.
12:45PM: I still have to teach 3rd period Julius Caesar for another hour. Of all his plays, why are Sophomores forced to read this one? Also, why am I forced to teach Shakespeare and to pretend to like it?
1:58PM: It's time for duty! "WALK AND TALK" with a smile. It works every time to get those hoodlums moving in the hallway.
2:07PM: I approach my room and see one of my former students standing in the hall. He got sent out of his class (which happens to be across the hall from mine). Here's our conversation:
Me: Why are you not in class?
Him: I got sent out. <3 ^^ :) :) :)
Me: Are you giving Mrs. --- trouble?
Him: NO OF COURSE NOT! <3 ^^ :) :) :) (At this point, Mrs. --- leans out her door)
Me: Let me guess. Talking, not in your seat, bugging other students?
Him: *silence* O.o
Mrs. ---: He also decided to use profanity.
I give the student THE HAND and THE HEAD SHAKE and walk away listening to his apologetic protests. I hope Mrs. --- dealt with him appropriately.
*Edit: I was looking over old blog posts, and this is the same child mentioned in the Testes post.*
2:09PM: OMG LESS THAN 1.5 HOURS UNTIL ANIME CLUB WTFLOLSAVEME.
2:30PM: Hey, maybe I can get out of the MEETING THAT I HAVE FROM 6:30-8 tonight. I will go upstairs and see if I can weasel/lie/deceive my way out of having to attend.
2:33PM: I have failed, and now I must attend the meeting. I am a pathetic weasel.
3PM: I will sit in my room and prepare myself mentally for Anime Club. It really is that taxing.
BREAKING NEWS I JUST SAW THE WEIRDEST KID IN ANIME CLUB TOTALLY BLOW OFF THE THIRD WEIRDEST KID IN ANIME CLUB! (The second weirdest kid isn't here today.) WHAT DOES IT MEAN??
3:30PM: The bell rings...and they open the door immediately. Impossible. But true. In they come, with their stench and noise.
3:31PM: OMG ANIME CLUB AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
5:37PM: Here I sit. It is 5:37 PM. Two and a half hours to go. The Anime Club kids are still here. 23 minutes until they leave.
5:43PM: OMG I HAVE ANOTHER MEETING TO ATTEND FROM 6:30 to 8.
Another meeting. Another meeting. Save me...
Valete...
Magistra...
When you are the Anime Club sponsor, you hear things like the title above.
You also get a headache.
Today has been and will continue to be one of those days that makes me tired. Here is my day.
7:38AM: OH CRAP THERE IS A FACULTY MEETING THIS MORNING? There goes my morning planning time. Thanks for sending the reminder email at 6:40 last night.
8:17AM: I have to teach Julius Caesar today. Let's skip like 200 lines to keep myself sane!
8:18AM: First period, why are you asleep?
10AM: Second period, why can't you go to sleep and leave me alone?
11:12AM: Oh my gosh, it is 11:12 am and I still have 9 hours to go.
11:19AM: Advisory class, why are you so cute? Also, why do I have to teach you how to take an asinine test that you all are going to pass just fine? I say to them, "Let's have a good attitude and make the most of this time!" This is my face ----> :D This is my heart ----> D:
11:39AM: Oh my gosh it is 11:39 am and I still have 8.5 hours to go.
11:50AM Third period, why are you so chatty today? I proceed to yell at third period in a loving way. They proceed to shape up.
12:13PM: OMG IT IS LUNCH AND THERE IS FREE CAKE.
12:45PM: I still have to teach 3rd period Julius Caesar for another hour. Of all his plays, why are Sophomores forced to read this one? Also, why am I forced to teach Shakespeare and to pretend to like it?
1:58PM: It's time for duty! "WALK AND TALK" with a smile. It works every time to get those hoodlums moving in the hallway.
2:07PM: I approach my room and see one of my former students standing in the hall. He got sent out of his class (which happens to be across the hall from mine). Here's our conversation:
Me: Why are you not in class?
Him: I got sent out. <3 ^^ :) :) :)
Me: Are you giving Mrs. --- trouble?
Him: NO OF COURSE NOT! <3 ^^ :) :) :) (At this point, Mrs. --- leans out her door)
Me: Let me guess. Talking, not in your seat, bugging other students?
Him: *silence* O.o
Mrs. ---: He also decided to use profanity.
I give the student THE HAND and THE HEAD SHAKE and walk away listening to his apologetic protests. I hope Mrs. --- dealt with him appropriately.
*Edit: I was looking over old blog posts, and this is the same child mentioned in the Testes post.*
2:09PM: OMG LESS THAN 1.5 HOURS UNTIL ANIME CLUB WTFLOLSAVEME.
2:30PM: Hey, maybe I can get out of the MEETING THAT I HAVE FROM 6:30-8 tonight. I will go upstairs and see if I can weasel/lie/deceive my way out of having to attend.
2:33PM: I have failed, and now I must attend the meeting. I am a pathetic weasel.
3PM: I will sit in my room and prepare myself mentally for Anime Club. It really is that taxing.
BREAKING NEWS I JUST SAW THE WEIRDEST KID IN ANIME CLUB TOTALLY BLOW OFF THE THIRD WEIRDEST KID IN ANIME CLUB! (The second weirdest kid isn't here today.) WHAT DOES IT MEAN??
3:30PM: The bell rings...and they open the door immediately. Impossible. But true. In they come, with their stench and noise.
3:31PM: OMG ANIME CLUB AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
5:37PM: Here I sit. It is 5:37 PM. Two and a half hours to go. The Anime Club kids are still here. 23 minutes until they leave.
5:43PM: OMG I HAVE ANOTHER MEETING TO ATTEND FROM 6:30 to 8.
Another meeting. Another meeting. Save me...
Valete...
Magistra...
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
I'm Only Sleeping, Take One.
Salvete,
It's 7am. I've been awake a while. Title song here.
Naturally, I did not have to be awake. It is a snow day. Perhaps this post might have been better entitled, "Let It Snow," as I feel that might be the holiest of prayers right now. Some people might dislike being cooped up in the house. It is my favorite thing at this moment.
I am, however, pleased with myself for going to the grocery store before Blizzaga IV hit my town.
I could go into the usual rant about how Texans cannot drive in the ice, etc. However, I would not know if they can or cannot, because you will not catch me outside of my house if it is below freezing (generally). I will go to work, I suppose, if forced, but I will do it as quickly as possible, thus making it more difficult for one to catch me being out of doors in sub-30 degree temperatures.
There exists a distinct masochistic pleasure in losing sleep on my days off. On days when I have to get up to go to work, I cannot drag my sorry self out of bed. On days when I do not have to get up until the next day, I find myself awake at the unholy hour of [omitted for its shock factor of earliness]. Now, do not misunderstand me. I enjoy a good sleep-in as much as the next mid-twenties female. The pleasure lies in knowing that I am using the minutes, enjoying the moments, savoring the seconds when I could have been at work. If I am asleep, how can I experience that joy? I would be asleep, people! If awake, regardless of how early, I am soaking up the brilliant fact that I do not have to be up and that I do not have to face the world.
What a lark! What a plunge!
Though I might counter Virginia and her Mrs. Dalloway with the inestimable Bilbo Baggins, when he says, "It's dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door. You step into the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to."
At present, I do not care to be swept off, as I find myself happily entangled in my own mind.
Enjoy your day off, should you read this and have one.
And if you did not have a day off, as I know some of you did not, revel in the fact that you have something consistent in your life to cling to no matter what happens. I am not sure that is an entirely comforting thought, but maybe it will help ease the pain of being freaking freezing cold on your way out the door.
Valete,
Magistra
It's 7am. I've been awake a while. Title song here.
Naturally, I did not have to be awake. It is a snow day. Perhaps this post might have been better entitled, "Let It Snow," as I feel that might be the holiest of prayers right now. Some people might dislike being cooped up in the house. It is my favorite thing at this moment.
I am, however, pleased with myself for going to the grocery store before Blizzaga IV hit my town.
I could go into the usual rant about how Texans cannot drive in the ice, etc. However, I would not know if they can or cannot, because you will not catch me outside of my house if it is below freezing (generally). I will go to work, I suppose, if forced, but I will do it as quickly as possible, thus making it more difficult for one to catch me being out of doors in sub-30 degree temperatures.
There exists a distinct masochistic pleasure in losing sleep on my days off. On days when I have to get up to go to work, I cannot drag my sorry self out of bed. On days when I do not have to get up until the next day, I find myself awake at the unholy hour of [omitted for its shock factor of earliness]. Now, do not misunderstand me. I enjoy a good sleep-in as much as the next mid-twenties female. The pleasure lies in knowing that I am using the minutes, enjoying the moments, savoring the seconds when I could have been at work. If I am asleep, how can I experience that joy? I would be asleep, people! If awake, regardless of how early, I am soaking up the brilliant fact that I do not have to be up and that I do not have to face the world.
What a lark! What a plunge!
Though I might counter Virginia and her Mrs. Dalloway with the inestimable Bilbo Baggins, when he says, "It's dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door. You step into the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to."
At present, I do not care to be swept off, as I find myself happily entangled in my own mind.
Enjoy your day off, should you read this and have one.
And if you did not have a day off, as I know some of you did not, revel in the fact that you have something consistent in your life to cling to no matter what happens. I am not sure that is an entirely comforting thought, but maybe it will help ease the pain of being freaking freezing cold on your way out the door.
Valete,
Magistra
Monday, January 31, 2011
Good Mornin' Beautiful!
Salvete!
It's Monday.
It's beautiful outside, and has been for the past week. I absolutely love walking out of my door into the temperate air of a Texas midwinter morning. Even if I sleep poorly, or if I am in a mood, breathing in the morning air at the top of the stairs is a shock of energy that prepares me for the day.
This particular morning, I arrived at work feeling especially buoyant. There are many reasons I can think of to be in a good mood, and many reasons also to be sour. I will not go into listing either set of reasons, because whatever reasons exist, I am happy to be here this morning. I had five or six kids in here before school just laughing and having a lovely time. One got her hair cut and colored, two were wary of an invite to an honor society, one would/could not shut his mouth, and one was baffled by my musical performance of my new song-obsession, "If I Die Young" by The Band Perry.
Mornings like this always remind me of Mrs. Dalloway. Everyone remembers the first sentence, going, "Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself." But those are not the lines I remember. The line in my head when I walk out of the door in the mornings is this: "What a lark! What a plunge!" It goes on, "For so it had always seemed to her, when, with a little squeak of the hinges, which she could hear now, she had burst open the French windows and plunged at Bourton into the open air. How fresh, how calm, stiller than this of course, the air was in the early morning; like the flap of a wave; the kiss of a wave, chill and sharp..." I love thinking of every morning's step out the door as a step into the lapping cold of the ocean, a step into the embrace of the past and all of its glory. How can one not be invigorated by such a thought?
What a lark! What a plunge!
Ah, Mrs. Dalloway and your white narrow bed in the attic, your love of parties, your distaste for Septimus tainting the perfect air of your festivity. You are with me this morning in a poignant way which I cannot quite grasp. I am grateful, however, for your companionship. It makes things easier to bear.
More to come later, I assume, as today portends to be very dull, despite my joy.
Valete,
Magistra
It's Monday.
It's beautiful outside, and has been for the past week. I absolutely love walking out of my door into the temperate air of a Texas midwinter morning. Even if I sleep poorly, or if I am in a mood, breathing in the morning air at the top of the stairs is a shock of energy that prepares me for the day.
This particular morning, I arrived at work feeling especially buoyant. There are many reasons I can think of to be in a good mood, and many reasons also to be sour. I will not go into listing either set of reasons, because whatever reasons exist, I am happy to be here this morning. I had five or six kids in here before school just laughing and having a lovely time. One got her hair cut and colored, two were wary of an invite to an honor society, one would/could not shut his mouth, and one was baffled by my musical performance of my new song-obsession, "If I Die Young" by The Band Perry.
Mornings like this always remind me of Mrs. Dalloway. Everyone remembers the first sentence, going, "Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself." But those are not the lines I remember. The line in my head when I walk out of the door in the mornings is this: "What a lark! What a plunge!" It goes on, "For so it had always seemed to her, when, with a little squeak of the hinges, which she could hear now, she had burst open the French windows and plunged at Bourton into the open air. How fresh, how calm, stiller than this of course, the air was in the early morning; like the flap of a wave; the kiss of a wave, chill and sharp..." I love thinking of every morning's step out the door as a step into the lapping cold of the ocean, a step into the embrace of the past and all of its glory. How can one not be invigorated by such a thought?
What a lark! What a plunge!
Ah, Mrs. Dalloway and your white narrow bed in the attic, your love of parties, your distaste for Septimus tainting the perfect air of your festivity. You are with me this morning in a poignant way which I cannot quite grasp. I am grateful, however, for your companionship. It makes things easier to bear.
More to come later, I assume, as today portends to be very dull, despite my joy.
Valete,
Magistra
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Pizza or Paper?
Salvete!
Today was the Special Program's award ceremony. Any student who passed all of their classes received a certificate, and any student who made straight A's got a certificate and a gift card. We had seven out of 64 make straight A's. I cannot even begin to say how proud I am of my kids. Some of them have worked harder than they (or I) ever thought they could (or would). Not only that, but they got pizza.
It may surprise you, but some were more pleased to get the certificate than the food. Kids these days! Yeesh!
Today I have to give a special shout-out to a friend of mine. I admire her more than I can say. I hope she will not mind me mentioning that her mother is going through some very difficult medical treatment, and it has affected my friend greatly. Nonetheless, my dear friend has persevered (as we all knew she would, of course) and continued to be the strong person she always has been. In the face of so much heartache, the rest of us can only look to her example and yank our problems quickly into their proper place and perspective. Thank you, friend, for being a hero and example in this difficult time of your life.
If you are interested, my friend's blog is kickass. It is here. Prepare to be whimsicalized.
In other news, Anime Club is cancelled today because of what I thought was a mandatory meeting about some changes that are coming to our school district next year. I have found out today that said meeting is not in fact mandatory. Thus, Anime Club will remain cancelled, and I will be scooting myself out of the building with all haste. Nap time, here I come!
Oh, sweet reprieve!
To continue on a victorious note...
An interaction between a student and myself:
Student: Can I go to my locker?
Me: What for?
S: I need to get something for my next class.
M: You can go on your passing period.
S: But we have that award ceremony.
M: You will have plenty of time.
S: But I don't feel like going to my locker on my passing period.
M: Your feelings in this matter are of no interest to me.
S: FINE!
HAHAHAHA! I get to do that because I am the teacher. WORD.
If you have never seen Taylor Mali do his slam poem, "What Teachers Make," I highly recommend looking it up on YouTube. I would link you, but YouTube is Strictly Forbidden at work. The above conversation reminds me of the segment of WTM that goes something like:
"I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall
In absolute silence. No, you cannot work in groups.
No, you cannot ask a question, so put your hand down.
Why can't you go to the bathroom? Because you're bored,
And you don't really have to go, do you?!"
That's right, Taylor! They can hold it! I bear witness!
Valete,
Magistra
Today was the Special Program's award ceremony. Any student who passed all of their classes received a certificate, and any student who made straight A's got a certificate and a gift card. We had seven out of 64 make straight A's. I cannot even begin to say how proud I am of my kids. Some of them have worked harder than they (or I) ever thought they could (or would). Not only that, but they got pizza.
It may surprise you, but some were more pleased to get the certificate than the food. Kids these days! Yeesh!
Today I have to give a special shout-out to a friend of mine. I admire her more than I can say. I hope she will not mind me mentioning that her mother is going through some very difficult medical treatment, and it has affected my friend greatly. Nonetheless, my dear friend has persevered (as we all knew she would, of course) and continued to be the strong person she always has been. In the face of so much heartache, the rest of us can only look to her example and yank our problems quickly into their proper place and perspective. Thank you, friend, for being a hero and example in this difficult time of your life.
If you are interested, my friend's blog is kickass. It is here. Prepare to be whimsicalized.
In other news, Anime Club is cancelled today because of what I thought was a mandatory meeting about some changes that are coming to our school district next year. I have found out today that said meeting is not in fact mandatory. Thus, Anime Club will remain cancelled, and I will be scooting myself out of the building with all haste. Nap time, here I come!
Oh, sweet reprieve!
To continue on a victorious note...
An interaction between a student and myself:
Student: Can I go to my locker?
Me: What for?
S: I need to get something for my next class.
M: You can go on your passing period.
S: But we have that award ceremony.
M: You will have plenty of time.
S: But I don't feel like going to my locker on my passing period.
M: Your feelings in this matter are of no interest to me.
S: FINE!
HAHAHAHA! I get to do that because I am the teacher. WORD.
If you have never seen Taylor Mali do his slam poem, "What Teachers Make," I highly recommend looking it up on YouTube. I would link you, but YouTube is Strictly Forbidden at work. The above conversation reminds me of the segment of WTM that goes something like:
"I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall
In absolute silence. No, you cannot work in groups.
No, you cannot ask a question, so put your hand down.
Why can't you go to the bathroom? Because you're bored,
And you don't really have to go, do you?!"
That's right, Taylor! They can hold it! I bear witness!
Valete,
Magistra
Friday, January 21, 2011
Accentuate the Positive!
Salvete,
In reading over my last few blog posts, it occurred to me that I have been far too negative. I do not want anyone thinking that I hate my job. I definitely do not want anyone thinking that I dislike my students. Quite the contrary! I love my job, and I am very blessed to have it. Teaching jobs are hard to come by in our current economic climate, and one as nice as mine is especially rare. As for my students, there is not a single one that I regret currently having in class. There is not a single one that I wish would leave and never come back. They are all so different, so interesting, so angsty! How could one not love their ever-changing moods, their poorly-masked need for approval, and their desire to achieve?
Teenagers have a desire to achieve? Mine do. They are not in this special program because they are slackers. Some of them slack off, yes, but none of them are slackers. Circumstances get in the way of success sometimes. However, in the face of so many people who expect them to fail due to race, ethnicity, behavior records, or socioeconomic situations, my students stand up and refuse to fall into the stereotypes. They want more. I just have to remember that right now, they are so young, and are not yet that which they will become. But they will be. And that is all I need to know.
Valete,
Magistra
In reading over my last few blog posts, it occurred to me that I have been far too negative. I do not want anyone thinking that I hate my job. I definitely do not want anyone thinking that I dislike my students. Quite the contrary! I love my job, and I am very blessed to have it. Teaching jobs are hard to come by in our current economic climate, and one as nice as mine is especially rare. As for my students, there is not a single one that I regret currently having in class. There is not a single one that I wish would leave and never come back. They are all so different, so interesting, so angsty! How could one not love their ever-changing moods, their poorly-masked need for approval, and their desire to achieve?
Teenagers have a desire to achieve? Mine do. They are not in this special program because they are slackers. Some of them slack off, yes, but none of them are slackers. Circumstances get in the way of success sometimes. However, in the face of so many people who expect them to fail due to race, ethnicity, behavior records, or socioeconomic situations, my students stand up and refuse to fall into the stereotypes. They want more. I just have to remember that right now, they are so young, and are not yet that which they will become. But they will be. And that is all I need to know.
Valete,
Magistra
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Testing
Salvete,
I'm afraid it is now time to write a post on testing. I have mentioned such as testing before, but the spring always brings with it a fresh reminder of the joys of the standardized test. If you ask any teacher what the spring is about in public high school, one word will (if not at first, eventually) come to mind.
Testing.
How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways!
1) TELPAS
2) LAT
3) TAKS
4) STAAR (new)
5) EOCs
6) AP Tests
7) Benchmarks
8) SAT/ACT/THEA (I group these because they do not affect me directly and can take place anytime of year)
9) Etc.
All of the above occur from March 1 to May 30. The school at which I earn my pay tests approximately 2800 students. Do not let this number fool you into some delusion that the students are neatly divided into classrooms in groups of 25 and tested with pretty sharpened pencils.
The state will not allow it.
No.
NO!
Each test must be administerd to a specific population, and at specific times, in specific windows. Proctoring each test requires sometimes multiple trainings. They make the trainings and proctor certifications requirements, because if they did not, no one would go and no one would be certified to proctor the test.
Below, I have provided for you a run-down of what it takes to coordinate a single test date.
1) The testing coordinator makes a giant spreadsheet, because not every student is taking every test, so for this one test date, she has to figure out who is taking what. This spreadsheet must consist of student names, student ID numbers, teachers, room numbers (but what rooms can we use? Anecdote: last year I was supposed to give the TAKS in a room that, when opened, had four wheelchairs, a teacher desk, and a changing screen), and whether that student is special ed or has any kind of accommodations.
2) The testing coordinator sends an email to everyone and forgets to attach the giant spreadsheet.
3) The testing coordinator gets about 45 emails letting her know she forgot the attachment.
4) The testing coordinator corrects her greivous error.
5) The testing coordinator gets about 53 emails letting her know what was wrong with her spreadsheet.
6) And so on.
7) Every day of the week before testing, the teachers remind the students to check the giant spreadsheet sans ID numbers and special ed info (posted in at least 8 places around the building) to ensure they go to the right room on test day.
8) The students show up on test day, vaguely aware that there is something important going on.
9) The students show up to their normal first period, and are turned away by the proctor, a stranger, who tells them to go look at one of the aforementioned 8 occurances of giant spreadsheets which have mysteriously appeared in the last week, and which the children claim never to have heard of before.
10) Testing commences.
11) Active Monitoring (AM) commences. Now, you may be asking "Shouldn't you say, "Active monitoring (Am)"? To you doubters of my abilities in understanding the rules of capitalization, I say, "Clearly you have never proctored a test." AM involves the following:
a) Forcing the students to stand outside your door as you check each one of them in.
b) Taking each student's lunch order.
c) Forcing them to part with anything they brought and put it at the front of the room.
d) Taking away and labeling their cell phones or other electronic devices.
e) Filling out a provided seating chart that does not match the dimensions of the room.
f) Taking attendance 3 times (not a hyperbole).
g) Reading the test directions and helping people understand how to write their names.
h) Admitting late students, who also require all of the above procedures.
i) Walking around the room for a period of four to five hours. You may not sit.
j) Escorting students to the bathroom like they are five years old.
k) Recording who and what time they went to the bathroom.
l) Blah blah blah.
m) Collecting all test materials and delivering them back to the office.
n) Delivering any students who are (impossibly) not finished with the test to another place.
Letters "a" through "h" must be done to 25 students in approximately 10 minutes.
12) Class (usually lunch and third period) commences. The children are drained and prone to misbehavior.
13) A movie is started in every classroom on campus, and the children form theories about why they have to come to school a full day if all we do is watch a movie after TAKS. The teachers also wonder this, and may or may not express their wonderment.
I guess that's it.
Don't you want to be a teacher?
Valete.
Magistra
I'm afraid it is now time to write a post on testing. I have mentioned such as testing before, but the spring always brings with it a fresh reminder of the joys of the standardized test. If you ask any teacher what the spring is about in public high school, one word will (if not at first, eventually) come to mind.
Testing.
How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways!
1) TELPAS
2) LAT
3) TAKS
4) STAAR (new)
5) EOCs
6) AP Tests
7) Benchmarks
8) SAT/ACT/THEA (I group these because they do not affect me directly and can take place anytime of year)
9) Etc.
All of the above occur from March 1 to May 30. The school at which I earn my pay tests approximately 2800 students. Do not let this number fool you into some delusion that the students are neatly divided into classrooms in groups of 25 and tested with pretty sharpened pencils.
The state will not allow it.
No.
NO!
Each test must be administerd to a specific population, and at specific times, in specific windows. Proctoring each test requires sometimes multiple trainings. They make the trainings and proctor certifications requirements, because if they did not, no one would go and no one would be certified to proctor the test.
Below, I have provided for you a run-down of what it takes to coordinate a single test date.
1) The testing coordinator makes a giant spreadsheet, because not every student is taking every test, so for this one test date, she has to figure out who is taking what. This spreadsheet must consist of student names, student ID numbers, teachers, room numbers (but what rooms can we use? Anecdote: last year I was supposed to give the TAKS in a room that, when opened, had four wheelchairs, a teacher desk, and a changing screen), and whether that student is special ed or has any kind of accommodations.
2) The testing coordinator sends an email to everyone and forgets to attach the giant spreadsheet.
3) The testing coordinator gets about 45 emails letting her know she forgot the attachment.
4) The testing coordinator corrects her greivous error.
5) The testing coordinator gets about 53 emails letting her know what was wrong with her spreadsheet.
6) And so on.
7) Every day of the week before testing, the teachers remind the students to check the giant spreadsheet sans ID numbers and special ed info (posted in at least 8 places around the building) to ensure they go to the right room on test day.
8) The students show up on test day, vaguely aware that there is something important going on.
9) The students show up to their normal first period, and are turned away by the proctor, a stranger, who tells them to go look at one of the aforementioned 8 occurances of giant spreadsheets which have mysteriously appeared in the last week, and which the children claim never to have heard of before.
10) Testing commences.
11) Active Monitoring (AM) commences. Now, you may be asking "Shouldn't you say, "Active monitoring (Am)"? To you doubters of my abilities in understanding the rules of capitalization, I say, "Clearly you have never proctored a test." AM involves the following:
a) Forcing the students to stand outside your door as you check each one of them in.
b) Taking each student's lunch order.
c) Forcing them to part with anything they brought and put it at the front of the room.
d) Taking away and labeling their cell phones or other electronic devices.
e) Filling out a provided seating chart that does not match the dimensions of the room.
f) Taking attendance 3 times (not a hyperbole).
g) Reading the test directions and helping people understand how to write their names.
h) Admitting late students, who also require all of the above procedures.
i) Walking around the room for a period of four to five hours. You may not sit.
j) Escorting students to the bathroom like they are five years old.
k) Recording who and what time they went to the bathroom.
l) Blah blah blah.
m) Collecting all test materials and delivering them back to the office.
n) Delivering any students who are (impossibly) not finished with the test to another place.
Letters "a" through "h" must be done to 25 students in approximately 10 minutes.
12) Class (usually lunch and third period) commences. The children are drained and prone to misbehavior.
13) A movie is started in every classroom on campus, and the children form theories about why they have to come to school a full day if all we do is watch a movie after TAKS. The teachers also wonder this, and may or may not express their wonderment.
I guess that's it.
Don't you want to be a teacher?
Valete.
Magistra
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Anime Idol Again.
Salvete.
It's that time of year again. Time. For. Anime. Idol.
If you missed last year's Anime Idol, here is the link to the blog post:
http://magistrasapiens.blogspot.com/2010/03/forget-american-idol.html
We have our Randy, our Paula, and our Simon, who are played by the same three girls as last year.
We have our Ryan Seacrest, played by the same student as last year, wielding his Coke-bottle microphone.
And we have our various acts.
What you've all been waiting for:
1) Youtube Rap (inappropriate content)
2) Medly of Rick Astley and Pokemon
3) Pokemon Theme Song (the child started out singing really horribly, then another child dragged it off the stage, and into the hall...a fake-mustacio'd child, looking remarkably like the dragged child, appeared to finish the song in a dramatic Spanish accent)
4) Awake and Alive by Skillet (Dramatic)
5) Card Captor Somethinginjapanese Theme Song
6) If You Were Gay (?)
7) Soldier Side by System of a Down (Dramatic)
8) Last-Minute-Give-Me-A-Request-I-Want-The-Prize Song (Which turned into "What Hurts Most" as done by Cascada)
9) L-O-V-E by Nat Cole King [sic]
10) Something I can't identify...it might have been rap?
11) Dirty Pop by N'Sync
AND THE WINNER IS.
#8.
Lesson: Preparation is no good. If you just throw something together at the last minute because the prize is cool, you're sure to get what you want.
And so you see. This has everything to do with Anime. Or something.
At least he kids have fun, which I guess is really all that matters.
Valete.
Magistra
It's that time of year again. Time. For. Anime. Idol.
If you missed last year's Anime Idol, here is the link to the blog post:
http://magistrasapiens.blogspot.com/2010/03/forget-american-idol.html
We have our Randy, our Paula, and our Simon, who are played by the same three girls as last year.
We have our Ryan Seacrest, played by the same student as last year, wielding his Coke-bottle microphone.
And we have our various acts.
What you've all been waiting for:
1) Youtube Rap (inappropriate content)
2) Medly of Rick Astley and Pokemon
3) Pokemon Theme Song (the child started out singing really horribly, then another child dragged it off the stage, and into the hall...a fake-mustacio'd child, looking remarkably like the dragged child, appeared to finish the song in a dramatic Spanish accent)
4) Awake and Alive by Skillet (Dramatic)
5) Card Captor Somethinginjapanese Theme Song
6) If You Were Gay (?)
7) Soldier Side by System of a Down (Dramatic)
8) Last-Minute-Give-Me-A-Request-I-Want-The-Prize Song (Which turned into "What Hurts Most" as done by Cascada)
9) L-O-V-E by Nat Cole King [sic]
10) Something I can't identify...it might have been rap?
11) Dirty Pop by N'Sync
AND THE WINNER IS.
#8.
Lesson: Preparation is no good. If you just throw something together at the last minute because the prize is cool, you're sure to get what you want.
And so you see. This has everything to do with Anime. Or something.
At least he kids have fun, which I guess is really all that matters.
Valete.
Magistra
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