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
Showing posts with label extra credit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label extra credit. Show all posts
Thursday, October 20, 2011
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
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
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