It's been two years since my last post and a lot of things have happened. I'm at another private school out in sunny Southern California cruising along with classes full of gravy kids. It's all a bit like Pleasantville or the Truman Show before the shocking disillusionment. But the disillusionment is there, believe you me, it's there.
It's been a while since i've had a comment and I'm wondering if this blog has reached the end of it's life since I'm no long posting stress-induced ironic comedies about behavior problems. It is nice to go back and read some of the old posts, however. Every year is so full of things happening that reading something from just four years ago feels like an era ago.
I have contemplated writing about the very different anxieties of teaching in the private school world, but there is the very real possibility of getting fired. Perhaps when I figure out how to further change my name to something that is even more distancing from my actual self...TT the Matholotho teacher? Wow that is bad.
Monday, April 7, 2014
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Bitter Apple
A former colleague of mine posted the following article on her facebook page:
"Teaching Ate Me Alive"
http://www.salon.com/2012/09/15/teaching_ate_me_alive/
They are the bitter musings of a disillusioned LAUSD middle school math teacher who recently left the profession.
There were several parts that reminded me strongly of my brief and overwhelming time teaching at an urban school. I can relate to this guy in the intensity you feel while you are there. Enough happens in one day to fill 6-7 blog entries...if you have the strength to type at the end of the day. I found one archived entry from that year that contained three words: Worst Day Ever. That's all I had the strength to type that day.
In an urban school, you are bombarded by angry people all of the time. Kids are screaming and cursing at you because you try to get them to work, parents screaming at you because you failed to get their kids to work or because you tried to get their kids to do work, administrators having "meetings" with you because you can't get kids to work or send the kids to the office too often for screaming, "fuck no" for the 20th time you ask them to open their book.
Actually, by the end of the school year, I was seeking therapy to deal with the stress of the whole situation. My coworkers were sympathetic and very supportive, but it seemed that they had a particular knack with the kids that I had yet to gain. Looking back, I think it was simply that the kids didn't trust me. They knew that I would probably quit after a year like so many other teachers. And despite my situation, the other new teachers were struggling in far worse ways than me. Control in my classroom was often lost due to 1-2 people erupting every other day. It was almost always regained by the end and I took GREAT pains to stop it from happening again (literally 2-4 hours on the phone with parents after school, meetings with administrators, logging issues, grading EVERYTHING). For the others, it was chaos classroom from day 1 to day 108. But in the end, I lost the battle. Because I ended up leaving that job after one year and they stayed.
A part of me regrets leaving that school. I know that I would be a much better teacher today had I stuck it out another 2-3 years. Trial by fire churned out teachers that shined like sword-of-knowledge-wielding archangels.
On the advice of my entire family, therapist, and feeble sanity, I decided to leave.
Everyone warned me about LAUSD when I moved to LA, so I went the private school route. It turned out to be the best decision for me. I don't think I could've handled going back to urban teaching just yet. Who knows, I may find my way back. Or I may never look back.
So in a way, my brief and troubled life as an urban teacher was that chunk of apple that lodged in my throat and put me to sleep. Maybe someday I will find the courage to break out of the glass casket and return again.
"Teaching Ate Me Alive"
http://www.salon.com/2012/09/15/teaching_ate_me_alive/
They are the bitter musings of a disillusioned LAUSD middle school math teacher who recently left the profession.
There were several parts that reminded me strongly of my brief and overwhelming time teaching at an urban school. I can relate to this guy in the intensity you feel while you are there. Enough happens in one day to fill 6-7 blog entries...if you have the strength to type at the end of the day. I found one archived entry from that year that contained three words: Worst Day Ever. That's all I had the strength to type that day.
In an urban school, you are bombarded by angry people all of the time. Kids are screaming and cursing at you because you try to get them to work, parents screaming at you because you failed to get their kids to work or because you tried to get their kids to do work, administrators having "meetings" with you because you can't get kids to work or send the kids to the office too often for screaming, "fuck no" for the 20th time you ask them to open their book.
Actually, by the end of the school year, I was seeking therapy to deal with the stress of the whole situation. My coworkers were sympathetic and very supportive, but it seemed that they had a particular knack with the kids that I had yet to gain. Looking back, I think it was simply that the kids didn't trust me. They knew that I would probably quit after a year like so many other teachers. And despite my situation, the other new teachers were struggling in far worse ways than me. Control in my classroom was often lost due to 1-2 people erupting every other day. It was almost always regained by the end and I took GREAT pains to stop it from happening again (literally 2-4 hours on the phone with parents after school, meetings with administrators, logging issues, grading EVERYTHING). For the others, it was chaos classroom from day 1 to day 108. But in the end, I lost the battle. Because I ended up leaving that job after one year and they stayed.
A part of me regrets leaving that school. I know that I would be a much better teacher today had I stuck it out another 2-3 years. Trial by fire churned out teachers that shined like sword-of-knowledge-wielding archangels.
On the advice of my entire family, therapist, and feeble sanity, I decided to leave.
Everyone warned me about LAUSD when I moved to LA, so I went the private school route. It turned out to be the best decision for me. I don't think I could've handled going back to urban teaching just yet. Who knows, I may find my way back. Or I may never look back.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
A Crisis of Faith
Growing up in the church, I learned about a moment that occurs often in the life of young Christians. It's a type of rite of passage for those who practice their faith based on blind acceptance of Sunday School lessons. This is called a "Crisis of Faith". When they occur, the young Christian begins to doubt their beliefs and even the genuineness of their own devotion.
In Ed. school, I learned that teachers also go through a crisis of faith. Usually around the fifth year, there is a spike in teacher turnover. Usually at this time, teachers are facing burn out or a fizzling of their passion to teach.
My fifth year teaching was the hardest of my career. I was teaching for the first time at an urban school and facing large class sizes, universal student apathy, and fiercely defensive parents. I can't tell if the pain I felt then was any sort of crisis of faith. I think I was more concerned with surviving the year than reflecting deeply on my role and passion for my profession.
In my time teaching, I have gotten numerous positive reviews. Administrators, colleagues, and students have all affirmed my methods for pedagogy and valued my opinion. But now, for the first time, I am struggling with an administrator that doubts most of my methods and decisions in the classroom. It is disconcerting to say the least. His doubt feeds my own doubt and I sometimes feel tortured about my own insecurities. It hurts too. Hurts deeply to know that I may have failed at the profession I have invested so much time and love into.
Students and colleagues still affirm that my classroom is relevant, meaningful, engaging, and useful, but conversation after conversation with this administrator somehow manages to destroy all that in my mind. It makes me wonder if I made the right choice after all. If after all of this time doing this, I had somehow become a bad teacher without knowing it.
There was one colleague I knew once who read all the literature, did countless hours of research and conferences, employed a variety of engaging and effective teaching strategies, and was hated by her students. On paper, everything pointed to her being a great teacher. IN her own mind, she was a great teacher. She worked tirelessly, like at a hamster wheel, to do what a good teacher does. But in the end, it all meant nothing because her students didn't buy it. There was something soulless about the way she employed those techniques that gave the content an unnatural pallor that was a turn off to students. I fear that my teaching might someday become that. A soulless bag of tricks. OR has it become that and I didn't even realize it. Like that colleague.
I have met teachers with 20+ years of experience who are my idols. The craft they employ into this profession is so perfect, so relevant, so elegant, that I wonder if I could ever aspire to be that good. Is there a way to overcome this crises and move on to a stronger, better classroom?
In Ed. school, I learned that teachers also go through a crisis of faith. Usually around the fifth year, there is a spike in teacher turnover. Usually at this time, teachers are facing burn out or a fizzling of their passion to teach.
My fifth year teaching was the hardest of my career. I was teaching for the first time at an urban school and facing large class sizes, universal student apathy, and fiercely defensive parents. I can't tell if the pain I felt then was any sort of crisis of faith. I think I was more concerned with surviving the year than reflecting deeply on my role and passion for my profession.
In my time teaching, I have gotten numerous positive reviews. Administrators, colleagues, and students have all affirmed my methods for pedagogy and valued my opinion. But now, for the first time, I am struggling with an administrator that doubts most of my methods and decisions in the classroom. It is disconcerting to say the least. His doubt feeds my own doubt and I sometimes feel tortured about my own insecurities. It hurts too. Hurts deeply to know that I may have failed at the profession I have invested so much time and love into.
Students and colleagues still affirm that my classroom is relevant, meaningful, engaging, and useful, but conversation after conversation with this administrator somehow manages to destroy all that in my mind. It makes me wonder if I made the right choice after all. If after all of this time doing this, I had somehow become a bad teacher without knowing it.
There was one colleague I knew once who read all the literature, did countless hours of research and conferences, employed a variety of engaging and effective teaching strategies, and was hated by her students. On paper, everything pointed to her being a great teacher. IN her own mind, she was a great teacher. She worked tirelessly, like at a hamster wheel, to do what a good teacher does. But in the end, it all meant nothing because her students didn't buy it. There was something soulless about the way she employed those techniques that gave the content an unnatural pallor that was a turn off to students. I fear that my teaching might someday become that. A soulless bag of tricks. OR has it become that and I didn't even realize it. Like that colleague.
I have met teachers with 20+ years of experience who are my idols. The craft they employ into this profession is so perfect, so relevant, so elegant, that I wonder if I could ever aspire to be that good. Is there a way to overcome this crises and move on to a stronger, better classroom?
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Rockstarrism
Wandering aimlessly up and down the aisles of a Barnes and Nobles bookstore, I came upon a title in the education section that caught my eye:
Deborah Kenny was a young mother of three small children seeking to make sense of her life amid the despair of her husband's untimely death when she decided to devote herself to radically reinventing public education. Born to Rise recounts a journey that led Kenny to risk her life savings to open schools in Harlem while proving that all children, regardless of socioeconomic circumstances, can learn at high levels. Students enter Harlem Village Academies several years behind grade level, but in just a few years they are transformed, ranking among the highest in the nation—with 99 percent of eighth graders meeting proficiency standards in math, science, and social studies.
-Amazon
Curious to know Deborah's secret for success, I sat down at a nearby bench and read a few random chunks. According to my 20 minute skim, she credits her success to a carefully selected team of all-star teachers. I was particularly interested in her descriptions of the various teachers she encountered on her quest for "rockstar" teachers. A number of candidates had great resumes and interviewed well, but when she went to their classrooms, in nearly every case, the lack of behavior management skills and student engagement ruined it for her. "mostly" controlled was not enough for her. She was looking for pied piper level engagement in the roughest schools.
This was a source of chagrin for me in that some of the disruptive behaviors she witnessed were definitely elements of my classroom back in my urban teaching days. Granted, I had much more classroom control than other first year teachers there, but I admit it was usually around only 88% of the time.
So then I took to reflecting on my own abilities as a teacher. Am I a "rockstar" teacher? Would this lady hire me if I were applying to her school? Highly unlikely for both counts.
This is something I have been thinking about a lot recently as I finished up my 7th year teaching. I know I'm a good teacher, but I also know I'm not a rockstar teacher. My goal from day 1 was to be a rockstar, I always figured I would be a rockstar, and yet, 7 years later, feels more like I'm an airport lounge singer. Okay, maybe not that bad, but still...not a rockstar.
I feel I do have the potential still to be great, but it just doesn't quite feel there yet. My students are engaged and tell me they were challenged in my class, fun happens (could happen a little more), and there are results, but not everyday is a homerun. I always feel that there could be so much more...SO much more.
What, then, could push me into that privileged realm rockstarrism? More time? greater effort? paradigm shift? I'll keep working on it.
Deborah Kenny was a young mother of three small children seeking to make sense of her life amid the despair of her husband's untimely death when she decided to devote herself to radically reinventing public education. Born to Rise recounts a journey that led Kenny to risk her life savings to open schools in Harlem while proving that all children, regardless of socioeconomic circumstances, can learn at high levels. Students enter Harlem Village Academies several years behind grade level, but in just a few years they are transformed, ranking among the highest in the nation—with 99 percent of eighth graders meeting proficiency standards in math, science, and social studies.
-Amazon
Curious to know Deborah's secret for success, I sat down at a nearby bench and read a few random chunks. According to my 20 minute skim, she credits her success to a carefully selected team of all-star teachers. I was particularly interested in her descriptions of the various teachers she encountered on her quest for "rockstar" teachers. A number of candidates had great resumes and interviewed well, but when she went to their classrooms, in nearly every case, the lack of behavior management skills and student engagement ruined it for her. "mostly" controlled was not enough for her. She was looking for pied piper level engagement in the roughest schools.
This was a source of chagrin for me in that some of the disruptive behaviors she witnessed were definitely elements of my classroom back in my urban teaching days. Granted, I had much more classroom control than other first year teachers there, but I admit it was usually around only 88% of the time.
So then I took to reflecting on my own abilities as a teacher. Am I a "rockstar" teacher? Would this lady hire me if I were applying to her school? Highly unlikely for both counts.
This is something I have been thinking about a lot recently as I finished up my 7th year teaching. I know I'm a good teacher, but I also know I'm not a rockstar teacher. My goal from day 1 was to be a rockstar, I always figured I would be a rockstar, and yet, 7 years later, feels more like I'm an airport lounge singer. Okay, maybe not that bad, but still...not a rockstar.
I feel I do have the potential still to be great, but it just doesn't quite feel there yet. My students are engaged and tell me they were challenged in my class, fun happens (could happen a little more), and there are results, but not everyday is a homerun. I always feel that there could be so much more...SO much more.
What, then, could push me into that privileged realm rockstarrism? More time? greater effort? paradigm shift? I'll keep working on it.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
On teaching grammar
So once again I am faced with the struggle of putting together a meaningful and effective way of teaching grammar in the English classroom, and it continues to be one of the most difficult tasks I have faced in my career.
 |
| Examples of DOLS |
In graduate school, I learned that 10-20 minute mini-lessons in grammar are probably best. You know, the good ol' D.O.L.s where you throw up a sentence with a comma splice as a warm up and have the kids correct. Then go over with the class. The best part about all this is that my professor ended the whole discussion on grammar with a wonderful little anecdote about some huge study that was performed where three groups of kids were administered a grammar test as freshmen then taught grammar differently:
- Group A were taught traditional grammar (parts of speech, parts of sentence, strunk n white, etc.)
- Group B were taught grammar mini lessons and modern grammar (like sentence diagramming trees, etc.)
- Group C were taught no grammar at all
The advantage to this (in addition to the fact that a darkened classroom calmed the kids down after a rowdy lunch) was that it was quick, easy, and mostly painless for both me and the kids.
The disadvantage was that for most of the kids, it amounted to little more than busy work. The less ambitious would just copy the sentence and wait for us to correct as a class. I saw little change in their writing and they had difficulty applying the concepts to situations outside of the example I gave them.
 |
| Sorry grammar, I'd rather teach alliteration |
Well, not completely. Mainly I would simply list out a bunch of "no no"s like "don't start a sentence with 'but'" and take off big points when the rules were broken. True to my professor's anecdote, I saw about as much improvement in their writing as my first job with the DOLs.
 |
| Filled with all sorts of antiquey goodness |
The kids were in hell It was worksheet Hades with a cherry on top. It was like teaching math problems that had answers you couldn't understand for 20 minutes every day.
The worst part about it though was that it killed any sense of creativity, imagination, or personal voice in their writing. The kids who were good at the grammar started having panic attacks because they couldn't figure out how to put together their own style of sentence. Kinda like when I was a kid, I played Moonlight Sonata until my family wanted to burn the piano. I was sooo good at it, but then ask me to figure out how to play my own version of "happy birthday" and I'd only be able to do so with one finger...and it would definitely suck. And the kids at the bottom were stuck there. No amount of tutoring and coaxing seemed to help.
I found a fantastic textbook gathering dust in a back closet in the basement of the school and build a years worth of lessons off of it. I felt confident that I had finally found the solution. Diagramming made so much more sense than labeling and correcting from worksheet hell. I was wrong.
 |
| Pin the label on the sentence part, kids! |
I also learned that diagramming has become the pet pedagogy of many English middle school teachers, and that a number of the students I had struggling with it in 10th grade had fruitlessly labored through it in middle school.
It wasn't as soul-sucking as the traditional grammar in terms of voice and creativity in writing. But it still did sap the energy out of their writing and there still were around 30% of the kids just not getting it. Over all, not worth it.
Thus I started the year reveling in reading and writing mostly creatively. But I noticed issues in the writiing that were screaming out to be addressed. Paragraphs plagued with run-ons, pronouns with missing antecedents, and sentences missing subjects or verbs entirely. So that winter, I put on my thinking cap and came up with the following:
Five grammar units based exclusively on the five grammatical issues that most affected clarity in student writing that year.
Each unit involved:
- An assigned paragraph-long writing assignment due in electronic form
- two or three in-class 20 minute lessons on the issue involving class practice
- A thick homework packet of practice worksheets exclusively on that issue
- A print out of a word document containing every student's initial paragraph which we go over and correct on the smartboard. (missing names of course)
- One or two paragraph-long writing assignments by which that ONE issue only is graded.
- Another printout of a student writing for them to correct on their own.
- A quiz on that concept consisting of a paragraph that I composed which mimicked manner in which the problem occurred in student writing.
A final test of all five concepts in the form of a paragraph that I composed which mimicked their own writing.
The result? The best improvement and retention I had ever seen. Even struggling students showed gains in ability.
 |
| In this weird metaphor, the godzilla is my unit and the train my precious instructional time |
The problem? It took a huge amount of time to implement. HUGE. The monster units ate a giant chunk of instruction time, reading, time, and grades. Also, I ended up having to explain to people who see grammar instruction as a voice-killer why I decided to prioritize this instruction over more creativity nurturing endeavors.
It was really hard. Tears were shed. I regret the tears but not the time or the units. It was the first time I actually felt GOOD about teaching grammar, and I didn't want to let go of it just yet.
I ended up limping through the remainder of the year and shelfing the last two units I had planned. So now it's summer and I'm back working on this problem. 7 years in the works and still working. Ideas? Suggestions?
Monday, June 18, 2012
Teacher villains
It's funny how when you think about teacher villains in the past, you usually imagine the witchy teacher from A Christmas Story (You'll shoot your eye out) or some washed up lame-o who has 0 passion (Bueller...Bueller...)
I wondered why (until Breaking Bad) you don't really see teachers being clandestine criminal masterminds, thieves, serial killers, or drug dealers. I guess because the thought of it is really scary. God forbid a person you trust your children with for a good portion of the year would be moral monster at home. Perhaps it's like finding out that breakfast cereal has been the one and only cause of cancer all this time. Then what? It would cause a panic. You'd be up all night counting the bowls you ate while watching Saturday morning cartoons. Lying there, calculating the darkness you innocently consumed, and then freaking out about it.
I remember once seeing on the front page of the local newspaper an article about a high school teacher who was arrested for DUI over the weekend. Out of all the DUI cases the police caught that weekend, it was the teacher who made the front page. In fact, there weren't any other cases in the paper at all. Why was this guy's arrest so special? Because he was a teacher. The standards we live by in our culture are so high. It's so important to the community to publicly "out" teachers who have violated the law.
Not that teachers resent it. In fact, I would say that most teachers are the strongest believers in very public and strict levels of accountability. We set very high bars for ourselves. We are aware that "The Children are Watching" (an assigned reading I had one year from administration).
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
2 years, 2 schools, and a world of difference later...
I received an email from an Angela asking me to post again on this blog. Thanks for reading and prompting me to post again.
To be honest, I had completely forgotten about it. I was in a rough place when I created it (and I think I am still a little scarred) in a lot of ways. But after therapy, a move to sunny CA, and a shift to teaching private school, my life has taken a turn for the better. I look back at the previous posts and can't believe how rough it was for me back then. I also realize why so many of my colleagues were on anti-anxiety medication or anti-depressants. Fortunately, the changes I made in my life made it possible for me to move forward without the aid of medication.
So now, in an ironic twist of fate, I am teaching at an elite prep school on the west coast. A friend of mine who teaches high school Spanish referred me to a recruiting agency out here that found me a position right away at an affluent private school outside of LA. From there, I moved up to an even more exclusive school farther outside of LA. And here I am. In the last place I would ever imagine myself to be 2 years ago.
And although this school's tuition is about as high as your can expect, life here for both staff and students is RADICALLY different from the stereotypes you see in movies like School Ties or The Dead Poet's Society.
I feel really fortunate to have this job, yet I don't feel like I've won the teacher lottery or anything. It comes with its own set of unique challenges.
But the bottom line is: it is a far better place that I'm in now, than I was before.
To be honest, I had completely forgotten about it. I was in a rough place when I created it (and I think I am still a little scarred) in a lot of ways. But after therapy, a move to sunny CA, and a shift to teaching private school, my life has taken a turn for the better. I look back at the previous posts and can't believe how rough it was for me back then. I also realize why so many of my colleagues were on anti-anxiety medication or anti-depressants. Fortunately, the changes I made in my life made it possible for me to move forward without the aid of medication.
So now, in an ironic twist of fate, I am teaching at an elite prep school on the west coast. A friend of mine who teaches high school Spanish referred me to a recruiting agency out here that found me a position right away at an affluent private school outside of LA. From there, I moved up to an even more exclusive school farther outside of LA. And here I am. In the last place I would ever imagine myself to be 2 years ago.
And although this school's tuition is about as high as your can expect, life here for both staff and students is RADICALLY different from the stereotypes you see in movies like School Ties or The Dead Poet's Society.
I feel really fortunate to have this job, yet I don't feel like I've won the teacher lottery or anything. It comes with its own set of unique challenges.
But the bottom line is: it is a far better place that I'm in now, than I was before.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Disappointed
So, I was randomly browsing the Internet when I came across the following article:
Screw Teacher Appreciation Week
Angry Mom: I am not a big fan of my daughter's teacher. Sometimes you click with a teacher, and sometimes you don't. I'm basically just counting the days 'til my daughter's out of Mrs. Johnson's class.
My daughter has ADHD, and the teacher has basically refused to work with us on this. She suggested we "transfer her to a more appropriate school." HELLO?!
Well, last week, I got the sheet from the room mother announcing Teacher Appreciation Week. It listed what the kids were expected to bring each day. My immediate thoughts are italicized.
Monday: Bring a sweet treat for Mrs. Johnson (home-baked, if possible).Um, I don't have time to bake! I have two jobs, just trying to keep food on the table. But I'd be happy to slip her a Chips Ahoy!, if she'd like that ....
Tuesday: Bring in a flower from your garden for Mrs. Johnson.I live in an apartment. I don't have a garden. Maybe a weed from the patch of grass next to the parking lot?
Wednesday: Write a poem for Mrs. Johnson.Roses are red, violets are blue, this week sucks, and so do you!
Thursday: Bring a small gift for Mrs. Johnson ($10 limit).In these tough times, ten dollars is tough to scrape together. Is the 99-cent store OK instead?
Friday: Please donate $20 for our class gift fund. We are going to get her a day at the spa!Um, MOMMY could use a day at the spa ... what about me?!?!?!?!
Look, don't get me wrong ... I love teachers! I think it is the hardest job in the world. But this particular teacher is less than great, and I don't want to be forced to show how much my daughter "appreciates" her.
Plus, don't working moms have enough to keep track of? Now I have five more things to add to my to-do list this week. THANKS.
What do you think about Teacher Appreciation Week?
This article deeply disturbed me. Not only the article, but the accompanying comments also reflected simliar sentiments. Even though it was late on a school night, I just had to post a response:
There are several concerns I have with this article.
First, the list of required gifts are not mandatory. No school, be it public or private, can or will penalize a student for their parent's failure to provide a gift of appreciation to the teacher. If the author felt so strongly about this issue, she could have simply chosen not to participate.
Second, as a 5-year teacher in both public and private schools across the nation, I can say with confidence that most teachers (especially those in public schools) expect NOTHING from students or parents in terms of appreciation. Last year, I and the nearly 200 colleagues I work with received all of a brownie and card from the PTA on teacher appreciation week (for which we were pleasantly surprised). I always tell my students the best gift they could ever give me is a note or card of thanks (which I carefully save and read on rough days).
Finally, any appreciation day (be it for teachers, secretaries, moms, dad, veterans, etc.) is meant to honor those who have faithfully provided a service to others in the community. Certainly, there are teachers who are not great at their jobs, just as there are poor secretaries, parents who let down their kids, or soldiers who falter in the battlefield, but does that mean we thumb our noses at those heroes who do make great personal sacrifices to make sure our kids have a bright future?
The pay is horrible, the hours are long, the job is often thankless, and turnover is 50% in the first year. Most teachers do it because they love kids and they love their communities. Don't think for a minute that it's your obligatory baked goods that do it for us.
And for those of us who are good at our jobs, there's no respite from the critical eye of parents.
It's no wonder we're all burnt out.
Screw Teacher Appreciation Week
Angry Mom: I am not a big fan of my daughter's teacher. Sometimes you click with a teacher, and sometimes you don't. I'm basically just counting the days 'til my daughter's out of Mrs. Johnson's class.
My daughter has ADHD, and the teacher has basically refused to work with us on this. She suggested we "transfer her to a more appropriate school." HELLO?!
Well, last week, I got the sheet from the room mother announcing Teacher Appreciation Week. It listed what the kids were expected to bring each day. My immediate thoughts are italicized.
Monday: Bring a sweet treat for Mrs. Johnson (home-baked, if possible).Um, I don't have time to bake! I have two jobs, just trying to keep food on the table. But I'd be happy to slip her a Chips Ahoy!, if she'd like that ....
Tuesday: Bring in a flower from your garden for Mrs. Johnson.I live in an apartment. I don't have a garden. Maybe a weed from the patch of grass next to the parking lot?
Wednesday: Write a poem for Mrs. Johnson.Roses are red, violets are blue, this week sucks, and so do you!
Thursday: Bring a small gift for Mrs. Johnson ($10 limit).In these tough times, ten dollars is tough to scrape together. Is the 99-cent store OK instead?
Friday: Please donate $20 for our class gift fund. We are going to get her a day at the spa!Um, MOMMY could use a day at the spa ... what about me?!?!?!?!
Look, don't get me wrong ... I love teachers! I think it is the hardest job in the world. But this particular teacher is less than great, and I don't want to be forced to show how much my daughter "appreciates" her.
Plus, don't working moms have enough to keep track of? Now I have five more things to add to my to-do list this week. THANKS.
What do you think about Teacher Appreciation Week?
This article deeply disturbed me. Not only the article, but the accompanying comments also reflected simliar sentiments. Even though it was late on a school night, I just had to post a response:
There are several concerns I have with this article.
First, the list of required gifts are not mandatory. No school, be it public or private, can or will penalize a student for their parent's failure to provide a gift of appreciation to the teacher. If the author felt so strongly about this issue, she could have simply chosen not to participate.
Second, as a 5-year teacher in both public and private schools across the nation, I can say with confidence that most teachers (especially those in public schools) expect NOTHING from students or parents in terms of appreciation. Last year, I and the nearly 200 colleagues I work with received all of a brownie and card from the PTA on teacher appreciation week (for which we were pleasantly surprised). I always tell my students the best gift they could ever give me is a note or card of thanks (which I carefully save and read on rough days).
Finally, any appreciation day (be it for teachers, secretaries, moms, dad, veterans, etc.) is meant to honor those who have faithfully provided a service to others in the community. Certainly, there are teachers who are not great at their jobs, just as there are poor secretaries, parents who let down their kids, or soldiers who falter in the battlefield, but does that mean we thumb our noses at those heroes who do make great personal sacrifices to make sure our kids have a bright future?
The pay is horrible, the hours are long, the job is often thankless, and turnover is 50% in the first year. Most teachers do it because they love kids and they love their communities. Don't think for a minute that it's your obligatory baked goods that do it for us.
And for those of us who are good at our jobs, there's no respite from the critical eye of parents.
It's no wonder we're all burnt out.
Monday, March 15, 2010
And now for something completely different...
New home, new state, new job, new life. More details to come after I finish grading these papers (i.e., never)
Monday, March 30, 2009
Smackdown!
After yet another failed trip to the library, and two days of a zoo-like atmosphere in class, I went to our department head for help. Her advice: call every parent, kick'em out when they don't listen, keep working on it. So that's what I did, I spend a few hours on the phone with parents, set up places to send them when they didn't behave, and gave them a fair warning as they walked in. Six kick outs later, my class was like the sea of tranquility for the first time all year. It was lovely!
Today, many of the students with attitude problems attempted to skip class, but I emailed each of their teachers for the following block and wrote them each up for skipping as I got responses.
I love my job, I love my job, I love my job!
Today, many of the students with attitude problems attempted to skip class, but I emailed each of their teachers for the following block and wrote them each up for skipping as I got responses.
I love my job, I love my job, I love my job!
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Mischief and Mayhem
Right now, I'm awaiting my dreaded fifth period class. This class is quite adept at drawing energy from the chaos of lunch and pouring into the classroom setting. Thus each day is like feeding time at the zoo, except the animals are only interested in food fights.
Yesterday was unofficial pottymouth day. Rather than volunteering answers, students were shouting obscenities in a popcorn-like fashion. I pulled three students out into the hallway for conference, and while that was happening another student started having a shouting match with my cooperating teacher. Two kids walked away, another in the office, I walk in the door and the whole class is in tears laughing at the arg. I come in, settle the kids down and have to have another conference after class. Then I called 4 sets of parents, and couldn't reach a single one (disconnect lines, doesn't work here anymore, not home, etc.). It was a terrible, terrible day.
I've given up on drinking coffee. I can't drink enough, so I've taken to eating straight up choco-covered coffee beans.
i love my job, i love my job, i love my job...
Yesterday was unofficial pottymouth day. Rather than volunteering answers, students were shouting obscenities in a popcorn-like fashion. I pulled three students out into the hallway for conference, and while that was happening another student started having a shouting match with my cooperating teacher. Two kids walked away, another in the office, I walk in the door and the whole class is in tears laughing at the arg. I come in, settle the kids down and have to have another conference after class. Then I called 4 sets of parents, and couldn't reach a single one (disconnect lines, doesn't work here anymore, not home, etc.). It was a terrible, terrible day.
I've given up on drinking coffee. I can't drink enough, so I've taken to eating straight up choco-covered coffee beans.
i love my job, i love my job, i love my job...
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Teacher Funeral
One of the beloved members of our staff passed from a massive heart attack last week, so I went for the first time to a teacher funeral.
Call me young and silly, but I always imagined that a teacher funeral would be like this big dramatic inspirational moment where great crowds of people would emerge somberly from throughout the community to honor a fallen hero. There would be folks from all walks of life lining up to share amazing stories of how the teacher saved their lives or made their lives better. Maybe there would be famous or prominent former students would stand up and honor them. I guess this fantasy might be my way of trying to compensate myself for all that I put into the job now. You know, the they-may-not-appreciate-it-now,-but-I'll-definitely-get-it-once-I'm-dead kind of thinking.
Turns out, it doesn't really happen even after your dead.
The teacher who passed was the kind of teacher I would love to be after 40 years in the field.
He had been at the school since 1969 as a P.E./Health teacher and sports coach. This year he was working full time as our Athletic Director. His love for the school and its students was prevalent in all that he did. Even I, having known him for only a few months, noticed the extraordinary amount of dedication he poured into his job.
Don't get me wrong, there were still hundreds of people at his funeral. And they were people of all ages, races, etc. It just wasn't the big dramatic production I had imagined in my head. A small handful of people stood up and shared, we said a prayer, sang a few hymns and it was over. In lieu of flowers, his family (likely in accordance with his own wishes) asked the money be donated to the school athletics dept. God, he was such a cool teacher~
Even though my ridiculous dreams for a glorious funeral were shattered, I was humbled and surprised by one thing: the man's family. When they stood up and spoke about him, it really did sound like a hero's funeral. They were just so proud of him, and when they spoke about it, every eye in the place started tearing up. It was then that I realized that love, respect, and honor matter the most when they come from the people who love you the most. All the people in the world could come to your funeral, but it doesn't mean a thing if your son can't stand up there with tears in his eyes, and tell the world how much you meant to him.
Call me young and silly, but I always imagined that a teacher funeral would be like this big dramatic inspirational moment where great crowds of people would emerge somberly from throughout the community to honor a fallen hero. There would be folks from all walks of life lining up to share amazing stories of how the teacher saved their lives or made their lives better. Maybe there would be famous or prominent former students would stand up and honor them. I guess this fantasy might be my way of trying to compensate myself for all that I put into the job now. You know, the they-may-not-appreciate-it-now,-but-I'll-definitely-get-it-once-I'm-dead kind of thinking.
Turns out, it doesn't really happen even after your dead.
The teacher who passed was the kind of teacher I would love to be after 40 years in the field.
He had been at the school since 1969 as a P.E./Health teacher and sports coach. This year he was working full time as our Athletic Director. His love for the school and its students was prevalent in all that he did. Even I, having known him for only a few months, noticed the extraordinary amount of dedication he poured into his job.
Don't get me wrong, there were still hundreds of people at his funeral. And they were people of all ages, races, etc. It just wasn't the big dramatic production I had imagined in my head. A small handful of people stood up and shared, we said a prayer, sang a few hymns and it was over. In lieu of flowers, his family (likely in accordance with his own wishes) asked the money be donated to the school athletics dept. God, he was such a cool teacher~
Even though my ridiculous dreams for a glorious funeral were shattered, I was humbled and surprised by one thing: the man's family. When they stood up and spoke about him, it really did sound like a hero's funeral. They were just so proud of him, and when they spoke about it, every eye in the place started tearing up. It was then that I realized that love, respect, and honor matter the most when they come from the people who love you the most. All the people in the world could come to your funeral, but it doesn't mean a thing if your son can't stand up there with tears in his eyes, and tell the world how much you meant to him.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
The Fear
The interim reports are about to be sent home, and my students have become afflicted with the Fear. They come to me at all times with palms outspread begging for absolution for half a semester of apathetic stares, classroom clowning, innumerable absences, and missing work. The teachers with experience warned me. Handouts enable academic apathy and lower standards, they explained. It hurts to be harsh, but they'll rise to your standards. I knew that they knew better, and their advice ran true. Yet I chose to ignore their advice, and give the students the chance they begged for.
The result: burn out and disillusionment
Bombarded with make-up work at the end of each grading period, I would grade for hours and hours at books-a-million with no end in sight. Students who came in for make up work managed, after much effort, to only pull their grades up to a D or not at all (thus wasting both of our time). Foolish as I was, despite all of this, I still believed in giving the students a chance to succeed.
It's not until now, when I've taken an extra teaching load and literally CAN'T give them that chance, that I'm realizing the truth about what those other teachers said. It's like I'm seeing it with new eyes: these same students who despite my constant promptings, refocusing, encouragement, and calls home throughout the semester, managed to get nothing of substance completed and are now begging for handouts at my door. And they do it, because they know they can get away with it. Accomplishing the absolute minimum passing grade by putting in no effort during the class, a bit of shameless begging, and a whole lot of copying at the end of the semester was their goal from the start.
Honestly, it's a heart-breaking, frustrating, and infuriating realization. However, it's a lesson I could only learn by experience. Were I to merely follow those gems of wisdom given by my coworkers without fully understanding why, I would inevitably revert back to my naive reasoning of second chances. Just one more challenge faced and overcome in my journey towards becoming the best educator I can be. I feel I am so much better for it.
The result: burn out and disillusionment
Bombarded with make-up work at the end of each grading period, I would grade for hours and hours at books-a-million with no end in sight. Students who came in for make up work managed, after much effort, to only pull their grades up to a D or not at all (thus wasting both of our time). Foolish as I was, despite all of this, I still believed in giving the students a chance to succeed.
It's not until now, when I've taken an extra teaching load and literally CAN'T give them that chance, that I'm realizing the truth about what those other teachers said. It's like I'm seeing it with new eyes: these same students who despite my constant promptings, refocusing, encouragement, and calls home throughout the semester, managed to get nothing of substance completed and are now begging for handouts at my door. And they do it, because they know they can get away with it. Accomplishing the absolute minimum passing grade by putting in no effort during the class, a bit of shameless begging, and a whole lot of copying at the end of the semester was their goal from the start.
Honestly, it's a heart-breaking, frustrating, and infuriating realization. However, it's a lesson I could only learn by experience. Were I to merely follow those gems of wisdom given by my coworkers without fully understanding why, I would inevitably revert back to my naive reasoning of second chances. Just one more challenge faced and overcome in my journey towards becoming the best educator I can be. I feel I am so much better for it.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Killing Trees
Doing better these days. This year has been such a rollercoaster ride! There are so many emotional highs and lows when it comes to teaching in a school like this.
Bookbags must have black holes living inside of them. Everytime I hand out a worksheet, it disappears to the same unknown as planetary dust, meteorids, and even light. I've passed out the same worksheet at least four times to no avail. I should charge a 10 dollar fee for missing worksheets, then maybe I would break even on my bills each month.
It's ironic because my kids are always encouraging me to "go green" on the paper. Much as I would love to delude myself with the idea that my kids are informed and altruistic enough to have this motivation on their own, alas I must face the reality that they really have no concept of what "going green" implies other than what Kanye tells them (which isn't much). The same conciencious young mind that reminds me to pass out less worksheets has no qualms about leaving scads of blank filler paper all over the floor at the end of the day. Sometimes I wonder if I have students or hamsters in here.
Bookbags must have black holes living inside of them. Everytime I hand out a worksheet, it disappears to the same unknown as planetary dust, meteorids, and even light. I've passed out the same worksheet at least four times to no avail. I should charge a 10 dollar fee for missing worksheets, then maybe I would break even on my bills each month.
It's ironic because my kids are always encouraging me to "go green" on the paper. Much as I would love to delude myself with the idea that my kids are informed and altruistic enough to have this motivation on their own, alas I must face the reality that they really have no concept of what "going green" implies other than what Kanye tells them (which isn't much). The same conciencious young mind that reminds me to pass out less worksheets has no qualms about leaving scads of blank filler paper all over the floor at the end of the day. Sometimes I wonder if I have students or hamsters in here.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Another day in paradise
I used to think that crying because of your job was just a first year thing. I never imagined that I would be fighting back tears 4 years into my career, especially since I survived my first year without a single tear. I realize now, however, that in an urban school, crying is quite normal for teachers at all levels of experience. I've never seen so many coworkers sitting in their classrooms during planning or after school with red eyes and crumpled tissues.
Today I had an eye-welling moment as I was trying to get through Caesar. Progress through the play had been painfully slow because certain students would interupt the class shouting out, "I need to go to the bathroom" or "I don't got a book". Those I did not allow to put their heads down during the class shouted disruptively until I had to send them down to the office. Every other day I need to call security down to pull another defiant or disruptive student out of the class. The more I told them to remain silent, the more some of them protested, joked, laughed, and caused mayhem. Finally, I grew so frustrated trying to move on with the play that I told them they could figure it out themselves and take the quiz on their own. I sat down and ignored them while I made up a quiz. To my amazement, they grew quiet. The two noisiest students actually started trying reading the play on their own. The one student who, no matter what, would not listen, got up and walked out. The rest were silent.
I waited another minute or two, then asked the class if they were ready to continue on. They were and we were able to move forward. It was so hard to let go though, you always want to keep working and helping them. But I had enough of their manipulating. Once I started ignoring them, it came clear to me that they merely wanted attention, and I was giving it to them by telling them to be quiet or trying to regulate them. It was a really hard lesson though, and before I sat down and ignored them, I was 2 seconds from breaking into tears.
Our job is so difficult. Most people in the outside world seem to understand that, but you never really understand it until you've lived it. That's why no amount of classroom education can prepare you for teaching. The experienced teachers told me about the ignoring thing, but I didn't really understand it until I went through it today. There are so many aspects of this job that you have to learn the hard way, step by step, and day by day.
It's all worth it though. I look at myself and sometimes marvel at how much patience I've acquired since I started. I'm so much stronger in ways I never would've imagined. Most of all, I actually did something to help people. I love that. I love that I help people all day long. I love my job! It kills me, but I love it.
Today I had an eye-welling moment as I was trying to get through Caesar. Progress through the play had been painfully slow because certain students would interupt the class shouting out, "I need to go to the bathroom" or "I don't got a book". Those I did not allow to put their heads down during the class shouted disruptively until I had to send them down to the office. Every other day I need to call security down to pull another defiant or disruptive student out of the class. The more I told them to remain silent, the more some of them protested, joked, laughed, and caused mayhem. Finally, I grew so frustrated trying to move on with the play that I told them they could figure it out themselves and take the quiz on their own. I sat down and ignored them while I made up a quiz. To my amazement, they grew quiet. The two noisiest students actually started trying reading the play on their own. The one student who, no matter what, would not listen, got up and walked out. The rest were silent.
I waited another minute or two, then asked the class if they were ready to continue on. They were and we were able to move forward. It was so hard to let go though, you always want to keep working and helping them. But I had enough of their manipulating. Once I started ignoring them, it came clear to me that they merely wanted attention, and I was giving it to them by telling them to be quiet or trying to regulate them. It was a really hard lesson though, and before I sat down and ignored them, I was 2 seconds from breaking into tears.
Our job is so difficult. Most people in the outside world seem to understand that, but you never really understand it until you've lived it. That's why no amount of classroom education can prepare you for teaching. The experienced teachers told me about the ignoring thing, but I didn't really understand it until I went through it today. There are so many aspects of this job that you have to learn the hard way, step by step, and day by day.
It's all worth it though. I look at myself and sometimes marvel at how much patience I've acquired since I started. I'm so much stronger in ways I never would've imagined. Most of all, I actually did something to help people. I love that. I love that I help people all day long. I love my job! It kills me, but I love it.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Occupational Hazard
The weather has been working in cahoots with the tooth fairy's evil twin, so for the past few days, everyone (including myself) has been having tooth pains. My collaborating SPED teacher took off two days to see the dentist, I took one day to take my mom to the dentist, and I finally scheduled a President's Day visit to the dentist for my own dull aches.
After some poking with a sharp thingy, about six x-rays by a very young dental hygienist, and an hour of needless waiting in a tilted chair, the dentist comes over to take a five minute look in my mouth. He then asks me about my occupation and stress levels. I explained that yes my job does involve quite a bit of stress and long hours (sometimes 14-16 hour days). His eyes bugged out a bit when I mentioned the hours, which made me again think about how much our profession is underappreciated in the professional world. Then he told me the pains were due to stress-induced teeth grinding at night.
Therefore I must now, in addition to all the stress eating and coffee addiction, wear a retainer-like night guard to keep myself from grinding my teeth down to little bits. Sometimes I feel like you have to be a yoga fanatic in order to handle the pressures of this job without a destructive habit (like chocoholism).
My teacher friends and I have an ongoing fantasy about working as a greeter at Walmart. All the people interaction you could hope for, no brain work, and when the shift is over: go home and live your life!
After some poking with a sharp thingy, about six x-rays by a very young dental hygienist, and an hour of needless waiting in a tilted chair, the dentist comes over to take a five minute look in my mouth. He then asks me about my occupation and stress levels. I explained that yes my job does involve quite a bit of stress and long hours (sometimes 14-16 hour days). His eyes bugged out a bit when I mentioned the hours, which made me again think about how much our profession is underappreciated in the professional world. Then he told me the pains were due to stress-induced teeth grinding at night.
Therefore I must now, in addition to all the stress eating and coffee addiction, wear a retainer-like night guard to keep myself from grinding my teeth down to little bits. Sometimes I feel like you have to be a yoga fanatic in order to handle the pressures of this job without a destructive habit (like chocoholism).
My teacher friends and I have an ongoing fantasy about working as a greeter at Walmart. All the people interaction you could hope for, no brain work, and when the shift is over: go home and live your life!
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Can you teach us not to be so ghetto?
Such was the question from one of my students after several requests of certain members of the class to utilize "inside voices". To which my response was, "Believe me, I'm trying."
I'm beginning to realize that the charms of ghetto-culture do not merely grace the speech of my students in the form of colorful metaphors and shortened word forms.
There is a tone of voice, usually several decibels higher than necessary, that goes along with every phrase spoken with any sort of emphasis or passion. Hence were I to translate this tone into text, a simple inquiry such as: "Would you be so kind as to provide me with a writing utensil" turns into: "I NEED A PENCIL!!!!!!!!" (which explains a great deal about the multitude of issues in their writing).
Although they were not so congenial at the beginning of the school year, my students and I have now achieved a rapport such that most things said in the classroom nowadays lack any sort of malcontent. However, they are said with such volume and gusto that they continue to disrupt the class. It has been an ongoing struggle trying to teach them to lower the volume of their voices. Often times, even when the entire class is quiet, they will shout a random thought or question out or burst out with a laugh so astoundingly loud that I'll wonder if it were a laugh or scream.
Last class period, I gave a lengthy lecture on the overuse of the exclamation point. Too many of my students were turning in essays that contained phrases punctuated with multiple exclamation points. I had to explain to them that a single exclamation point is considered such a potent form of expletive that multiple explanation points simply do not exist. But then again, in the world of formal writing, one can only speak in "inside voices".
I'm beginning to realize that the charms of ghetto-culture do not merely grace the speech of my students in the form of colorful metaphors and shortened word forms.
There is a tone of voice, usually several decibels higher than necessary, that goes along with every phrase spoken with any sort of emphasis or passion. Hence were I to translate this tone into text, a simple inquiry such as: "Would you be so kind as to provide me with a writing utensil" turns into: "I NEED A PENCIL!!!!!!!!" (which explains a great deal about the multitude of issues in their writing).
Although they were not so congenial at the beginning of the school year, my students and I have now achieved a rapport such that most things said in the classroom nowadays lack any sort of malcontent. However, they are said with such volume and gusto that they continue to disrupt the class. It has been an ongoing struggle trying to teach them to lower the volume of their voices. Often times, even when the entire class is quiet, they will shout a random thought or question out or burst out with a laugh so astoundingly loud that I'll wonder if it were a laugh or scream.
Last class period, I gave a lengthy lecture on the overuse of the exclamation point. Too many of my students were turning in essays that contained phrases punctuated with multiple exclamation points. I had to explain to them that a single exclamation point is considered such a potent form of expletive that multiple explanation points simply do not exist. But then again, in the world of formal writing, one can only speak in "inside voices".
First Blog!
Hello Hello everyone!
I've decided to create this blog as a means of blowing off some steam from the rigors and stresses that come from that almighty occupation of teacher. Fellow educators, please feel free to join in the commiseration as well as wallow in the warm fuzzy glow of our altruistic aims to improve the world in which we live.
I've decided to create this blog as a means of blowing off some steam from the rigors and stresses that come from that almighty occupation of teacher. Fellow educators, please feel free to join in the commiseration as well as wallow in the warm fuzzy glow of our altruistic aims to improve the world in which we live.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)