Who's permission am I waiting fo to become a teacher?

Wow, whatever happened between yesterday afternoon, and walking into the classroom today, we (the students and the teachers) seemed a little bit different.  The substitute teacher and I talked about doing some mini-activity, interspersed between teaching and guiding, to remind the kids that they need to focus on the teacher with listening and thinking skills in order to work.  She was quite the genius!  For instance, she got the microphone on and made sure that she would always be heard around the classroom.  For another, she played Simon Says first, so that kids would activate those listening skills without having to be told to. And thirdly, she combined both.

In order to be dismissed for recess, she told the kids they had to watch her to know who could leave first.  She called out the first table's number, who went to the closet like usual.  Then she waited...and held up three of her fingers--table 3. Not saying a word.  The students felt silly for being caught out, and sat down again until she dismissed them.

She showed me that creating order didn't have to be a command.  It simply had to be understood to be followed.  She played with them even as she managed them. That doesn't mean she didn't show her displeasure when a kid acted up.  She came down hard on Joseph because he back-talked me when I told him he had to give a sheet to his classmate (whom he'd purposely avoided, and the student HAD called out he still needed a sheet).  "You do not talk to a teacher that way!" I was too appalled to even speak.  She made him apologize to me, then said, "You can do your job right or I can give it to someone who will."  He--reluctantly--gave the sheet to the classmate.

I can feel how second-fiddle I am to the other teachers.  And I'm still very reactive--reactive as in 'I need to help every single child with every single problem!!!'.  One request for a bandaid is ok.  More than one child needing a bandaid for a hang-nail?  Falling for another trick.

If I'm going to teach effectively, I cannot be absorbed into each child's individual well-being.  Yes, I must reach them at their level.  Yet it should be for every single dilemma.  I was tired after seeing them off to P.E. and getting a chance to sit down.  I joked to the substitute teacher that "they run around like chickens with their heads cut off!"

I stopped.

It wasn't them running around.

It had been ME.

Going to each table.  Physically inserting myself between students so they would stop goofing off.  Standing over (or squatting with) students so they would do their work instead of playing with whatever was in their hand.  Taking pens away (after the teacher had warned them that if they had to be told a second time, they would be treated like kindergarteners and have it taken away).  Even small tugs of war with kids because they wouldn't give it to me. (Those were eventually solved when I just stood there.  Hardly recommended though.)

Micro-managing them, because they were not managing themselves.

Oh, how I have been played.

I need to reel myself back in a bit.  Hold them to expectations because I know they can do it, not because I think they can't.  My actions had indeed shown them that I didn't think they could manage themselves. So they didn't.  Was it conscious on their part? Probably not.  But did it end up with me trying to fill every vacuum of each disengaged child?  Very much so.

"The onus is on them to do the right thing," the teacher told me again and again.

And...I ended up not implementing the Lesson That Would Change Their Minds.  The more my mind expanded on it, the less viable it became.  A class book would take time to introduce, to enjoy, to build up together.  I don't have to cram change down their throats.  Or scrabble for every bit of respect from them either.  I'm upset with myself, but it's come with a deeper awareness.

I was expecting too little from them.

I was expecting too little from myself while doing too much of the little things for them.  That's not a teacher I would want to be.

As I've told myself after hearing it from one of our professors, "I'll teach the hell out of the class!"  Not to break the kids, but to empower them upwards, past their egos and their doubts.  Because that's the only way to get the best from myself.

Did you hear the story...?

This week I am working with a substitute teacher for my main site class.  She had taught at this school before, and is quite familiar with my cooperating teacher's ways, if not classroom routine.  Nevertheless, we worked together, bit by bit, as the class was squirrel-ly and its usual loudness.

By the end of the day, I was completely through with the noise.  Even though I held my temper, I had seen, from different students' coping actions, that THEY were just as stressed out and fed up as the teachers.  Even as they're classmates and friends, talking straight through a lesson, it gets on their nerves too.  They really don't stop to listen...because they don't know how.

One thing I would like to do tomorrow, with the substitute's permission, is to skip the morning handwriting practice and have a town-meeting.  I had spent the day warning kids that they would "practice being quiet with me during recess" (for one minute) because they wouldn't be quiet during the lesson.  I don't like being a policewoman all day, and I know it wasn't building relationship with students, either.

The kids have been learning story elements: Setting, Characters, Problems, Solutions.

How would I phrase it?

(Yesterday, it seemed that we were really tired and stressed because it was very loud.  Does anyone feel that way? Could we try to find a better solution, like the characters in our stories?)

"Second grade, you know, sometimes I feel like we're in a story.  What is our setting?" *(motions around the room. If no student pipes up, I'll tell them: Classroom)*  "Who are the characters? ...and I should see every hand up!

"And the kid characters are trying to make a good classroom.  What do kid characters have in a good classroom?" (listing...friends, manners, things to write with, kindness, attention, listening, fun, taking turns).  "How would characters feel when we don't have that in class?" (sad, frustrated (for the articulate 2nd graders), bored, mad).

(If there are answers, I'll write it on the big writing pad. Then I address the most pressing:

But you know what? Our story seems to have a problem.  Can we think of some problems in our story? WITHOUT naming names. You can say 'some characters'..." 

Sometimes, so many characters get so noisy, that other characters don't feel happy being here.  And you know when it gets noisiest? When the teacher characters are talking.  When some characters start asking for help. 

The teacher characters have tried some solutions.  Do you remember what they were? (Some kids might say, but if they don't, I'll remind them). "The teacher characters have asked kid characters to settle down.  Does it work?...Not all the time.  If it gets too noisy, some kid characters stay in for recess, for a minute.  Those are some solutions.


"But you know what?  Yesterday, those were old characters in the story.   I think w,e the kid characters can make some solutions .  (hopefully they do, otherwise, I'm just taking the reins):

Now...what solutions can our characters do?" This is where it is SO tricky.  I'm trusting students to think before they answer me, to stay on topic, to play and yet not go off track.  This is the moment when the baton gets passed. Crickets singing.  Noses being picked.  More side conversation.

I doubt I can actually cover all this in a 20 minute session.  But I'm going to try SOMETHING, because I refuse to be just a 'cop'.  For my own sanity and THEIRS, we got to do something.

G-O-D and delicate territory

When I started at my elementary school, one table, with one girl and two boys, got into an argument.  It took me about only a minute to realize how much more kids KNOW about things.

When the teacher asked how Thanksgiving or the weekend went, the children piped up with their events.  "On Sunday I went to church," said Kelley*, a girl who was new to the school, "and we talked about God--"

"You're not supposed to say that word, God," said Joseph*, "'cause that's a bad word--"

"Yes I can!" Kelley exclaimed.

"It's not a bad word," I said quickly. "It's...a name.  Special.  And what did you do, Joseph?"

"We went shopping--"

 "You're supposed to go to church on Sunday," Kelley said with parental authority, "because he sent Jesus to die for us!"

"Who's that?" asked a third boy.  Kelley and Joseph started to argue, and I tried to settle it without bruising feelings.  All I could do was tell Kelley that it was interesting she went to church, and that it was ok for other people do other things on Sundays, too.

Later on, somehow it got out that Kelley, who was still considered the 'new girl' after three months, liked everyone.  My impression is that she likes everyone because young kids like everyone.  Joseph and the boys made gagging and teasing noises at her, which she answered with a glare.  Then the taunt came out. "Kelley likes everyone! She's a lesbian!"

Hold your horses, what!!


The only thing I could say to that was that "Kelley probably means she likes everyone in a friendly way."  Inside I was banging my head.  How should I address this? 


If any of my kids used racist or sexist language, I would have had a quick Talk with those two.
I AM  pretty sure that it's not the loaded, homophobic violence these kids are using when talking to each other.  Yet, it does have to be addressed, before put-downs like these become, as Vivan Paley wrote in You Can't Say You Can't Play, "habits of exclusion".  Let's not let gay or lesbian become a category of fear.

Ms. Dad to You

How in the world did I forget how intense elementary school could be?!

I'm finding new footing again, after transferring to a new elementary school and a new 2nd grade class for my main site the rest of the year.  In leaving my first school, my cooperating teacher advised me that 99% of the time, a transfer leads to something better.  I had given my heart to the kids, but my teacher's advice still hurt for a while.  I think I spent most of October and November wondering and perhaps, grieving a bit at not getting closure with the students I had given my all to in the September Experience.
In the two days I've been at my new school, I've loved it.  I'm enjoying the kids and I'm daunted by them at the same time.  Their needs are immediate and long-term...and for some of them, entirely outside my jurisdiction.

Yet what a difference knowing the background of a student can do for both teacher and student!
I learned early that one student tended to make her own routine during school.  In the general hubbub that is brewing and exploding outward (the normal for a 2nd grade classroom!), she will slip out of her chair and wander everywhere.  The sheet of the Four Motives of Misbehavior (I think that's what it is called), together with knowledge of the student's home life, really helped me put pieces together.  This student, "Sandy" is being raised by her mother alone.  The mother has had a string of boyfriends, and the last one was actually quite a good influence.  He apparently had met with the teacher, and she had also seen Sandy being calmer and able to concentrate more.  Unfortunately, the mother's relationship with the boyfriend ended abruptly this past month.  Since then, Sandy has reverted to her misbehavior from the beginning of the school year.

Knowing this, and seeing her wanting to do the opposite of what the teacher asks, it fit together that Sandy was trying to establish control in the only way she has.  It affected my actions toward her, which normally I wouldn't attempt until after a month together!

I've steered her and (gently) put my foot down when she tries to avoid working.  When she hasn't eaten any of her food, I decided for her she would eat two more bites before she goes out to recess.  To my relief, she DID eat the bites, after I'd portioned them out with a fork.  And I felt that when Sandy looks at me, looking to see if I will flinch, the thing she needs to see from me is that I mean what I say.
The relationship acrobatics alone is exhausting.  Whoever knocks this profession needs to remember that we're shaping hearts. We're uncovering the minds they deserve to flex and use.  The treasure is in the little moments when, for a moment at least, Sandy trusted me.  There's no test that can quantify that.

Returning to Elementary School, Thoughts of Junior High

This week I began in my new elementary school site.  Even though the dyad is over, I felt I was beginning to make a bond with the kids.  Perhaps from their eyes, I really wasn't.  They hadn't changed THAT much in the two months we visited them.  What changed, I think, was the way I saw them, and the potential ways to connect with them.  With our short literacy read-aloud, I found myself enjoying and trying to anticipate what would be engaging for them.  Getting to know their personalities and their quirks. Knowing that what happened to them outside the classroom would affect them, and us, inside the classroom. 

The two days I spent with my main site class, a 2nd Grade, recalled me back to something I had heard when I worked as a paraeducator.  One of the para-educator's roles is recess duty.  For a year, I got to watch my special ed students climbing, running, playing, arguing.  Sometimes I could just watch and enjoy their play. Other times I had to step in, and sometimes the kids came back in, frustrated and somewhat escalated.

I am used to chatting about what happens in my daily life.  I would tell the main teacher about some of the student antics if it was unsual. Perhaps the kids had a really great day. Maybe they did something cute or heartwarming! Or maybe the had been reprimanded, and were on a war-path.  I would tell the main teacher these highlights at least once a week.

Then one day, my fellow para-ed took me aside.  You know, she said, (Main Teacher) has her hands full all day with them when they're in her classroom.  She doesn't get to see what happened on the playground, and you know, it's better not to bother her about it.  She can't do anything about it, it would have already passed.  So let's not bring it up.

I asked, Wouldn't it be better for her to know? Since the kids sometimes show growth? Or if they're escalated, that it would give context to what she is going to handle?

I didn't get a clear answer from that conversation, but the overall meaning seemed to be that if the main teacher doesn't ask, we don't tell.

It didn't sit well with me, though most of the year passed without more that the regular amounts of drama.  Yet now, so much emphasis is placed on knowing our students outside our "normal sphere". Being in my 2nd grade classroom, I saw in these two days that seeing only the surface behavior worked only to reinforce the behaviors some students use to cope. It only served to continue my helplessness and frustration if I didn't TRY to understand.

I'm lucky that because I know the background and situations of some students, that I could scaffold my response to them.  When a student was stalling, I could recognize the power play at work, and I could give her a short but firm decision for her.  Each student has so much history it could fill a book.  We owe it to them as teachers, to read past Chapter 1.

Curses, Technology! And, A Letter to the Sullen Kid

The days in our dyad for 8th grade is beginning to wind down.  We've spent the last week on the computers, writing essays.  Well, the kids are supposed to be writing essays.

Much, MUCH to my dismay, I discovered that the students have all logged onto Gmail and Google Docs.  At first I was enthusiastic--students are often leading the way into technology!  Gmail and Google Docs are two of my favorite programs to use over the Internet.

My joy withered in the space it took for a few separate students, with quick glances at my approach, to minimize their windows on their email accounts.  Or more importantly, when the little chat boxes start blinking.  Or worse yet, when they say, "Oh, it's for the essay."

...

Your self-photograph is NOT for the essay.

Nor is the link you are sending to your friends to start chatting with you when my back is turned.

I find that old feelings of frustration well up within me.  Part of those feelings come from not being able to say authoritatively, "Five minutes from now, you will have all the files you need to download from Gmail or other email services.  Because I will see NO MORE EMAILS until the end of the period.  Opening unrelated email in class is a big red flag saying, 'I don't care what I'm supposed to be doing.' And if you don't care, then I  don't have to care. When you can't use something responsibly, you lose it."

The way I am thinking of treating unrelated email is the same as unrelated, passing notes.  If it's in my class, I get to see it.  (Someone know any privacy laws about this???)

I warned quite a few students in the class today about this.  If too many students are using this instead of a paper that is due in two days, and this is the only time to write it, then no, all the windows go.  It's automatic trouble.


Thankfully, the librarian and my dyad partner were aware of the situation too, and were able to keep an eye on them.  It's so strange, going from personable and joking one moment, to a warning and then a sharp shake of the head when the funny stops being funny.  I feel like I'm acting too harshly at times.


There was also one boy in class who is having problems with the school administration in general.  From what I heard, it saddens me and it frustrates me that he doesn't recognize or even want to talk about what's bothering him.


There's no forcing students to say anything, but there are things I thought about (while I was taking a shower, haha!) that I want this student to know:


"I know that right now, most of what we do in class looks pointless to you.  What's the point of writing essays on things you don't care about


What I do know, right now, is that all of this--papers, reading, brainstorming--is practice.  Practice for YOU, to become YOUR best advocate for what you want to do in life. 

What you're doing right now--the silence, the sneaking around, the deceiving--that's not advocating for yourself.  That's a tantrum.  Tantrums are for people who don't know what they can do with themselves when things aren't going their way.


If you don't tell us how we help you, then we're all stuck.


You're saying to us with your actions "So what?" So what if  you don't use any of the skills we are trying all together?  Another year will pass and you'll have new teachers.  You can say "So what?" to every single one of them if you really want.


And then you're gonna be out of school.  And you'll want something someday.  You know what question the world's gonna ask you? "So what?"  So what if you're eighteen.  So what if you're big, or strong, or fast, or a quick talker?  There's always someone coming who will be faster, stronger, taller, quicker, chattier, who does something better.  The one thing they can't outdo you in is being the truer you.  If you can't put those things together in a way that represents the BEST you, then the world's gonna pass you by.  It doesn't wait.


You've got to be your own best friend, your own hero, if you want to see the kind of life you wish you could live."

...I could say more.  In reality? The kid would probably have tuned out.  Nothing is more eye-rolling than a heartfelt speech.  I stand by it though.  If I don't mean what I say, then I'm not going to be a good teacher.  As some slogans have said, "Hope is a muscle."  School is supposed to be hope in action.  When it's not, that means we've missed something, our students have missed something, and we have to take the lead in rectifying it the best we can.

I'll stop being long-winded for now.  It's time for rest!

Working the Gap - Require Authenticity, Demand Humility

"I encounter citizens not consumers, unruly sparks of meaning-making energy and not a mess of deficits..." --William Ayers, To Teach: The Journey of a Teacher

There is no way to truly understand teaching without stepping forward to meet those students (we assume) we will take the helm for in pushing their growth toward becoming a full, well-rounded, thoughtful human being. 

Even that language is quite lofty for the real nitty-gritty of teaching today.

There are times when I have sat down in my junior high school dyad and wonder if I had just run into not a generation gap, but a generational windshield that buffets my efforts from blooming the way I would like to see it happen.  The students are quite blase and open with talking, public displays of affection, and language that would have landed me in detention during my own junior high school years.  Too many mornings have been passed in mutual blankness between myself and the students--they weren't "mine" to discipline, which bothered me when I had to intervene in a horseplay turned argument.  Nothing galled me more than pointing to the two students for discipline, when I didn't know their names, their thoughts, or their personalities.

Then today, for a moment, these generational fogginess changed.

Our placement teacher was introducing the topic of freedom in the United States and abroad to the students.  Eventually, between students' imput of their ideals of freedom and the history of freedoms in the U.S., the discussion turned to veterans in past and present wars.

"Who in here has had family in the armed forces?" In every class, there were at least a quarter of students who would raise their hands.  One by one the students' sleepiness started to vanish.  They were hesitant in sharing their family histories--yet you could feel the new focus as they listened to each other.  I even overheard one tough-looking boy mutter to his friend, "mine's not even that cool", then spoke to the class--his great uncle had been the service mechanic to the Tuskegee Airmen.  The Tuskegee Airmen.

By the end of the day, I asked myself if I was in fact seeing the kids from the wrong side of the lens.  I felt I was magnifying their flaws and ignoring any signs of their strengths.  Granted, the dyad placement doesn't provide the same opportunities as a September Experience.  I felt that my mind was being placed on a different track, a second train of thought that I hadn't been able to find.

"Unruly meaning-making energy".  "Mess of deficits".  Trying to hold one picture of a student is like trying to take a picture of lightning.  The bare bolt that shows up in the photo is a frozen moment, while the current moves onwards.

If I can do any students a favor this quarter, it's to see past the first vivid frame.