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.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
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!
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!
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