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!