Although it's taken several weeks, I'm finally relaxed enough to enjoy my summer. After the school year ended, I was still having dreams about not having my copies done and feeling unprepared. While I've had other vacations, this is the first time I don't have to worry about my plans and my students -- the sense of urgency has also taken a vacation.
I had images of the last few days of school being filled with fun and excitement. By the time I was attempting to file assault charges on student on the last full day of school, I was just hoping to make it to the end without further incident. On the last day of school, 5 students were absent. This broke my heart a little, because I had hoped to get to say goodbye to them all. Many of the students will be back next year as we do have a 5th grade, but others will be leaving to start at one of the many charter or magnet school options available to them.
All year, I've wondered about my placement. Initially when I'd applied, I had crossed all my fingers and all my toes to get a high school placement. When I had to choose elementary school or math in Nashville, I struggled with it longer than many of my friends expected -- I'd always hated math, so why would I entertain the idea of teaching it? As much as I love adorable little children, I can't see myself teaching lower elementary. I love content and application of knowledge and given my own experiences with bodily excretions, I think I'll applaud the work of our wonderful lower elementary teachers and watch with careful interest as they make their way up to me.
One of the biggest perks of being a 4th grade teacher didn't hit me until I was at Induction for the 2011 corps members (I'm one of the TTCs which has enabled me to interact with many of the incoming CMs already). I was talking with one of the CMs lucky enough to already have a placement at a new charter school here in town where several of my students will be going next year. As I thought about my kiddos heading onto 5th grade, I realized with few exceptions I know at least one of their teachers in the coming year. Even if we're not in the same building anymore, I felt this surge of happiness in knowing that my kids will be in the hands of capable, enthusiastic teachers who will continue to hold them to high expectations. Needless, I am curious how they transition -- the 2011 CM is getting my highest AND lowest math student, so I am fascinated to see how well they do in 5th grade. I consciously did not tell the CM my kids names, because I want him to have the opportunity to get to know them without my own views of this past year.
As much as I found induction 2.0 rejuvenating, I can say with 100 percent certainty that I am glad I am not back at Institute! Thinking back to this time last year, I was miserable, exhausted, and frustrated with TFA's training. I felt pulled in a thousand different directions. Overwhelmed with information, I still felt underprepared for what I needed.
The biggest reason? Although I arrived in Nashville a little over a year ago, I didn't get to live in Nashville over the summer and enjoy some of the great opportunities that are here. Now that the cicadas are gone, it's actually quite nice to be outside whether taking a walk at Radnor Lake, indulging my inner epicurean, or catching an outdoor movie or Sounds game. Throughout the year when people asked if I would stay in Nashville beyond the TFA commitment, I hemmed and hawed.
Sorry Mom, but now I'm letting myself seriously consider it.
Showing posts with label reflection. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reflection. Show all posts
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Way Overdue Post
In a nutshell, I have fallen down on all lines of communication. I don't remember the last time that I talked on the phone with my parents, I haven't talked to my brother in over a month on my way to my reunion, and the only real conversation I've had with anyone I reconnected with over reunion was conducted while I simultaneously changed clothes, worked out, and went to the grocery store.
But perhaps its better that the last weeks have been a blur, because I think I would fall into a bad state if I dwelled on some of the details. My teaching has utterly fallen apart and any semblance of management has gone out the window. I actually had a student say "man, why does science have to come in the way of our computer time?" (note: she was supposed to be using the computer to do research for a science project). Numerous people in my life at school and at home have undergone serious tragedies -- including the co-worker who shares my name being part of this. When it feels like everyone else around me is going through difficult stuff, it just makes me feel guilty about my own problems.
Guilt. The word keeps coming up over and over again in my head. I feel guilty of failing my students -- even though my class made 1.3 years of reading growth and my class average is on benchmark in reading for the district, my students are still not passing reading tests. During orientation to TFA last summer and learning about the expectations of "Significant gains" according to TFA, I remember someone asking about the people who fell below limited gains and having the question being dismissed as unlikely. Well, take a look -- here's what it looks like.
I feel guilty about even having my job. A large number of teachers have been displaced across the district, including a wonderful teacher at my school that has had an immensely positive influence on my daily attitude and teaching style. I've inferred and also been pretty much told that being part of TFA is the only reason I didn't get let go. Then I feel guilty, because the question that's been crossing my mind for a while now is for my second year, why should I stay in TFA? Then I feel selfish because its framed in terms of what am I, and subsequently my students, getting from it? How different would my second year look if I stayed at my school but wasn't part of TFA?
Maybe I'm in a unique position, but I'm not surrounded by rah-rah TFA spirit. I feel like its held against me at my school. Several of the people I spend the most time with have already quit or spent most of the year debating it. There are days where I've cursed the mysterious TFA process that placed me here in Nashville instead of back at home where there are friends and family that I miss deeply. I think the nadir was probably when my name was said at the 2nd year's Alumni dinner -- my last name was said to distinguish from another CM who is memorable enough not to have to be referred to by her last name every time. And if that seems like I'm reading too much into it, my name wasn't even pronounced right.
My personal long-term plan has included TFA since 10th grade, ever since I decided I wanted to teach in a low-income school. I knew it would be hard -- I've had numerous friends go into teaching and spent time in some of their classrooms. I loved the idea of teaching elementary school and having a formative influence on my kids. I get to teach American History, my all time favorite subject. I didn't have to ultimately choose between teaching or working at a museum because of the unique curriculum at my school.
But if happy is what happens when your dreams come true, then why do I feel so unhappy?
But perhaps its better that the last weeks have been a blur, because I think I would fall into a bad state if I dwelled on some of the details. My teaching has utterly fallen apart and any semblance of management has gone out the window. I actually had a student say "man, why does science have to come in the way of our computer time?" (note: she was supposed to be using the computer to do research for a science project). Numerous people in my life at school and at home have undergone serious tragedies -- including the co-worker who shares my name being part of this. When it feels like everyone else around me is going through difficult stuff, it just makes me feel guilty about my own problems.
Guilt. The word keeps coming up over and over again in my head. I feel guilty of failing my students -- even though my class made 1.3 years of reading growth and my class average is on benchmark in reading for the district, my students are still not passing reading tests. During orientation to TFA last summer and learning about the expectations of "Significant gains" according to TFA, I remember someone asking about the people who fell below limited gains and having the question being dismissed as unlikely. Well, take a look -- here's what it looks like.
I feel guilty about even having my job. A large number of teachers have been displaced across the district, including a wonderful teacher at my school that has had an immensely positive influence on my daily attitude and teaching style. I've inferred and also been pretty much told that being part of TFA is the only reason I didn't get let go. Then I feel guilty, because the question that's been crossing my mind for a while now is for my second year, why should I stay in TFA? Then I feel selfish because its framed in terms of what am I, and subsequently my students, getting from it? How different would my second year look if I stayed at my school but wasn't part of TFA?
Maybe I'm in a unique position, but I'm not surrounded by rah-rah TFA spirit. I feel like its held against me at my school. Several of the people I spend the most time with have already quit or spent most of the year debating it. There are days where I've cursed the mysterious TFA process that placed me here in Nashville instead of back at home where there are friends and family that I miss deeply. I think the nadir was probably when my name was said at the 2nd year's Alumni dinner -- my last name was said to distinguish from another CM who is memorable enough not to have to be referred to by her last name every time. And if that seems like I'm reading too much into it, my name wasn't even pronounced right.
My personal long-term plan has included TFA since 10th grade, ever since I decided I wanted to teach in a low-income school. I knew it would be hard -- I've had numerous friends go into teaching and spent time in some of their classrooms. I loved the idea of teaching elementary school and having a formative influence on my kids. I get to teach American History, my all time favorite subject. I didn't have to ultimately choose between teaching or working at a museum because of the unique curriculum at my school.
But if happy is what happens when your dreams come true, then why do I feel so unhappy?
Friday, March 18, 2011
Feeling Defensive
Coming out of my teacher bubble to interact with adult people sometimes feels like yet another culture shock. Many want to hear the stories. Some, as I've documented here previously, as quite hilarious. However, a majority of them want to hear about the "bad" stuff and how difficult my school is. I always get conflicted when people push for those stories. Sure, I've got some up my sleeve but what kind of picture does it paint? How well does it portray the day-to-day rather than the extremes? To strangers and mere acquaintances, I often find myself being defensive as they share their perceptions of what teaching in a low-income school must be like.
One of the impressive points to many people about my experience is that I'm taking graduate school classes on top of working full-time. It's not so much an admiration of rigor as much as an appreciation of sheer time and will power spent to just keep going. Nashville is home to the top Education school in the country -- however, due to scheduling, it's not where TFAers take classes. For the most part, the classes are fine -- not always inspiring or revolutionary for people already in the classroom. The reading I'm working on over break is about "What Makes A Great Teacher?"
I find myself feeling riled up and on the defense as I sit in the coffeeshop.
"Classrooms in schools with few economic resources are less pleasant and may send negative messages to children"
Granted, my school recently completed a large renovation so our facilities are quite new. But I've seen many classrooms in schools that haven't been lucky to be renovated and the teachers have done a great job making it a welcoming environment. Even though later on the author concedes that with effort, teachers can create strong learning environments in these facilities, my toes curled at this absolute.
"If the room in which you teach is too crowded, if it is too hot or too cold, or if the air is stale, try to find another space."
What space is the author referring to? Several of my fellow TFAers teach in pods since the school has too many children for the building space. During one episode where my room was the temperature equivalent of Antarctica due to a temporary heating issue, I moved my class to the detention room (not equipped as a classroom). After the miserable experience, my 4th graders voted that they preferred to wear their hats, gloves, and coats until the issue was solved but stay in our room.
Perhaps my response is too much. The authors are well-intentioned and certainly more credentialed than I am. I can't help wondering -- is this book setting them up to see the low-income classroom as many teachers experience it?
One of the impressive points to many people about my experience is that I'm taking graduate school classes on top of working full-time. It's not so much an admiration of rigor as much as an appreciation of sheer time and will power spent to just keep going. Nashville is home to the top Education school in the country -- however, due to scheduling, it's not where TFAers take classes. For the most part, the classes are fine -- not always inspiring or revolutionary for people already in the classroom. The reading I'm working on over break is about "What Makes A Great Teacher?"
I find myself feeling riled up and on the defense as I sit in the coffeeshop.
"Classrooms in schools with few economic resources are less pleasant and may send negative messages to children"
Granted, my school recently completed a large renovation so our facilities are quite new. But I've seen many classrooms in schools that haven't been lucky to be renovated and the teachers have done a great job making it a welcoming environment. Even though later on the author concedes that with effort, teachers can create strong learning environments in these facilities, my toes curled at this absolute.
"If the room in which you teach is too crowded, if it is too hot or too cold, or if the air is stale, try to find another space."
What space is the author referring to? Several of my fellow TFAers teach in pods since the school has too many children for the building space. During one episode where my room was the temperature equivalent of Antarctica due to a temporary heating issue, I moved my class to the detention room (not equipped as a classroom). After the miserable experience, my 4th graders voted that they preferred to wear their hats, gloves, and coats until the issue was solved but stay in our room.
Perhaps my response is too much. The authors are well-intentioned and certainly more credentialed than I am. I can't help wondering -- is this book setting them up to see the low-income classroom as many teachers experience it?
Friday, December 3, 2010
Back in the swing of things
Coming back from Thanksgiving was a like a big whirlwind (to use a recent class vocab word) of craziness. I didn't have a chance to get copies made, I started a new scripted curriculum, I tried something new with my centers and went to a meeting about the results of the union survey of our school. And while this may have driven me crazy earlier in the year, I got to the end of the week feeling exhausted but not kicking myself for not doing more.
Over drinks tonight with a new friend, I got to thinking about how my attitude and thought process has changed since Institute. I still tend to focus on the negative, things that I want to work out to improve, and yet somewhere along the way I've managed to find a way to not let it get my down. The successes in my teaching always feel like reasons for celebration -- I was practically getting a head start on my Zumba class in my car on Tuesday because one of my kids made almost 3 levels of reading growth in a month.
It's hard to believe it's almost the end of the second quarter. I'm not looking forward to report cards (really, does any teacher enjoy this process) but it has been amazing to see the way that some of my kids have grown. Some of them are handling their anger better. My child with a devastating stutter has learned some wonderful techniques that, in the right circumstances, almost entirely eliminate the stutter. Several of my EL (English Learner) students have become more comfortable with me and with speaking up in class.
On the flip side, I've had some moments that weren't so good. I sent a few kids to the office this week -- which I hadn't done in weeks because it hit me that the kids just didn't care anymore. I've also had several kids through around the word bullying and that always gets me on edge, especially because parents respond so passionately to that word and concept. There seems to be little logic or words to say to convince a kid that if you poke another child hard enough, long enough, that they will snap back and while they should not have responded in such as a manner, you are not entirely innocent.
My tolerance for all things pencil related also hit an all time low this week. I've tried several different approaches, and nothing seems to work. No one seems to be able to hold onto their pencils. I've bought several hundred pencils this year and they all seem to be consumed at a rate faster than a hot dog at a competitive eating competition. If they can't find their pencil, someone stole it. Someone stole it? That same pencil sticking out of your pocket? If and when they do find the pencil, it is inevitably broken. The problem with buying pencils in bulk is that they are about as strong as a small bundle of matches. Somewhere along the line, no one corrected my students habit of pressing down as hard and as dark as they can when they write. Which inevitably, takes a toll on the pencils. I've had students loan others pencils, but then that becomes an issue when pencils are broken, not returned, loaned without permission to another student. I've even had students arguing over one of my clearly identifiable pencils. It's mine Ms. Astronaut. No, it's mine and I've let you use it but now you're breaking off lead and throwing that at other students. But it's mine. I've been using it.
As much as I keep hearing that that's typical of low-income students, I can't help but want to correct people and extend that to most 4th graders. Talking with other upper elementary teachers, it doesn't seem to matter what the child's socioeconomic background is -- they start to get possessive about things, especially pencils.
And while the pencils drive me crazy, the hormones are worse. I know I was an offender of this in elementary school. I was in love with the same boy for about forever. I tried so hard to hide it, being mean to him and all, but it was ridiculously obvious how much I was in love with him. No memory of why, but nonetheless, I remember that I had those feelings at that age. From the other side of the situation, with a dozen years under my belt and more experiences with rejection, I want to take each of the children aside in my class and say "Stop. Just stop. He/she will not like you if you (select from the following options: poke them, tease them, steal their things, talk to them in class, kick them, cheat off them). You would be much better spent getting to know them as a friend."
I've already attempted this approach to one girl in the class, but to no avail. It amuses me, as she is one of my most outspoken and lowest performing students and she has fallen for one of my quietest and potentially highest performing students. She can't seem to grasp that he would like her more if she worked harder at school and didn't come across as lazy and obnoxious.
But why bother with something so complicated as logic? In the end, I smile a stolen smile and realize that there are some lessons I can't teach but will have to experience for themselves.
Over drinks tonight with a new friend, I got to thinking about how my attitude and thought process has changed since Institute. I still tend to focus on the negative, things that I want to work out to improve, and yet somewhere along the way I've managed to find a way to not let it get my down. The successes in my teaching always feel like reasons for celebration -- I was practically getting a head start on my Zumba class in my car on Tuesday because one of my kids made almost 3 levels of reading growth in a month.
It's hard to believe it's almost the end of the second quarter. I'm not looking forward to report cards (really, does any teacher enjoy this process) but it has been amazing to see the way that some of my kids have grown. Some of them are handling their anger better. My child with a devastating stutter has learned some wonderful techniques that, in the right circumstances, almost entirely eliminate the stutter. Several of my EL (English Learner) students have become more comfortable with me and with speaking up in class.
On the flip side, I've had some moments that weren't so good. I sent a few kids to the office this week -- which I hadn't done in weeks because it hit me that the kids just didn't care anymore. I've also had several kids through around the word bullying and that always gets me on edge, especially because parents respond so passionately to that word and concept. There seems to be little logic or words to say to convince a kid that if you poke another child hard enough, long enough, that they will snap back and while they should not have responded in such as a manner, you are not entirely innocent.
My tolerance for all things pencil related also hit an all time low this week. I've tried several different approaches, and nothing seems to work. No one seems to be able to hold onto their pencils. I've bought several hundred pencils this year and they all seem to be consumed at a rate faster than a hot dog at a competitive eating competition. If they can't find their pencil, someone stole it. Someone stole it? That same pencil sticking out of your pocket? If and when they do find the pencil, it is inevitably broken. The problem with buying pencils in bulk is that they are about as strong as a small bundle of matches. Somewhere along the line, no one corrected my students habit of pressing down as hard and as dark as they can when they write. Which inevitably, takes a toll on the pencils. I've had students loan others pencils, but then that becomes an issue when pencils are broken, not returned, loaned without permission to another student. I've even had students arguing over one of my clearly identifiable pencils. It's mine Ms. Astronaut. No, it's mine and I've let you use it but now you're breaking off lead and throwing that at other students. But it's mine. I've been using it.
As much as I keep hearing that that's typical of low-income students, I can't help but want to correct people and extend that to most 4th graders. Talking with other upper elementary teachers, it doesn't seem to matter what the child's socioeconomic background is -- they start to get possessive about things, especially pencils.
And while the pencils drive me crazy, the hormones are worse. I know I was an offender of this in elementary school. I was in love with the same boy for about forever. I tried so hard to hide it, being mean to him and all, but it was ridiculously obvious how much I was in love with him. No memory of why, but nonetheless, I remember that I had those feelings at that age. From the other side of the situation, with a dozen years under my belt and more experiences with rejection, I want to take each of the children aside in my class and say "Stop. Just stop. He/she will not like you if you (select from the following options: poke them, tease them, steal their things, talk to them in class, kick them, cheat off them). You would be much better spent getting to know them as a friend."
I've already attempted this approach to one girl in the class, but to no avail. It amuses me, as she is one of my most outspoken and lowest performing students and she has fallen for one of my quietest and potentially highest performing students. She can't seem to grasp that he would like her more if she worked harder at school and didn't come across as lazy and obnoxious.
But why bother with something so complicated as logic? In the end, I smile a stolen smile and realize that there are some lessons I can't teach but will have to experience for themselves.
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