I've been going to lunch with my kids all week because their behavior was so bad that I felt I needed to be an extra pair of eyes and ears in the lunchroom. While I was a huge fan of Jamie Oliver's miniseries on cafeteria lunches in the US, I hadn't had much experience with public school lunches since, well, I was in the 4th grade.
While the food itself isn't always what I would select as the most appealing, what makes me sad is the small percentage of my class that chooses flavored milk. I have 25 students right now, so it makes the percentage pretty easy to calculate. On my first day in the lunchroom, 1/25 students chose regular milk or as the kids call it "white milk" -- a name which makes it seem like we are so far removed from the actual product of milk, that stuff that comes from a cow, that out children don't even recognize the original.
I told some of them sitting near me that their flavored milk had as much sugar as a liquid candy bar -- at 160 calories, that might only be a small candy bar, but it's just about the same. I know that getting kids to drink any milk at all is a big success, but when the option is available to have "white milk" I do believe that we should encourage children to drink that. The next day, 3/25 students were drinking regular milk. Small successes.
I'm not alone in this debate over school milk. The NY Times just wrote a piece about the debate. I do wonder about the study that says that without the option of flavored milk, students will drink less milk overall.
Why the sudden interest in what my kids eat? Because I'm not being very healthy myself -- I have a pretty particular diet and I have been doing incredibly poorly at following through on it. That, and being surrounded by children with some kind of stomach virus/flu, means that I'm getting sick. We had one 4th grade teacher with a substitute last week and I saw what happened when you don't prepare for a sub -- either with lesson plans or have procedures down. The children acted as though they had not heard of any of the school rules. We have testing this next week that can't be administered by a substitute, so forgive me for not calling you if promised -- I've been trying to save my voice.
Now, to figure out what to do with 24 children while we conduct reading tests all day Monday....
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Sunday, August 22, 2010
The Adventures of Ms. Astronaut
One full week of school down, and I can tell you this. Despite all technical difficulties, I am already in love with all 24 little (well, some not so little) bodies that sit in my classroom. We're still working on listening and following directions, especially "Stop Talking". I did feel a bit like one of the videos we watched over the summer about a first day of school where it was chaos.
This week, the fire alarm has gone off several times, there have been workmen drilling into the concrete on either side of my classroom, there have been workmen drilling in my classroom during one of my scheduled class times (read aloud in the hallway for the win), I'm still a few textsbooks short, I haven't called all my parents because I either don't have numbers yet or my phone/internet doesn't work, and since my SmartBoard was installed I have no working board with which to teach since the projector was not installed at the same time.
My first day of school was overwhelming, in part because of one child who arrived late, was added to my list, was new to school, and just downright confusing. I had no idea how to help this child or what to do with him. As it turns out, he was never supposed to be in my class but rather a much smaller class for children with specific needs. I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the teachers and administrators who popped in to check on me and my class those first few days until things got settled.
Even now, I can't recall all of the ridiculous things that have happened. I've already confiscated things, but none more frequently than Kool-Aid. The kids bring in packets, lick their fingers, and stick it in the powder. It makes a ridiculous mess and then they get all sticky. The other day a child had an open packet in her uniform pocket and it got wet at the water fountain. I was working with another student when I hear, "uh Ms. Astronaut? I have a problem"I turned and all I saw was this wet red splotch just above her hip and my heart dropped. OMG, how on Earth is this child so bloody???!!? After discovering the cause, I gave my students a talking to about not bringing in Kool-Aid anymore.
I'm still in survival mode, trying to lesson plan while gauging where my kids are at. After one week I can tell you, it's quite a spread. I have all the ELL kids for the grade in my class as well, which is another challenge I wasn't thinking about over the summer. In theory, we're getting more teachers at our school so my class size *might* go down, which would be incredibly nice for getting these kids some more one on one attention. Until then, I'm overplanning until my brain hurts. Hopefully at some point in the next few weeks, I can resume having some kind of life again. We got paid (woot!) yesterday, and I went out to dinner and a movie with friends to celebrate a birthday. It took a little time, but we all finally managed to talk about something other than our kids for a while. It's also nice every now and again to not be Ms. (or Mrs.) Astronaut.
This week, the fire alarm has gone off several times, there have been workmen drilling into the concrete on either side of my classroom, there have been workmen drilling in my classroom during one of my scheduled class times (read aloud in the hallway for the win), I'm still a few textsbooks short, I haven't called all my parents because I either don't have numbers yet or my phone/internet doesn't work, and since my SmartBoard was installed I have no working board with which to teach since the projector was not installed at the same time.
My first day of school was overwhelming, in part because of one child who arrived late, was added to my list, was new to school, and just downright confusing. I had no idea how to help this child or what to do with him. As it turns out, he was never supposed to be in my class but rather a much smaller class for children with specific needs. I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the teachers and administrators who popped in to check on me and my class those first few days until things got settled.
Even now, I can't recall all of the ridiculous things that have happened. I've already confiscated things, but none more frequently than Kool-Aid. The kids bring in packets, lick their fingers, and stick it in the powder. It makes a ridiculous mess and then they get all sticky. The other day a child had an open packet in her uniform pocket and it got wet at the water fountain. I was working with another student when I hear, "uh Ms. Astronaut? I have a problem"I turned and all I saw was this wet red splotch just above her hip and my heart dropped. OMG, how on Earth is this child so bloody???!!? After discovering the cause, I gave my students a talking to about not bringing in Kool-Aid anymore.
I'm still in survival mode, trying to lesson plan while gauging where my kids are at. After one week I can tell you, it's quite a spread. I have all the ELL kids for the grade in my class as well, which is another challenge I wasn't thinking about over the summer. In theory, we're getting more teachers at our school so my class size *might* go down, which would be incredibly nice for getting these kids some more one on one attention. Until then, I'm overplanning until my brain hurts. Hopefully at some point in the next few weeks, I can resume having some kind of life again. We got paid (woot!) yesterday, and I went out to dinner and a movie with friends to celebrate a birthday. It took a little time, but we all finally managed to talk about something other than our kids for a while. It's also nice every now and again to not be Ms. (or Mrs.) Astronaut.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Ignore the mess behind the curtain
It's the day before school starts. As a kid, I was always super excited for the first day of school. Now that I'm a teacher, the feeling is a bit different. Perhaps, to be fair, it won't always feel like an all-encompassing fear and panic. It may just be that being a brand new teacher who's teaching in a building that still has construction workers in it isn't conducive to relaxation and eager anticipation. My room is set up, but a whole bunch of things have been shoved in drawers and cabinets until I can figure out what the heck they are and where things should actually go. (Pictures to come this weekend when I have a spare second to upload them)
The whole situation began to feel more real once I got my class list -- 14 boys, 11 girls. I felt my heart drop to my stomach when I looked at all those names. 25 sounds like a lot because it is, even by district standards. I've been issued most things in groups of 20 because that's the ideal size and up to 24 for some other things because that's supposed to be the max. I won't know how many kids will stick with me for a while, and last year the school had a 60 percent in/out rate. If you don't know what that means, don't worry -- I'm not entirely clear I get it when I stop to think about it. Basically, last year had lots of turnover.
I inherited some papers with background on (some of )the kids. I have at least 3 kids with special needs and 2 students who are ELL. Several students are medicated, and it looks like some others should be. I also got to see the kids reading scores. I got excited when I saw one of the first ones in the pile -- at a 44, the student was scored at a mid 4th grade level. Huzzah! Then I turned a few more sheets into the pile.
I have Sweet Pete in my class.
I had learned about Sweet Pete awhile ago when I first met with some of the teachers who knew the incoming 4th graders. I asked a teacher what the range looked like in the grade. As I can tell from my own scores, a majority of the kids are not on reading level. My own class average based on what info I have from their previous teachers puts them at late 2nd grade (24)
Sweet Pete has a 2. A generous 2. By the scale Nashville uses and after the summer away from books, I wouldn't be surprised if he tested back at a 0 which is where he was for most of last year. To be a 0-4 is to essentially be a non-reader. Which means if I am lucky, Sweet Pete will know his letters and what sound they make. Maybe.
I want to make my own conclusions about him, but I have a feeling he's going to be one of my biggest challenges. He is getting special resources, so I won't be the only one working with him, but I think I'm going to push myself emotionally to unrealistic places trying to get him to succeed and will be very invested. Not that it's a bad thing to do, but I realize that people more skilled than I have already been working with him for years.
And that is the achievement gap. I saw it this summer in Atlanta and now I'm getting glimpses of it here in Nashville. It's an intimidating to take it head on, but I feel like I have the confidence of so many people. My family. My friends. My TFA coworkers. Even my school coworkers who know I've never had my own class before have confidence in me.
My dad likes to wear casual clothes, so when he has to dress up for work, he says he's wearing his positions "costume". I have my teacher costume ready to go. We'll see how long it takes for the costume to feel like the real thing.
The whole situation began to feel more real once I got my class list -- 14 boys, 11 girls. I felt my heart drop to my stomach when I looked at all those names. 25 sounds like a lot because it is, even by district standards. I've been issued most things in groups of 20 because that's the ideal size and up to 24 for some other things because that's supposed to be the max. I won't know how many kids will stick with me for a while, and last year the school had a 60 percent in/out rate. If you don't know what that means, don't worry -- I'm not entirely clear I get it when I stop to think about it. Basically, last year had lots of turnover.
I inherited some papers with background on (some of )the kids. I have at least 3 kids with special needs and 2 students who are ELL. Several students are medicated, and it looks like some others should be. I also got to see the kids reading scores. I got excited when I saw one of the first ones in the pile -- at a 44, the student was scored at a mid 4th grade level. Huzzah! Then I turned a few more sheets into the pile.
I have Sweet Pete in my class.
I had learned about Sweet Pete awhile ago when I first met with some of the teachers who knew the incoming 4th graders. I asked a teacher what the range looked like in the grade. As I can tell from my own scores, a majority of the kids are not on reading level. My own class average based on what info I have from their previous teachers puts them at late 2nd grade (24)
Sweet Pete has a 2. A generous 2. By the scale Nashville uses and after the summer away from books, I wouldn't be surprised if he tested back at a 0 which is where he was for most of last year. To be a 0-4 is to essentially be a non-reader. Which means if I am lucky, Sweet Pete will know his letters and what sound they make. Maybe.
I want to make my own conclusions about him, but I have a feeling he's going to be one of my biggest challenges. He is getting special resources, so I won't be the only one working with him, but I think I'm going to push myself emotionally to unrealistic places trying to get him to succeed and will be very invested. Not that it's a bad thing to do, but I realize that people more skilled than I have already been working with him for years.
And that is the achievement gap. I saw it this summer in Atlanta and now I'm getting glimpses of it here in Nashville. It's an intimidating to take it head on, but I feel like I have the confidence of so many people. My family. My friends. My TFA coworkers. Even my school coworkers who know I've never had my own class before have confidence in me.
My dad likes to wear casual clothes, so when he has to dress up for work, he says he's wearing his positions "costume". I have my teacher costume ready to go. We'll see how long it takes for the costume to feel like the real thing.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Why? Just Why?
A reflection today during Round Zero, TFA's lesson planning boot camp, made me think seriously about my kids from this summer. The reflection was about the tendency of children to insult another child by calling them "Little girl" or "Little boy".
I had one student in particular who used this, Jazzy. Jazzy was one of the more challenging students this summer. She most likely had an IEP and yet we had no access to it. She also was supposed to have glasses, but somewhere shuffling back and forth between her parents she lost them. Over the course of the summer, we learned different things to say and do to help Jazzy focus but one of her biggest issues was how she interacted with her peers. After one particularly rough day, her father told her "you're here to learn, you're not here to make friends". While I appreciated the sentiment, I honestly think some of her issues would have been easier had she had more friends.
Instead, when she had any kind of negative interaction with another student, she would say things like "little boy, don't touch my pencils" or "little girl, don't look at me."
Really? The boy is a head taller than you. That girl? She's a year older than you and she's following directions like a good student.
It's one of those mysteries like why they always say "I need to use it" when they mean that they need to go to the bathroom.
My mind seems to wander back to my kids from this summer as I get started planning for this coming year. Even though I'll be teaching 4th not 2nd, its so much easier to think about what I'm doing when I've got actual kids in mind. Who knows? Maybe I'll have another Jazzy in my class.
My school's not finished yet, so I haven't seen my classroom at all. I have no idea what I will have or what I won't, how much wall space I'll have or what kinds of things I'll need to have before school starts. Buuuut, in theory, we're moving in next Tuesday!
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
We are so over
Dear IKEA,
This is hard for me to write, since we haven't been together all that long. I had admired you for so long from afar, ever since you crossed the Atlantic a few years ago from those Swedish shores. My friends told me how wonderful you were, and there you were in my host families house. My host mother was almost embarrassed at how much you were a part of their lives.
But IKEA, as quickly as we started, we are so over.
I passed you every day in Atlanta on my way to school, just before the sleep deprivation would lull me to sleep for the next 20 minutes, thinking of pleasant things like my new place in Nashville instead of the children that awaited me. I finally worked up the courage to go see you (bringing a friend along for the first time to make sure I had her approval) and that was it, I had to have you. I'd flirted with the idea of other furniture, like Target, Walmart, and things on Craigslist, but I kept coming back to you.
It was rough at the beginning, and not as easygoing as I had hoped-- that you didn't want to fit in my car should have been a sign that you didn't fit in my life. But when there's a will, there's a way, and you ended up tucked in the UHaul with other TFAers furniture to Nashville.
Perhaps I shouldn't have moved so quickly to get you into my bedroom. I unwrapped everything so quickly and excitedly and then....had no idea what to do. It was so new, different, and damn confusing. That piece is supposed to go where? That can't possibly fit! What the heck is that supposed to do??
But finally, after 8 hours, punctuated with different periods of separation, it felt right. Well, almost. I'd misjudged one piece of you and unlike what they say, you can't always go back. I tried to change you, making holes where I needed them to be and ignoring the others that just didn't seem as important. Now I know I can never fill those holes.
So, IKEA, we're done. You look smooth and classic on the outside, but in the end, you're really just cheap. And for me, that's not enough. I can't spend anymore time on you, trying to make it work, all the while wanting to throw my screwdriver at your linguistically ambiguous directions. I confess as well -- I went and got some Target furniture when I couldn't deal with you anymore during one of our separations. That bookcase in the corner? We fit together in 20 minutes.
This is a little awkward now, since we're living together and all, but I promise I won't kick you out. Now that you're moved in, I guess you might as well stay.
Sincerely,
Ms. A
This is hard for me to write, since we haven't been together all that long. I had admired you for so long from afar, ever since you crossed the Atlantic a few years ago from those Swedish shores. My friends told me how wonderful you were, and there you were in my host families house. My host mother was almost embarrassed at how much you were a part of their lives.
But IKEA, as quickly as we started, we are so over.
I passed you every day in Atlanta on my way to school, just before the sleep deprivation would lull me to sleep for the next 20 minutes, thinking of pleasant things like my new place in Nashville instead of the children that awaited me. I finally worked up the courage to go see you (bringing a friend along for the first time to make sure I had her approval) and that was it, I had to have you. I'd flirted with the idea of other furniture, like Target, Walmart, and things on Craigslist, but I kept coming back to you.
It was rough at the beginning, and not as easygoing as I had hoped-- that you didn't want to fit in my car should have been a sign that you didn't fit in my life. But when there's a will, there's a way, and you ended up tucked in the UHaul with other TFAers furniture to Nashville.
Perhaps I shouldn't have moved so quickly to get you into my bedroom. I unwrapped everything so quickly and excitedly and then....had no idea what to do. It was so new, different, and damn confusing. That piece is supposed to go where? That can't possibly fit! What the heck is that supposed to do??
But finally, after 8 hours, punctuated with different periods of separation, it felt right. Well, almost. I'd misjudged one piece of you and unlike what they say, you can't always go back. I tried to change you, making holes where I needed them to be and ignoring the others that just didn't seem as important. Now I know I can never fill those holes.
So, IKEA, we're done. You look smooth and classic on the outside, but in the end, you're really just cheap. And for me, that's not enough. I can't spend anymore time on you, trying to make it work, all the while wanting to throw my screwdriver at your linguistically ambiguous directions. I confess as well -- I went and got some Target furniture when I couldn't deal with you anymore during one of our separations. That bookcase in the corner? We fit together in 20 minutes.
This is a little awkward now, since we're living together and all, but I promise I won't kick you out. Now that you're moved in, I guess you might as well stay.
Sincerely,
Ms. A
Monday, July 5, 2010
Happy (Belated) Birthday Amurica!
It's been a while since I've actually had a weekend to do exactly what I wanted to do, and I'm afraid that while the original intention was to actual make some phone and skype calls, I wanted to sleep. Or rather, needed to. I spent Friday evening enjoying some time with one of my Nashville roommates here away from school and responsibilities. However, it now appears that wherever there are small children around, I will revert to teacher mode. Being at the aquarium and looking around in wonder made me remember what I love about education, and museum education in particular. The kids were fascinated by everything around them and excited to engage with the presentations. That, is the best part of teaching, not the fighting and the lying and the constant breaking of pencils (it's not an accident. They do it on purpose. To torment me so that the sound of the electric sharpener never leaves my brain).
I spent much of Saturday sleeping, as somewhere in the jostling of my purse at the museum, I accidently activated my alarm clock on my phone. The one that is set to go off at 5:30 in the morning. I was so confused when it went off, especially since my phone was in the living room and I was deep asleep -- although I missed my roommate this weekend while she was back in Nashville, I'm so glad it did not wake her up as well at that hour! Needless, I fought any urge to get up and be productive and, let me tell you, --- it was glorious. I did finally get up to head out to a barbecue that some of the 2009 corps members threw in celebration of the 4th. I've barely had a chance to see some of the other Nashville corps since we started teaching since we're at several different schools and teaching different grades/subjects, so it was yet another reminder this weekend that I was a real person sometimes not just "Ms. A"
I spent much of Saturday sleeping, as somewhere in the jostling of my purse at the museum, I accidently activated my alarm clock on my phone. The one that is set to go off at 5:30 in the morning. I was so confused when it went off, especially since my phone was in the living room and I was deep asleep -- although I missed my roommate this weekend while she was back in Nashville, I'm so glad it did not wake her up as well at that hour! Needless, I fought any urge to get up and be productive and, let me tell you, --- it was glorious. I did finally get up to head out to a barbecue that some of the 2009 corps members threw in celebration of the 4th. I've barely had a chance to see some of the other Nashville corps since we started teaching since we're at several different schools and teaching different grades/subjects, so it was yet another reminder this weekend that I was a real person sometimes not just "Ms. A"
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Ms. A, What's wrong with your eyes?
Looking back over this week, all I can think about was how rough it was. But in all honestly, that was mostly just Friday. Friday was a complete mess of a day, from start to finish, both from a teacher point of view and probably student point of view. But let's start with the beginning of the week.
I started off the week feeling good -- I thought I had gotten ahead by doing more work over the weekend. Turns out I was right on track. At least that's not behind? I started off the week with two of the simplest objectives, related to place values.
Monday: Objective 2. Student mastery on diagnostic? 31 percent. Student mastery after my class? 80 percent.
Now, for all you non TFA people, 80 percent mastery is like the benchmark of success. In essence, after I graded my assessments, I shrieked and lept out of my chair in the workroom. Now, a few children were absent but a mix of those who would have gotten it and others that probably would just not have even attempted it.
Tuesday could have had similar results. However, whereas some students were missing on Monday, ALL 13 of them showed up on Tuesday. Including the girl who was asked not to come back unless she brought grandma (who also attended my class), the ELL student who thought was moving, and the child who came on the first day and hadn't been back since. Meaning, he'd missed 6 days of school. My Faculty Adviser had told us to take two of those students off the roster -- I was short a few copies of my classwork and had to meekly approach the office to use the copier (a big no-no in most cases since TFA provides free printing for us at Georgia Tech).
Wednesday revealed a huge miscommunication between me and a coteacher. This was also the day that someone from Nashville staff observed me, and that I was videotaped. I have yet to see the videotape. While I don't necessarily want to see what my face looked like as I realized that these children were so unprepared for the material in my lesson, I am anxious to see what my face looked like when a child, who usually does not participate, was excited to read the word problem off the board. What was "J spent $1.19 on a set of pencils" somehow came out as "J spent $1.19 on a set of panties"
My class on Thursday went fairly well (Happy Birthday to me!) and my class mastery went up another 12 points.
Friday. As much as the students are ready for the weekend, trust me, teachers are ready for it too. We had so many behavioral breakdown issues that it was hard to turn around without seeing another child doing something that they expressly were told not to do. I entered my class in the wrong mindset, having just had an emotional conversation with my CMA about how to make progress with my kids. My class this week has been at the very end of the day, and the class was losing it
--"Ms. A, Ms. A, I don't know how to DO this" (followed by a perfect score on the assessment"
--"Oh My GAWD" (when told she needed to write her multiplication answers in both forms, ie AxB is the same as BxA)
--"I have 30 tickets now." (No, we exchange tickets for prizes in the morning. You will have to wait) "I have 30 tickets now"
The kids get a prize on Fridays: If they can get enough class points, they can listen to a Michael Jackson song. For some reason, all the children are obsessed with Michael (aside from one, who loves Janet more). This week's goal was 115. By the end of class, they had 114. I told them that if they could follow our line up procedure, I would go ahead and give them that last point. Not only could they not do that, they talked during an intercom announcement (an automatic point if they are silent for it). I had to be the one to tell them that they were getting no Michael this week.
As one of the other teachers helped to get them out the door, I turned my back to my kids and tried to hold in tears. I couldn't give one concise reason for it then, and even after a day of distinctly non-teaching related activities (World of Coke and World Cup), I can't exactly place my finger on why it all happened the way it did.
For now, I'm focusing on the positives. I rated pretty well on TFA's overly complicated rubric for teaching and have a clearer idea of in what areas I need to improve. I managed to use cubes to teach my lesson on Thursday. I am using a basketball on Monday to teach. I heard from my school in Nashville, and I'll be teaching 4th grade -- my first choice!
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