This blog is a deviation from paper grading. I've managed to get two done in the last two hours. Guys... they're SO bad. I mean, I know these kids are still learning to write, so that's fine-- but correcting them is just this insurMOUNTable task. No really-- look at this one climactic "sentence":
"then he found his mother she had a sword through her stomach but she was still alive but barly Nicky asked her "why am i able to kill a demon" she replied and said "because you are half human half demon, and your father is a demon and he lives in the castle in the sky in the outer rulem, Nicky you need to find him to learn to use your powers for good to get the villages crystal back."
That's fine to tackle as a sentence-- but papers and papers of this? I just took a look at my third paper-- "As I was boring in my room I thought about this news that I just got from my mom. It's really annoying me I cant sleep and even think about some think else." ...And I couldn't handle another one. That's only my THIRD! I'm going to need to figure out some method of tackling these that doesn't take 45 minutes apiece.
The good news is: I'm sick. So I'll have all day tomorrow to groan over them while I drink hot tea in my sweats.
Other news from the classroom. Remember Isaac? Of the hostering the gun? Did I mention that he and his little gal pal shamelessly play footsie all through class? They sit at the front table, and I typically sit in a chair just a few feet in front of them. Now... THEY can't see underneath their desks, so maybe they assume that nobody else can, but my chair gives me PRIME spectator viewing. Today I watched the whole drama unfold: Gal Pal sneaks over her feet to Isaac's. Isaac enjoys it briefly then catches my evil eye and tries to discreetly withdraw his feet. Gal Pal sinks further beneath her desk to reach Isaac's slightly withdrawn feet. Gal Pal totally is rubbing Isaac's leg up and down! I walk over and whisper to Gal Pal, "Please sit up, Grace." Gal Pal withdraws her feet. Isaac is now lonely and creeps his feet back towards Gal Pal. More footsie-ing occurs. Finally, the big guy at the end of the table pushes his legs forward in between the two. THANK YOU JAMES.
After class, I pulled Gal Pal over first and had her sit in my chair. "Do you see what a great view I have of what goes on underneath the desks? ...If it's this distracting for me, I have to imagine it's distracting for the two of you. Let's maybe try to keep that to a minimum, yeah?" Then pulled Isaac over and told him the same thing.
"I feel like we've had this conversation before," he said. "I'm totally having deja vu right now."
"Probably because we HAVE had this conversation before," I retorted.
Oh-- and did I mention that Gal Pal has a boyfriend?? Who is NOT her footsie friend? Scandalous.
Doctors have soap opera dramas. So do lawyers and politicians. For goodness sakes, the most amazing show on television turns the mundane events of a paper distribution company into side-splitting hilarity. So where is the big drama around teachers and their students? I'm feeling like some Hollywood producer is missing out on some AMAZING comedic/dramatic potential by not harvesting the daily events of our kind...
Sep 23, 2008
Sep 19, 2008
Okay Phew.
I'm afraid this blog is turning into, "So guess what I did TODAY...?" Which is what I, blog snob, have told myself I shall do my utmost to avoid-- because who wants to read about the mundane of the every day? Luckily for you all, my life is the very definition of thrilling. In fact, I'm pretty sure it rivals Jack Bauer's.
Okay, not really, but I'm telling you about my day regardless.
Today started out pretty same ol,' with the minor exception-bonus of starting The Epic of Gilgamesh, our first focused text. The Epic of Gilgamesh is the oldest extant literary text EVER IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD (but really, in the whole history of the world), written by folks just one civilized step past the cave men. In keeping with our hero theme, Gilgamesh is a king that sets out on a journey to make a name for himself and create an everlasting legacy. In the segment we read today, he joins with a companion, Enkidu, to battle the Cedar Forest Guardian, who is this gnarly hideous scary demon ogre thing, called Humbaba. And of course in the meantime, there's lots of drama and squabbling amongst the gods about what the heroes are doing. Gilgamesh and his compadres were, to the Babylonians, what Harry Potter and his Hogwartsians are to us-- this was a MAJOR Mesopotamian hit, and was translated into a number of ancient languages. If they had been able to make Gilgamesh action figures... They probably would have.
Sorry-- this is maybe boring. I think it's cool, but I get geeky about stories.
Anyway-- I was excited to finally start our first work of literature because we'd been doing mostly set-up with the Hero stuff and grammar work. Viola taught the first three periods (we have first period prep, so she taught 2nd, 3rd, and 4th), but after her third "performance," she was exhausted. Our shortage of textbooks necessitates that we read Gilgamesh aloud in class, and in an effort to keep the kids interested, she had been reading it theatrically and providing lots of supplemental information. But after our fourth period, she was ready for a break. "Can you do it?" she asked me. "Do you think you remember the additional points I was making?"
"Yes! Definitely! And if I forget, just interrupt me," I said.
"Okay. Will do."
Goodygoodygoody.
"And make sure you do the grunting part, when Humbaba comes out of his house-- the kids like that."
"For sure!" Thinking to myself, "Oh you will not even be able to HANDLE the theatrics that will explode into this classroom!" I love telling stories. LOVE. IT. And I had been itching to give the lesson a shot.
Goodygoody.
She gave the intro. I watched Isaac and his gal pal play footsie under the table. I couldn't mime "Holster the footsie," so instead I just stood RIGHT beside them and raised my eyebrows. Finally it was my turn to launch into the taaaaale.
And guys?
It was so. Much. FUN.
I seriously had a BLAST-- and the kids were so engaged!! And this is FIFTH PERIOD! The period that wouldn't give me the time of day the first week-- the period with a lot of the tougher kids! But I got really into telling the story, and I made comparisons to pop culture that they would understand, and I did different voices, and asked them lots of questions to make sure that they were with me, and they were getting INTO IT!
"So here comes Humbaba, HUH HUH HUH, and he's this NAAAASTY ogre, with fangs, and a mane, and this crazy spooky eye that will kill people just by LOOKING at them!"
"Like Cyclops!"
"Yes! Thomas, great, just like Cyclops! And Gilgamesh-- who we JUST heard bragging about himself, and how great he is, and how it wasn't his day to die, and how he was totally going to take down this demon-- runs away! He freaks out! And he runs away behind a tree!"
(Students laugh-- they laughed!!)
"And so then ENKIDU has to go convince him to fight after all..."
...
"And so Gilgamesh strikes! With the sword! On the giant's NECK! Bam, bam, and then Enkidu, bam, bam! Like they're cutting down a cedar tree! And then Humbaba faaaaalls, and the whole forest, for two leagues away, SHAKES. And-- I don't know if that's because the earth was mourning their guardian, and like, trembling in grief--"
"Or if it's cause he's so FAT."
"Right, Peter! Or if it's because Humbaba was so huge!"
...
"So here Gilgamesh comes, dragging this mammoth bloody head of Humbaba to the gods, and what do you think he's waiting for?"
"Gifts!"
"Money!"
"A reward!"
"Fame!"
"Yes! Good you guys, he's probably wanting all those things, he wants RECOGNITION. But-- he's bringing the head to the God of the Earth... And this is the guardian of the forest that he just killed. What do you think the God of the Earth was thinking when Gilgamesh killed the Guardian of the Forest??"
"Oh no he didn't."
"Yes, Janvier, that's EXACTLY the sentiment-- no he didn't... So do you think the gods blessed him or cursed him?"
"They CURSED him."
"They definitely did: [reading from text.] BUT-- who do you think, between Gilgamesh and Enkidu they're going to punish?"
"Um.... Gilgamesh?"
"Tell me why you think so, Tomas."
"Because... he was the one that convinced Enkidu to do it all in the first place, it was his idea."
"You're right, it was-- I think it makes more sense for Gilgamesh to get the punishment too, but who can give an argument for Enkidu? Evan?"
"Well, Gilgamesh is part god, so I think they would punish Enkidu before Gilgamesh, because Enkidu is human."
"RIGHT! And that's exactly what happens-- Gilgamesh is in the country club, right? He's part of this elite crowd, and they can't kill HIM without starting a massive god war. So who takes the fall?"
(Enkidu!)
"What?? That's not fair! It wasn't his fault!"
"Agreed Thomas, but he's the scapegoat. Does anyone know how the term scape goat came into being...?"
And then I told them about the SCAPEGOAT, and they were INTO it, and I just couldn't believe how ENGAGED they were (and there were obviously some exceptions), but for the most part they were INTO it, and I was having so much fun!!!
Afterwards, I had this huge adrenaline rush, and Viola told me that I did great, and I just remembered why I'm so excited about this profession after all, even with ridiculous things like PICTURE DAY, and it just made me so happy.
So yay. :)
Okay, not really, but I'm telling you about my day regardless.
Today started out pretty same ol,' with the minor exception-bonus of starting The Epic of Gilgamesh, our first focused text. The Epic of Gilgamesh is the oldest extant literary text EVER IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD (but really, in the whole history of the world), written by folks just one civilized step past the cave men. In keeping with our hero theme, Gilgamesh is a king that sets out on a journey to make a name for himself and create an everlasting legacy. In the segment we read today, he joins with a companion, Enkidu, to battle the Cedar Forest Guardian, who is this gnarly hideous scary demon ogre thing, called Humbaba. And of course in the meantime, there's lots of drama and squabbling amongst the gods about what the heroes are doing. Gilgamesh and his compadres were, to the Babylonians, what Harry Potter and his Hogwartsians are to us-- this was a MAJOR Mesopotamian hit, and was translated into a number of ancient languages. If they had been able to make Gilgamesh action figures... They probably would have.
Sorry-- this is maybe boring. I think it's cool, but I get geeky about stories.
Anyway-- I was excited to finally start our first work of literature because we'd been doing mostly set-up with the Hero stuff and grammar work. Viola taught the first three periods (we have first period prep, so she taught 2nd, 3rd, and 4th), but after her third "performance," she was exhausted. Our shortage of textbooks necessitates that we read Gilgamesh aloud in class, and in an effort to keep the kids interested, she had been reading it theatrically and providing lots of supplemental information. But after our fourth period, she was ready for a break. "Can you do it?" she asked me. "Do you think you remember the additional points I was making?"
"Yes! Definitely! And if I forget, just interrupt me," I said.
"Okay. Will do."
Goodygoodygoody.
"And make sure you do the grunting part, when Humbaba comes out of his house-- the kids like that."
"For sure!" Thinking to myself, "Oh you will not even be able to HANDLE the theatrics that will explode into this classroom!" I love telling stories. LOVE. IT. And I had been itching to give the lesson a shot.
Goodygoody.
She gave the intro. I watched Isaac and his gal pal play footsie under the table. I couldn't mime "Holster the footsie," so instead I just stood RIGHT beside them and raised my eyebrows. Finally it was my turn to launch into the taaaaale.
And guys?
It was so. Much. FUN.
I seriously had a BLAST-- and the kids were so engaged!! And this is FIFTH PERIOD! The period that wouldn't give me the time of day the first week-- the period with a lot of the tougher kids! But I got really into telling the story, and I made comparisons to pop culture that they would understand, and I did different voices, and asked them lots of questions to make sure that they were with me, and they were getting INTO IT!
"So here comes Humbaba, HUH HUH HUH, and he's this NAAAASTY ogre, with fangs, and a mane, and this crazy spooky eye that will kill people just by LOOKING at them!"
"Like Cyclops!"
"Yes! Thomas, great, just like Cyclops! And Gilgamesh-- who we JUST heard bragging about himself, and how great he is, and how it wasn't his day to die, and how he was totally going to take down this demon-- runs away! He freaks out! And he runs away behind a tree!"
(Students laugh-- they laughed!!)
"And so then ENKIDU has to go convince him to fight after all..."
...
"And so Gilgamesh strikes! With the sword! On the giant's NECK! Bam, bam, and then Enkidu, bam, bam! Like they're cutting down a cedar tree! And then Humbaba faaaaalls, and the whole forest, for two leagues away, SHAKES. And-- I don't know if that's because the earth was mourning their guardian, and like, trembling in grief--"
"Or if it's cause he's so FAT."
"Right, Peter! Or if it's because Humbaba was so huge!"
...
"So here Gilgamesh comes, dragging this mammoth bloody head of Humbaba to the gods, and what do you think he's waiting for?"
"Gifts!"
"Money!"
"A reward!"
"Fame!"
"Yes! Good you guys, he's probably wanting all those things, he wants RECOGNITION. But-- he's bringing the head to the God of the Earth... And this is the guardian of the forest that he just killed. What do you think the God of the Earth was thinking when Gilgamesh killed the Guardian of the Forest??"
"Oh no he didn't."
"Yes, Janvier, that's EXACTLY the sentiment-- no he didn't... So do you think the gods blessed him or cursed him?"
"They CURSED him."
"They definitely did: [reading from text.] BUT-- who do you think, between Gilgamesh and Enkidu they're going to punish?"
"Um.... Gilgamesh?"
"Tell me why you think so, Tomas."
"Because... he was the one that convinced Enkidu to do it all in the first place, it was his idea."
"You're right, it was-- I think it makes more sense for Gilgamesh to get the punishment too, but who can give an argument for Enkidu? Evan?"
"Well, Gilgamesh is part god, so I think they would punish Enkidu before Gilgamesh, because Enkidu is human."
"RIGHT! And that's exactly what happens-- Gilgamesh is in the country club, right? He's part of this elite crowd, and they can't kill HIM without starting a massive god war. So who takes the fall?"
(Enkidu!)
"What?? That's not fair! It wasn't his fault!"
"Agreed Thomas, but he's the scapegoat. Does anyone know how the term scape goat came into being...?"
And then I told them about the SCAPEGOAT, and they were INTO it, and I just couldn't believe how ENGAGED they were (and there were obviously some exceptions), but for the most part they were INTO it, and I was having so much fun!!!
Afterwards, I had this huge adrenaline rush, and Viola told me that I did great, and I just remembered why I'm so excited about this profession after all, even with ridiculous things like PICTURE DAY, and it just made me so happy.
So yay. :)
Sep 17, 2008
You Know It's Been a Rough Day When....
... The first thing you do on your way home is buy a bottle of wine, and a tub of ice cream.
"Barefoot" Pinot Grigio, and a gallon of Java Chip, to be exact.
And yes. Yes, it was. It was a ROUGH DAY. Today, in fact, wins the award for "worst day so far."
It started so innocently-- like one of those summer days that begins deceptively warm and muggy, only to usher in a mammoth thunderstorm. Today, the deceptive warmth carried the seemingly benign title of "Picture Day."
Picture Day. What a nice thing. Taking pictures. Students in cute outfits. Girls with curled hair. Such a nice thing.
Except when it turns the day into HELL.
Since I'm complaining, I'll include all the little details, starting with the heat. I remembered last night that Picture Day was today. "Whaddam'I gonna wearrrr?"" I planned a cute outfit, banking on the weatherman's assurance that today would be cooler. I picked a light pink sweater, and a black pencil skirt: classy, simple, professional, stylish. But-- BUT: I woke up, and found weather reports that predicted high 70's, low 80's. My light sweater would be sweltering. I had to plan something else. I planned something else. And my last ditch effort included high-heels that were especially high. "Meh, they'll do. I'll survive," I thought. Mistake, mistake, stupid mistake.
Storm cloud #1.
Viola called me at 8:15. "Greta!! I overslept!! I'm coming!!" By the time she got to school, she was stressed and grouchy.
Storm cloud #2.
"How are we going to deal with this picture day thing...??" she thought aloud. "I HATE picture day-- there's no organized way to do it. It screws up class no matter what, and the kids milk their time out of class for all its worth." See, today is block day, which means our normal 50 minute classes are turned into 90 minute classes. This requires modifications in and of itself. Furthermore, our classes are mixed 9th and 10th graders-- and they had to go down to the auditorium to take pictures separately. Picture day required the following migrations:
1.) Entire class goes down to the auditorium to take individual pictures.
2.) Entire class trickles back to classroom, where the objective is to learn things.
3.) Ninth graders go down to take their class photo.
4.) Teachers try to help the tenth graders learn things.
5.) Ninth graders come back to class.
6.) Tenth graders go down to take their class photo.
7.) Teachers try to help the ninth graders learn things.
8.) Tenth graders come back to class.
9.) Teachers make a last ditch effort to help the class learn things before they all bolt at the bell.
Does this sound chaotic? It was: absolute chaos. There was a schedule initially, somewhere. But as things got progressively more disorganized, the schedule was thrown out and the cue to go down to the auditorium became largely based on personal initiative.
Storm cloud-- BIG, DARK storm cloud, #3.
And: Picture Day occurred with fifth period.
That'll be #4.
The going back-and-forth completely dissolved the class, and it wasn't helped by the photographers' lack of schedule and organization. The students dawdled in the halls-- we would have been helped by a couple of Australian Shepherds, corralling them back to our room. Viola was running back and forth, doing her best to crack the whip, leaving me at times alone with the class, at times, running around the school tracking students down. ALSO: our plan for class-- peer editing essays-- was largely ruined when half the students showed up without a draft to edit. SOME of the students showed up waving a thumb drive: "It's on here! It's written, it's just on here!" They know they're supposed to have it printed by the time they come to class, but we made a concession anyway by letting three girls go next door to print their papers. After five minutes, Viola asked me to go check on them.
The class was locked. The room was empty. The girls were nowhere to be found.
I reported this to Viola. "What?? I'm going to read them the riot act. Can you go find them?? I'm only asking because I know you don't want to be in the class..." Well, THAT was true. I walked all over the school-- each step a stab of pain, thanks to my stupid heels, and looked for the girls. I found one.
"Relia, get back to class."
I found a second. "Diana, guess what I've been doing for the last five minutes? Looking for you. Get back to class."
She protested, and then fell apart, crying. "I just (sob) got a referral! (sob) Because this guy (sob) was leaning back in a chair! (sob) And I tried to make him sit up in the chair (sob), and instead he fell out! (sob) And a teacher said (sob) that I was being AGGRESSIVE!"
I took a deep breath and tried to calm her. I chided myself inwardly for being such a hard-ass. Where was the empathy I had promised myself I would show the students? The third missing girl showed up, and I tried to explain to both of them why we couldn't just have them wandering.
I took the non-referral girl back to class, and Viola met us in the hallway, giving the girl, as predicted, the riot act. Two boys in a different period scooted across the hallway and darted guilty glances at me, hiding behind a doorway. When Viola and I walked back into class, I called, "Stephen! Kyle! Where are you two supposed to be right now?" They both darted back into their History class. Seriously-- this is how the whole day was, it was just NUTS.
Viola left me in the class again to go crack the whip down by the photographers, and I was alone with fifth. One of the girls began to leave. "Ellen, where are you going?"
"I'm not feeling well, I need to go to the bathroom."
"Well, get a pass, and I'll sign it." She ignored me and left. I rolled my eyes in exasperation. The front table snickered. Another group of students migrated back into the classroom.
"Okay guys, take a seat and get out your drafts." They continued chatting and milling around the class.
"Guy, take a seat and get out your drafts." Chatting. Milling.
"You should be quiet and working on your drafts." Chatting. Milling.
That's when I lost it. It flew out of me before I could stop it, completely unbidden and completely huge.
QUIET!!!!
They all froze, and looked at me, eyes wide. Thank God for that, because if they hadn't-- I would have been absolutely up the creek. This is the cardinal rule of classroom management: you NEVER, EVER, EVER lose your cool. You NEVER yell. Because once you're on the ropes, once you've played the last trump card-- if they still don't give you their attention at that point, you're doomed. You've lost the battle. Your ship has gone under, and your coffin is nailed shut.
THIS is what I wanted to talk with Viola about, at the end of the day-- this, more than the hurting feet, the heat, the chaos of picture day-- was what warranted the wine and Java Chip. "How did I become this anti-teacher??" I asked her. "I broke every rule I'd made for myself-- I ordered the students around, instead of showing them that they could expect respect from me. I yelled in class, instead of keeping my cool. Things got chaotic, and my first instinctual response was the total opposite of what I've told myself I'll do. I LOST it."
We talked about it, and she was supportive. "Understand Greta, that, as the intern, you basically have a big target on your forehead." Apparently this is normal-- her previous interns went through the same thing. "Matt experienced this!" she told me. "And he's a GUY! He's a muscley GUY! And HE would tell me, 'Dang Viola, they showed me absolutely no respect today.' That's just what's going to happen this year."
"So-- but honestly Viola-- how am I going to keep them under control when I start teaching??"
We discussed it, and she gave me some good advice... Her management style is very authoritarian, and she admitted that-- but her personality is big enough to balance swinging the hammer with joking around. "You're a much gentler personality," she said, "And I don't know if it's a good idea to try doing things exactly the way I'm doing them, because, as you discovered today, that sets you on edge." I do have a major backbone, which I'm not even sure Viola's experienced yet-- my petite stature and blonde hair typically get people assuming I can't be tough. In fact, people are always surprised when I say I'm doing high-school, they always think a girl like me would do elementary, at first. But damn it, I DO have a backbone, and I DO get feisty, and I DO know how to be an effective leader. But... I also come across soft at first. Somehow, Viola told me, I'll need to figure out a management style that works with those different parts of my personality.
Anyway... I'll figure it out eventually, I know. But on Picture Day? Well, that was doomed from the beginning. And until I get it all together?
I'm pouring another glass.
"Barefoot" Pinot Grigio, and a gallon of Java Chip, to be exact.
And yes. Yes, it was. It was a ROUGH DAY. Today, in fact, wins the award for "worst day so far."
It started so innocently-- like one of those summer days that begins deceptively warm and muggy, only to usher in a mammoth thunderstorm. Today, the deceptive warmth carried the seemingly benign title of "Picture Day."
Picture Day. What a nice thing. Taking pictures. Students in cute outfits. Girls with curled hair. Such a nice thing.
Except when it turns the day into HELL.
Since I'm complaining, I'll include all the little details, starting with the heat. I remembered last night that Picture Day was today. "Whaddam'I gonna wearrrr?"" I planned a cute outfit, banking on the weatherman's assurance that today would be cooler. I picked a light pink sweater, and a black pencil skirt: classy, simple, professional, stylish. But-- BUT: I woke up, and found weather reports that predicted high 70's, low 80's. My light sweater would be sweltering. I had to plan something else. I planned something else. And my last ditch effort included high-heels that were especially high. "Meh, they'll do. I'll survive," I thought. Mistake, mistake, stupid mistake.
Storm cloud #1.
Viola called me at 8:15. "Greta!! I overslept!! I'm coming!!" By the time she got to school, she was stressed and grouchy.
Storm cloud #2.
"How are we going to deal with this picture day thing...??" she thought aloud. "I HATE picture day-- there's no organized way to do it. It screws up class no matter what, and the kids milk their time out of class for all its worth." See, today is block day, which means our normal 50 minute classes are turned into 90 minute classes. This requires modifications in and of itself. Furthermore, our classes are mixed 9th and 10th graders-- and they had to go down to the auditorium to take pictures separately. Picture day required the following migrations:
1.) Entire class goes down to the auditorium to take individual pictures.
2.) Entire class trickles back to classroom, where the objective is to learn things.
3.) Ninth graders go down to take their class photo.
4.) Teachers try to help the tenth graders learn things.
5.) Ninth graders come back to class.
6.) Tenth graders go down to take their class photo.
7.) Teachers try to help the ninth graders learn things.
8.) Tenth graders come back to class.
9.) Teachers make a last ditch effort to help the class learn things before they all bolt at the bell.
Does this sound chaotic? It was: absolute chaos. There was a schedule initially, somewhere. But as things got progressively more disorganized, the schedule was thrown out and the cue to go down to the auditorium became largely based on personal initiative.
Storm cloud-- BIG, DARK storm cloud, #3.
And: Picture Day occurred with fifth period.
That'll be #4.
The going back-and-forth completely dissolved the class, and it wasn't helped by the photographers' lack of schedule and organization. The students dawdled in the halls-- we would have been helped by a couple of Australian Shepherds, corralling them back to our room. Viola was running back and forth, doing her best to crack the whip, leaving me at times alone with the class, at times, running around the school tracking students down. ALSO: our plan for class-- peer editing essays-- was largely ruined when half the students showed up without a draft to edit. SOME of the students showed up waving a thumb drive: "It's on here! It's written, it's just on here!" They know they're supposed to have it printed by the time they come to class, but we made a concession anyway by letting three girls go next door to print their papers. After five minutes, Viola asked me to go check on them.
The class was locked. The room was empty. The girls were nowhere to be found.
I reported this to Viola. "What?? I'm going to read them the riot act. Can you go find them?? I'm only asking because I know you don't want to be in the class..." Well, THAT was true. I walked all over the school-- each step a stab of pain, thanks to my stupid heels, and looked for the girls. I found one.
"Relia, get back to class."
I found a second. "Diana, guess what I've been doing for the last five minutes? Looking for you. Get back to class."
She protested, and then fell apart, crying. "I just (sob) got a referral! (sob) Because this guy (sob) was leaning back in a chair! (sob) And I tried to make him sit up in the chair (sob), and instead he fell out! (sob) And a teacher said (sob) that I was being AGGRESSIVE!"
I took a deep breath and tried to calm her. I chided myself inwardly for being such a hard-ass. Where was the empathy I had promised myself I would show the students? The third missing girl showed up, and I tried to explain to both of them why we couldn't just have them wandering.
I took the non-referral girl back to class, and Viola met us in the hallway, giving the girl, as predicted, the riot act. Two boys in a different period scooted across the hallway and darted guilty glances at me, hiding behind a doorway. When Viola and I walked back into class, I called, "Stephen! Kyle! Where are you two supposed to be right now?" They both darted back into their History class. Seriously-- this is how the whole day was, it was just NUTS.
Viola left me in the class again to go crack the whip down by the photographers, and I was alone with fifth. One of the girls began to leave. "Ellen, where are you going?"
"I'm not feeling well, I need to go to the bathroom."
"Well, get a pass, and I'll sign it." She ignored me and left. I rolled my eyes in exasperation. The front table snickered. Another group of students migrated back into the classroom.
"Okay guys, take a seat and get out your drafts." They continued chatting and milling around the class.
"Guy, take a seat and get out your drafts." Chatting. Milling.
"You should be quiet and working on your drafts." Chatting. Milling.
That's when I lost it. It flew out of me before I could stop it, completely unbidden and completely huge.
QUIET!!!!
They all froze, and looked at me, eyes wide. Thank God for that, because if they hadn't-- I would have been absolutely up the creek. This is the cardinal rule of classroom management: you NEVER, EVER, EVER lose your cool. You NEVER yell. Because once you're on the ropes, once you've played the last trump card-- if they still don't give you their attention at that point, you're doomed. You've lost the battle. Your ship has gone under, and your coffin is nailed shut.
THIS is what I wanted to talk with Viola about, at the end of the day-- this, more than the hurting feet, the heat, the chaos of picture day-- was what warranted the wine and Java Chip. "How did I become this anti-teacher??" I asked her. "I broke every rule I'd made for myself-- I ordered the students around, instead of showing them that they could expect respect from me. I yelled in class, instead of keeping my cool. Things got chaotic, and my first instinctual response was the total opposite of what I've told myself I'll do. I LOST it."
We talked about it, and she was supportive. "Understand Greta, that, as the intern, you basically have a big target on your forehead." Apparently this is normal-- her previous interns went through the same thing. "Matt experienced this!" she told me. "And he's a GUY! He's a muscley GUY! And HE would tell me, 'Dang Viola, they showed me absolutely no respect today.' That's just what's going to happen this year."
"So-- but honestly Viola-- how am I going to keep them under control when I start teaching??"
We discussed it, and she gave me some good advice... Her management style is very authoritarian, and she admitted that-- but her personality is big enough to balance swinging the hammer with joking around. "You're a much gentler personality," she said, "And I don't know if it's a good idea to try doing things exactly the way I'm doing them, because, as you discovered today, that sets you on edge." I do have a major backbone, which I'm not even sure Viola's experienced yet-- my petite stature and blonde hair typically get people assuming I can't be tough. In fact, people are always surprised when I say I'm doing high-school, they always think a girl like me would do elementary, at first. But damn it, I DO have a backbone, and I DO get feisty, and I DO know how to be an effective leader. But... I also come across soft at first. Somehow, Viola told me, I'll need to figure out a management style that works with those different parts of my personality.
Anyway... I'll figure it out eventually, I know. But on Picture Day? Well, that was doomed from the beginning. And until I get it all together?
I'm pouring another glass.
Sep 15, 2008
A Serious Question
Yesterday, someone suggested that I do something which I realized I have adamantly taught myself NOT to do: need people.
Need people? Put my life in the hands of someone else? Risk fusing my life to another's in a way that would leave me incomplete were they to walk away? Nuh uh. No way. No how. God is the only safe one to NEED.
The person very reasonably pointed out that God has always worked within community: that Jesus leaned on others, and shared with others-- and that His "greatest commandment" included others: "Love your God and love your neighbor." Surely, the person suggested, it's dodging one of His greatest gifts to say, "It's ONLY God and me-- and I'm fine that way." We're meant to be together-- we're meant to work with each other.
But does that involve NEEDING each other?
I've been thinking about this question all day long, and I have no idea what the answer is.
So I'll tell you where I'm coming from: for as long as I can remember, the only people I've ever needed have let me down. That's not to initiate a sob story, or to get blog-readers to feel sorry for me-- I'm simply trying to expose the steps that have led to my conclusion. The needing started with my Elementary School best friend. In 3rd grade, we were put in different classes where she made other friends, and I did not. I waited for her to come out at recess, played with her then, and didn't bother with anyone else. In 5th grade, she "dumped" me-- which was somewhat understandable, given my clinginess-- and I was alone. I had assumed that she would stick around, and I let myself NEED her. But she walked away, and I felt incomplete.
But you gather the pieces, right?
Moving forward then: my best friend in early high-school got mad at me when I got together with a new boyfriend; I did my best to make her feel like a continued priority in my life, but things frayed and we grew apart. My best friend during my Junior and Senior year was wonderful, but went to a college far away and wasn't good at staying in touch. We grew apart, and I had another hole to fill.
Finally I decided I should probably just not call anyone my best friend. That label seemed jinxed.
BUT: that didn't necessarily apply to BOYS, did it?
So I gave my heart away: once, completely. Only to be abandoned, completely. It was shattering.
After gathering the pieces, I gave it away again-- not with the same reckless abandon as before, but still with determination, and purpose, and commitment. But he broke me in a different way, with cruel, controlling words. From that life-draining relationship, I learned that the label of "love" DIDN'T always mean kindness, that it DIDN'T always mean selflessness, that it DIDN'T mean protection-- that in fact, the label of "love" could shroud the very opposite of all those things.
But I tried, and tried again. I became increasingly desperate, I offered my heart to cliff jumpers, to sky divers, to shark feeders: I offered it to men that gave me no reassurance of protection whatsoever. Finally, thank God, I woke up. I realized just how far I had drifted from ME-- and from God. It appalled me, and after a major prayer, I retreated.
I curled back into myself, and back into the Safety-- the real Safety. I listened to songs with words like, "I am convinced only YOU can sustain me," in reference to God. I took to heart worship songs that sang, "Let us not lift our souls to another." Humans are flawed, I had learned that at long last. Humans, even the best ones, let you down, they LEAVE you, they hurt you, and once you need them, you're doomed. No one, and I mean NO ONE that I had needed, family included... had kept me safe.
Like yesterday's "Peanuts" cartoon... I had turned off the trust.
Only God then. Only ever safe to need Him.
And yet... I look at those words that I've written, and I feel shocked.
Really? IS that the truth? Is it completely wrong and foolish to let yourself need others? And how have I gotten to this place? Am I that jaded? What happened to the girl that, only a couple years ago, wrote: "You will get hurt in life, and your heart will most likely get broken. But that is no reason to live in fear of brokenness, or to push away the wonderful feelings while they’re there. If brokenness comes, cry, and praise God that He is giving you an opportunity to grow closer to Him, and write a few killer break-up songs. But don’t ever try to prevent yourself from falling in love. Falling in love is great." Where is SHE?
I was once a hopeless romantic. Where is she?
I love people, I've always loved people. I collect warmth from kind interactions with strangers the way other people do in front of a wood-burning fire. Does refusing to need people shut me out from that example of God's love and care-taking?
Or... Is that wisdom?
I seriously don't know, and I'm ASKING... what is the truth? I understand the difference between choosing to trust people, and trusting IN people... I think the first, choosing to trust people, is a necessary part of living among friends and having healthy relationships. Sure, people are flawed, but it's important to choose to trust them, as best you can. But trusting IN a person-- asking a person to save your life, to fix you, to complete you-- is asking too much I think. That's a role that only God can fulfill, I think-- it's only right to trust IN God.
But what about need? Does God call us to need each other? Or does He ask to be our only sustainment? Is it "idol-worship" (to get real "Christiany" on us all) if we feel a need for things other than God?
I really don't know. I'd love your opinions. I feel like a huge part of my heart, my future, and my ability to move forward rests on this question. And I have no idea what the answer is.
Need people? Put my life in the hands of someone else? Risk fusing my life to another's in a way that would leave me incomplete were they to walk away? Nuh uh. No way. No how. God is the only safe one to NEED.
The person very reasonably pointed out that God has always worked within community: that Jesus leaned on others, and shared with others-- and that His "greatest commandment" included others: "Love your God and love your neighbor." Surely, the person suggested, it's dodging one of His greatest gifts to say, "It's ONLY God and me-- and I'm fine that way." We're meant to be together-- we're meant to work with each other.
But does that involve NEEDING each other?
I've been thinking about this question all day long, and I have no idea what the answer is.
So I'll tell you where I'm coming from: for as long as I can remember, the only people I've ever needed have let me down. That's not to initiate a sob story, or to get blog-readers to feel sorry for me-- I'm simply trying to expose the steps that have led to my conclusion. The needing started with my Elementary School best friend. In 3rd grade, we were put in different classes where she made other friends, and I did not. I waited for her to come out at recess, played with her then, and didn't bother with anyone else. In 5th grade, she "dumped" me-- which was somewhat understandable, given my clinginess-- and I was alone. I had assumed that she would stick around, and I let myself NEED her. But she walked away, and I felt incomplete.
But you gather the pieces, right?
Moving forward then: my best friend in early high-school got mad at me when I got together with a new boyfriend; I did my best to make her feel like a continued priority in my life, but things frayed and we grew apart. My best friend during my Junior and Senior year was wonderful, but went to a college far away and wasn't good at staying in touch. We grew apart, and I had another hole to fill.
Finally I decided I should probably just not call anyone my best friend. That label seemed jinxed.
BUT: that didn't necessarily apply to BOYS, did it?
So I gave my heart away: once, completely. Only to be abandoned, completely. It was shattering.
After gathering the pieces, I gave it away again-- not with the same reckless abandon as before, but still with determination, and purpose, and commitment. But he broke me in a different way, with cruel, controlling words. From that life-draining relationship, I learned that the label of "love" DIDN'T always mean kindness, that it DIDN'T always mean selflessness, that it DIDN'T mean protection-- that in fact, the label of "love" could shroud the very opposite of all those things.
But I tried, and tried again. I became increasingly desperate, I offered my heart to cliff jumpers, to sky divers, to shark feeders: I offered it to men that gave me no reassurance of protection whatsoever. Finally, thank God, I woke up. I realized just how far I had drifted from ME-- and from God. It appalled me, and after a major prayer, I retreated.
I curled back into myself, and back into the Safety-- the real Safety. I listened to songs with words like, "I am convinced only YOU can sustain me," in reference to God. I took to heart worship songs that sang, "Let us not lift our souls to another." Humans are flawed, I had learned that at long last. Humans, even the best ones, let you down, they LEAVE you, they hurt you, and once you need them, you're doomed. No one, and I mean NO ONE that I had needed, family included... had kept me safe.
Like yesterday's "Peanuts" cartoon... I had turned off the trust.
Only God then. Only ever safe to need Him.
And yet... I look at those words that I've written, and I feel shocked.
Really? IS that the truth? Is it completely wrong and foolish to let yourself need others? And how have I gotten to this place? Am I that jaded? What happened to the girl that, only a couple years ago, wrote: "You will get hurt in life, and your heart will most likely get broken. But that is no reason to live in fear of brokenness, or to push away the wonderful feelings while they’re there. If brokenness comes, cry, and praise God that He is giving you an opportunity to grow closer to Him, and write a few killer break-up songs. But don’t ever try to prevent yourself from falling in love. Falling in love is great." Where is SHE?
I was once a hopeless romantic. Where is she?
I love people, I've always loved people. I collect warmth from kind interactions with strangers the way other people do in front of a wood-burning fire. Does refusing to need people shut me out from that example of God's love and care-taking?
Or... Is that wisdom?
I seriously don't know, and I'm ASKING... what is the truth? I understand the difference between choosing to trust people, and trusting IN people... I think the first, choosing to trust people, is a necessary part of living among friends and having healthy relationships. Sure, people are flawed, but it's important to choose to trust them, as best you can. But trusting IN a person-- asking a person to save your life, to fix you, to complete you-- is asking too much I think. That's a role that only God can fulfill, I think-- it's only right to trust IN God.
But what about need? Does God call us to need each other? Or does He ask to be our only sustainment? Is it "idol-worship" (to get real "Christiany" on us all) if we feel a need for things other than God?
I really don't know. I'd love your opinions. I feel like a huge part of my heart, my future, and my ability to move forward rests on this question. And I have no idea what the answer is.
Sep 14, 2008
Week Two: Put the Gun in the Holster
Reflecting then on the second week:
I liked this week. I just really like what I'm doing. I like the students, even when they have big attitudes, and I like getting to know them, and I like talking about what we're talking about in class, and I like writing down ideas of what I want to do for my class next year. This is just FUN, and exciting. I'm sure I'll have plenty to complain about later on, but for now I'm happy to be happy.
I did more observing than teaching this week, so it was a little less eventful. There were some great moments though, so I'll focus this blog on those:
1.) Remember K? For whatever reason, on Wednesday of this week, she had a great day. We had a warm moment when she greeted me in an assembly and I squeezed her foot, which she'd rested on the seat in front of her. Later I had to ask her to take it down, but she willingly complied. In class that afternoon, she was polite and focused and at one point asked me a question, starting it with, "Gretchen, what was...?"
I responded, "It's actually Greta," and then answered her question.
"Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do that, I'm really sorry...!"
"No worries K, it happens."
I saw her again on my way out the door that afternoon and said, "K, you were so great today. I really appreciated how polite you were!" She gave me a silly grin, and finished running up the stairs.
On Friday, she seemed to be in a contentious mood again, but she seemed more ready to listen and be reasonable when I questioned her on it. It feels like there's more of a relationship there, which other teachers tell me is huge in managing harder students. And I loved that we had that good day-- if nothing else, the next time she's being really tough to work with, I can pull her aside and say, "K, I KNOW how great you can be, I've seen it. What's the deal with today?"
2.) More relationship building: a ninth-grader named "I"-- I'll call him Isaac-- often has trouble focusing and is frequently flirting with the girl across from him, or talking under his breath, or showing signs of great boredom. On Monday, I kept catching his eye, and indicating, "Isaac, stop" or "Isaac, cut it out." At one point, I looked over and he'd made his hand into the shape of gun and was pointing it at his head, like, "Shoot me, this is so boring." I caught his eye, and made my hand into the shape of gun, and put it to my head. Then I mimed putting it in the holster and raised my eyebrows at him. He looked at me for a second. Then, he took his "gun" off his head, twirled it, blew the smoke off his fingers, and finally holstered it. We both grinned.
On Friday, we'd given the class work-time to fill out a "Hero Journey worksheet" that they'd been assigned for homework, which essentially asked them to start translating their own stories into a Hero Journey. I came over and asked Isaac and his gal pal if they were working. "Yes! Yes we are!" she started out quickly.
"Great! What are you coming up with?"
"Isaac is figuring out-- he's going to do something with a frog prince!" They both laughed at her quick improvisation.
"Oh you ARE? Isaac-- it's going to be your mission to find a frog prince?? Well that's great! I didn't know you wanted a PRINCE! How sweet! I honestly didn't realize you went that way, but that's great, I'm really happy for you, I'm glad you know what you're looking for!" The other kids at the table erupted into giggles, and Isaac grinned at the ribbing, turning red.
It's fun to be getting to the point where I can joke around with them. :)
3.) Some moments that indicate room for improvement: the students seem to have uncovered an Achilles Heel for Viola and me as far as clear communication on what one of us has told the students. For example, one student will ask me to go to the bathroom and I'll approve; then Viola will see the student leaving and say, "Mary sit back down please, you can go after I finish explaining this." Another student on Friday asked Viola if she could listen to her I-pod when doing independent work; Viola told her no, and then when the student asked ME later, I said that she could, so long as I could see that she was working. Crossed-wires make us BOTH look bad... Luckily, Viola's been great about recognizing when she accidently undermines what instruction I've given, and understanding when I accidently undermine hers. Bottom line-- we just need to make sure that we're on the same page!
4.) One more thing I'll mention: Viola also teaches a Swing Dancing Class for our elective, so I've been getting to Lindy Hop my heart away during 6th period. It's GREAT to end the day doing something active, and I love getting to interact with the kids on a different level. We have many of the Dance students in our English classes, and getting to be silly with them in Dance helps our interactions in English. :) Viola especially gets goofy when she's teaching the class-- she has Buddy Holly glasses frames without any glass in them that she always puts on to commence her instruction, haha! I'm happy to report that 10 years of dance training enables me to fake it well enough to be accepted by the students as a legitimate Swing Dancing T.A., although-- I'm still under suspect by some of the students who don't have me for class. On Thursday, a little guy was peering in the window of dance class and distracting some of the students. I opened the door and asked, "Where are you supposed to be right now?"
"Karen's class."
"Well, how about you go to Karen's class?"
"What...? Are you even a teacher?"
"Yes!"
"No you're not, SHE'S the teacher!" (pointing to Viola)
"I'm her intern! Now scoot yourself, get to class!"
That was my own fault I think-- I was wearing a funkier outfit that day (siiiigh, again, with the wardrobe) and looked younger. I felt tickled by the exchange though. Haha!
But I will say: dancing with teenage boys that are supposed to see me as a teacher can be so awkward!! There's usually no eye contact, plenty of B.O. and cologne, lots of sweaty palms, and lots of awkward responses to my conversational questions. It's uncomfortable, but hilarious!
Alright, that should wrap up Week 2. :) Yay for fun interactions!
I liked this week. I just really like what I'm doing. I like the students, even when they have big attitudes, and I like getting to know them, and I like talking about what we're talking about in class, and I like writing down ideas of what I want to do for my class next year. This is just FUN, and exciting. I'm sure I'll have plenty to complain about later on, but for now I'm happy to be happy.
I did more observing than teaching this week, so it was a little less eventful. There were some great moments though, so I'll focus this blog on those:
1.) Remember K? For whatever reason, on Wednesday of this week, she had a great day. We had a warm moment when she greeted me in an assembly and I squeezed her foot, which she'd rested on the seat in front of her. Later I had to ask her to take it down, but she willingly complied. In class that afternoon, she was polite and focused and at one point asked me a question, starting it with, "Gretchen, what was...?"
I responded, "It's actually Greta," and then answered her question.
"Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do that, I'm really sorry...!"
"No worries K, it happens."
I saw her again on my way out the door that afternoon and said, "K, you were so great today. I really appreciated how polite you were!" She gave me a silly grin, and finished running up the stairs.
On Friday, she seemed to be in a contentious mood again, but she seemed more ready to listen and be reasonable when I questioned her on it. It feels like there's more of a relationship there, which other teachers tell me is huge in managing harder students. And I loved that we had that good day-- if nothing else, the next time she's being really tough to work with, I can pull her aside and say, "K, I KNOW how great you can be, I've seen it. What's the deal with today?"
2.) More relationship building: a ninth-grader named "I"-- I'll call him Isaac-- often has trouble focusing and is frequently flirting with the girl across from him, or talking under his breath, or showing signs of great boredom. On Monday, I kept catching his eye, and indicating, "Isaac, stop" or "Isaac, cut it out." At one point, I looked over and he'd made his hand into the shape of gun and was pointing it at his head, like, "Shoot me, this is so boring." I caught his eye, and made my hand into the shape of gun, and put it to my head. Then I mimed putting it in the holster and raised my eyebrows at him. He looked at me for a second. Then, he took his "gun" off his head, twirled it, blew the smoke off his fingers, and finally holstered it. We both grinned.
On Friday, we'd given the class work-time to fill out a "Hero Journey worksheet" that they'd been assigned for homework, which essentially asked them to start translating their own stories into a Hero Journey. I came over and asked Isaac and his gal pal if they were working. "Yes! Yes we are!" she started out quickly.
"Great! What are you coming up with?"
"Isaac is figuring out-- he's going to do something with a frog prince!" They both laughed at her quick improvisation.
"Oh you ARE? Isaac-- it's going to be your mission to find a frog prince?? Well that's great! I didn't know you wanted a PRINCE! How sweet! I honestly didn't realize you went that way, but that's great, I'm really happy for you, I'm glad you know what you're looking for!" The other kids at the table erupted into giggles, and Isaac grinned at the ribbing, turning red.
It's fun to be getting to the point where I can joke around with them. :)
3.) Some moments that indicate room for improvement: the students seem to have uncovered an Achilles Heel for Viola and me as far as clear communication on what one of us has told the students. For example, one student will ask me to go to the bathroom and I'll approve; then Viola will see the student leaving and say, "Mary sit back down please, you can go after I finish explaining this." Another student on Friday asked Viola if she could listen to her I-pod when doing independent work; Viola told her no, and then when the student asked ME later, I said that she could, so long as I could see that she was working. Crossed-wires make us BOTH look bad... Luckily, Viola's been great about recognizing when she accidently undermines what instruction I've given, and understanding when I accidently undermine hers. Bottom line-- we just need to make sure that we're on the same page!
4.) One more thing I'll mention: Viola also teaches a Swing Dancing Class for our elective, so I've been getting to Lindy Hop my heart away during 6th period. It's GREAT to end the day doing something active, and I love getting to interact with the kids on a different level. We have many of the Dance students in our English classes, and getting to be silly with them in Dance helps our interactions in English. :) Viola especially gets goofy when she's teaching the class-- she has Buddy Holly glasses frames without any glass in them that she always puts on to commence her instruction, haha! I'm happy to report that 10 years of dance training enables me to fake it well enough to be accepted by the students as a legitimate Swing Dancing T.A., although-- I'm still under suspect by some of the students who don't have me for class. On Thursday, a little guy was peering in the window of dance class and distracting some of the students. I opened the door and asked, "Where are you supposed to be right now?"
"Karen's class."
"Well, how about you go to Karen's class?"
"What...? Are you even a teacher?"
"Yes!"
"No you're not, SHE'S the teacher!" (pointing to Viola)
"I'm her intern! Now scoot yourself, get to class!"
That was my own fault I think-- I was wearing a funkier outfit that day (siiiigh, again, with the wardrobe) and looked younger. I felt tickled by the exchange though. Haha!
But I will say: dancing with teenage boys that are supposed to see me as a teacher can be so awkward!! There's usually no eye contact, plenty of B.O. and cologne, lots of sweaty palms, and lots of awkward responses to my conversational questions. It's uncomfortable, but hilarious!
Alright, that should wrap up Week 2. :) Yay for fun interactions!
Sep 12, 2008
God Bless Maria Von Trapp
This is a story told in cause-and-effect terms:
Yesterday, my friend Betsy from Chamonix and Paris adventures posted a picture of Heidi, her, and me as her Facebook profile picture.
Seeing the picture made me miss Betsy.
Missing Betsy made me think of all the funny things we'd done together in Europe.
Thinking of the funny things we'd done together made me remember specifically when we had listened to "High on a Hill was a Lonely Goatherd," in her tiny Paris apartment, while we inhaled Nutella on crackers.
Thinking of the Lonely Goatherd made me WANT the Lonely Goatherd for my very own.
Wanting the Goatherd prompted me to download the Sound of Music soundtrack off of I-Tunes.
Listening to the Sound of Music soundtrack MADE ME FEEL HAPPIER THAN ANYTHING ALMOST EVER.
I'm listening to it right now, for inspiration for this blog. There are doorbells and rainbows and shnitzel with noodles bounding out of my laptop screen. Packages tied up with string. Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes, there is EVERY GOOD THING in the world wafting around my bedroom with bold mountain-top flourishes and sparkling bounces.
I had forgotten how amazing this movie is. THIS MOVIE IS BETTER THAN DISNEYLAND I THINK. I can't believe the magic it works on my mood-- seriously, every time I listen to these songs, I feel like doing pirouettes and skipping and bounding up hillsides. I want to BE Maria. I want to swing my guitar case while skipping and clicking my heels down an Austrian avenue. I want to bounce Gretel on my hip and wink at Kurt after I catch him almost doing something naughty. Oh-- but I also want to be Leisel in the gazebo with Rolf, leaping around the benches and then saying, "Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!" when he finally kisses her. Oh!!!
The Sound of Music is joy incarnate. It IS. What would the world be like if, instead seeing violent video games or overly grown-up shows like Sex and the City, we were all exposed to nothing else but Maria, the Captain, and his curtain-clad children until, like, age 30? I'm convinced we'd all be better singers, number one (Do Re Mi), and we would LOVE nuns, and we would just like nothing better than climbing trees and tipping over in canoes, and everyone would get along. We would learn right from wrong, and we would be kind and happy and we would love climbing every mountain.
Call me a dork, if this makes me a dork, I WILL SO GLADLY ACCEPT THAT TITLE. I love love love these songs, and I'll be renting this movie to watch again, the next chance I get. Julie Andrews: thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Christopher Plummer: way to be. And Gretel: you are as darling as you ever were.
That's my Friday post. Oh-- and as I sit and type about the Sound of Music while listening to Maria trill, "I have confidence in ME!", this is what I'm wearing:
I'm on my way to a 90's party, and the closest thing I had was this neon purple track suit. It's just exactly what my elementary school gym teacher always wore. Don't ask me why I have a neon purple track suit. But isn't it amazing?? And! The short hair wonderfully complied with a French braid: go short hair! I have the tiniest little nubbin ponytail to finish it off.
God bless Maria, and God bless my theme-party-throwing friends. Don't you love being ridiculous??
Yesterday, my friend Betsy from Chamonix and Paris adventures posted a picture of Heidi, her, and me as her Facebook profile picture.
Seeing the picture made me miss Betsy.
Missing Betsy made me think of all the funny things we'd done together in Europe.
Thinking of the funny things we'd done together made me remember specifically when we had listened to "High on a Hill was a Lonely Goatherd," in her tiny Paris apartment, while we inhaled Nutella on crackers.
Thinking of the Lonely Goatherd made me WANT the Lonely Goatherd for my very own.
Wanting the Goatherd prompted me to download the Sound of Music soundtrack off of I-Tunes.
Listening to the Sound of Music soundtrack MADE ME FEEL HAPPIER THAN ANYTHING ALMOST EVER.
I'm listening to it right now, for inspiration for this blog. There are doorbells and rainbows and shnitzel with noodles bounding out of my laptop screen. Packages tied up with string. Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes, there is EVERY GOOD THING in the world wafting around my bedroom with bold mountain-top flourishes and sparkling bounces.
I had forgotten how amazing this movie is. THIS MOVIE IS BETTER THAN DISNEYLAND I THINK. I can't believe the magic it works on my mood-- seriously, every time I listen to these songs, I feel like doing pirouettes and skipping and bounding up hillsides. I want to BE Maria. I want to swing my guitar case while skipping and clicking my heels down an Austrian avenue. I want to bounce Gretel on my hip and wink at Kurt after I catch him almost doing something naughty. Oh-- but I also want to be Leisel in the gazebo with Rolf, leaping around the benches and then saying, "Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!" when he finally kisses her. Oh!!!
The Sound of Music is joy incarnate. It IS. What would the world be like if, instead seeing violent video games or overly grown-up shows like Sex and the City, we were all exposed to nothing else but Maria, the Captain, and his curtain-clad children until, like, age 30? I'm convinced we'd all be better singers, number one (Do Re Mi), and we would LOVE nuns, and we would just like nothing better than climbing trees and tipping over in canoes, and everyone would get along. We would learn right from wrong, and we would be kind and happy and we would love climbing every mountain.
Call me a dork, if this makes me a dork, I WILL SO GLADLY ACCEPT THAT TITLE. I love love love these songs, and I'll be renting this movie to watch again, the next chance I get. Julie Andrews: thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Christopher Plummer: way to be. And Gretel: you are as darling as you ever were.
That's my Friday post. Oh-- and as I sit and type about the Sound of Music while listening to Maria trill, "I have confidence in ME!", this is what I'm wearing:
I'm on my way to a 90's party, and the closest thing I had was this neon purple track suit. It's just exactly what my elementary school gym teacher always wore. Don't ask me why I have a neon purple track suit. But isn't it amazing?? And! The short hair wonderfully complied with a French braid: go short hair! I have the tiniest little nubbin ponytail to finish it off.
God bless Maria, and God bless my theme-party-throwing friends. Don't you love being ridiculous??
Sep 10, 2008
Heroing
First off: I hemmed the pants. I wore them today. They look fabulous.
Second: today in class, we watched a video about Joseph Campbell, discussing his research into mythology and specifically the HERO.
According to my notes (which I dutifully took alongside the students), the markers of a hero's journey are like so:
Hero starts off sort of immature and stupid.
Hero meets some wise person, usually a stranger, sometimes a wise animal, that exposes the necessity to take a JOURNEY. The journey is more often than not a representation of a psychological one. (What is my purpose? What am I looking for? etc.)
---The journey is sometimes voluntary but often INVOLUNTARY
Hero leaves comfort zone and crosses into the threshold of the "unknown."
Hero is tempted.
---If the hero is a HERO, then he resists. If he's a shmuck, he gives in and probably turns into a villain.
--- Consistently in the Hero story: there is no reward without trial.
Hero makes a great sacrifice for the greater good.
---Sometimes there are monsters. Monsters represent FEARS and you have to DEFEAT them.
Hero overcomes, restoring peace within turmoil, and ends the whole thing a whole lot smarter than he started.
I think this is so interesting. Because according to all these old myths, and more recent ones too like The Matrix, Harry Potter, Star Wars, etc.-- a hero is NOT just someone who only ever does the right thing. A hero starts out as kind of a dummy, lives some major life, learns some lessons, and comes out wiser.
Which makes me think that any reasonably reflective person could... in fact... be a hero.
Which is a nice thought.
But: it's also a rankling one, because it makes me think of some people that I would rather just dismiss as the Jar Jar Binks, the Draco Malfoy, or the guy who betrays them all in the Matrix (the one who wanted to eat the steak). But, according to allllllll these stories, a hero is simply boiled down to someone that takes a journey, and is better for it. And that is something that a lot of us go through.
And so now I'm looking at myself, looking inward like at my belly button, and thinking: "Where am I at in the hero journey?" Where did it begin? When was I stupid? When did I start taking a journey? When did I cross the threshold into the unknown? What WAS that unknown? Was it college? Was it when I went to Africa? Was it when I went to Malibu? Was it when I started grad school? Was it... all of the above? Does that mean I've been, in some way clueless, before the commencement of each one? (Yes.) Does that mean I was tempted to take the easy way out, in just about every one? (Yes.) When did I make sacrifices? When did I overcome? What are my MONSTERS that make me always, always want to turn back, and how do I DEFEAT them? When did I get to the high plain of wisdom and understanding, and how long do I get to stay there until I start the whole thing over again?
It's interesting, I think. And I honestly do think it smacks great similarity to every day life. We are ALL just like Luke Skywalker...! Except, no light sabres. Unfortunately.
And maybe this should translate to providing grace more readily to other people. Because, instead of dismissing them and feeling grumbly altogether, I can think, "Oh man, they're just beginning. They're still in the Uncle-Owen-and-Aunt-Beru-on-Tatooine-phase. They haven't even MET Obi-Wan Kenobi yet, let alone learned how to correctly wield a light sabre." Maybe, in those instances, I should just give a patient, condescending nod and say, "May the force find you soon." Haha! Okay, that would be silly. But funny to myself.
BUT: they would probably be just as justified in thinking I was still on Tatooine too. Because. I'm cycling just like everyone else.
Alright, wrapping up. Smattering of thoughts, post a long, hot day at school. But: I did think it was interesting. Where are you in the cycle?
Second: today in class, we watched a video about Joseph Campbell, discussing his research into mythology and specifically the HERO.
According to my notes (which I dutifully took alongside the students), the markers of a hero's journey are like so:
Hero starts off sort of immature and stupid.
Hero meets some wise person, usually a stranger, sometimes a wise animal, that exposes the necessity to take a JOURNEY. The journey is more often than not a representation of a psychological one. (What is my purpose? What am I looking for? etc.)
---The journey is sometimes voluntary but often INVOLUNTARY
Hero leaves comfort zone and crosses into the threshold of the "unknown."
Hero is tempted.
---If the hero is a HERO, then he resists. If he's a shmuck, he gives in and probably turns into a villain.
--- Consistently in the Hero story: there is no reward without trial.
Hero makes a great sacrifice for the greater good.
---Sometimes there are monsters. Monsters represent FEARS and you have to DEFEAT them.
Hero overcomes, restoring peace within turmoil, and ends the whole thing a whole lot smarter than he started.
I think this is so interesting. Because according to all these old myths, and more recent ones too like The Matrix, Harry Potter, Star Wars, etc.-- a hero is NOT just someone who only ever does the right thing. A hero starts out as kind of a dummy, lives some major life, learns some lessons, and comes out wiser.
Which makes me think that any reasonably reflective person could... in fact... be a hero.
Which is a nice thought.
But: it's also a rankling one, because it makes me think of some people that I would rather just dismiss as the Jar Jar Binks, the Draco Malfoy, or the guy who betrays them all in the Matrix (the one who wanted to eat the steak). But, according to allllllll these stories, a hero is simply boiled down to someone that takes a journey, and is better for it. And that is something that a lot of us go through.
And so now I'm looking at myself, looking inward like at my belly button, and thinking: "Where am I at in the hero journey?" Where did it begin? When was I stupid? When did I start taking a journey? When did I cross the threshold into the unknown? What WAS that unknown? Was it college? Was it when I went to Africa? Was it when I went to Malibu? Was it when I started grad school? Was it... all of the above? Does that mean I've been, in some way clueless, before the commencement of each one? (Yes.) Does that mean I was tempted to take the easy way out, in just about every one? (Yes.) When did I make sacrifices? When did I overcome? What are my MONSTERS that make me always, always want to turn back, and how do I DEFEAT them? When did I get to the high plain of wisdom and understanding, and how long do I get to stay there until I start the whole thing over again?
It's interesting, I think. And I honestly do think it smacks great similarity to every day life. We are ALL just like Luke Skywalker...! Except, no light sabres. Unfortunately.
And maybe this should translate to providing grace more readily to other people. Because, instead of dismissing them and feeling grumbly altogether, I can think, "Oh man, they're just beginning. They're still in the Uncle-Owen-and-Aunt-Beru-on-Tatooine-phase. They haven't even MET Obi-Wan Kenobi yet, let alone learned how to correctly wield a light sabre." Maybe, in those instances, I should just give a patient, condescending nod and say, "May the force find you soon." Haha! Okay, that would be silly. But funny to myself.
BUT: they would probably be just as justified in thinking I was still on Tatooine too. Because. I'm cycling just like everyone else.
Alright, wrapping up. Smattering of thoughts, post a long, hot day at school. But: I did think it was interesting. Where are you in the cycle?
Sep 8, 2008
Regarding Wardrobe
Forgive the return to the blatantly shallow, but I can't help it. Maybe it's from being newly exposed to the influence of hundreds of teenage girls, but lately, the first thought I have when waking up is: "Whaddam'I gonna weeaaaar?"
I enjoy clothes. I really do enjoy the process of picking out things to cover the general chassis, and it usually starts with how I want to feel on a given day. One of my friends down in Malibu told me once, "Greta, every day for you is like playing dress up!" and it's true. Some days I feel like being a flower-child bohemian hippy. Some days I feel like being edgy and vintage and hipster. Some days I want to be extra feminine. Some days I want to look grown up and classy. Some days I want to be mysterious. Some days I want to feel whimsical. Some days I want to turn heads.
When I decide on a Me, it easily narrows down to a general description:
Bohemian: Loose skirt, flip-flops, long necklace, big earrings, tank top.
Edgy: Skinny jeans, red cowboy boots, bronze velvet blazer, favorite hat.
Feminine: Anthropologie anything, pretty jewels, lipstick. Curly hair.
Etc.
The problem is, my new internship-profession has only one wardrobe description and its the one that I have always been least likely to choose out of the air for myself: professional. And, not only professional, but modest. And not just normal-modest, because I feel like I do a decent job of generally keeping it classy: we're talking modesty to the point that the high-school boys don't let their minds go a-wandering (and unfortunately, the boys have already indicated they might). Which means REALLY, REALLY modest.
Not whimsical, not edgy, and certainly not "hot": but professional.
(And: booooooring.)
And: it means slacks.
AND: it means tall heels to go with overly long slacks.
UNLESS: it means hemmed slacks.
BUT: I have not yet hemmed any of my overly long slacks.
BECAUSE: It takes a long time and involves ironing, sewing, and patience.
THUS: It involves painful feet at the end of the day because of heels because of overly long slacks because of difficulties of hemming.
All this results in me waking up, taking a dismal look at the boring grown-up blouses and slacks, considering which of my grown-up heels will be the least cruel-soled by 3:00pm, and then reluctantly putting on some subdued combination... After taking a longing look at my fun flouncy dresses, and comfortable jeans, and sassy cowboy boots.
This week is even harder because it's supposed to be hot. I don't have back-to-school-clothes for 90 degrees-- hello?? I have clothes for Pumpkin Spice Latte weather! Looking in my closet: what do I have for hot weather? I have sun dresses. (Too short. Too strapless. Too v-necked.) I have capris. (Too casual. Too young-looking.) I have tank tops. (Too much skin. Too tight.) I have flip flops. (Too unprofessional.) Do you see??? It is the most difficult thing. I always come back to the slacks. And then I sigh, because my favorite ones are still too long, even for the most mercilessly high heels, and it's my own fault because I COULD hem them, I just don't want to get around to it, and so I end up wearing the boring ones, and also heels which make me grouchy and sore-footed.
This last weekend, I was thrilled not just to sleep in, but to get to wear WHATEVER THE HECK I WANTED. I'm telling myself that I'll accumulate a fun, sassy, artsy, professional wardrobe in time, but it does take time to accumulate. Maybe it will complete itself around the same time that I master those classroom management skills.
Until then? Sigh.....
It's the wide-legged Chinos.
I enjoy clothes. I really do enjoy the process of picking out things to cover the general chassis, and it usually starts with how I want to feel on a given day. One of my friends down in Malibu told me once, "Greta, every day for you is like playing dress up!" and it's true. Some days I feel like being a flower-child bohemian hippy. Some days I feel like being edgy and vintage and hipster. Some days I want to be extra feminine. Some days I want to look grown up and classy. Some days I want to be mysterious. Some days I want to feel whimsical. Some days I want to turn heads.
When I decide on a Me, it easily narrows down to a general description:
Bohemian: Loose skirt, flip-flops, long necklace, big earrings, tank top.
Edgy: Skinny jeans, red cowboy boots, bronze velvet blazer, favorite hat.
Feminine: Anthropologie anything, pretty jewels, lipstick. Curly hair.
Etc.
The problem is, my new internship-profession has only one wardrobe description and its the one that I have always been least likely to choose out of the air for myself: professional. And, not only professional, but modest. And not just normal-modest, because I feel like I do a decent job of generally keeping it classy: we're talking modesty to the point that the high-school boys don't let their minds go a-wandering (and unfortunately, the boys have already indicated they might). Which means REALLY, REALLY modest.
Not whimsical, not edgy, and certainly not "hot": but professional.
(And: booooooring.)
And: it means slacks.
AND: it means tall heels to go with overly long slacks.
UNLESS: it means hemmed slacks.
BUT: I have not yet hemmed any of my overly long slacks.
BECAUSE: It takes a long time and involves ironing, sewing, and patience.
THUS: It involves painful feet at the end of the day because of heels because of overly long slacks because of difficulties of hemming.
All this results in me waking up, taking a dismal look at the boring grown-up blouses and slacks, considering which of my grown-up heels will be the least cruel-soled by 3:00pm, and then reluctantly putting on some subdued combination... After taking a longing look at my fun flouncy dresses, and comfortable jeans, and sassy cowboy boots.
This week is even harder because it's supposed to be hot. I don't have back-to-school-clothes for 90 degrees-- hello?? I have clothes for Pumpkin Spice Latte weather! Looking in my closet: what do I have for hot weather? I have sun dresses. (Too short. Too strapless. Too v-necked.) I have capris. (Too casual. Too young-looking.) I have tank tops. (Too much skin. Too tight.) I have flip flops. (Too unprofessional.) Do you see??? It is the most difficult thing. I always come back to the slacks. And then I sigh, because my favorite ones are still too long, even for the most mercilessly high heels, and it's my own fault because I COULD hem them, I just don't want to get around to it, and so I end up wearing the boring ones, and also heels which make me grouchy and sore-footed.
This last weekend, I was thrilled not just to sleep in, but to get to wear WHATEVER THE HECK I WANTED. I'm telling myself that I'll accumulate a fun, sassy, artsy, professional wardrobe in time, but it does take time to accumulate. Maybe it will complete itself around the same time that I master those classroom management skills.
Until then? Sigh.....
It's the wide-legged Chinos.
Sep 5, 2008
Week One
And sadly, that's the most creative title I can think of at this point. After three days of student teaching-- wow, was it really only three days??-- I am plumb tuckered out.
I'm loving it, so that's a plus-- I'm choosing to equate the feeling with the same fatigue you'd feel after doing some fabulous sporting event, or, I don't know, throwing some incredibly large pot on a pottery wheel. Don't ask me to explain my analogies. The justifications would be paltry at best right now.
Really though-- after the first day, I felt so pumped and excited, I had to go power-walk around Greenlake just to release the excess energy. It was a fairly mundane first day-- name games, a lecture on class expectations, some get-to-know-you busy work... And the kids came in with big attitudes and chips on their shoulders, but still, I LOVED it all. All day long, I was thinking of ideas of what I could do on my first day NEXT year, and I looked at the kids and thought, "You're such punks, and you're figuring out who you are, and you're trying to be big and tough when you're really just young and confused, and I love you!"
Yesterday, I got to teach a mini-lesson on public speaking, using theater techniques I'd learned on projection and articulation. The kids were engaged, and enjoying themselves, and genuinely seemed to be getting into it. 4th period even started clapping for me when I turned the lesson back over to Viola! That made me feel great, and feel good about my progress with the students-- I felt like I was really starting to establish a rapport with them, and that they were already seeing me as a co-teacher, someone to respect and look up to. FABULOUS.
I told that to my University Coordinator when he came to meet with Viola and me today (read: the man who grades me), and he said with a knowing grin, "Well. You're still in the honeymoon period. The kids are generally on their best behavior the first few weeks-- and then they start testing you. They WILL test you."
Sure enough, 5th period today took me through the ringer.
It had been an eventful morning already-- we hadn't done the "Mini-lit" activity this week yet, and Viola decided that it would be a good Friday activity. She asked me if I wanted to teach it, and I eagerly agreed. Teaching almost a whole lesson already? Sure, yes, awesome! Why not? I was ready to bust my chops-- and if I failed, she was there to catch me, right?
I went in guns a blazin'-- but... 2nd period fell a little flat. They didn't seem to "get" the activity, and had trouble getting started when I had them work independently. Viola and I discussed the lesson briefly in between classes, and I changed some things up for 3rd period. Thanks to the modifications, 3rd went way better and I felt proud of myself for recognizing ways to alter a lesson based on indicated needs. "So ready to be a teacher," I thought. "Gold star intern," I thought.
I spent 4th period-- the FUN period (4th period kids rock)-- talking with my University Coordinator who will henceforth be known as MATT. I caught the end of 4th though, and was warmly greeted by some of the students. "Fabulous future teacher," I thought. "Gold star intern," I thought.
And then came 5th.
5th has the cards stacked against it already: it's the last academic class of the day, and the kids come in tired and unfocused. Today is also Friday which doubled the odds, and on top of that, it's just a more challenging group of kids. There's a fair amount in that class who have attention issues, behavior issues, or some combination of both. Early on, one of the kids acted up and Viola took him out in the hall to work by himself, and to give him a "talk." That left me alone with them.
Alone.
No problem. Right? No problem? I walked around as the kids brainstormed evocative words to use in their six-word-phrases, and checked K's paper. When "K" had introduced herself on the first day, she'd followed it up with, "I like to piss teachers off." Earlier in class, when Viola had gone over some of my six-word examples, she'd read the more abstract one: "Barefoot walking and pink cloud climbing." K had snorted and commented, "It sounds like she's high on E." Now, as I approached her and looked over what she'd come up with, I tried to be positive.
"Neon blue... and unicorns. Nice K, sounds like a... happy place. Those are very positive images." She gave me a long hard stare and said, "You were a good kid in high-school, weren't you?"
"Yup," I said. "Why do you ask?"
"You have NO idea what this is talking about."
I looked at her. "I'm choosing to believe you have good intentions K. I can guess what that might be about."
She laughed again and made a comment about me to the other students, then went over to show them her words. "K, I think you'll work better if you're sitting at your desk," I said with a note of desperation, but she ignored me and went back only when Viola came back into the classroom.
Viola noticed. "You look tired!" she said.
I told her in a whisper what had happened, and that it had stressed me out. She marched over to K. "Let me see what you wrote, K." She looked. "Alright, you're coming with me to the office."
"What'd I do?! What'd I DO?!"
... And once more, I was left alone with 5th. The class didn't fall apart, but it also didn't hold itself together very well. At one point, the whole class was talking when a group was getting ready to present, and I called out, "So we've talked about what it means to be a good presenter right? So what are we going to be right now...?" One kid called out, "Good LISTENERS," but that was the only response. Everyone else kept right on talking.
I thought to myself with a panic, "They're not listening to me. They're not respecting me. I'm the stupid intern. I'm the baby-sitter that they don't have to listen to. Crap. CRAP!"
I'm being hard on myself here: most interns don't even touch teaching the first couple weeks, and I would say that my teaching efforts went off ahead of the curve, overall. I wanted to take a big bite, and Viola let me. It was an ice cold splash of reality this afternoon, and I'm guessing that will only intensify as the year progresses.
But, I learned a new acronym today from some of the other new teachers: Q-TIP. Quit Taking It Personally.
In K's case, it turns out she has a miserable home-life-- which is the situation for a lot of these kids, unfortunately. K doesn't do drugs herself, we don't think-- but is around users constantly. She told the nurse that she wants to get a job as soon as she turns 16, just because she wants to be away from home. Her parental support is little to none, and she's doing whatever she can to gain some control of her chaotic life-- including taking it from her teachers. The nurse suggested I approach her with empathy, and understanding-- resisting her bait, and instead aiming for a heart-to-heart.
That's for K, then.
But how about M? How I should handle my intelligent, amicable goth kid with the Nazi obsession and anti-semitic sympathies? How about KV, the sweet Asian kid who suggested in one of his first essays that his mom has recently passed away? What about spazzy A, the hyperactive tiny blond boy, who's clearly intelligent, and clearly undiagnosed? And all the kids who wrote in the "What I hope to achieve" essays that they wanted to get a job to help their mom pay the bills, or that they wanted to get grades higher than D's this year, or that they wanted to help their moms after work so that she wasn't so tired-- with no mention of a dad? How do I approach them?
The kids at my school are not an easy bunch-- they're colorful, and interesting, and troubled, and often very poor. They're full of potential, but surrounded by people telling them that they CAN'T. Their poetry is incredible, yet their focus and study habits are a head-shaking sigh.
And they will be an amazing group to learn from.
A friend told me yesterday that, "There are no bad kids. There are NO bad kids. True, there are some GLF's (goofy little fu**ers), but there are no BAD kids," and I believe her. This year is going to wipe me out, and leave me reeling, but hopefully it will leave me a lot, lot wiser.
And even though I'm suspending any more self-awarded gold stars, I'm cheered by Viola's enthusiastic encouragement of me, and of the fun that I've had already, and the kids themselves-- because they really are cool and quirky, they're such great punks. I'm also cheered by prayer. It felt really good to remember prayer on the drive home, and to just lift up this girl K. Help her with her home stuff God. Help us have a really great conversation at some point. Help her be brave.
So? Anyway. That's the story so far. Based on how I've crashed into bed the last two nights, I'm not sure I'll be able to keep up daily blogging, but I'll continue to keep you posted. :)
I'm loving it, so that's a plus-- I'm choosing to equate the feeling with the same fatigue you'd feel after doing some fabulous sporting event, or, I don't know, throwing some incredibly large pot on a pottery wheel. Don't ask me to explain my analogies. The justifications would be paltry at best right now.
Really though-- after the first day, I felt so pumped and excited, I had to go power-walk around Greenlake just to release the excess energy. It was a fairly mundane first day-- name games, a lecture on class expectations, some get-to-know-you busy work... And the kids came in with big attitudes and chips on their shoulders, but still, I LOVED it all. All day long, I was thinking of ideas of what I could do on my first day NEXT year, and I looked at the kids and thought, "You're such punks, and you're figuring out who you are, and you're trying to be big and tough when you're really just young and confused, and I love you!"
Yesterday, I got to teach a mini-lesson on public speaking, using theater techniques I'd learned on projection and articulation. The kids were engaged, and enjoying themselves, and genuinely seemed to be getting into it. 4th period even started clapping for me when I turned the lesson back over to Viola! That made me feel great, and feel good about my progress with the students-- I felt like I was really starting to establish a rapport with them, and that they were already seeing me as a co-teacher, someone to respect and look up to. FABULOUS.
I told that to my University Coordinator when he came to meet with Viola and me today (read: the man who grades me), and he said with a knowing grin, "Well. You're still in the honeymoon period. The kids are generally on their best behavior the first few weeks-- and then they start testing you. They WILL test you."
Sure enough, 5th period today took me through the ringer.
It had been an eventful morning already-- we hadn't done the "Mini-lit" activity this week yet, and Viola decided that it would be a good Friday activity. She asked me if I wanted to teach it, and I eagerly agreed. Teaching almost a whole lesson already? Sure, yes, awesome! Why not? I was ready to bust my chops-- and if I failed, she was there to catch me, right?
I went in guns a blazin'-- but... 2nd period fell a little flat. They didn't seem to "get" the activity, and had trouble getting started when I had them work independently. Viola and I discussed the lesson briefly in between classes, and I changed some things up for 3rd period. Thanks to the modifications, 3rd went way better and I felt proud of myself for recognizing ways to alter a lesson based on indicated needs. "So ready to be a teacher," I thought. "Gold star intern," I thought.
I spent 4th period-- the FUN period (4th period kids rock)-- talking with my University Coordinator who will henceforth be known as MATT. I caught the end of 4th though, and was warmly greeted by some of the students. "Fabulous future teacher," I thought. "Gold star intern," I thought.
And then came 5th.
5th has the cards stacked against it already: it's the last academic class of the day, and the kids come in tired and unfocused. Today is also Friday which doubled the odds, and on top of that, it's just a more challenging group of kids. There's a fair amount in that class who have attention issues, behavior issues, or some combination of both. Early on, one of the kids acted up and Viola took him out in the hall to work by himself, and to give him a "talk." That left me alone with them.
Alone.
No problem. Right? No problem? I walked around as the kids brainstormed evocative words to use in their six-word-phrases, and checked K's paper. When "K" had introduced herself on the first day, she'd followed it up with, "I like to piss teachers off." Earlier in class, when Viola had gone over some of my six-word examples, she'd read the more abstract one: "Barefoot walking and pink cloud climbing." K had snorted and commented, "It sounds like she's high on E." Now, as I approached her and looked over what she'd come up with, I tried to be positive.
"Neon blue... and unicorns. Nice K, sounds like a... happy place. Those are very positive images." She gave me a long hard stare and said, "You were a good kid in high-school, weren't you?"
"Yup," I said. "Why do you ask?"
"You have NO idea what this is talking about."
I looked at her. "I'm choosing to believe you have good intentions K. I can guess what that might be about."
She laughed again and made a comment about me to the other students, then went over to show them her words. "K, I think you'll work better if you're sitting at your desk," I said with a note of desperation, but she ignored me and went back only when Viola came back into the classroom.
Viola noticed. "You look tired!" she said.
I told her in a whisper what had happened, and that it had stressed me out. She marched over to K. "Let me see what you wrote, K." She looked. "Alright, you're coming with me to the office."
"What'd I do?! What'd I DO?!"
... And once more, I was left alone with 5th. The class didn't fall apart, but it also didn't hold itself together very well. At one point, the whole class was talking when a group was getting ready to present, and I called out, "So we've talked about what it means to be a good presenter right? So what are we going to be right now...?" One kid called out, "Good LISTENERS," but that was the only response. Everyone else kept right on talking.
I thought to myself with a panic, "They're not listening to me. They're not respecting me. I'm the stupid intern. I'm the baby-sitter that they don't have to listen to. Crap. CRAP!"
I'm being hard on myself here: most interns don't even touch teaching the first couple weeks, and I would say that my teaching efforts went off ahead of the curve, overall. I wanted to take a big bite, and Viola let me. It was an ice cold splash of reality this afternoon, and I'm guessing that will only intensify as the year progresses.
But, I learned a new acronym today from some of the other new teachers: Q-TIP. Quit Taking It Personally.
In K's case, it turns out she has a miserable home-life-- which is the situation for a lot of these kids, unfortunately. K doesn't do drugs herself, we don't think-- but is around users constantly. She told the nurse that she wants to get a job as soon as she turns 16, just because she wants to be away from home. Her parental support is little to none, and she's doing whatever she can to gain some control of her chaotic life-- including taking it from her teachers. The nurse suggested I approach her with empathy, and understanding-- resisting her bait, and instead aiming for a heart-to-heart.
That's for K, then.
But how about M? How I should handle my intelligent, amicable goth kid with the Nazi obsession and anti-semitic sympathies? How about KV, the sweet Asian kid who suggested in one of his first essays that his mom has recently passed away? What about spazzy A, the hyperactive tiny blond boy, who's clearly intelligent, and clearly undiagnosed? And all the kids who wrote in the "What I hope to achieve" essays that they wanted to get a job to help their mom pay the bills, or that they wanted to get grades higher than D's this year, or that they wanted to help their moms after work so that she wasn't so tired-- with no mention of a dad? How do I approach them?
The kids at my school are not an easy bunch-- they're colorful, and interesting, and troubled, and often very poor. They're full of potential, but surrounded by people telling them that they CAN'T. Their poetry is incredible, yet their focus and study habits are a head-shaking sigh.
And they will be an amazing group to learn from.
A friend told me yesterday that, "There are no bad kids. There are NO bad kids. True, there are some GLF's (goofy little fu**ers), but there are no BAD kids," and I believe her. This year is going to wipe me out, and leave me reeling, but hopefully it will leave me a lot, lot wiser.
And even though I'm suspending any more self-awarded gold stars, I'm cheered by Viola's enthusiastic encouragement of me, and of the fun that I've had already, and the kids themselves-- because they really are cool and quirky, they're such great punks. I'm also cheered by prayer. It felt really good to remember prayer on the drive home, and to just lift up this girl K. Help her with her home stuff God. Help us have a really great conversation at some point. Help her be brave.
So? Anyway. That's the story so far. Based on how I've crashed into bed the last two nights, I'm not sure I'll be able to keep up daily blogging, but I'll continue to keep you posted. :)
Sep 2, 2008
Brevity Soul Wit
Wednesday is the first day of school with students (EEE!), and Viola asked me to come up with some fun ice breakers/opening activities/tell-us-about-yourself-and-all-your-wildest-dreams activities. I'd just read an article in Time about this new literary fad called "Mini lit," which sounded like a good Language-Arts themed opener.
The basic mini lit gist is this: you write a memoir, book review, short story, novel, essay, etc.-- but you do it in six words or less. Apparently the idea began when Ernest Hemingway was dared to create a short story with only six words. He came up with, "For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn." With the exponential growth of blogging, twittering, and increasingly short attention spans, mini lit has taken off.
So the activity tomorrow (today, if you're reading this on Wednesday) is for the students to write their usual, "What I did this summer," essays-- but in only six words.
This is me trying to do my own assignment:
Europe? Take me now. Home, agh!
Je suis francaise!... Until I wasn't.
Bohemian traveler? ...Diligent student? Yes, duh.
Grad school, tigers, and bears ohmy!
Patisseries? ALSO cheese and wine? Yessss...
Hearts are tricky and elusive, methinks.
This is the problem: hostel boys.
This is the best: Cordier brothers.
Good things bad things crazy things.
Barefoot walking and pink cloud climbing.
Anyway. It's sort of fun. How about you try. How was your summer?? Also, do you love my shameless solicitation for comments lately? I just want to know about you all. :) I tell lots about me, and it's fun to know you all a little more too. Plus, six-word summer vacation essays are fun.
I'll hopefully post a blog about the first day tomorrow evening-- including some of the six-word-phrases the students came up with, if they're funny. :) I'M A REAL LIVE STUDENT TEACHER NOW! Wish me luck!!!
The basic mini lit gist is this: you write a memoir, book review, short story, novel, essay, etc.-- but you do it in six words or less. Apparently the idea began when Ernest Hemingway was dared to create a short story with only six words. He came up with, "For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn." With the exponential growth of blogging, twittering, and increasingly short attention spans, mini lit has taken off.
So the activity tomorrow (today, if you're reading this on Wednesday) is for the students to write their usual, "What I did this summer," essays-- but in only six words.
This is me trying to do my own assignment:
Europe? Take me now. Home, agh!
Je suis francaise!... Until I wasn't.
Bohemian traveler? ...Diligent student? Yes, duh.
Grad school, tigers, and bears ohmy!
Patisseries? ALSO cheese and wine? Yessss...
Hearts are tricky and elusive, methinks.
This is the problem: hostel boys.
This is the best: Cordier brothers.
Good things bad things crazy things.
Barefoot walking and pink cloud climbing.
Anyway. It's sort of fun. How about you try. How was your summer?? Also, do you love my shameless solicitation for comments lately? I just want to know about you all. :) I tell lots about me, and it's fun to know you all a little more too. Plus, six-word summer vacation essays are fun.
I'll hopefully post a blog about the first day tomorrow evening-- including some of the six-word-phrases the students came up with, if they're funny. :) I'M A REAL LIVE STUDENT TEACHER NOW! Wish me luck!!!
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