- Greeted tearful ninth and tenth graders on their way into the classroom on the last day of school
- Bore witness to the results of kids tagging the walls-- both with chalk ("Thank you staff") and with spray paint ("Our school will never die!!!")
- Heard about a huge stand-off and apparent law-suit between the steel drum teacher and the principal, over who should get the steel drums; heard also that the steel drum teacher's wife had barricaded herself in the steel drum room, over the protest.
- Saw the police and media show up in response to aforementioned scuffle.
- Heard another teacher admit deviously that she had sneaked thousands of dollars worth of equipment out the back door while the aforementioned poobah ensued.
- Gave Mark his final back and watched him shout out loud, jump up and down, and hug several people, including me.
- Played songs on guitar for my kids while two girls sang along, knowing every word.
- Stopped mid-song to evacuate the building when a kid pulled the fire alarm.
- Watched a documentary crew, who has been following and documenting our school throughout the closure process, interview/film the evacuated students out on the field.
- Waved goodbye to all the buses as they slowly pulled away; realized our school's last day had finally ran out.
- Saw Joshua wearing his new fedora.
- Hugged students, said goodbye to students, and tried to hold back tears as I said MY last so-long to the students I've come to care so much about.
- Went home
- Packed
- Got dinner with my friend Kelsey; went to the airport.
- Got on a red-eye to New York.
- Listened to "Man Down Under" about 60 times on repeat at a cafe (WHY only the one song? WHY?) in JFK during a 2.5 hour layover.
- Got on another plane to Nashville
- Surprised ANNIE: happy Bluebird performance weekend!!! Did you ACTUALLY think I'd miss it??
- Hung out with best friend and her parents all day.
- Shopped at Anthropologie to pick Annie out a Bluebird outfit.
- Saw other fantastic Nashville friends
- Came back to Annie's house
- Blogged
- Went to bed
Showing posts with label student teaching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label student teaching. Show all posts
Jun 20, 2009
Jun 18, 2009
Letting Go
Written in my journal last night.
We have two days of school left. After that, our school gets shut down for good, and the kids will be farmed out to schools all over the city. I haven't been thinking about it-- haven't been letting myself dwell on the thought of never seeing these very special kids again. But on my way to school today, I started thinking about Mark and Joshua Larin-- two boys whose mother is terminally ill and has only been given until December to live. I've never heard any mention of the father; as far as I know, their mom is all they've got. Mark is one of our 10th graders, and is SO bright and perceptive, even though he never turns anything in. Anytime I DO get a bit of his writing, I'm always floored-- especially by the philosophy he brings up, he's such a DEEP thinker. And Joshua, his little brother, is an eighth grader that I got to know in swing class earlier this year. He's young but was already a great dance lead. He's grown at least four inches since then. I worry about him especially-- he has such a hungry, desperate look in his eyes and is prone to fighting people, or acting up in class-- he's just angry. He's such a sweetheart though too, and can be very clever and funny-- he reminds me of my little brother in that way, especially because of his dishwater-blond hair. I look at him, and I see him aching. I just can't imagine these boys trying to deal with their mother dying.
Earlier this year, for a swing performance, Joshua borrowed this black fedora of mine. I never wear it-- it's too big for my head-- but it's a really nice hat, and it looked great on him. He wore it even after the performance, as long as I let him. I think I want to just give it to him-- it's not good to hug the kids, even though I sometimes wish I could-- so this is my best substitute to let him know I CARE.
Anyway, thinking about Mark and Joshua on my way to school got me crying, and then I thought with such despair, "I'm not going to know how ANY of them are. I won't know how Ashley's doing with her crazy mom, I won't know if Eduardo or Miguel or George ever graduate, I wont' get to see how Natalie's poetry keeps improving or know if she decides to go to college after all... I won't be able to check up on them!"
I asked Viola (mentor) and Jane (the theatre teacher)-- if they thought it would be all right to allow the kids to be my "Myspace" friends after school ended.
"NO," Jane said adamantly. "Never. You don't what could happen there, someone could post something inappropriate on your wall and then that goes out to the world-- that could really get you into trouble, through no fault of your own. You CAN'T be the kids' friend. It's part of the gig."
I started to weakly say that the Myspace was just a music Myspace, that it wasn't personal at all-- and Viola interrupted me.
"You just have to let them go, Greta. You have to let them go."
I guess, in a way, it's a comfort to believe in a bigger God to surrender them to. But... this is terrible to write, because it's pretty blasphemous-- so many of the kids seem looked over by Him. SO many of them have TERRIBLE lives. Like Mark read from his poem that he read for the poetry slam, "WTF, God? Where ARE you?"
... But then God says, "I got them to you, didn't I? I asked YOU to show them love, and hope, and kindness all year, didn't I? I've got more people ahead for these kids."
I have to let them go. I MUST surrender them, and let them go.
Viola said, "The ones that are really determined to find you will find you. They will. And that's really the way it should be."
I just haven't gotten practiced at this part yet. I've had lots of practice with lesson plans, and classroom management, and establishing good teacher/student rapport, but this is my first End of The Year goodbye... And because the school's closing, I won't be able to come back and visit these kids. And these are SPECIAL kids to me! These are the students that taught me how to teach!
It's so hard. Hard to GIVE them up. Hard to say goodbye.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
Today, Joshua came by our classroom after school, and I gave him the fedora. He was with three girl friends, so I couldn't say anything about his mom, or about HOPING for him, but I said, "I just remember you looking so nice in this, and I thought you should have it!"
He thanked me, and put the hat right on, and then paused. "I'm really not looking forward to not being at this school next year. I don't want to think about it."
I thought of the massive instability in Joshua and Mark's life, and considered that their SCHOOL-- this small community of students and teachers who all knew them, who all knew about them-- was perhaps one of the only stable things in their lives. Yet now this was ending too.
"I know," I said. "It makes me really sad too."
I wish I could have given him a hug.
On Mark's final-- which he TURNED IN, one of the only pieces of writing I've seen from him all year, and I watched him toil over it for three hours, coming back to our class during his elective period to finish it up-- I wrote:
"Mark, this is the only 100% I've given. This is well written, well argued, and shows tremendous skill. Once again, I am reminded of how capable you are.
"Know that you will always have someone believing in you. I know this hasn't been an easy year, and I'm so sorry for that. I'll continue to pray for you and your fam. Know though that there are many people who are PROUD of you.
"Best of luck Mark; it's been a privilege. --Greta."
We have one more day of school.
It's hard to let them go.
We have two days of school left. After that, our school gets shut down for good, and the kids will be farmed out to schools all over the city. I haven't been thinking about it-- haven't been letting myself dwell on the thought of never seeing these very special kids again. But on my way to school today, I started thinking about Mark and Joshua Larin-- two boys whose mother is terminally ill and has only been given until December to live. I've never heard any mention of the father; as far as I know, their mom is all they've got. Mark is one of our 10th graders, and is SO bright and perceptive, even though he never turns anything in. Anytime I DO get a bit of his writing, I'm always floored-- especially by the philosophy he brings up, he's such a DEEP thinker. And Joshua, his little brother, is an eighth grader that I got to know in swing class earlier this year. He's young but was already a great dance lead. He's grown at least four inches since then. I worry about him especially-- he has such a hungry, desperate look in his eyes and is prone to fighting people, or acting up in class-- he's just angry. He's such a sweetheart though too, and can be very clever and funny-- he reminds me of my little brother in that way, especially because of his dishwater-blond hair. I look at him, and I see him aching. I just can't imagine these boys trying to deal with their mother dying.
Earlier this year, for a swing performance, Joshua borrowed this black fedora of mine. I never wear it-- it's too big for my head-- but it's a really nice hat, and it looked great on him. He wore it even after the performance, as long as I let him. I think I want to just give it to him-- it's not good to hug the kids, even though I sometimes wish I could-- so this is my best substitute to let him know I CARE.
Anyway, thinking about Mark and Joshua on my way to school got me crying, and then I thought with such despair, "I'm not going to know how ANY of them are. I won't know how Ashley's doing with her crazy mom, I won't know if Eduardo or Miguel or George ever graduate, I wont' get to see how Natalie's poetry keeps improving or know if she decides to go to college after all... I won't be able to check up on them!"
I asked Viola (mentor) and Jane (the theatre teacher)-- if they thought it would be all right to allow the kids to be my "Myspace" friends after school ended.
"NO," Jane said adamantly. "Never. You don't what could happen there, someone could post something inappropriate on your wall and then that goes out to the world-- that could really get you into trouble, through no fault of your own. You CAN'T be the kids' friend. It's part of the gig."
I started to weakly say that the Myspace was just a music Myspace, that it wasn't personal at all-- and Viola interrupted me.
"You just have to let them go, Greta. You have to let them go."
I guess, in a way, it's a comfort to believe in a bigger God to surrender them to. But... this is terrible to write, because it's pretty blasphemous-- so many of the kids seem looked over by Him. SO many of them have TERRIBLE lives. Like Mark read from his poem that he read for the poetry slam, "WTF, God? Where ARE you?"
... But then God says, "I got them to you, didn't I? I asked YOU to show them love, and hope, and kindness all year, didn't I? I've got more people ahead for these kids."
I have to let them go. I MUST surrender them, and let them go.
Viola said, "The ones that are really determined to find you will find you. They will. And that's really the way it should be."
I just haven't gotten practiced at this part yet. I've had lots of practice with lesson plans, and classroom management, and establishing good teacher/student rapport, but this is my first End of The Year goodbye... And because the school's closing, I won't be able to come back and visit these kids. And these are SPECIAL kids to me! These are the students that taught me how to teach!
It's so hard. Hard to GIVE them up. Hard to say goodbye.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
Today, Joshua came by our classroom after school, and I gave him the fedora. He was with three girl friends, so I couldn't say anything about his mom, or about HOPING for him, but I said, "I just remember you looking so nice in this, and I thought you should have it!"
He thanked me, and put the hat right on, and then paused. "I'm really not looking forward to not being at this school next year. I don't want to think about it."
I thought of the massive instability in Joshua and Mark's life, and considered that their SCHOOL-- this small community of students and teachers who all knew them, who all knew about them-- was perhaps one of the only stable things in their lives. Yet now this was ending too.
"I know," I said. "It makes me really sad too."
I wish I could have given him a hug.
On Mark's final-- which he TURNED IN, one of the only pieces of writing I've seen from him all year, and I watched him toil over it for three hours, coming back to our class during his elective period to finish it up-- I wrote:
"Mark, this is the only 100% I've given. This is well written, well argued, and shows tremendous skill. Once again, I am reminded of how capable you are.
"Know that you will always have someone believing in you. I know this hasn't been an easy year, and I'm so sorry for that. I'll continue to pray for you and your fam. Know though that there are many people who are PROUD of you.
"Best of luck Mark; it's been a privilege. --Greta."
We have one more day of school.
It's hard to let them go.
Jun 17, 2009
Extra Curricular Involvement
Had to write this up for a grad school assignment; thought it may amuse the "La Vie d'une Fille" readers too. Check out the "Oliver" videos at the end!!
1.) Chaperoned the Halloween Dance (Oct.)
My main recollection of this experience was how uncomfortable it was seeing middle-school girls "get down," and try to be sexy by dancing provocatively in their skimpy costumes. I kept thinking, "Ack! You're little girls!" Was spared the sight of mutual pelvic gyrations however, which was a relief-- most of the kids were actually pretty good about refraining from PDH's-- "public displays of hormones." I elected to dress up because I'd been encouraged to do so by the other teachers-- I threw on a hideous neon-purple track suit that I'd found at a thrift store the year before. Unfortunately, since none of the other teachers dressed up, and since the kids hadn't gotten to know me especially well at that point, I think most of the kids just assumed that the suit was what I put on for "casual clothes." Teaching, be not proud.
2.) Attended the boys' varsity basketball game (Feb.)
This was so exciting! Our boys were on a streak this year, and ended up going all the way to state! Our school is a funky little place, and we had just received the news that the district would be closing down our school. The boys' incredible basketball success immediately after the gavel came down almost seemed to be an act of defiance against that decision. I watched them play a small private school-- watched them go up against clean-cut Caucasian boys in new uniforms, watched the opposing school's large cheer squad perform flips and lifts and throws in their immaculate uniforms, their hairsprayed pony-tails... And then cheered myself hoarse, watching our boys make basket after basket, watch two of our girls run out in front of our crowd and shake their long hippie hair, and holler out make-shift cheers. What an incredible morale booster! It made me love my odd little school so ferociously, and gave me such a sense of pride in who these kids are and in their fighting spirit.
3.) Theatre Field Trip to Bellingham
This experience was described at length in an earlier trio of blogs.
4.) Youth Speaks Poetry Slam at the Seattle Town Hall (May)
Our poetry teacher, Karen, had invited all of our students to attend the Youth Poetry Slam at the Town Hall, which she was co-hosting-- Viola and I promised to give extra credit to anyone who attended. I ended up chaperoning five of our students, and had an unbelievable time. Not only were the young performer poets outstanding, but to see my kids' reactions was indescribably moving. One boy didn't say much, but clapped adamantly after each performer, and discussed them all at length after the performance. Another boy cried during several of the poets' performances, he was so moved; he said afterwards, "I want to go home and write in my journal all weekend!" I wrote afterwards in my journal, "The kids were absolutely enthralled. What a gift to watch them watching, and to see them SEEING!" To have my students witness firsthand the power of writing through these cool young poets who looked like them-- for my students to recognize writing's ability to communicate ideas and to reconcile one to oneself-- was a priceless testimony. This was perhaps one of my favorite nights of the year.
5.) Host/Emcee for "One Last Glimpse," a performing-arts talent show/showcase for current students and alumni (May)
I co-hosted this event with another young teacher, Derek, and we had a blast. Our "shtick" of the evening was that we felt insulted to have been asked to HOST, rather than be part of the actual featured "talent"; we therefore tried to "prove" our various talents throughout the showcase during our intermittent hosting segments. It started off with a goofy folk-song from me, then Derek continued the pretense by attempting yoga-- in a tight blue tank top and women's yoga pants no less. We came on together during the second act, doing interpretative dance to Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" and ended with an over the top rap, performed by me (in the afore-pictured track suit, with Ray Ban sunglasses, and curly blond hair under a black cap), backed up by Derek's arrhythmic beat-boxing. The occasional was a sentimental one, as it will be our school's last performance showcase; there was a slide show commemorating many of our school's moments over the years, which was accompanied by touching quotes. Many people cried. People said afterwards that the silliness of what Derek and I did provided much needed comic-relief, and helped everyone continue on with the show. It was an honor to be asked to host such an emotionally significant occasion for my school, and I felt extremely privileged to be asked, as a student teacher, to take on the responsibility. It made me realize how invested I've become in this community, and how invested they've become in me.
6.) "Oliver!"-- our school's musical! (June)
This was a massive undertaking! I worked as the assistant director and choreographer for the musical to help fulfil my theatre endorsement, which eventually culminated in rehearsals until l0:00 pm, an entire weekend devoted to being at school for the play (during grad school finals week, OUCH), and the performance of endless random tasks, such as...
- Coming up with theatre exercises and games on the spot, to occupy kids that were unoccupied
- Choreographing at a moment's notice and with no prior warning: "Greta, you can choreograph 'Be Back Soon' today, right? Like-- now? OKAY, MIDDLE-SCHOOLERS, GO WITH GRETA!"
- Blocking/directing scenes on the spot
- Re-blocking scenes after getting onto our raked stage
- Choreographing fight scenes
- Working with kids one-on-one and in groups, on character development and their acting
- Helping the kids with stage make-up
- Helping the kids with their costumes
- Helping the kids with their hair
- Improvising new pocket handkerchiefs every night after the middle-schoolers continued to lose them-- EVERY NIGHT
- Running around during the show, resolving sound issues, prop problems, costume malfunctions-- running down to the orchestra pit, in one instance, with a sign for Fagin (the lead) to "TURN YOUR MIC ON!!" before his last big number.
- Endless clean-up after the show and wrangling of middle-schooler-cleaner-uppers
To name only a few...
For the reader's enjoyment, here are the two main numbers I choreographed, though there's plenty more where these came from!
Although being involved with the musical was at times an overwhelming undertaking, especially since it came when I was doing my full-time student teaching and trying to keep myself afloat in grad school classes as well, I hugely enjoyed it. I loved being able to incorporate my love for theatre and my dance background with my teaching, and I got know my students in a different venue and in a different light. I felt immensely proud of them for pulling off such a great show!
*We were only required to have six extra-curricular events, but chaperoning prom deserves a mention as well... Was sardonically addressed in this blog!
1.) Chaperoned the Halloween Dance (Oct.)
My main recollection of this experience was how uncomfortable it was seeing middle-school girls "get down," and try to be sexy by dancing provocatively in their skimpy costumes. I kept thinking, "Ack! You're little girls!" Was spared the sight of mutual pelvic gyrations however, which was a relief-- most of the kids were actually pretty good about refraining from PDH's-- "public displays of hormones." I elected to dress up because I'd been encouraged to do so by the other teachers-- I threw on a hideous neon-purple track suit that I'd found at a thrift store the year before. Unfortunately, since none of the other teachers dressed up, and since the kids hadn't gotten to know me especially well at that point, I think most of the kids just assumed that the suit was what I put on for "casual clothes." Teaching, be not proud.
2.) Attended the boys' varsity basketball game (Feb.)
This was so exciting! Our boys were on a streak this year, and ended up going all the way to state! Our school is a funky little place, and we had just received the news that the district would be closing down our school. The boys' incredible basketball success immediately after the gavel came down almost seemed to be an act of defiance against that decision. I watched them play a small private school-- watched them go up against clean-cut Caucasian boys in new uniforms, watched the opposing school's large cheer squad perform flips and lifts and throws in their immaculate uniforms, their hairsprayed pony-tails... And then cheered myself hoarse, watching our boys make basket after basket, watch two of our girls run out in front of our crowd and shake their long hippie hair, and holler out make-shift cheers. What an incredible morale booster! It made me love my odd little school so ferociously, and gave me such a sense of pride in who these kids are and in their fighting spirit.
3.) Theatre Field Trip to Bellingham
This experience was described at length in an earlier trio of blogs.
4.) Youth Speaks Poetry Slam at the Seattle Town Hall (May)
Our poetry teacher, Karen, had invited all of our students to attend the Youth Poetry Slam at the Town Hall, which she was co-hosting-- Viola and I promised to give extra credit to anyone who attended. I ended up chaperoning five of our students, and had an unbelievable time. Not only were the young performer poets outstanding, but to see my kids' reactions was indescribably moving. One boy didn't say much, but clapped adamantly after each performer, and discussed them all at length after the performance. Another boy cried during several of the poets' performances, he was so moved; he said afterwards, "I want to go home and write in my journal all weekend!" I wrote afterwards in my journal, "The kids were absolutely enthralled. What a gift to watch them watching, and to see them SEEING!" To have my students witness firsthand the power of writing through these cool young poets who looked like them-- for my students to recognize writing's ability to communicate ideas and to reconcile one to oneself-- was a priceless testimony. This was perhaps one of my favorite nights of the year.
5.) Host/Emcee for "One Last Glimpse," a performing-arts talent show/showcase for current students and alumni (May)
I co-hosted this event with another young teacher, Derek, and we had a blast. Our "shtick" of the evening was that we felt insulted to have been asked to HOST, rather than be part of the actual featured "talent"; we therefore tried to "prove" our various talents throughout the showcase during our intermittent hosting segments. It started off with a goofy folk-song from me, then Derek continued the pretense by attempting yoga-- in a tight blue tank top and women's yoga pants no less. We came on together during the second act, doing interpretative dance to Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" and ended with an over the top rap, performed by me (in the afore-pictured track suit, with Ray Ban sunglasses, and curly blond hair under a black cap), backed up by Derek's arrhythmic beat-boxing. The occasional was a sentimental one, as it will be our school's last performance showcase; there was a slide show commemorating many of our school's moments over the years, which was accompanied by touching quotes. Many people cried. People said afterwards that the silliness of what Derek and I did provided much needed comic-relief, and helped everyone continue on with the show. It was an honor to be asked to host such an emotionally significant occasion for my school, and I felt extremely privileged to be asked, as a student teacher, to take on the responsibility. It made me realize how invested I've become in this community, and how invested they've become in me.
6.) "Oliver!"-- our school's musical! (June)
This was a massive undertaking! I worked as the assistant director and choreographer for the musical to help fulfil my theatre endorsement, which eventually culminated in rehearsals until l0:00 pm, an entire weekend devoted to being at school for the play (during grad school finals week, OUCH), and the performance of endless random tasks, such as...
- Coming up with theatre exercises and games on the spot, to occupy kids that were unoccupied
- Choreographing at a moment's notice and with no prior warning: "Greta, you can choreograph 'Be Back Soon' today, right? Like-- now? OKAY, MIDDLE-SCHOOLERS, GO WITH GRETA!"
- Blocking/directing scenes on the spot
- Re-blocking scenes after getting onto our raked stage
- Choreographing fight scenes
- Working with kids one-on-one and in groups, on character development and their acting
- Helping the kids with stage make-up
- Helping the kids with their costumes
- Helping the kids with their hair
- Improvising new pocket handkerchiefs every night after the middle-schoolers continued to lose them-- EVERY NIGHT
- Running around during the show, resolving sound issues, prop problems, costume malfunctions-- running down to the orchestra pit, in one instance, with a sign for Fagin (the lead) to "TURN YOUR MIC ON!!" before his last big number.
- Endless clean-up after the show and wrangling of middle-schooler-cleaner-uppers
To name only a few...
For the reader's enjoyment, here are the two main numbers I choreographed, though there's plenty more where these came from!
Although being involved with the musical was at times an overwhelming undertaking, especially since it came when I was doing my full-time student teaching and trying to keep myself afloat in grad school classes as well, I hugely enjoyed it. I loved being able to incorporate my love for theatre and my dance background with my teaching, and I got know my students in a different venue and in a different light. I felt immensely proud of them for pulling off such a great show!
*We were only required to have six extra-curricular events, but chaperoning prom deserves a mention as well... Was sardonically addressed in this blog!
Jun 11, 2009
The Positive Propaganda Project
Hey look, I'm blogging again! For real! See?
Our last book of the year has been Animal Farm, which we've read aloud in class. Animal Farm is an allegorical representation of the Russian Revolution, and propaganda is a huge theme, both in the book and in what actually happened when Stalin was in charge. I did a huge lesson last Wednesday and Thursday on different techniques of propaganda, and we thought of tons of examples from the book, from our prior knowledge of history, and from contemporary culture.
Anyway: at the end of the class, I said, "This is the point. You all run into a LOT of negative messages every day-- from advertisers, from graffiti on the bathroom walls, maybe even from yourself... And so for our final project, we're going to do something to counter that. Your mission-- and you must accept it, because it's required-- is to spread a little sunshine and butterflies. You need to figure out a way to spread a POSITIVE message."
I gave them some examples-- a mural on the wall--
A flier on the street--
I told them about a bad day I'd once had and how I had been scowling on a street corner, when suddenly I heard, "Good luck!" and noticed a stranger raise his eyebrows at me and continue on his trek. It totally turned my mood around.
"This doesn't have to be big-- and it CAN'T BE ILLEGAL," I said. "NO GRAFFITI, even if you think it's positive! (Unless you get a letter from the building owner, proving that you got permission.) But figure out a way to spread a positive message. Think of someone you know that needs to hear a good message. Maybe it's your friends. Maybe it's yourself. You could write positive notes to yourself and put them all around your room. Maybe you want to go give notes to strangers. Okay?"
Some kids were resistant. "I'm not a positive person! I can't think of anything!"
"Well, think of it as propaganda then. You don't HAVE to necessarily think it's true. But this is an exercise to stretch your thinking and behavior, just like any other exercise or assignment."
"What if my message is 'Being negative is the new positive'?"
"Sorry. Look at the definition of positive. That is not it. This should be something that would be seen almost universally as positive."
Clark-- one of our school's strangest young lads-- ran in circles outside, where I had moved the class because of the heat. "I have an idea!" he said, frolicking around the pine tree.
"What?"
"My message is going to be, 'Everyone POOPS!'"
I sighed. "Clark, can't you think of something just a LITTLE more PC?"
However: most of the kids loved the idea.
Today I heard the different stories of what the kids did. And you guys? My students are so awesome.
Fernanda and Kelsey went to Greenlake, and wrote huge chalk messages on the circle loop: "Have a great day!" "Smile!" "You're beautiful!" They handed out flowers and notes to people. Fernanda told one story of spotting a harried mom, wrangling four kids. She said that she'd gone up to the mother and handed her a note that said, "You're appreciated." The mom almost started crying and said, "Wow... THANK you!"
Audrina, Shana, and Tanelle went down-town with a huge block of post-it notes and put them EVERYWHERE. At one point they sat on the top floor of the mall, and handed notes out to each new person getting off the escalator. They put the post-its on bulletin boards, they fought over interesting looking people to give them to. Audrina gave a note to a police-man who had just finished arresting a tweaked-out homeless man. The note that she gave him said, "You're needed." He apparently looked down at her and said in a deep voice, "Wooow. You know, that's pretty cool. You girls come back down here anytime you want, okay?"
Rakeesh, one of the sweetest young men I have, approached the project by infusing his daily life with these intentional moments of positivity. When he got home last Friday he noticed that his mother was in a horrible mood and didn't want to talk to anyone. He told her, "You know, you're my hero." She looked at him with an odd expression and said, "What are you doing?" Later that weekend, he tried to think of a way that he could help his dad, so he did all of his homework, and showed his pop-- who was happy. He went to the community center and saw an old lady that looked tired, and said something kind to her. My favorite story from Rakeesh though was when he was playing basketball at Greenlake. He saw another guy bullying other people on the courts-- saying rude things, and trying to run them off his court. Rakeesh-- who is an African immigrant who speaks broken English, and has a stutter on top of it-- approached this guy, completely intimidated, but intent on spreading his "Positive Propaganda" all the same. He told this guy, "Whatever you're going through, I just want to say, it's going to be okay." The guy looked at him, walked away, and didn't bother anyone else on the courts.
To hear that Rakeesh had had the courage to not only approach this guy, but then to say something that wasn't confrontational, but rather KIND, forgiving, understanding, and humble, blew me away. It just floored me-- I felt incredibly moved.
Clark ended up spreading the message, "Wash your hands!" And after several consulting sessions with the girl who had been so determined to be negative, she ended up giving notes to her friends that most needed to hear how incredible they are-- a message that this girl needs to hear herself, in my opinion. Malia wrote long poems to her friends that she knew were going through really difficult times-- several of them cried when they got them, and Malia herself almost started crying when she talked about her project. Kelly made little scrolls with positive quotes and gave them out to people-- she saw one girl on the bus who looked angry and upset, and handed her a scroll just before she got off the bus. The girl's face completely changed and she got up and hugged Kelly.
All around the school have been fliers-- "There is no smiling face that is not beautiful"-- and little notes found in the bathroom, on the desks, passed out: "You're awesome." "You're the bees knees." "Every breath you take counts, every word you say is worthy, every smile your lips give is heaven, every moment in your life is worth the watch, every single time your heart beats is a miracle.” Kids are passing out flowers and chocolate-- I've gotten several cards from kids who decided to target teachers especially.
It's everywhere!
Moments like this make me feel so inspired by my students-- in my efforts to help them be better people, I feel inspired to be a better person. What a wonderfully, infectiously HAPPY task it is to help people. It's contagious-- it makes the helper happy! It makes you want to help more.
And I think my kids are realizing the same thing. :)
Our last book of the year has been Animal Farm, which we've read aloud in class. Animal Farm is an allegorical representation of the Russian Revolution, and propaganda is a huge theme, both in the book and in what actually happened when Stalin was in charge. I did a huge lesson last Wednesday and Thursday on different techniques of propaganda, and we thought of tons of examples from the book, from our prior knowledge of history, and from contemporary culture.
Anyway: at the end of the class, I said, "This is the point. You all run into a LOT of negative messages every day-- from advertisers, from graffiti on the bathroom walls, maybe even from yourself... And so for our final project, we're going to do something to counter that. Your mission-- and you must accept it, because it's required-- is to spread a little sunshine and butterflies. You need to figure out a way to spread a POSITIVE message."
I gave them some examples-- a mural on the wall--
A flier on the street--
I told them about a bad day I'd once had and how I had been scowling on a street corner, when suddenly I heard, "Good luck!" and noticed a stranger raise his eyebrows at me and continue on his trek. It totally turned my mood around.
"This doesn't have to be big-- and it CAN'T BE ILLEGAL," I said. "NO GRAFFITI, even if you think it's positive! (Unless you get a letter from the building owner, proving that you got permission.) But figure out a way to spread a positive message. Think of someone you know that needs to hear a good message. Maybe it's your friends. Maybe it's yourself. You could write positive notes to yourself and put them all around your room. Maybe you want to go give notes to strangers. Okay?"
Some kids were resistant. "I'm not a positive person! I can't think of anything!"
"Well, think of it as propaganda then. You don't HAVE to necessarily think it's true. But this is an exercise to stretch your thinking and behavior, just like any other exercise or assignment."
"What if my message is 'Being negative is the new positive'?"
"Sorry. Look at the definition of positive. That is not it. This should be something that would be seen almost universally as positive."
Clark-- one of our school's strangest young lads-- ran in circles outside, where I had moved the class because of the heat. "I have an idea!" he said, frolicking around the pine tree.
"What?"
"My message is going to be, 'Everyone POOPS!'"
I sighed. "Clark, can't you think of something just a LITTLE more PC?"
However: most of the kids loved the idea.
Today I heard the different stories of what the kids did. And you guys? My students are so awesome.
Fernanda and Kelsey went to Greenlake, and wrote huge chalk messages on the circle loop: "Have a great day!" "Smile!" "You're beautiful!" They handed out flowers and notes to people. Fernanda told one story of spotting a harried mom, wrangling four kids. She said that she'd gone up to the mother and handed her a note that said, "You're appreciated." The mom almost started crying and said, "Wow... THANK you!"
Audrina, Shana, and Tanelle went down-town with a huge block of post-it notes and put them EVERYWHERE. At one point they sat on the top floor of the mall, and handed notes out to each new person getting off the escalator. They put the post-its on bulletin boards, they fought over interesting looking people to give them to. Audrina gave a note to a police-man who had just finished arresting a tweaked-out homeless man. The note that she gave him said, "You're needed." He apparently looked down at her and said in a deep voice, "Wooow. You know, that's pretty cool. You girls come back down here anytime you want, okay?"
Rakeesh, one of the sweetest young men I have, approached the project by infusing his daily life with these intentional moments of positivity. When he got home last Friday he noticed that his mother was in a horrible mood and didn't want to talk to anyone. He told her, "You know, you're my hero." She looked at him with an odd expression and said, "What are you doing?" Later that weekend, he tried to think of a way that he could help his dad, so he did all of his homework, and showed his pop-- who was happy. He went to the community center and saw an old lady that looked tired, and said something kind to her. My favorite story from Rakeesh though was when he was playing basketball at Greenlake. He saw another guy bullying other people on the courts-- saying rude things, and trying to run them off his court. Rakeesh-- who is an African immigrant who speaks broken English, and has a stutter on top of it-- approached this guy, completely intimidated, but intent on spreading his "Positive Propaganda" all the same. He told this guy, "Whatever you're going through, I just want to say, it's going to be okay." The guy looked at him, walked away, and didn't bother anyone else on the courts.
To hear that Rakeesh had had the courage to not only approach this guy, but then to say something that wasn't confrontational, but rather KIND, forgiving, understanding, and humble, blew me away. It just floored me-- I felt incredibly moved.
Clark ended up spreading the message, "Wash your hands!" And after several consulting sessions with the girl who had been so determined to be negative, she ended up giving notes to her friends that most needed to hear how incredible they are-- a message that this girl needs to hear herself, in my opinion. Malia wrote long poems to her friends that she knew were going through really difficult times-- several of them cried when they got them, and Malia herself almost started crying when she talked about her project. Kelly made little scrolls with positive quotes and gave them out to people-- she saw one girl on the bus who looked angry and upset, and handed her a scroll just before she got off the bus. The girl's face completely changed and she got up and hugged Kelly.
All around the school have been fliers-- "There is no smiling face that is not beautiful"-- and little notes found in the bathroom, on the desks, passed out: "You're awesome." "You're the bees knees." "Every breath you take counts, every word you say is worthy, every smile your lips give is heaven, every moment in your life is worth the watch, every single time your heart beats is a miracle.” Kids are passing out flowers and chocolate-- I've gotten several cards from kids who decided to target teachers especially.
It's everywhere!
Moments like this make me feel so inspired by my students-- in my efforts to help them be better people, I feel inspired to be a better person. What a wonderfully, infectiously HAPPY task it is to help people. It's contagious-- it makes the helper happy! It makes you want to help more.
And I think my kids are realizing the same thing. :)
Jun 1, 2009
Maisie's Fairy Tale
This was too good to keep to myself. As mentioned in a previous post, Maisie began to tell a fairy tale of her life in allegorical terms on Friday. This is the full story-- and Maisie's FIRST blog post since we started! Guess that Friday session did some good after all!
The Maiden and The Jerk-Face (Allegory of my life)
Once upon a time there was a young maiden bore from two gypsy’s. She lived a simple, peasent life that still was very wonderful. For years it lasted this way, and since she lived close to the castle, she would come a majority of the week, untill the few months the weather was nice. Well since she was young she went to the old castle and nothing ever happened. One year she walked up the wrong stairs into the royal den’s. There she met a young prince. The young prince was very arrogant, cocky and had many lovers.
The young prince thought the maiden was quite pretty and so she would never see his evilness, he went to a witch. The first witch he met was very old (infact she said a hundred and three years) but she was very busy and did not work on such potions, only number potions. The second witch was nearly the same age and hated the prince so much herself, that he fled her home for she tried taking his soul. However the third witch was younger and wasn’t as bitter (Though she still was evil for she was a witch) and with a nice amount of money he got a potion to blind the maiden from see through him.
For many months he treated her kindly and since she was under the spell of the potion, she only saw a warm and kind heart. One day he wanted her to prove her love to him by jumping off, into a waterfall and in return he would love her forvever and make her queen. The maiden refused, for she did not fully trust his words, or know if she truely loved him. Quickly after he told her she was not worthy enough for his love and never tried seeing her again. It wasn’t long after did she hear word of him falling inlove with a princess.
Her heart soon started getting cracks in it, for it did hurt her because the potion had never worn off. Now she knew truely that she loved him, but he would never give her a second chance now. She still saw the prince around the castle, but never did they make eye contact. After many months, after the princess had been exiled from the kingdom and the prince went into a few battles, they met again. Quickly her love returned. Then one day after when the prince went hunting with a few dukes he talked of her in a way he shouldn’t of.
A goblin heard this, and since he hated the prince so much he told the young maiden. She was so devasted that the cracks in her heart collapsed and she now lay heartbroken in her bed. A fairy who knew all that was going on felt sorry for the maiden and undid the potions powers. Now instead of missery she felt anger and saw him for who she really was. The prince tried to convince her he truely did like her but she would never believe it. In all sadness of the story, she still loved the rotten prince and decided to wait for him in a tall tower where no man could get in, excpet for that prince.
The end.
The Maiden and The Jerk-Face (Allegory of my life)
Once upon a time there was a young maiden bore from two gypsy’s. She lived a simple, peasent life that still was very wonderful. For years it lasted this way, and since she lived close to the castle, she would come a majority of the week, untill the few months the weather was nice. Well since she was young she went to the old castle and nothing ever happened. One year she walked up the wrong stairs into the royal den’s. There she met a young prince. The young prince was very arrogant, cocky and had many lovers.
The young prince thought the maiden was quite pretty and so she would never see his evilness, he went to a witch. The first witch he met was very old (infact she said a hundred and three years) but she was very busy and did not work on such potions, only number potions. The second witch was nearly the same age and hated the prince so much herself, that he fled her home for she tried taking his soul. However the third witch was younger and wasn’t as bitter (Though she still was evil for she was a witch) and with a nice amount of money he got a potion to blind the maiden from see through him.
For many months he treated her kindly and since she was under the spell of the potion, she only saw a warm and kind heart. One day he wanted her to prove her love to him by jumping off, into a waterfall and in return he would love her forvever and make her queen. The maiden refused, for she did not fully trust his words, or know if she truely loved him. Quickly after he told her she was not worthy enough for his love and never tried seeing her again. It wasn’t long after did she hear word of him falling inlove with a princess.
Her heart soon started getting cracks in it, for it did hurt her because the potion had never worn off. Now she knew truely that she loved him, but he would never give her a second chance now. She still saw the prince around the castle, but never did they make eye contact. After many months, after the princess had been exiled from the kingdom and the prince went into a few battles, they met again. Quickly her love returned. Then one day after when the prince went hunting with a few dukes he talked of her in a way he shouldn’t of.
A goblin heard this, and since he hated the prince so much he told the young maiden. She was so devasted that the cracks in her heart collapsed and she now lay heartbroken in her bed. A fairy who knew all that was going on felt sorry for the maiden and undid the potions powers. Now instead of missery she felt anger and saw him for who she really was. The prince tried to convince her he truely did like her but she would never believe it. In all sadness of the story, she still loved the rotten prince and decided to wait for him in a tall tower where no man could get in, excpet for that prince.
The end.
May 29, 2009
Friday Fairy Tales
Today was a bizarre day scheduling-wise. Since our school is closing, our kids are being farmed out to a bunch of different high-schools; today, many representatives from the other schools came to ours, to touch base with their respective kids. It was also "Field Day," i.e. the day where the whole school gets one giant recess.
This meant that I only had five students in 5th period. And, those five kiddos were only going to be there for about 20 minutes.
"Do you guys want to blog...?" I asked. "That's what the other classes did, it's an extra credit option..."
"No, let's hang out and talk!" Andy said, plopping down on the floor in front of the fan. "Socratic Seminar!"
"Let's tell fairy tales!" said Maisie, and sat down beside him.
We've been discussing allegory this week, which ties into our unit on Animal Farm. The extra-credit blog option was to create their own allegorical story. We could work that into fairy tales...
I sat down with them and the couple remaining kids followed suit. "We could tell ALLEGORICAL fairy-tales..." I offered. "About our own lives."
Andy-- forever the catalyst-- grinned and said, "You first! Lead by example!"
I thought for a second. "Once upon a time... There was a young maiden. She LOOKED like she was fifteen, but actually she was much older..."
The kids laughed-- Maisie gives me endless grief about how young I look.
I continued: "And she was in charge of teaching all the little squirrels and birds of the forest. That's you," I clarified. The kids grinned and nodded. "And... sometimes the birds would get distracted from their lessons and fly away... and sometimes the squirrels would chatter really loud, but the maiden liked them all anyway. And she would often spend long hours going to collect water and food for the animals after they had gone to sleep. And one day, she met a fairy godmother, and got to make a wish," I said.
"Actually--" I paused. "She got two wishes. Because I want two wishes. Actually--" I paused again. "She got three wishes."
The kids laughed.
"The first wish was that the birds and the squirrels would always know how much POTENTIAL they had," I said. "The second wish was that SHE would always remember how much potential they had. The third wish was for a magic wand that would silence their voice-boxes when they chattered too much." The kids cracked up again.
Maisie's fairy tale started off like so: "Once there was a peasant girl... Who was born to two OBNOXIOUS gypsies. And one day, she started walking towards the castle, towards the kingdom... And she saw a prince who was a JERK-FACED LOSER, and she fell in love with him... And then, you know. He was awful."
"So he was an evil prince in disguise as a handsome knight?" I asked.
"Yes! That's exactly what he was," she pronounced.
Andy's story began, "So there was this CASANOVA..." which made me laugh. Then he continued to tell a story that was very much a straight-forward version of his own, albeit told in third person. "He went to get educated, but... Things kinda got hard. He wanted to go off and be this big shot business man, but, you know..." He shrugged and looked at me, his face a little crestfallen. Andy is very smart, but has failed many of his classes, including ours.
I interrupted him. "And then HE met a fairy godmother, and she told him that he was young and that it was EARLY in his life, and that he still had every chance in the world to become a hot-shot business man."
The stories ended up working with the allegorical theme-- Fiona equated her and her siblings to three different kinds of suitcases, and even though Tommy didn't quite understand how to translate his story into allegorical characters, we worked it out together.
So the Friday Fairy tales ended up being a pretty great way to wind down those 20 minutes. "And they all lived happily ever after..."
Sure hope so.
This meant that I only had five students in 5th period. And, those five kiddos were only going to be there for about 20 minutes.
"Do you guys want to blog...?" I asked. "That's what the other classes did, it's an extra credit option..."
"No, let's hang out and talk!" Andy said, plopping down on the floor in front of the fan. "Socratic Seminar!"
"Let's tell fairy tales!" said Maisie, and sat down beside him.
We've been discussing allegory this week, which ties into our unit on Animal Farm. The extra-credit blog option was to create their own allegorical story. We could work that into fairy tales...
I sat down with them and the couple remaining kids followed suit. "We could tell ALLEGORICAL fairy-tales..." I offered. "About our own lives."
Andy-- forever the catalyst-- grinned and said, "You first! Lead by example!"
I thought for a second. "Once upon a time... There was a young maiden. She LOOKED like she was fifteen, but actually she was much older..."
The kids laughed-- Maisie gives me endless grief about how young I look.
I continued: "And she was in charge of teaching all the little squirrels and birds of the forest. That's you," I clarified. The kids grinned and nodded. "And... sometimes the birds would get distracted from their lessons and fly away... and sometimes the squirrels would chatter really loud, but the maiden liked them all anyway. And she would often spend long hours going to collect water and food for the animals after they had gone to sleep. And one day, she met a fairy godmother, and got to make a wish," I said.
"Actually--" I paused. "She got two wishes. Because I want two wishes. Actually--" I paused again. "She got three wishes."
The kids laughed.
"The first wish was that the birds and the squirrels would always know how much POTENTIAL they had," I said. "The second wish was that SHE would always remember how much potential they had. The third wish was for a magic wand that would silence their voice-boxes when they chattered too much." The kids cracked up again.
Maisie's fairy tale started off like so: "Once there was a peasant girl... Who was born to two OBNOXIOUS gypsies. And one day, she started walking towards the castle, towards the kingdom... And she saw a prince who was a JERK-FACED LOSER, and she fell in love with him... And then, you know. He was awful."
"So he was an evil prince in disguise as a handsome knight?" I asked.
"Yes! That's exactly what he was," she pronounced.
Andy's story began, "So there was this CASANOVA..." which made me laugh. Then he continued to tell a story that was very much a straight-forward version of his own, albeit told in third person. "He went to get educated, but... Things kinda got hard. He wanted to go off and be this big shot business man, but, you know..." He shrugged and looked at me, his face a little crestfallen. Andy is very smart, but has failed many of his classes, including ours.
I interrupted him. "And then HE met a fairy godmother, and she told him that he was young and that it was EARLY in his life, and that he still had every chance in the world to become a hot-shot business man."
The stories ended up working with the allegorical theme-- Fiona equated her and her siblings to three different kinds of suitcases, and even though Tommy didn't quite understand how to translate his story into allegorical characters, we worked it out together.
So the Friday Fairy tales ended up being a pretty great way to wind down those 20 minutes. "And they all lived happily ever after..."
Sure hope so.
May 25, 2009
The Differences Between Prom and Weddings
Annie wrote a comment to my last blog, saying that she wished we could all go to prom again as adults. I thought, "Haha! That WOULD be fun!" but then thought: "Wait... aren't going to weddings sort of the adult version of prom?" After all-- both involve boutonnieres, dancing, and dresses. But, it turns out, they are not the same.
This is why:
1.) Weddings usually involve drinking. In fact, there are featured toasts-- there is GLORIFIED drinking. Proms mean no drinking OR ELSE. If it is done, it is done covertly. And chaperones must not drink at all. If they do, they get their certification taken away. If the chaperone is a student-teaching intern, and is essentially a glorified volunteer, she can't get stripped of her certification, but she WOULD get a big scowl.
2.) At prom, you vote on the king and queen and it's revealed as a big surprise. At weddings, you pretty much know.
3.) At weddings, you don't have to worry so much about a 9th grader asking you to dance. And if it DID happen at a wedding, you could just laugh about it and humor the kid, rather than awkwardly avoiding the question and then going to hide behind your mentor.
4.) At weddings, there's one MAIN couple, and if they get a little dirty on the dance floor, everyone just thinks it's cute. At prom, there are lots of thrown-together couples, and they ALL get dirty on the dance floor, and it's gross.
5.) At prom, there are no humiliating bouquet tosses where the single 20-somethings out slink out and acknowledge with a wave and a grim smile, "Yep! Still coming out for these...!"
6.) At weddings, you don't have to worry so much about students needing to explain to their dates, "No, she's actually a teacher. I know, she looks YOUNG, huh??"
7.) At prom, there are treats. At weddings, there are buffets.
8.) At weddings, you can dance however you want. At prom-- if you're chaperoning, anyway-- you have to make sure you don't move your hips around too much.
9.) At weddings, you're usually not worried about acne anymore.
10.) At weddings, there is lots of crying. At prom, there is lots of grinding.
Some things really are the same though... The girls spend all day long getting ready. The guys throw on a tux, brush their hair, and call it good... The DJs are bad, no matter what... Everyone always looks great, all cleaned up... There are awkward slow dances at both, and awkward conversations and both, and let's be real, do we EVER move beyond the awkward stage?
But in any case, there is dancing. And there are friends. And there are good times. And BOTH occasions provide an excellent excuse to get a new dress...
So celebrate good times, come on.
This is why:
1.) Weddings usually involve drinking. In fact, there are featured toasts-- there is GLORIFIED drinking. Proms mean no drinking OR ELSE. If it is done, it is done covertly. And chaperones must not drink at all. If they do, they get their certification taken away. If the chaperone is a student-teaching intern, and is essentially a glorified volunteer, she can't get stripped of her certification, but she WOULD get a big scowl.
2.) At prom, you vote on the king and queen and it's revealed as a big surprise. At weddings, you pretty much know.
3.) At weddings, you don't have to worry so much about a 9th grader asking you to dance. And if it DID happen at a wedding, you could just laugh about it and humor the kid, rather than awkwardly avoiding the question and then going to hide behind your mentor.
4.) At weddings, there's one MAIN couple, and if they get a little dirty on the dance floor, everyone just thinks it's cute. At prom, there are lots of thrown-together couples, and they ALL get dirty on the dance floor, and it's gross.
5.) At prom, there are no humiliating bouquet tosses where the single 20-somethings out slink out and acknowledge with a wave and a grim smile, "Yep! Still coming out for these...!"
6.) At weddings, you don't have to worry so much about students needing to explain to their dates, "No, she's actually a teacher. I know, she looks YOUNG, huh??"
7.) At prom, there are treats. At weddings, there are buffets.
8.) At weddings, you can dance however you want. At prom-- if you're chaperoning, anyway-- you have to make sure you don't move your hips around too much.
9.) At weddings, you're usually not worried about acne anymore.
10.) At weddings, there is lots of crying. At prom, there is lots of grinding.
Some things really are the same though... The girls spend all day long getting ready. The guys throw on a tux, brush their hair, and call it good... The DJs are bad, no matter what... Everyone always looks great, all cleaned up... There are awkward slow dances at both, and awkward conversations and both, and let's be real, do we EVER move beyond the awkward stage?
But in any case, there is dancing. And there are friends. And there are good times. And BOTH occasions provide an excellent excuse to get a new dress...
So celebrate good times, come on.
May 22, 2009
Okay, This is My Outfit.
Currently pre-funking the prom with a glass of wine. Shh. Chaperones are allowed.
One of the Ugly Sides of Teenagers...
One of my freshmen students is a goofy little guy-- he looks like he's about 11, and he has extreme ADHD, so he's always squirming around in class and making noise. He's not very popular-- our kids are, by and large, an extremely accepting crew, as far as I can tell-- but I've still seen this kid get mocked on occasion.
Today he came in late to class, with red swollen eyes. Had he been crying? When we left to go to the library, he said that someone had slapped him across the eyes. He said he didn't know who, because he couldn't see them after they hit him. Right now, he's working on writing a blog, and is trying to act like everything's normal. I just told a girl to focus on her blog when I saw her on another website, and she said, "I have ADD."
"So do I!" this little guy said.
Everyone scoffed.
"Yeah, no kidding."
"No one ASKED you."
"Mind your own business, stop trying to butt into other conversations."
Why are kids so mean? Obviously this little guy can be annoying, but I wish other kids could understand that he DOESN'T pick up social cues like they do... That he CAN'T just "control" his excess energy. Why can't they show him a little grace? It's one thing to snap out in impatience, but to SLAP him?
It puts such a frown on my face.
Anyway, I'm going to prom tonight. As a chaperone. Pictures later.
Today he came in late to class, with red swollen eyes. Had he been crying? When we left to go to the library, he said that someone had slapped him across the eyes. He said he didn't know who, because he couldn't see them after they hit him. Right now, he's working on writing a blog, and is trying to act like everything's normal. I just told a girl to focus on her blog when I saw her on another website, and she said, "I have ADD."
"So do I!" this little guy said.
Everyone scoffed.
"Yeah, no kidding."
"No one ASKED you."
"Mind your own business, stop trying to butt into other conversations."
Why are kids so mean? Obviously this little guy can be annoying, but I wish other kids could understand that he DOESN'T pick up social cues like they do... That he CAN'T just "control" his excess energy. Why can't they show him a little grace? It's one thing to snap out in impatience, but to SLAP him?
It puts such a frown on my face.
Anyway, I'm going to prom tonight. As a chaperone. Pictures later.
May 14, 2009
Spirit Week
I am in a thoroughly unproductive mood. And, seeing as there are only 59 more minutes until the start of The Office, I've decided to just go with it.
Unproductivity is allowed: last night I worked for 4.5 straight hours getting another application in (cross fingers, all), and yesterday and today were "OUTLINING ESSAYS" days at school, which meant that I've come up with about 45 different thesis statements, about 90 different supporting examples, helped find about 50 different quotes, and have streamlined about 86 different convoluted ideas.
My brain hath jellified.
So I doth blog.
This week has been Spirit Week. Some people poo-poo dressing up for Spirit Week. I am not one of those people. My outfits so far have included:
Wacky Tacky Day:
THIS dress--
(In the middle, next to Annie who isonherwayhererightnow!!!)
Plus THIS jacket:
Sports Day:
This jersey (I'm on the far left):
Which is actually not a jersey at all, but a sorority shirt. That was the closest I could get. Those are my little small group chickies by the way, aren't they cute??
Decade Day:
Prompted a resurrection of my 50's Housewife Outfit:
THIS on top--
(Except with no pony tail because of new short hair)
And THIS on the bottom:
Also, I carried a wooden spoon.
Today was "School Spirit" day. I didn't have a shirt with my school's name on it, so I asked Viola to bring me something. She found a sweat-shirt for me, but I had to take it off midday, because it got too hot. After my outstanding Spirit Week showing (some might even say, otherworldly) up to that point, I felt a little chastened to be only wearing a navy blue long-sleeved shirt-- only the most basic of nods to one of our school colors. However, I got a second chance to improve my spirit-showing come the Staff/Student Basketball game after lunch...
Viola had asked me several weeks ago if I wanted to play.
"No."
"Why not???"
"I can't play, Viola! I'm seriously terrible."
"I'm going to play! I'm not good, I just get in people's faces!"
"But you're athletic Viola! I-- trust me, I shouldn't play. I'll have fun watching."
But when I got to the gym today, they had T-SHIRTS. They had t-shirts with MY SCHOOL'S name on them. The only condition was that you had to play.
You want a girl to play sports? I mean, THIS girl? Bribe her with clothing.
At first, I really did look like an idiot. I missed every single basket that I threw during warm-ups, and the first time I got out on the court against these big boy seniors, I just sort of skipped around and fluttered my hands at people and ran away from the ball. Every once in awhile I would hear the announcer point out, "Greta's open," which was a point universally ignored by my team.
After the first quarter, I thought it was over. "Yaaay!"
Viola corrected me. "It's not done yet!"
"... Oh!"
The kids were cheering loud, and the staff was INTO it-- from the young dude teachers, to the middle-aged pot-bellied folks who rocked the casbah like nobody's BUSINESS. Seriously-- Paul? Was an ANIMAL! The ladies represented on the court one at a time-- and-- I'm a little embarrassed to admit-- my sex was pretty terrible. Evelyn, Viola, Patti, Karen and I held down the court (get it?? COURT?) but not very well. As I was the youngest girl by about 20 years, I decided I needed to step it up.
So I DID.
Y'all-- I made no baskets. None at all. And when the announcer pointed out yet again, "Greta's open," my team-mates still knew better than to pass me the ball. BUT: I ran, I blocked, I JUMPED, I got knocked over and popped back up, I got my hands in the big boys' faces, and I was SCRAPPY, dang it. Viola told me later that she and another teacher were laughing. "At first she looked kind of scared out there!" Viola apparently told Josh. "Now it looks like she's going to foul out!"
U know it.
And even though I thought the game had ended again at half-time-- and was once again corrected by my astute mentor-- I got high-fives from the kids afterwards, got a rallying cry with my staff, and got kudos from the kids who had watched and told me that I looked "tough."
And-- (perhaps not *best* of all, but most WEARABLE of all):
I got a SWEET school t-shirt. Our school's name is on the front. And our slogan-- all the "U KNOW" of it-- is on the back.
The moral of the story? Play. Play anyway. Even if you suck. Even if you look ridiculous.
There might just be t-shirts.
Unproductivity is allowed: last night I worked for 4.5 straight hours getting another application in (cross fingers, all), and yesterday and today were "OUTLINING ESSAYS" days at school, which meant that I've come up with about 45 different thesis statements, about 90 different supporting examples, helped find about 50 different quotes, and have streamlined about 86 different convoluted ideas.
My brain hath jellified.
So I doth blog.
This week has been Spirit Week. Some people poo-poo dressing up for Spirit Week. I am not one of those people. My outfits so far have included:
Wacky Tacky Day:
THIS dress--
(In the middle, next to Annie who isonherwayhererightnow!!!)
Plus THIS jacket:
Sports Day:
This jersey (I'm on the far left):
Which is actually not a jersey at all, but a sorority shirt. That was the closest I could get. Those are my little small group chickies by the way, aren't they cute??
Decade Day:
Prompted a resurrection of my 50's Housewife Outfit:
THIS on top--
(Except with no pony tail because of new short hair)
And THIS on the bottom:
Also, I carried a wooden spoon.
Today was "School Spirit" day. I didn't have a shirt with my school's name on it, so I asked Viola to bring me something. She found a sweat-shirt for me, but I had to take it off midday, because it got too hot. After my outstanding Spirit Week showing (some might even say, otherworldly) up to that point, I felt a little chastened to be only wearing a navy blue long-sleeved shirt-- only the most basic of nods to one of our school colors. However, I got a second chance to improve my spirit-showing come the Staff/Student Basketball game after lunch...
Viola had asked me several weeks ago if I wanted to play.
"No."
"Why not???"
"I can't play, Viola! I'm seriously terrible."
"I'm going to play! I'm not good, I just get in people's faces!"
"But you're athletic Viola! I-- trust me, I shouldn't play. I'll have fun watching."
But when I got to the gym today, they had T-SHIRTS. They had t-shirts with MY SCHOOL'S name on them. The only condition was that you had to play.
You want a girl to play sports? I mean, THIS girl? Bribe her with clothing.
At first, I really did look like an idiot. I missed every single basket that I threw during warm-ups, and the first time I got out on the court against these big boy seniors, I just sort of skipped around and fluttered my hands at people and ran away from the ball. Every once in awhile I would hear the announcer point out, "Greta's open," which was a point universally ignored by my team.
After the first quarter, I thought it was over. "Yaaay!"
Viola corrected me. "It's not done yet!"
"... Oh!"
The kids were cheering loud, and the staff was INTO it-- from the young dude teachers, to the middle-aged pot-bellied folks who rocked the casbah like nobody's BUSINESS. Seriously-- Paul? Was an ANIMAL! The ladies represented on the court one at a time-- and-- I'm a little embarrassed to admit-- my sex was pretty terrible. Evelyn, Viola, Patti, Karen and I held down the court (get it?? COURT?) but not very well. As I was the youngest girl by about 20 years, I decided I needed to step it up.
So I DID.
Y'all-- I made no baskets. None at all. And when the announcer pointed out yet again, "Greta's open," my team-mates still knew better than to pass me the ball. BUT: I ran, I blocked, I JUMPED, I got knocked over and popped back up, I got my hands in the big boys' faces, and I was SCRAPPY, dang it. Viola told me later that she and another teacher were laughing. "At first she looked kind of scared out there!" Viola apparently told Josh. "Now it looks like she's going to foul out!"
U know it.
And even though I thought the game had ended again at half-time-- and was once again corrected by my astute mentor-- I got high-fives from the kids afterwards, got a rallying cry with my staff, and got kudos from the kids who had watched and told me that I looked "tough."
And-- (perhaps not *best* of all, but most WEARABLE of all):
I got a SWEET school t-shirt. Our school's name is on the front. And our slogan-- all the "U KNOW" of it-- is on the back.
The moral of the story? Play. Play anyway. Even if you suck. Even if you look ridiculous.
There might just be t-shirts.
May 6, 2009
Dancedancedancedancedancedance
Today we had an African Dance assembly. Cool!
I shepherded in my group of 9th graders, and we joined the 9th/10th grade section. One sweet girl gave me a note as she sat down, for Teacher Appreciation week. It read: "Greta is... An amazing singer and a WONDERFUL teacher!!" It gave me the warm fuzzies all over.
At one point, the girls in front of me were talking, and I rubbed one girl's back gently. "Hon, quiet down." She turned around with a scowl, but when she saw it was me, she relaxed and grinned, nodding her compliance.
The music started, and the kids all started clapping along, terribly out of rhythm. It made me laugh and like them.
Then the African Dancing Singer Lady ordered all the teachers to get up on stage. What? Really?
I joined the rest of them, the lot of us laughing self-consciously. Once we were up there, the African Dancing Singer Lady told us we were going to dance. From my 9th and 10th grade corner, I heard a roar: "Gooooo Greta!!"
Ha!
And the music started, and I DANCED. Oh yes, I DID DANCE. I danced AFRICAN dance. And I was into it. I was in front, so I couldn't see what the other teachers looked like-- apparently they were "marking" the movements that the lady was instructing us in. But they were behind me, so I just tried to make myself look like her. And I did the DANCING DANCING, I DID THE DANCE.
When we were done, the kids all clapped and cheered, and when I booped and bopped my way down the stairs, they all started giving me high-fives. I got back to my corner of kids and they were all congratulating me! As they filed out of the assembly, I got one high-five after another, and kudos from the kids on my dancing. When I found out I was apparently doing it "bigger" than the other teachers, I felt a little embarrassed, but the kids' comments made me laugh and grin.
I just LIKE them all so much. I love what I'm doing. Another one of those starry eyed, shmoopy posts. But especially after yesterday, I realized how much I like MY students, and how much I'd missed them. I told them as much, this morning. "I really missed you guys!!"
The other day, the kids were still getting settled in their desks, and I was looking over them all. Eduardo said, "What are you looking at? You're wondering if we love you, huh?"
I grinned and rolled my eyes.
"We like you, don't worry," he said. "You're one of the good ones, we like you."
"Sometimes you get on our nerves, but we like you," another girl supplied.
"I'm sure I do!" I said, and laughed.
Just right then: they like me, but I'm not so buddy buddy with them that I never get on their nerves. When I'm telling them that they need to turn in their homework, or stop talking, or that cursing in their blogs is inappropriate, I SHOULD get on their nerves. But they like me, too.
And I like them. :)
Such a good thing.
I shepherded in my group of 9th graders, and we joined the 9th/10th grade section. One sweet girl gave me a note as she sat down, for Teacher Appreciation week. It read: "Greta is... An amazing singer and a WONDERFUL teacher!!" It gave me the warm fuzzies all over.
At one point, the girls in front of me were talking, and I rubbed one girl's back gently. "Hon, quiet down." She turned around with a scowl, but when she saw it was me, she relaxed and grinned, nodding her compliance.
The music started, and the kids all started clapping along, terribly out of rhythm. It made me laugh and like them.
Then the African Dancing Singer Lady ordered all the teachers to get up on stage. What? Really?
I joined the rest of them, the lot of us laughing self-consciously. Once we were up there, the African Dancing Singer Lady told us we were going to dance. From my 9th and 10th grade corner, I heard a roar: "Gooooo Greta!!"
Ha!
And the music started, and I DANCED. Oh yes, I DID DANCE. I danced AFRICAN dance. And I was into it. I was in front, so I couldn't see what the other teachers looked like-- apparently they were "marking" the movements that the lady was instructing us in. But they were behind me, so I just tried to make myself look like her. And I did the DANCING DANCING, I DID THE DANCE.
When we were done, the kids all clapped and cheered, and when I booped and bopped my way down the stairs, they all started giving me high-fives. I got back to my corner of kids and they were all congratulating me! As they filed out of the assembly, I got one high-five after another, and kudos from the kids on my dancing. When I found out I was apparently doing it "bigger" than the other teachers, I felt a little embarrassed, but the kids' comments made me laugh and grin.
I just LIKE them all so much. I love what I'm doing. Another one of those starry eyed, shmoopy posts. But especially after yesterday, I realized how much I like MY students, and how much I'd missed them. I told them as much, this morning. "I really missed you guys!!"
The other day, the kids were still getting settled in their desks, and I was looking over them all. Eduardo said, "What are you looking at? You're wondering if we love you, huh?"
I grinned and rolled my eyes.
"We like you, don't worry," he said. "You're one of the good ones, we like you."
"Sometimes you get on our nerves, but we like you," another girl supplied.
"I'm sure I do!" I said, and laughed.
Just right then: they like me, but I'm not so buddy buddy with them that I never get on their nerves. When I'm telling them that they need to turn in their homework, or stop talking, or that cursing in their blogs is inappropriate, I SHOULD get on their nerves. But they like me, too.
And I like them. :)
Such a good thing.
Apr 22, 2009
Bubbling Over
It's 9:30pm. I got up this morning at 7:00am, taught all day until 3:15, went to my grad school class from 4:30 to 7:00pm, came home, ate dinner, and now I need to grade the kids' blog comments.
But I can't do that just yet. I am too FULL.
I am too FULL of excitement, and joy, and inspiration. I LOVE what I'm doing. I love this job! I LOVE teaching!
In the morning, I still sometimes get anxious, and get little butterflies in my stomach. And then I pull into school, and I see all my students-- hanging out, talking, smoking outside the nearby cafe, in their funky outfits-- and I get so EXCITED to see them! I get so excited to talk to them about what they're doing THAT day, what they're thinking TODAY.
I love reading their thoughts on their blogs, and I love reading their comments on one another's. I love seeing a kid like Tre, who got out of juvy earlier this year, who gets contacted by his parole officer all the time, who is HUGE and tough, but who has warmed to Viola and I slowly but surely... I love seeing Tre blog-- write TWO blogs, two whole blogs, when he hasn't turned in a SCRAP of paper all year. And even though the two blogs were about pot and drug cartels (but the first one was about how pot was BAD-- "Things fall apart, like if I have a relapse"), I love that he WROTE, and that he even found a picture to accompany the second! And I love hearing Tre advising his buddy Andre-- who has also been failing all year-- on HIS blog, and I love seeing the two of them check their friend George's blog together and hearing Tre then say, "What?? George hasn't posted anything yet? Loser!"
I loved watching Siaba give a Powerpoint presentation on her childhood in Africa. I loved her passionately describing the city that she lived in, in Cote D'Ivoire, which she pointed out was developed and advanced. And even though I didn't love seeing her break down and cry when describing the war in her country that forced her family to leave, which has killed some of her family members and countrymen, I was unforgettably touched, and moved. And though I ache when I think about the emotional pain she clearly harbors, I love thinking of how we might be able to help her process through some of it by writing, and I love HER.
I love telling them about Tikambe and Clayton-- two of the kiddos that I worked with in Africa-- and seeing the whole class grin as I imitate sweet Clayton's swagger, and tell them about how his cool, sagging jeans always slipped below his naked bum. I love asking the kids to think about joining me in saving money to join up with the Spilling Hope project, to help send money to Uganda to dig fresh-water wells. I loved seeing their eyes change, and grow deep and serious as I told them about how many people die in Africa because of the lack of access to clean water, and I loved that, when I asked them, "Is think something we want to work together towards? I don't want to harass you by forcing you to participate in a charity, but if you want me to bring in a jar or something to collect our change or our cash to help kids like Tikambe or Clayton, I WILL" ... I loved that they told me to YES, bring something in.
I love their poetry. I love their comments on each other's blogs, and their exquisite encouragement of one another. I love their vulnerability, and their strength, and their awkwardness, and their individuality. I love their passion, and their weird outfits. I love their tenacity, and their moods. I love their humor.
Maybe it's not TEACHING so much that I love, but THEM.
No. I love the teaching too.
What a privilege it is, truly-- to be given a role to play in these kids' lives. They are letting me in, and I am overwhelmed and overjoyed with who these kids are. It is the most delightful thing to get to TEACH them-- to invite them and guide them to further discovery.
There are bad days, I know-- I have recorded many a bad day on this blog. But this isn't talking about one SPECIFIC day-- it's not as though I just had one particularly good DAY. This is a bubbling up of the last several weeks-- no, not even that: of the whole year. I have gotten to KNOW these kids... And I love who they are. I love what I'm doing. I love the role I get to play as their teacher.
Whatever difficulties or bad days may come, today, I KNOW: this is what I am meant to do.
And I love that.
But I can't do that just yet. I am too FULL.
I am too FULL of excitement, and joy, and inspiration. I LOVE what I'm doing. I love this job! I LOVE teaching!
In the morning, I still sometimes get anxious, and get little butterflies in my stomach. And then I pull into school, and I see all my students-- hanging out, talking, smoking outside the nearby cafe, in their funky outfits-- and I get so EXCITED to see them! I get so excited to talk to them about what they're doing THAT day, what they're thinking TODAY.
I love reading their thoughts on their blogs, and I love reading their comments on one another's. I love seeing a kid like Tre, who got out of juvy earlier this year, who gets contacted by his parole officer all the time, who is HUGE and tough, but who has warmed to Viola and I slowly but surely... I love seeing Tre blog-- write TWO blogs, two whole blogs, when he hasn't turned in a SCRAP of paper all year. And even though the two blogs were about pot and drug cartels (but the first one was about how pot was BAD-- "Things fall apart, like if I have a relapse"), I love that he WROTE, and that he even found a picture to accompany the second! And I love hearing Tre advising his buddy Andre-- who has also been failing all year-- on HIS blog, and I love seeing the two of them check their friend George's blog together and hearing Tre then say, "What?? George hasn't posted anything yet? Loser!"
I loved watching Siaba give a Powerpoint presentation on her childhood in Africa. I loved her passionately describing the city that she lived in, in Cote D'Ivoire, which she pointed out was developed and advanced. And even though I didn't love seeing her break down and cry when describing the war in her country that forced her family to leave, which has killed some of her family members and countrymen, I was unforgettably touched, and moved. And though I ache when I think about the emotional pain she clearly harbors, I love thinking of how we might be able to help her process through some of it by writing, and I love HER.
I love telling them about Tikambe and Clayton-- two of the kiddos that I worked with in Africa-- and seeing the whole class grin as I imitate sweet Clayton's swagger, and tell them about how his cool, sagging jeans always slipped below his naked bum. I love asking the kids to think about joining me in saving money to join up with the Spilling Hope project, to help send money to Uganda to dig fresh-water wells. I loved seeing their eyes change, and grow deep and serious as I told them about how many people die in Africa because of the lack of access to clean water, and I loved that, when I asked them, "Is think something we want to work together towards? I don't want to harass you by forcing you to participate in a charity, but if you want me to bring in a jar or something to collect our change or our cash to help kids like Tikambe or Clayton, I WILL" ... I loved that they told me to YES, bring something in.
I love their poetry. I love their comments on each other's blogs, and their exquisite encouragement of one another. I love their vulnerability, and their strength, and their awkwardness, and their individuality. I love their passion, and their weird outfits. I love their tenacity, and their moods. I love their humor.
Maybe it's not TEACHING so much that I love, but THEM.
No. I love the teaching too.
What a privilege it is, truly-- to be given a role to play in these kids' lives. They are letting me in, and I am overwhelmed and overjoyed with who these kids are. It is the most delightful thing to get to TEACH them-- to invite them and guide them to further discovery.
There are bad days, I know-- I have recorded many a bad day on this blog. But this isn't talking about one SPECIFIC day-- it's not as though I just had one particularly good DAY. This is a bubbling up of the last several weeks-- no, not even that: of the whole year. I have gotten to KNOW these kids... And I love who they are. I love what I'm doing. I love the role I get to play as their teacher.
Whatever difficulties or bad days may come, today, I KNOW: this is what I am meant to do.
And I love that.
Apr 21, 2009
Aaaand, one more thought from Theo.
(See previous blog.)
Okay, thank you. I apologize for getting irritated. Things at the time were not running smoothly. I am in a much better mood now, though.
As much as I dislike to say it, I guess I that makes sense and I should learn to accept that. One of the biggest issues I have in life is equality. I guess you could blame that on my astrological sign. (Libra; I follow it almost sentence by sentence) It gets scary sometimes.
There isn't any need to discuss further. It was a just a little thing I needed to clear up from my mind before it escalated into something irrelevant.
So far, I'd say you are doing a just fine job at this whole blog thing. Actually, this whole blog thing is brilliant. It connects a piece of everyday teenage life to education in a fun way, and it is quite enjoyable. I look FORWARD to logging on and seeing if I got any comments! ^_^
See you in class tomorrow (If you read this before then).
- Theo
YAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY!!!!
Okay, thank you. I apologize for getting irritated. Things at the time were not running smoothly. I am in a much better mood now, though.
As much as I dislike to say it, I guess I that makes sense and I should learn to accept that. One of the biggest issues I have in life is equality. I guess you could blame that on my astrological sign. (Libra; I follow it almost sentence by sentence) It gets scary sometimes.
There isn't any need to discuss further. It was a just a little thing I needed to clear up from my mind before it escalated into something irrelevant.
So far, I'd say you are doing a just fine job at this whole blog thing. Actually, this whole blog thing is brilliant. It connects a piece of everyday teenage life to education in a fun way, and it is quite enjoyable. I look FORWARD to logging on and seeing if I got any comments! ^_^
See you in class tomorrow (If you read this before then).
- Theo
YAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY!!!!
More Feedback
This time, from Theo (who got an 11 out of 15 on a blog about Lutefisk) to me.... And then again, from me to Theo.
Are these blogs expected to be at least 3 paragraphs long? Are they expected to be an edited/revised story soon-to-be pubished in a book?
You have given us no guidelines on what is expected out of our blogs EXCEPT that they are supposed to be like freewrites. FREEWRITES, to me at least, are a rough collecting of thoughts on a particular literary subject. My mother as well doesn't agree how this went down.
Sorry to be kind of brash and blunt, but I don't agree with your grading methods. I have read other blogs that have gotten perfect grades when they have had less content, even shorter lengths, and more terrible conventions (if I understand correctly what conventions mean) than my own blog.
I don't know if it was you that gave me the grade on my late essay, but I didn't agree with that, either. Late work is typically 50% straight. Instead, I got counted late AND for the things I did wrong. That is hardly fair.
I'd appreciate a response this time,
Thanks, Theo
Thanks for the comment, Theo! Please don’t ever hesitate to ask me about grading methods, or to instigate a discussion if you feel like grading is unfair. You’ll want to talk to Viola about the grade on your essay, but I’m happy to discuss the blogs.
“Are these blogs expected to be at least 3 paragraphs long?”
Generally, yes they are. I’m looking for content that would fill about a hand-written page. If it’s a poem, then I look more for quality and evidence that the poem was carefully crafted than length. But prose: yes. Shoot for about three paragraphs, or, a couple big meaty ones.
” Are they expected to be an edited/revised story soon-to-be pubished in a book?”
No. Of course not. However, those of you that have given me writing on the side and who have proven to have great writing potential ARE held to a higher standard. I don’t grade you against each other as much as I grade you against yourself; your last blog was about an “11″ from Theo, because– as I’ve told you before– I know what you can do and that WASN’T your best. Would you disagree?
Many of you are at many different skill levels; if I graded you the same way I graded a freshman that was still learning English, you wouldn’t ever improve. You would never get grades that indicated you had more to learn– and we ALL have more to learn.
However, one aspect of these blogs– which I think I like, actually– is that it forces me to be accountable with ALL of you as to how I’m grading… Because, as you pointed out, you can ALL see it. It’s forced me to be as fair as possible.
Within that, you are ALL graded on:
Length: was it about the length of a handwritten page?
Conventions: did you spell things correctly, and use proper grammar? (This is a stricter standard than how we graded freewrites at the beginning of the year, when you were not expected to have proper grammar or spelling. However, it’s the end of the year, and you SHOULD know more; plus, there’s a spell-checker option when writing the bogs.)
Content: I look for depth of thought, and effort. This is probably the area that is graded most individually.
As far as numbers go, for this unit, a blog is given:
Full credit if turned in by Friday (the due date.)
Docked 10% if turned in by Monday
Docked 50% if turned in anytime that following week (up til the next Friday)
Given no credit if turned in anytime after that.
“I have read other blogs that have gotten perfect grades when they have had less content, even shorter lengths, and more terrible conventions.”
We can discuss grades on the other blogs if you want– I DO want to be consistent in how I’m grading, so your help with that is welcome.
Does that help answer all your questions? I AM still learning, and these blogs are a brand new project, so I do appreciate your students’ feedback on how I can improve for next time– it sounds like clearer guidelines would have been helpful for you. We can talk about this more in class if you want!
Are these blogs expected to be at least 3 paragraphs long? Are they expected to be an edited/revised story soon-to-be pubished in a book?
You have given us no guidelines on what is expected out of our blogs EXCEPT that they are supposed to be like freewrites. FREEWRITES, to me at least, are a rough collecting of thoughts on a particular literary subject. My mother as well doesn't agree how this went down.
Sorry to be kind of brash and blunt, but I don't agree with your grading methods. I have read other blogs that have gotten perfect grades when they have had less content, even shorter lengths, and more terrible conventions (if I understand correctly what conventions mean) than my own blog.
I don't know if it was you that gave me the grade on my late essay, but I didn't agree with that, either. Late work is typically 50% straight. Instead, I got counted late AND for the things I did wrong. That is hardly fair.
I'd appreciate a response this time,
Thanks, Theo
Thanks for the comment, Theo! Please don’t ever hesitate to ask me about grading methods, or to instigate a discussion if you feel like grading is unfair. You’ll want to talk to Viola about the grade on your essay, but I’m happy to discuss the blogs.
“Are these blogs expected to be at least 3 paragraphs long?”
Generally, yes they are. I’m looking for content that would fill about a hand-written page. If it’s a poem, then I look more for quality and evidence that the poem was carefully crafted than length. But prose: yes. Shoot for about three paragraphs, or, a couple big meaty ones.
” Are they expected to be an edited/revised story soon-to-be pubished in a book?”
No. Of course not. However, those of you that have given me writing on the side and who have proven to have great writing potential ARE held to a higher standard. I don’t grade you against each other as much as I grade you against yourself; your last blog was about an “11″ from Theo, because– as I’ve told you before– I know what you can do and that WASN’T your best. Would you disagree?
Many of you are at many different skill levels; if I graded you the same way I graded a freshman that was still learning English, you wouldn’t ever improve. You would never get grades that indicated you had more to learn– and we ALL have more to learn.
However, one aspect of these blogs– which I think I like, actually– is that it forces me to be accountable with ALL of you as to how I’m grading… Because, as you pointed out, you can ALL see it. It’s forced me to be as fair as possible.
Within that, you are ALL graded on:
Length: was it about the length of a handwritten page?
Conventions: did you spell things correctly, and use proper grammar? (This is a stricter standard than how we graded freewrites at the beginning of the year, when you were not expected to have proper grammar or spelling. However, it’s the end of the year, and you SHOULD know more; plus, there’s a spell-checker option when writing the bogs.)
Content: I look for depth of thought, and effort. This is probably the area that is graded most individually.
As far as numbers go, for this unit, a blog is given:
Full credit if turned in by Friday (the due date.)
Docked 10% if turned in by Monday
Docked 50% if turned in anytime that following week (up til the next Friday)
Given no credit if turned in anytime after that.
“I have read other blogs that have gotten perfect grades when they have had less content, even shorter lengths, and more terrible conventions.”
We can discuss grades on the other blogs if you want– I DO want to be consistent in how I’m grading, so your help with that is welcome.
Does that help answer all your questions? I AM still learning, and these blogs are a brand new project, so I do appreciate your students’ feedback on how I can improve for next time– it sounds like clearer guidelines would have been helpful for you. We can talk about this more in class if you want!
Apr 19, 2009
They tell us to take a Sabbath.
The profs at grad school, that is. They say to take one day off a week. "You need it!" they say.
But who has time for sabbaths?? I teach all week during the days, grade every evening, do homework somewhere inbetween, so weekends are my only time to apply for jobs which I MUST DO. So yesterday, I graded blogs, and today, I'm trying to bust out another application.
But it is sunny in Seattle, and everyone is out enjoying it. One friend's facebook status update is: "Carly is rollerblading, longboarding, and biking on Alki beach with the girls."
I was invited. I turned her down to work on the application. I could be at Alki right now, getting a sunburn and riding my bike. I CAN'T STAND IT.
I saw another friend at church. "Kickball this afternoon, Greta!" he said. I turned him down. "Have to work on an application...!"
BAAAAAAH.
I am all woebegone.
The problem is, I AM still trying to pack in stuff with friends around everything else, which means that, at present: I am tired and grumpy. Last night was dinner and drinks out with friends, and it was a blast, and I did not get enough sleep.
And I tried napping but felt guilty for not working. And so still: I am grumpy. And resentful for not getting Sunday fun. And clearly, blogging instead of working on an application because of aforementioned grumpiness and distraction.
They tell us to take a Sabbath. "You need it!" they say. I need it.
But when??
But who has time for sabbaths?? I teach all week during the days, grade every evening, do homework somewhere inbetween, so weekends are my only time to apply for jobs which I MUST DO. So yesterday, I graded blogs, and today, I'm trying to bust out another application.
But it is sunny in Seattle, and everyone is out enjoying it. One friend's facebook status update is: "Carly is rollerblading, longboarding, and biking on Alki beach with the girls."
I was invited. I turned her down to work on the application. I could be at Alki right now, getting a sunburn and riding my bike. I CAN'T STAND IT.
I saw another friend at church. "Kickball this afternoon, Greta!" he said. I turned him down. "Have to work on an application...!"
BAAAAAAH.
I am all woebegone.
The problem is, I AM still trying to pack in stuff with friends around everything else, which means that, at present: I am tired and grumpy. Last night was dinner and drinks out with friends, and it was a blast, and I did not get enough sleep.
And I tried napping but felt guilty for not working. And so still: I am grumpy. And resentful for not getting Sunday fun. And clearly, blogging instead of working on an application because of aforementioned grumpiness and distraction.
They tell us to take a Sabbath. "You need it!" they say. I need it.
But when??
Apr 16, 2009
The Downside of Spring
Ugh.
Stayed up too late last night having fun with friends, but I'm paying for it now.
Working with 4th period now-- which is typically the angelic focused class-- but they're all over the place today.
Adding to tired grumpiness and crazy 4th-period'ers is the job situation stress: EVERYONE at my school, which is closing down (have I mentioned that...?) is freaking out about jobs, and it is so CONSTANTLY tense.
Adding to tired grumpiness, crazy 4th'ers, and stressed out teachers is the fact that close to 30% of students have skipped class this week.
It's sunny. It's warmer. We're doing standardized tests in the morning, so many kids don't even NEED to show up until 11:15, at which point, they simply don't.
I saw two boys that were absent yesterday at a nearby cafe, when I was driving home after school. Today, I pulled them aside.
"I saw you yesterday at the cafe, but you were gone in class. Tell me... is there ANYTHING I can do to help get you folks to class?"
They were a flurry of protestations and denials.
"No, I'm asking sincerely, I'm truly soliciting your opinion: I know it's spring, the weather's getting nicer... I know that kids are going to want to skip... So what can I do to get people to still come to class?"
"It's not you," one kid replied. "I just didn't feel like coming. There's nothing you can do, it's just us."
I sighed. "We put a lot of effort into planning lessons for you guys that are engaging, and interesting, Kyle. When you don't come... it's hard not to take it personally."
He shrugged. "It's not you. I just didn't want to go."
Last Friday, when we had similarly low attendance, one kid in 5th period said, "So we're talking about Africa and then starting the book, right?"
"Yeah!" I said, laughing. "Do you guys talk to each other out in the halls about what we're doing in class that day?"
He grinned and nodded. "That way we can decide whether or not to come!"
My smile disappeared. "So..." I paused. "How should I interpret the fact that so many people are missing?"
His grin disappeared as well. He shrugged.
It's hard not to take it personally.
I posed the same question to our sparse 4th period today. "We're coming up on the really nice weather. What can I do to get people to come to class? I'm a new teacher, I'm trying to do the best I can to get things right, so tell me: from YOUR perspective... How do I keep you all from skipping class?"
The suggestions were random and mostly joking.
"Give us cupcakes every day!"
"Let us go outside!"
Viola has warned me about the utter disintegration of student focus when taking a class outside. I sighed.
It's not me, they say. Viola, the student, other teachers, say. It's not me. But when I plan these lessons that I think are fun, engaging, IMPORTANT... and 30% of our classes simply don't show up...?
It's hard not to take it personally.
Stayed up too late last night having fun with friends, but I'm paying for it now.
Working with 4th period now-- which is typically the angelic focused class-- but they're all over the place today.
Adding to tired grumpiness and crazy 4th-period'ers is the job situation stress: EVERYONE at my school, which is closing down (have I mentioned that...?) is freaking out about jobs, and it is so CONSTANTLY tense.
Adding to tired grumpiness, crazy 4th'ers, and stressed out teachers is the fact that close to 30% of students have skipped class this week.
It's sunny. It's warmer. We're doing standardized tests in the morning, so many kids don't even NEED to show up until 11:15, at which point, they simply don't.
I saw two boys that were absent yesterday at a nearby cafe, when I was driving home after school. Today, I pulled them aside.
"I saw you yesterday at the cafe, but you were gone in class. Tell me... is there ANYTHING I can do to help get you folks to class?"
They were a flurry of protestations and denials.
"No, I'm asking sincerely, I'm truly soliciting your opinion: I know it's spring, the weather's getting nicer... I know that kids are going to want to skip... So what can I do to get people to still come to class?"
"It's not you," one kid replied. "I just didn't feel like coming. There's nothing you can do, it's just us."
I sighed. "We put a lot of effort into planning lessons for you guys that are engaging, and interesting, Kyle. When you don't come... it's hard not to take it personally."
He shrugged. "It's not you. I just didn't want to go."
Last Friday, when we had similarly low attendance, one kid in 5th period said, "So we're talking about Africa and then starting the book, right?"
"Yeah!" I said, laughing. "Do you guys talk to each other out in the halls about what we're doing in class that day?"
He grinned and nodded. "That way we can decide whether or not to come!"
My smile disappeared. "So..." I paused. "How should I interpret the fact that so many people are missing?"
His grin disappeared as well. He shrugged.
It's hard not to take it personally.
I posed the same question to our sparse 4th period today. "We're coming up on the really nice weather. What can I do to get people to come to class? I'm a new teacher, I'm trying to do the best I can to get things right, so tell me: from YOUR perspective... How do I keep you all from skipping class?"
The suggestions were random and mostly joking.
"Give us cupcakes every day!"
"Let us go outside!"
Viola has warned me about the utter disintegration of student focus when taking a class outside. I sighed.
It's not me, they say. Viola, the student, other teachers, say. It's not me. But when I plan these lessons that I think are fun, engaging, IMPORTANT... and 30% of our classes simply don't show up...?
It's hard not to take it personally.
Apr 14, 2009
Apres le Sneaking Blogging
In 12 minutes, I will get in my car and drive to a job fair. I have 24 beautiful resumes, and 24 beautiful cover letters, all tucked away into 24 beautiful folders.
Perhaps something will come out of this?
Today, I had to proctor the middle-school WASL. As the kids straggled in, I introduced myself, and smiled at them, and shook their hands. During the break, a couple of girls that Viola and I had taught in Swing last semester came over to talk to me.
I had resigned myself to the possibility of teaching middle-school next year-- there are more Language Arts jobs there than in High School. Talking to the girls, I thought to myself, "You know, middle school might not be so bad. You can still reason with them and have conversations about big people things."
And then the test ended and they all went BERSERK. One kid, the first test finisher, spent the rest of the hour -- while other kids were finishing the test-- making as many various and annoying noises as he could. Once the kids all finished, some of the boys decided that wrestling-- wrestling!-- was a good idea. I broke it up, but honestly?? And even though, after breaking up the wrestling, the kids mostly kept it under control, there was still a hair-straightening party in one corner, and arm-wrestling in another-- which was, apparently, the more subdued concession from the boys.
And I thought to myself, "Please God, not this."
We'll see...?
I've started a blogging project with the kids. (I would like to thank Blogspot for providing a venue through which it was possible to discover the many merits of blogging. I would also like to thank Annie Parsons, without whose inspiration, blogging may have never commenced...) And I am LOVING this project so far! The kids are doing such a fantastic job... They responded to a poem for the first assignment, and kids who have not turned in a SINGLE piece of paper all year long have written insightful, interesting blogs! AND, I required that they comment on one another's blogs, and they're so sweet...! They're encouraging, and kind, and bring up other points that the blog made them think about... I got the warm-fuzzies all weekend long, reading them.
Sometimes, kids are so great.
One more minute before leaving. Cross your fingers or say a prayer for me. Sooner or later, someone will hire me right?
Perhaps something will come out of this?
Today, I had to proctor the middle-school WASL. As the kids straggled in, I introduced myself, and smiled at them, and shook their hands. During the break, a couple of girls that Viola and I had taught in Swing last semester came over to talk to me.
I had resigned myself to the possibility of teaching middle-school next year-- there are more Language Arts jobs there than in High School. Talking to the girls, I thought to myself, "You know, middle school might not be so bad. You can still reason with them and have conversations about big people things."
And then the test ended and they all went BERSERK. One kid, the first test finisher, spent the rest of the hour -- while other kids were finishing the test-- making as many various and annoying noises as he could. Once the kids all finished, some of the boys decided that wrestling-- wrestling!-- was a good idea. I broke it up, but honestly?? And even though, after breaking up the wrestling, the kids mostly kept it under control, there was still a hair-straightening party in one corner, and arm-wrestling in another-- which was, apparently, the more subdued concession from the boys.
And I thought to myself, "Please God, not this."
We'll see...?
I've started a blogging project with the kids. (I would like to thank Blogspot for providing a venue through which it was possible to discover the many merits of blogging. I would also like to thank Annie Parsons, without whose inspiration, blogging may have never commenced...) And I am LOVING this project so far! The kids are doing such a fantastic job... They responded to a poem for the first assignment, and kids who have not turned in a SINGLE piece of paper all year long have written insightful, interesting blogs! AND, I required that they comment on one another's blogs, and they're so sweet...! They're encouraging, and kind, and bring up other points that the blog made them think about... I got the warm-fuzzies all weekend long, reading them.
Sometimes, kids are so great.
One more minute before leaving. Cross your fingers or say a prayer for me. Sooner or later, someone will hire me right?
Sneaky Blogger
I'm in second period.
The kids are all working on a Powerpoint project.
And I am blogging.
(Sneakily.)
Last week was exhausting: there was a ton of upfront "teacher time" which required massive energy on my part. We started a new book on Friday, and so I read the first 20 pages of Things Fall Apart in a nice clear, loud, expressive voice to FOUR different periods.
Fell asleep that Friday at 9:30pm. Woke up the next morning at 9am. Was knackered indeed, and relished every minute of those 11.5 sleeping hours.
After that, I resolved, "Less of me; more of them." I believe students learn better by discovering new information on their own anyway-- it helps them learn better and also keeps ME from crashing and burning.
Still: I now have time to sneaky blog, and can't help feeling guilty. Eep.
That's all for now-- should supervise the kiddos!
The kids are all working on a Powerpoint project.
And I am blogging.
(Sneakily.)
Last week was exhausting: there was a ton of upfront "teacher time" which required massive energy on my part. We started a new book on Friday, and so I read the first 20 pages of Things Fall Apart in a nice clear, loud, expressive voice to FOUR different periods.
Fell asleep that Friday at 9:30pm. Woke up the next morning at 9am. Was knackered indeed, and relished every minute of those 11.5 sleeping hours.
After that, I resolved, "Less of me; more of them." I believe students learn better by discovering new information on their own anyway-- it helps them learn better and also keeps ME from crashing and burning.
Still: I now have time to sneaky blog, and can't help feeling guilty. Eep.
That's all for now-- should supervise the kiddos!
Apr 8, 2009
Flip-Flop
Not referring to the sandals today. Unfortunately.
Today, I started my official "full-time" teaching for the next eight weeks. This means: I'm the boss.
Sort of.
In any case, it means: I'm the one doing the teaching. I'd planned a technologically whoop-de-doo lesson to kick off our new unit on Things Fall Apart, which entailed setting up all our students with blogs. I was nervous that things wouldn't work or that kids wouldn't like it, and blah blah blah, and was NERVOUS.
Also, ack: full time now! Equals NERVOUS.
So third period, I was nervous, and couldn't talk, and bumbled my way through the lesson. There were some frustrating classroom management moments (just a few kids in particular who DO tend to be difficult-- not, I hope, just for me) and at the end of the lesson I thought:
"I'm going to burn out so fast. Why did I pick this as a career? This is hard. The kids are hard. Thinking up lessons every day is hard. Trying to sell the kids on the lessons is hard. Why didn't I just choose a job that entails worrying about ME, not the learning and educations of all these kids? Is it too soon to start a second career? My second career was going to be relationship counseling, but I haven't been married yet. My second career was supposed to start after my first career but my first career hasn't started yet. I'm probably not even going to be able to find a job next year. What am I gonna dooooooo, BAAAAAH."
Etcetera.
But then fifth period (we only had third and fifth today, since it was a Block day) saved me. I know: FIFTH period! The notoriously difficult period! But I had my sea-legs at that point, and was comfortable giving the lesson, and the kids were good during class, and had fun starting up their blogs. So then after THAT class, I thought:
"I can do this. It's fun. It's engaging. I'm good at thinking up creative lessons. I'm good-- mostly-- at keeping the kids in line. This career will be fulfilling. This career will be fine. This career is do-able. I could be good at this. I might even be great at this. I might even love this."
Etcetera.
So it was a tiring, difficult day, and it was a fun, engaging day. And I might burn out so fast, but I really hope I don't. Thinking I need to get a skin thick enough to ride these good vs. not-so-good classes so that ONE of the latter doesn't send me into a downward spiral where I bemoan, and doubt, and quit.
Must not be a flip-flop. Must be a boot.
Or... you know. Something.
Today, I started my official "full-time" teaching for the next eight weeks. This means: I'm the boss.
Sort of.
In any case, it means: I'm the one doing the teaching. I'd planned a technologically whoop-de-doo lesson to kick off our new unit on Things Fall Apart, which entailed setting up all our students with blogs. I was nervous that things wouldn't work or that kids wouldn't like it, and blah blah blah, and was NERVOUS.
Also, ack: full time now! Equals NERVOUS.
So third period, I was nervous, and couldn't talk, and bumbled my way through the lesson. There were some frustrating classroom management moments (just a few kids in particular who DO tend to be difficult-- not, I hope, just for me) and at the end of the lesson I thought:
"I'm going to burn out so fast. Why did I pick this as a career? This is hard. The kids are hard. Thinking up lessons every day is hard. Trying to sell the kids on the lessons is hard. Why didn't I just choose a job that entails worrying about ME, not the learning and educations of all these kids? Is it too soon to start a second career? My second career was going to be relationship counseling, but I haven't been married yet. My second career was supposed to start after my first career but my first career hasn't started yet. I'm probably not even going to be able to find a job next year. What am I gonna dooooooo, BAAAAAH."
Etcetera.
But then fifth period (we only had third and fifth today, since it was a Block day) saved me. I know: FIFTH period! The notoriously difficult period! But I had my sea-legs at that point, and was comfortable giving the lesson, and the kids were good during class, and had fun starting up their blogs. So then after THAT class, I thought:
"I can do this. It's fun. It's engaging. I'm good at thinking up creative lessons. I'm good-- mostly-- at keeping the kids in line. This career will be fulfilling. This career will be fine. This career is do-able. I could be good at this. I might even be great at this. I might even love this."
Etcetera.
So it was a tiring, difficult day, and it was a fun, engaging day. And I might burn out so fast, but I really hope I don't. Thinking I need to get a skin thick enough to ride these good vs. not-so-good classes so that ONE of the latter doesn't send me into a downward spiral where I bemoan, and doubt, and quit.
Must not be a flip-flop. Must be a boot.
Or... you know. Something.
Mar 27, 2009
SPRING BREAK
I made it!!
We didn't even bother trying to hold the kids' attention today. Instead, the whole school went to the zoo. The whole school! Viola and I somehow managed to farm all of our kids out with chaperones, so we just wandered around together, occasionally getting adopted by some of our 9th and 10th graders who would follow along with us, and then we would all exclaim together over the howler monkeys or the peacocks. We laughed a lot, it was a great time.
When we got back to school, we had 45 minutes left of 6th period-- Musical-- so I taught the kids this "Guardian Angels" exercise, which is a trust game. The kids were skeptical at first, but everyone ended up getting really into it. Yay!
After school, Viola-- who is sick-- snuffled and sneezed her way through typing up a recommendation for me, which ended up being REALLY nice. Thank you Viola!! I'll put that to good use this next week, which will mostly be spent madly filling out job applications.
But.
FIRST:
I am going out tonight. I am going out dancing with friends. I am going to be a SINGLE, 25-YEAR-OLD GIRL, who does NOT need to worry about teenage boys reading into things, who does NOT need to wear boring professional clothes, who is ALLOWED to go out dancing with people her own age, who is ALLOWED to wear red lipstick if she wants, and who doesn't have to be Teacher Greta for one whole week!
Not that I mind being Teacher Greta. I actually really love being a teacher, and I suppose I'm Teacher Greta when I'm a teacher, so presumably, Teacher Greta and I at least have a warm working relationship.
But sometimes, it's fun to just be a young woman out on the town with her friends, with no professional responsibilities. Sometimes that is just FUN.
I even get to sleep in tomorrow. Woo hoo!!
We didn't even bother trying to hold the kids' attention today. Instead, the whole school went to the zoo. The whole school! Viola and I somehow managed to farm all of our kids out with chaperones, so we just wandered around together, occasionally getting adopted by some of our 9th and 10th graders who would follow along with us, and then we would all exclaim together over the howler monkeys or the peacocks. We laughed a lot, it was a great time.
When we got back to school, we had 45 minutes left of 6th period-- Musical-- so I taught the kids this "Guardian Angels" exercise, which is a trust game. The kids were skeptical at first, but everyone ended up getting really into it. Yay!
After school, Viola-- who is sick-- snuffled and sneezed her way through typing up a recommendation for me, which ended up being REALLY nice. Thank you Viola!! I'll put that to good use this next week, which will mostly be spent madly filling out job applications.
But.
FIRST:
I am going out tonight. I am going out dancing with friends. I am going to be a SINGLE, 25-YEAR-OLD GIRL, who does NOT need to worry about teenage boys reading into things, who does NOT need to wear boring professional clothes, who is ALLOWED to go out dancing with people her own age, who is ALLOWED to wear red lipstick if she wants, and who doesn't have to be Teacher Greta for one whole week!
Not that I mind being Teacher Greta. I actually really love being a teacher, and I suppose I'm Teacher Greta when I'm a teacher, so presumably, Teacher Greta and I at least have a warm working relationship.
But sometimes, it's fun to just be a young woman out on the town with her friends, with no professional responsibilities. Sometimes that is just FUN.
I even get to sleep in tomorrow. Woo hoo!!
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