Thursday, October 14, 2010
Post 44, wherein the author introduces the first part of a new cast of characters
It's high time I started a bit more cataloguing of the craziness that is my life in the classroom each day. To provide some semblance of context for future instances of cataloguing, a brief starter descriptions of the children, with pseudonyms inspired my presidents of the past.
Washington is a delightful girl, smart and compliant but with a few tendencies that drive me crazy: she's a first-rate tattle-tale, a pushy line cutter, and otherwise rather bossy in general. She does this cute thing, however, where she always wants to copy verbatim what is written on the board when it comes time for free-write/draw.
Adams is a portly young man who would be too frustrating to handle if he weren't so dorky. He is often absent-minded and defiant, but I've come to understand that this is mostly because he is living within his anime-inspired dream world and often this comes out in his acts of defiance -- as when given an order and he responds, "NEVER!" and proceeds to shoot an imaginary fireball at me.
Jefferson is another handful. She loves taking care of people and being a friend to others, but this kindness of spirit does not always extend to her teachers, whom she often ignores and/or defies. She also has this funny way of talking that is very difficult to understand, and she will lure you into her face to tell you a story and then promptly spit on you with every "puh" that comes out of her face.
Madison is an utter delight. I cannot think of a time when she has required any kind of redirection at all ... and thus this may be the last she is mentioned in this blog other than as the victim of the antics of other children. Alas, such is the lot of the "good kid" in Mr. M's class.
Monroe has quickly become the star of the class. He operates mostly at a 3-year-old level (we think) and, as such, is the instigator for much of the chaos that occurs. He is a lovable child, despite his frequent tantrums (which can involve throwing chairs and other items), wanderings (which can involve fleeing the class, sometimes to the extent that he actually escapes the building and runs three blocks away), and other misadventures. He's going to be mentioned quite a lot, so I'll leave it at that for now.
Quincy Adams is a good-natured young man with a mischievous face but -- blessedly -- a relatively docile temperament. He is eager to please, bright, and well-liked. Again, another friend that may not get much play in this blog.
Jackson is another good-natured rascal. He is not without his challenges, however. He is extremely eager to please, which can often lead to bouts of pouting and crying when he provokes the teacher's disapproval. He is often easily made to cry by the antics of other students. Indeed, seemingly the slightest word of teasing or disdain will send him to tears. He is otherwise an ebullient child who runs with both arms thrust behind him (something I've taken to doing myself, just to try it out) and speaks excitedly and with a stutter.
Van Buren is a bit of a mystery. Her primary nickname so far has been "space cadet" because she so often "zones out." Similarly, though she volunteers to answer many (virtually every) question, her answers are almost NEVER intelligible, and when they are, they are altogether bizarre. My coteacher recently exclaimed that she had left her own kindergarten brain at home that day after making a mistake or forgetting something in class (this is something we say commonly) ... Van Buren raised her hand and whispered (for that is the only way Van Buren is known to speak) "I have your kindergarten brain at my house." Wha???
Harrison is strange in ways that are unsettling but that I also cannot entirely figure out. She suffers from what appear to be severe headaches and stomach aches, though it is often difficult for me to determine what is truly pain and what is merely attention-seeking. Her howling does seem authentic, though, I have to say. This, combined with the fact that she is nearly impossible to wake up, leads me to think that she may be malnourished somehow. In any case, she also speaks like a cartoon southern belle ("You drinkin a pop, Mistuh Muhkee?!?") and wears uniform polos that are entirely to large for her.
Tyler is another delightful student. She is very eager to please, though like Washington, she can be a tattle tale, bossy, and is especially pushy in line. She has so far brought the tastiest birthday cupcakes, however, so she is doing quite well in Mr. M's kindergarten class.
Polk (a.k.a Grabby Grabster #2) is a large latina youth who has some inappropriately immature tendencies, like scratching people, whispering mean things ("I don't want to be your friend no more!"), snatching art supplies, food and anything else she can, and howling like a pinched baby when someone wrongs her. However, for the past two weeks she has curbed nearly all of these tendencies and really seems to be developing into a top-notch kindergartner. So you may not hear much about her.
Taylor is a very small latina youth who is also exceedingly quiet, though she pops out of her shell briefly from time to time to show off her smarts and a sort of strange sense of humor. She also refuses to eat, is very difficult to wake up from naps, and has a twin sister in the class across the hall. Her most recent story in writing class was about a pair of monsters who ate "the girl and her mom" and then moved into their house. This stood out among all the other works, which more or less were about playing with friends or going to grandma's house.
Fillmore would be class president if there were such a thing. He is the most socially adjusted and academically advanced of the students in the class. He can be a bit of a baby when he doesn't get his way or something is too hard for him (upon which he suddenly transforms into a ridiculous mess moaning and crying for his 'mommy'), but typically he is delightful, responsible, and bright.
To Be Continued ...
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Ringworm?? More like Ringwraith! (or Post 43: TMI)
I love these kids. I would do just about anything for them. I truly would ... but criminy! Ringworm??? Sick. And ITCHY!
Yessir, that picture above is of my forearm region, which is currently inhabited by a nasty looking ring that has been mistaken for a bug bite for the last two days (by me -- oops!) and for a cigarette burn today. Nope! It's ringworm, which I've found out through extensive internet research today during naptime has nothing to do with worms at all (which is a very good thing -- for a while I was concerned that el ringwraith was the cause) ... the flip side of good news is always bad, however: no worm for me, it's a fungus. Yuck.
On my way home tonight I stopped by Walgreens to find an ointment to apply to my nastiness. While there two things befell me: I was mistaken for a Walgreens store manager (or maybe just any old Walgreens staff person) and -- to save $2 -- I opted to forgo the standard "Lotrimin AF" for the generic "Jock Itch Ointment" and cowered in shame and humiliation while the smokers in line judged me for my "jock itch." I tried to explain to them that it was really ringworm, which made them continue to judge me ... but from further away.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Post 42, in which the author makes the acquaintance of his rib cage
Feeling flabby? A little thick in the mid-region? Those last few (and by few I mean 20) pesky lbs/kgs not just shedding themselves?
Have I got the thing for you!
Teach kindergarten at a charter school that operates from 7:30am to 5:00pm. Preferably one that will double as a sweat room/sauna (i.e. no air-conditioning during hot summer days) and replace your need for a treadmill (because you sprint faster than you've ever sprinted before chasing down maniacal five-year-olds before they reach a busy intersection or boiler room or other such disaster-in-the-waiting).
Seriously, folks, join me. I'm trying less than ever before to lose weight. I eat brownies like Bugs eats carrots. I go to the gym and sit on a bike more as a way to watch cable television than do any kind of working out. And yet, I've lost 10 pounds in the last two months, with no sign of gaining back that which is now gone. My concern these days is that the current trend will continue, leaving me waiflike in appearance and unable to maintain my authority over the hordes. For truly who can respect a grown man in loose-fitting skinny jeans?
Post 41, in which the author makes up for lost time
It's been over two months since my last post. It's hard to imagine how much has been packed into those two months, and even harder to ignore how nice it would be to have immediate reactions and reflections from that time. Oh well. As it is, it is taking a sidelining head cold and me being fairly caught up with work (ish) with work for the first time in a grip to get me back to pondering the great mysteries of life -- or at least whining about the lesser mysteries of my own -- here for you, dear readers.
So what's been happening in the interim? Weeellll ...
-I moved out of Illinois Institute of Technology and back into my REAL home with my REAL wife. Solidified my previously held inklings that I am no longer fit for dorm life, that there IS a difference between 27-year-olds and 22-year-olds, and that it's a very dangerous thing for me to have daily access to all-you-can-eat buffets.
-I returned to Seattle to perform wedding party duties and see old friends, confirming for me that it is nice to have friends ... which is awesome, because all of my friends live two thousand miles away. Move to Chicago, you fools!
-I started working at my new school, first spending three weeks getting to know my fellow teachers and colleagues in professional development. We're hot, we're brilliant, we're awesome, we're humble. The kids are lucky to have us.
-Part of that professional development included a week-long romp in Las Vegas for the annual conference of my school network. Nothing like seeing your brand new coworkers bumping and grinding (that's what I still call it ... I'm cool) on the dance floor to bring everybody together.
-Immediately following Vegas funtime, I performed more weddingly duties for my sister-in-law's nuptials, this time serving as "the priest" (which is what everybody called me, except for my new brother-out-law's very German father, who called me "the big chief," which I rather liked). I won't way the power didn't go to my head a bit. Let's just say, it was a game time decision as to whether I would open things with "Mawwiage ... Mawwiage is what bwings us heuh togevuh ..." Finally opted not to and have been regretting it ever since.
-Priestly duties fulfilled, I returned to my day job as a teacher -- this time with my own kids, the same ones I'll be with for the rest of the year. I call them "The Little Darlings," especially when they're smacking me in the face and jumping off of filing cabinets. That "special friend" (more early childhood educator lingo, I've learned) is unfortunately no longer making my days interesting anymore, but there are plenty of other things to fill the day.
Life as a kindergarten teacher is both crazy and wonderful. Between hours of instruction, planning, preparation, and then other obligations for graduate school and Teach For America, I've never worked so many hours in a day. At the same time, I've never had such gratifying work. The students I am working with are wonderfully resilient and excited for school and learning to read. It is not hard to get excited about work ... even if it is sometimes hard to wake up at five in the morning. Every morning.
So what's been happening in the interim? Weeellll ...
-I moved out of Illinois Institute of Technology and back into my REAL home with my REAL wife. Solidified my previously held inklings that I am no longer fit for dorm life, that there IS a difference between 27-year-olds and 22-year-olds, and that it's a very dangerous thing for me to have daily access to all-you-can-eat buffets.
-I returned to Seattle to perform wedding party duties and see old friends, confirming for me that it is nice to have friends ... which is awesome, because all of my friends live two thousand miles away. Move to Chicago, you fools!
-I started working at my new school, first spending three weeks getting to know my fellow teachers and colleagues in professional development. We're hot, we're brilliant, we're awesome, we're humble. The kids are lucky to have us.
-Part of that professional development included a week-long romp in Las Vegas for the annual conference of my school network. Nothing like seeing your brand new coworkers bumping and grinding (that's what I still call it ... I'm cool) on the dance floor to bring everybody together.
-Immediately following Vegas funtime, I performed more weddingly duties for my sister-in-law's nuptials, this time serving as "the priest" (which is what everybody called me, except for my new brother-out-law's very German father, who called me "the big chief," which I rather liked). I won't way the power didn't go to my head a bit. Let's just say, it was a game time decision as to whether I would open things with "Mawwiage ... Mawwiage is what bwings us heuh togevuh ..." Finally opted not to and have been regretting it ever since.
-Priestly duties fulfilled, I returned to my day job as a teacher -- this time with my own kids, the same ones I'll be with for the rest of the year. I call them "The Little Darlings," especially when they're smacking me in the face and jumping off of filing cabinets. That "special friend" (more early childhood educator lingo, I've learned) is unfortunately no longer making my days interesting anymore, but there are plenty of other things to fill the day.
Life as a kindergarten teacher is both crazy and wonderful. Between hours of instruction, planning, preparation, and then other obligations for graduate school and Teach For America, I've never worked so many hours in a day. At the same time, I've never had such gratifying work. The students I am working with are wonderfully resilient and excited for school and learning to read. It is not hard to get excited about work ... even if it is sometimes hard to wake up at five in the morning. Every morning.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Behavior Narration
The last couple of weeks have been a little crazy with transitioning from Teach For America institute to actually starting my first week at my school, where we've managed to keep busy despite the fact that chilluns don't arrive for another two weeks.
Institute ended with a mix of feelings. I definitely felt that I learned a lot, but I'm left having to be hopeful that the same can be said for the kids in our class. Our final round of assessments were less than conclusive, which was disappointing, and we continued to struggle to keep the class under control, with particular trouble in the afternoon on the last day when kids went pretty much ape$*%# all over each other and the classroom.
Keeping kids under control -- or "Classroom Management" as it is lovingly referred to within the education community -- is a tricky thing, and it's amazing to see all the different methods and systems that are put into place to make sure that children do what you want ... errr, what's best for their education, and thus for them. Teach for America gave us a system to use this summer in our classroom that we called the Behavior Management Cycle, which was meant to prevent (or at least stem) major behavior problems in the classroom.
The first step is setting clear expectations. This is actually harder than it sounds, because, even for simple tasks like passing papers or lining up to go the bathroom, you have to state exactly what it should and should not look like (which requires thinking about all of the ways that they could potentially thwart your desired vision -- e.g. folding papers into an airplane and floating them to people, slamming chairs into desks and then playing leapfrog the whole way into the lunch line, etc.). And THEN you often have to model how to do these things and how to NOT do these things. And THEN you may even have to have the students model it for you! So teaching the kids to do a simple procedure like those listed above can actually take just about FOREVER.
Step 2, which is my favorite, is Behavior Narration. In behavior narration, the teacher actually begins remarking upon the students who are following directions and acting appropriately, "narrating" what s/he sees these students doing. The hope is that students who are not on-task -- and thus not being given the precious mentions in the narration -- will quickly adopt the positive behaviors you are looking for. This sounds bizarre, and I initially really hated it. I think it especially sounded awful, because this summer I just heard a bunch of brand new teachers (including myself, of course) using it, and we sounded more or less like robots.
Dumb, right? The crazy thing is that it actually seems to work. It's kind of disturbing to sit in the back of a class and watch an entire row of students sit up straight because the teacher just narrated that one of their peers is sitting up straight. Makes me concerned that our species has some major weaknesses that an invading ultra-intelligent organism might exploit to great effect ...
But anyway, it really does work. And thus I love it ... just need to get it to feel more natural and to actually remember to do it before the class devolves into a total $#*!storm and I have nothing positive to narrate! That's a whole OTHER problem, though.
The final step in the cycle is the implementation of consequences, which in an ideal situation would be used very sparingly and would also have some kind of impact on the student behavior. I hated our consequence system -- mostly because I usually taught last during the day and many kids were already pretty far along the consequence ladder and had kind of given up on the day, but also because our final rung on the ladder was a call home to parents, which was COMPLETELY toothless, because A) We were told by the school that we needed permission (which we didn't have time to get for 3-5 kids each day) to call home and B) because neither we nor the office staff had phone numbers for most kids ... which tended to include the biggest troublemakers and C) Some of the kids didn't have working phones at home anyway. We tried to bluff our way through these obstacles, but a sassy few kids finally realized we had no real way of calling home and let us know that our threats to do so had no impact on them. These same kids pretty much laughed when we told them that we would walk home with them to deliver the news of their bad behavior -- "You're gonna walk home with me? YOU? In MY neighborhood?" Chuckle chuckle. And they were right. We had no intention or way of doing this anyway, since we had to board our little Teach For America bus and be shuttled off somewhere right after school let out. I wonder if I would have if we HAD been able to stick around longer.
Institute ended with a mix of feelings. I definitely felt that I learned a lot, but I'm left having to be hopeful that the same can be said for the kids in our class. Our final round of assessments were less than conclusive, which was disappointing, and we continued to struggle to keep the class under control, with particular trouble in the afternoon on the last day when kids went pretty much ape$*%# all over each other and the classroom.
Keeping kids under control -- or "Classroom Management" as it is lovingly referred to within the education community -- is a tricky thing, and it's amazing to see all the different methods and systems that are put into place to make sure that children do what you want ... errr, what's best for their education, and thus for them. Teach for America gave us a system to use this summer in our classroom that we called the Behavior Management Cycle, which was meant to prevent (or at least stem) major behavior problems in the classroom.
The first step is setting clear expectations. This is actually harder than it sounds, because, even for simple tasks like passing papers or lining up to go the bathroom, you have to state exactly what it should and should not look like (which requires thinking about all of the ways that they could potentially thwart your desired vision -- e.g. folding papers into an airplane and floating them to people, slamming chairs into desks and then playing leapfrog the whole way into the lunch line, etc.). And THEN you often have to model how to do these things and how to NOT do these things. And THEN you may even have to have the students model it for you! So teaching the kids to do a simple procedure like those listed above can actually take just about FOREVER.
Step 2, which is my favorite, is Behavior Narration. In behavior narration, the teacher actually begins remarking upon the students who are following directions and acting appropriately, "narrating" what s/he sees these students doing. The hope is that students who are not on-task -- and thus not being given the precious mentions in the narration -- will quickly adopt the positive behaviors you are looking for. This sounds bizarre, and I initially really hated it. I think it especially sounded awful, because this summer I just heard a bunch of brand new teachers (including myself, of course) using it, and we sounded more or less like robots.
"I see McNulty is on task and ready to learn. I see Kima and Bubs have their eyes on me and are sitting in active listening position. Bunk has put his pencil away and is waiting for instructions. Thank you Bunk."
Dumb, right? The crazy thing is that it actually seems to work. It's kind of disturbing to sit in the back of a class and watch an entire row of students sit up straight because the teacher just narrated that one of their peers is sitting up straight. Makes me concerned that our species has some major weaknesses that an invading ultra-intelligent organism might exploit to great effect ...
"I see that Andy is taking me to his leader and is ready to survive the great destruction of mankind. I see that Nathan and Jessie are bowing down and worshiping our superior race and won't be incinerated by our hi-tech ray guns. Thank you, Nathan and Jessie."
But anyway, it really does work. And thus I love it ... just need to get it to feel more natural and to actually remember to do it before the class devolves into a total $#*!storm and I have nothing positive to narrate! That's a whole OTHER problem, though.
The final step in the cycle is the implementation of consequences, which in an ideal situation would be used very sparingly and would also have some kind of impact on the student behavior. I hated our consequence system -- mostly because I usually taught last during the day and many kids were already pretty far along the consequence ladder and had kind of given up on the day, but also because our final rung on the ladder was a call home to parents, which was COMPLETELY toothless, because A) We were told by the school that we needed permission (which we didn't have time to get for 3-5 kids each day) to call home and B) because neither we nor the office staff had phone numbers for most kids ... which tended to include the biggest troublemakers and C) Some of the kids didn't have working phones at home anyway. We tried to bluff our way through these obstacles, but a sassy few kids finally realized we had no real way of calling home and let us know that our threats to do so had no impact on them. These same kids pretty much laughed when we told them that we would walk home with them to deliver the news of their bad behavior -- "You're gonna walk home with me? YOU? In MY neighborhood?" Chuckle chuckle. And they were right. We had no intention or way of doing this anyway, since we had to board our little Teach For America bus and be shuttled off somewhere right after school let out. I wonder if I would have if we HAD been able to stick around longer.
Monday, July 12, 2010
NYtimes article on TFA
Article about TFA on nytimes.com. This passage in particular resonated for me:
Lilianna Nguyen, a recent Stanford graduate, dressed formally in high heels, was trying to teach a sixth-grade math class about negative numbers. She’d prepared definitions to be copied down, but the projector was broken.
She’d also created a fun math game, giving every student an index card with a number. They were supposed to silently line themselves up from lowest negative to highest positive, but one boy kept disrupting the class, blurting out, twirling his pen, complaining he wanted to play a fun game, not a math game.
“Why is there talking?” Ms. Nguyen said. “There should be no talking.”
“Do I have to play?” asked the boy.
“Do you want to pass summer school?” Ms. Nguyen answered.
The boy asked if it was O.K. to push people to get them in the right order.
“This is your third warning,” Ms. Nguyen said. “Do not speak out in my class.”
Of (Dead) Mice and Men
The other day I was leading the students up from the lunchroom for their daily "washroom break." More than almost any other task, I dread this, primarily because it combines two embarrassingly difficult tasks: leading students silently and in two single file lines (boys and girls) through the hallways, and maintaining order among these single file lines while groups of three are released into the washrooms (what the kids -- and maybe the grownups, too?? -- tend to call bathrooms here) to "use it" (again, what the kids call doing their business; e.g "I gotta use it!"). This day my single file lines were decidedly sloppy and noisy, but it wasn't until I heard a chorus of squeal/shrieks from the boys' washroom that I really got a bad feeling.
When I walked into the washroom, I found Brody, McNulty and Ziggy scrambling against the walls by the urinals, trying to get as far away from the opposite wall as they could. When they saw me they all exclaimed in excited panic, "Mr. M! Mr. M! There's a mouse!" I followed their pointing fingers across the washroom to a tiny gray lump lying motionless against the wall.
"I killed it!" squealed Brody with a mixture of pride, shock, and disgust. Apparently Brody had "accidentally" stepped on the tiny mouse, something I didn't think was entirely plausible.
Deciding that quick, decisive action was required, I pulled off a long strand of toilet paper, wadded it up and quickly scooped up the mouse carcass and deposited it in the trash can. Of course, the entire 5 seconds that this action took was accompanied by grossed-out cries from my little comrades. Of course, immediately afterward, they spread the word that there was a dead baby mouse in the washroom trashcan, creating something of a sight-seeing destination for every boy as they entered and exited their washroom.
Once I finally got the fellas ushered out of the washroom and back into the class, I was beckoned over immediately and with some unspoken urgency by Brody, who was raising his hand and looking intently at me. Thinking he must have had some pressing question about the math "Do Now," I went over to Brody, who asked me with grave concern, "Mr. M, how did that mouse get in our school?" Thinking it unwise to tell him that there were probably more mice in the school than children, I simply shrugged, said "I don't know, Broady, he must've come in in somebody's backpack!" He didn't think this was funny either, of course, but it did seem to be an explanation he was willing to buy.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Links
Not prepared to comment in brief or at length on either of these topics, but thought they were worth posting for future thought:
A review of Stuart Buck's "Acting White: The Ironic Legacy of Desegregation."
"No Teacher Left Behind: When Did It Get So Hard to Fire a Teacher?"
Did I mention I love Slate(.com)?
A review of Stuart Buck's "Acting White: The Ironic Legacy of Desegregation."
"No Teacher Left Behind: When Did It Get So Hard to Fire a Teacher?"
Did I mention I love Slate(.com)?
All the Single Ladies
After reading my last couple of entries, my ever-astute better half has informed me that in my reflections I seem to skew towards talking about the young men in class. I tried a number of ways to rationalize this: it just SEEMS that way, because all the character names from "The Wire" are guys; but it's just because my small work groups are 100% male (slight exaggeration, as it turns out); but there's an 11:5 ratio of boys to girls and one of the girls (Rhonda, the only one I've mentioned so far, and for fairly negative reasons) never bothers to show up (oops, there I go again)! Clearly no amount of rationalization can hide the fact that, after only 5 instructional days I have fallen into the trap of interacting more with, focusing more on, and thinking more about the young men in my class and the challenges they present. And all this after reading BOTH "Failing at Fairness" and "Still Failing at Fairness!"
A bit about the young women of Room 204:
Lester, the soft-spoken model student, seems to have been exposed to a number of concepts in math and reading that other students are learning for the first time. Of course, this only exacerbates the problem of not giving her enough attention, as we struggle to catch the rest of the class up and take for granted that Lester will do okay with minimal support/care. Plus she's reading on a 4th grade reading level (other students are entirely illiterate), a full level ahead of just about everybody, with the exception of ...
Stringer, the slightly less soft-spoken model student. Stringer was the only student to look at her mid-summer-school progress report to find Bs AND be disappointed. Stringer struggles in math but is easy to overlook because she follows directions, copies problems from the board and is well-behaved. She is also the tallest student in class ... or maybe the second tallest to ...
Rhonda, the "5th-grade-lookin girl" with the attendance problem. Rhonda -- when she comes to school -- gets more attention than the other girls, for the sole reason that she acts out more. Between her aforementioned death stares and her inability to keep her hands off her "Scholar Dollar" bag (which can't have many Scholar Dollars* in it), Rhonda gets a fair amount of attention -- but usually the disciplinary kind. When I discovered at one point that Rhonda and her neighbor (Poot) didn't understand a key concept, however, and spent some time working with them as an impromptu small group I found Rhonda to be very responsive and a quick learner.
Avon, a quiet girl who wants to be a school principal when she grows up, has been struggling in just about every subject and with every concept so far and yet probably has received less individual attention than she needs/deserves. I have, however, been very good about confiscating the two notes that I've seen her writing (one of the "F*** you" variety and the other more of a chart than a note, listing in one column the "cool people" (yours truly included) and in the other column the "not cool people" the sole occupant of which happened to also be the recipient of the "F" note). My teacher advisers tell me that these notes bode well for her potential career in administration.
Finally, Kima, who I originally worked with quite a lot in my first couple of math classes. Kima loves math and is a quick learner but gets frustrated very quickly and, unlike the boys in the same situation, shuts down rather than acting out. You can guess how teachers (including myself) respond to this when there are four or five frustrated boys banging on desks, yelling for "Mr. M" and threatening/punching their classmates.
And yet it is not fair to these young women for this behavior -- my behavior -- to continue.
Thus I resolve the following:
-Despite the fact that -- as a general rule -- they tend to be quieter and less attention-demanding than their male counterparts, I will show an equal amount of care and concern and attention to the education of Lester, Stringer, Rhonda, Kima, and Avon as to their male counterparts.
-Given that my colleagues are likely to be falling into the same trap, I commit to give positive attention to these students.
-In addition to giving more positive attention, I commit to holding these students just as accountable to the classroom rules and procedures.
-In spite of their 4th grade reading level (on average 2-3 (and in some cases more) above their classmates), I will work and engage with Lester and Stringer during our small group for reading to make sure that they are being challenged to grow as readers and to speak their minds about the materials they are reading.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Back at it ...
Last week ended on an upswing. At least that's what the post-week spin doctors are saying. After three days of increasingly capable classroom management (but still fairly chaotic classrooms), I seemed to manage a breakthrough on Thursday. Not only was I able to get through my entire lesson (expanded notation and adding two-digit numbers), but I managed to do it without having to bark at anyone and without TOO much general disorder.
I also had really great individual interactions with some of the kids. Prior to my lesson, I worked with Bunk, Poot, and Frank Sobotka on expanded notation, and they all got it and were excitedly doing extra-hard problems in exchange for high-fives. Bunk in particular prided himself on his expertise and -- taking the advice of my faculty advisor, Ms. W -- I put him to work explaining the concepts to Poot, which he seemed not only to be quite good at but also happy to do. Bunk also managed to pick a tiny scab on his arm and demanded a band-aid, which apparently are non-existent at the school. To solve the problem, I told him about how men stick pieces of tissue on their bloody spots when they cut themselves shaving, and he proceeded to wear a bit of tissue on his arm like it was the baddest-a** bandage you ever saw.
In addition to my trio of miscreants, I noticed after my lesson that Bubs hadn't filled in his exit slip (daily assessment quiz) and that he had his head down and seemed to be pretty upset during the follow-up lesson, which was building on concepts that I had just taught. Knowing from the previous day that this detached melancholy would likely lead to a spiral of self-destructive behavior, I pulled a chair up to Bubs' desk and worked him through the lesson I had just failed to effectively communicate to him. The individual attention and the one-on-one tailoring seemed to do the trick in a matter of minutes, and Bubs was back in action answering questions and participating in class. It felt good.
As for a more general view of the class, it's an interesting one. Of the sixteen students there are five girls (Rhonda, Kima, Lester, Avon, and Stringer) and 11 boys (McNulty, Bubs, Lt. Daniels, Rawls, Bunk, Omar, Herc, Poot, Brodie, Frank Sobotka, and Ziggy). Although it's still early, I'd say the loci of power tend to reside with Lt. Daniels, Bunk, and Rhonda, though certainly any member of the cast of characters has the capability of throwing the classroom into a tailspin. Bunk is a hyper-sensitive hothead who has ALMOST been in a fight just about every day so far and writes us notes like "you don't like me" when we ask him to reflect on his misbehavior. Lt. Daniels is the class smarta** who's always good for a cheeky remark about whatever we're trying to accomplish and who needs to be constantly kept busy to avoid problems. And Rhonda, the aforementioned "5th grade-lookin' girl" is like a combination of Medusa and a proximity mine -- death glares everywhere she looks and always a potential for explosions.
It's a lively bunch who aim to please and are hungry to learn -- and more than capable of it, too! By and large, they have to deal with far more than any kids should, but the fact that the vast majority of misbehavior and tears comes from not understanding a given lesson -- to me -- says quite a lot about their collective character. I'm looking forward to the next few weeks with them and have to say it -- I missed them over the weekend.
Luckily I had lots of illegal fireworks going off in my neighborhood to occupy my thoughts. Apparently the friendly residents of Logan Square were trying to compensate for Mayor Daley's cheapskate fireworks show.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Just keep swimming swimming swimming ...
I certainly intended to chronicle my adventures in TFA's Summer Institute better, but they really leave very little time for such pursuits. I've basically been eating, drinking, breathing teacher trainings -- and for the last three days -- teacher being. It's been overwhelming but exciting, draining but energizing. I hardly know where to start.
So I'll start with the kids. For the last three days I have been Mr. McKee, teaching one lesson per day (45 minutes) to a smallish (16 kids) class of 3rd graders. These students are in summer school due to failing to pass the ISAT (Illinois State Assessment Test -- or something like that) and potentially due to failure to show up to school. The students range wildly and in unpredictable ways in personality, knowledge and skills, from McNulty*, entirely illiterate but with a heart of gold, to Rhonda, who looks like she's 14 and HATES me.
I won't say that the first few days with the kids went exactly as I'd hoped or expected they might go. Apparently my charm and brilliance aren't quite enough to woo them into docility.
After the Monday (Day 1) I was seriously worried about my ability to do much of anything to maintain control of the room. After just 10 or 15 minutes of instruction kids were talking, yelling and moving around in a flurry of uncontrolled chaos. I didn't entirely lose my head, but I came dangerously close and quasi-barked at a table of students that (I thought) was particularly flagrant in their disregard for my authority. Looking back, I probably could have chosen any of them, though. That table was probably just the closest one.
Tuesday was marginally better. I felt like I at least got some of my points across, though behavior was still decidedly terrible. My Faculty Advisor, Ms. W, who sits patiently in the back of the class while our pathetic crew of entitled wannabe teachers has our keesters handed to us, offered some words of consolation and advice. Despite what was probably actually a worse class, however, I somehow felt better than the night before ... probably because my standards and expectations had been drastically reigned in.
Today felt better than yesterday, too. Not good, of course. Not by a long shot. But I could feel certain things really working -- things that I had, in my hubris, felt were lame and unnecessary. Of course, after two days of third graders taking bats to my ego, I was ready to try anything. So I went in with the plan to use behavior narration and to be exceedingly firm with regards to the rules and consequences. Behavior narration, for those not privileged enough to use or hear it regularly, is a pretty obnoxious teacher tool in which the instructor actually narrates what they see students doing, pointing out positive and negative behavior (ideally in a 4:1 ratio). It goes something like this:
I see Bubbles working silently at his desk. I appreciate that Lt. Daniels is doing the assignment and keeping his hands to himself like I asked. Kima and Bunk Moreland are doing a wonderful job of following me with their eyes to let me know that they are ready to learn.
Gag me, right? But this steaming load of hooha actually seems to work -- particularly with the young ones, I'm told. May have lots of behavior narration in my future. So my friends and family will just have to forgive me in the event that, in the middle of dinner out, I start saying things like, "I see that Nathan is ready to order because he has put his menu down like I asked. Kevin is doing a very good job of not eating dairy products. Thank you, Kevin. I like the way Laura and Jessie and Simon are chewing with their mouths closed."
Anyway, it's late and I'm tired, but tonight was the first night in quite some time that I've been able to finish with work before 12:30, so I thought I'd better seize the moment and update while the thoughts and frustrations are fresh. Tomorrow is a new day, and the children WILL learn expanded notation come hell or high water.
*To protect the innocent (though after three days with them, I'm prepared to say that "innocent" may be the wrong word), names have been changed in any mentionings of specific children.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Induction and Institute ... so far!
I'm pretty loopy and punchy (I'd combine the words -- as I am wont to do -- if it weren't for the unsavory results ... and I'm not talking about "lunchy") after 16 hours of Institute today (inclusive of lunch and dinner "breaks") and 2.5 hours of post-institute homework tonight. Tonight's assignment: Churn out as many "Lesson Visions" as I can stomach. I think I've about had my fill of Objectives, Key Points, and Assessments.
The past couple of weeks have actually gone fairly well. Induction -- the first week "away" (in which I actually only spent one night away) with TFA, primarily orientation to what TFA is -- is a distant and blurry memory now, having been supplanted by the rush of information that's come in the past two days of Institute. But I moved in to Lewis Hall at the Illinois Institute of Technology a week and a day ago and met my roommate, floormates, future coworkers, and a bright-eyed, eager-beaver group of mostly 22-year-old Type A personality overachievers. There are around 170 of us in the Chicago corps, teaching a variety of subjects and grade levels and in placements in Chicago and Gary, Indiana. We reflected and explored, laughed and cried, heard inspirational story after inspirational story, and yet I didn't gag once!
Some highlights from Induction:
-Getting to see Rachel more than expected. As mentioned above, the schedule was considerably more relaxed than I had anticipated, so I got to spend pretty much every night at our apartment.
-Meeting my future coworkers and getting to know them. They're impressive people, I must say.
-Formally and Informally planned social events, like an impromptu outing to Wrigleyville, a pizza dinner at an Auxiliary Board Member's house, cocktail reception for '08 alums at the Chicago Public Library, and a golf pub crawl through Wrigleyville (yet again ... a fairly despicable neighborhood, if you ask me, but apparently the only one that anybody from TFA goes out in).
-Facing (in my own way, which wasn't particularly successful, I suppose) my not inconsiderable social anxiety and feelings of isolation and shame associated with my old age. This is still certainly a work in progress ... but each day yields new results. I've gone from Day 1, in which noisy Jesus (a fellow corps member) said "How old ARE you? You look a little older than the rest of us?" to people looking shocked and impressed by my announcement (always accompanied by a flourish of my left ring finger) of my pending two year wedding anniversary. Sorry ladies and gentlemen -- this geezer's taken.
So with Induction behind us, Institute finally began. I've been hearing horror stories about this thing since I first inquired about Teach For America, and I'm not going to say that it hasn't lived up to the hype, but I am going to say this: if one can somehow manage to acquire a social anxiety not unlike the one mentioned above -- an almost crippling inability to make friends or introduce oneself to people without misidentifying oneself, mixing noun-verb agreement in simple speech, or muttering and mumbling into an audible ellipsis punctuated by a timid "never mind, sorry, I guess, oh gosh" -- then the challenges of Institute will pale in comparison.
That said, it has been an intense couple of days so far. We are spending the rest of the week learning about lesson planning and teaching literacy skills. Just to make things interesting, I'll be skipping out on classes on Friday to attend the festivities associated with the nuptials of close friends in Seattle ... only to return on Monday to teach a remedial class on using "branching" (some newfangled math thing) to add a set of single-digit numbers. You're not gonna want to miss that one.
The onset of actual student interaction will be a very good thing, I think for this blog. Looking back over the last 30 or so entries, it's clear that the focus needs to switch from my neuroses to the pithy and cute utterances and antics of small school children ... or at least the focus can be shared.
The past couple of weeks have actually gone fairly well. Induction -- the first week "away" (in which I actually only spent one night away) with TFA, primarily orientation to what TFA is -- is a distant and blurry memory now, having been supplanted by the rush of information that's come in the past two days of Institute. But I moved in to Lewis Hall at the Illinois Institute of Technology a week and a day ago and met my roommate, floormates, future coworkers, and a bright-eyed, eager-beaver group of mostly 22-year-old Type A personality overachievers. There are around 170 of us in the Chicago corps, teaching a variety of subjects and grade levels and in placements in Chicago and Gary, Indiana. We reflected and explored, laughed and cried, heard inspirational story after inspirational story, and yet I didn't gag once!
Some highlights from Induction:
-Getting to see Rachel more than expected. As mentioned above, the schedule was considerably more relaxed than I had anticipated, so I got to spend pretty much every night at our apartment.
-Meeting my future coworkers and getting to know them. They're impressive people, I must say.
-Formally and Informally planned social events, like an impromptu outing to Wrigleyville, a pizza dinner at an Auxiliary Board Member's house, cocktail reception for '08 alums at the Chicago Public Library, and a golf pub crawl through Wrigleyville (yet again ... a fairly despicable neighborhood, if you ask me, but apparently the only one that anybody from TFA goes out in).
-Facing (in my own way, which wasn't particularly successful, I suppose) my not inconsiderable social anxiety and feelings of isolation and shame associated with my old age. This is still certainly a work in progress ... but each day yields new results. I've gone from Day 1, in which noisy Jesus (a fellow corps member) said "How old ARE you? You look a little older than the rest of us?" to people looking shocked and impressed by my announcement (always accompanied by a flourish of my left ring finger) of my pending two year wedding anniversary. Sorry ladies and gentlemen -- this geezer's taken.
So with Induction behind us, Institute finally began. I've been hearing horror stories about this thing since I first inquired about Teach For America, and I'm not going to say that it hasn't lived up to the hype, but I am going to say this: if one can somehow manage to acquire a social anxiety not unlike the one mentioned above -- an almost crippling inability to make friends or introduce oneself to people without misidentifying oneself, mixing noun-verb agreement in simple speech, or muttering and mumbling into an audible ellipsis punctuated by a timid "never mind, sorry, I guess, oh gosh" -- then the challenges of Institute will pale in comparison.
That said, it has been an intense couple of days so far. We are spending the rest of the week learning about lesson planning and teaching literacy skills. Just to make things interesting, I'll be skipping out on classes on Friday to attend the festivities associated with the nuptials of close friends in Seattle ... only to return on Monday to teach a remedial class on using "branching" (some newfangled math thing) to add a set of single-digit numbers. You're not gonna want to miss that one.
The onset of actual student interaction will be a very good thing, I think for this blog. Looking back over the last 30 or so entries, it's clear that the focus needs to switch from my neuroses to the pithy and cute utterances and antics of small school children ... or at least the focus can be shared.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Branching Out
Due to "The Great 70cent Boycott"* of the Dunkin Donuts-Baskin Robbins (formerly known as "Andy's Office"), I've relocated my locus of operations to Purabelleza, where I'm currently abusing their wifi and consuming inappropriate amounts of coffee.
Today will likely consist of me lying to myself that I'll do something important like get my new driver's license or go get fingerprinted for the third time in the last year and then proceed to sit around and wait for the kindly folks at AT&T to call to let me know what the dilly is with our internetz. I'd try to muster up the emotion to be angry at our new internet providers if every customer service representative I talked to weren't crazy-friendly and if I didn't have the sneaking suspicion that our tech woes are all my fault. In any case, thank you to Brian, John, Rhona and Shonda (all of AT&T) for being so nice to me, despite the fact that I'm sure it's apparent to each of these individuals that I'm a big oafish internet-breaking fool.
In happier news, the Blackhawks won the Stanley Cup last night. Funny how something that I wouldn't have cared about AT ALL just a few months ago has come to be such a big deal in my mind. I successfully watched every game of the Finals and, in the course of doing so, became something of a regular at the Congress Pizzeria and Ristorante, where the friendly bartender and Jesus, the manager, made us feel very welcome ... and didn't seem to care that we know almost nothing about hockey.** Thanks, guys!
Getting pretty jittery from all this coffee, so I'm going to add some endnotes and call it quits for now. Til next time, true believers!
*The Great 70cent Boycott, alternatively known as "The Dunkin-Baskin Boycott of 2010," begun in earnest on 6/8/2010, is a response to the sudden arbitrary price hike in many drinks on the Dunkin Donuts-Baskin Robbins menu, including a 70cent increase on small iced coffees. Participants in the G70B (still ongoing) demand a return to previous prices or at least an apology for the sudden, hurtful bump.
**Lies. Look at all of these things I've learned about hockey:
Names of Blackhawks players (I'm not even looking these up before I write them): Toews, Byfuglien, Kane, Niemi, Hossa, Seabrook, Boynton, Richards, Sharpe, Hjarllson, (or something equally ridiculous and Scandinavian) and hated Flyers players(Pronger, Pronger, Pronger, Pronger, Hartnell, and Pronger).
Penalties: Icing, Off Sides, High Sticking, Cross-checking ... I even know what most of these mean and can identify them while watching a game (most of them).
Today will likely consist of me lying to myself that I'll do something important like get my new driver's license or go get fingerprinted for the third time in the last year and then proceed to sit around and wait for the kindly folks at AT&T to call to let me know what the dilly is with our internetz. I'd try to muster up the emotion to be angry at our new internet providers if every customer service representative I talked to weren't crazy-friendly and if I didn't have the sneaking suspicion that our tech woes are all my fault. In any case, thank you to Brian, John, Rhona and Shonda (all of AT&T) for being so nice to me, despite the fact that I'm sure it's apparent to each of these individuals that I'm a big oafish internet-breaking fool.
In happier news, the Blackhawks won the Stanley Cup last night. Funny how something that I wouldn't have cared about AT ALL just a few months ago has come to be such a big deal in my mind. I successfully watched every game of the Finals and, in the course of doing so, became something of a regular at the Congress Pizzeria and Ristorante, where the friendly bartender and Jesus, the manager, made us feel very welcome ... and didn't seem to care that we know almost nothing about hockey.** Thanks, guys!
Getting pretty jittery from all this coffee, so I'm going to add some endnotes and call it quits for now. Til next time, true believers!
*The Great 70cent Boycott, alternatively known as "The Dunkin-Baskin Boycott of 2010," begun in earnest on 6/8/2010, is a response to the sudden arbitrary price hike in many drinks on the Dunkin Donuts-Baskin Robbins menu, including a 70cent increase on small iced coffees. Participants in the G70B (still ongoing) demand a return to previous prices or at least an apology for the sudden, hurtful bump.
**Lies. Look at all of these things I've learned about hockey:
Names of Blackhawks players (I'm not even looking these up before I write them): Toews, Byfuglien, Kane, Niemi, Hossa, Seabrook, Boynton, Richards, Sharpe, Hjarllson, (or something equally ridiculous and Scandinavian) and hated Flyers players(Pronger, Pronger, Pronger, Pronger, Hartnell, and Pronger).
Penalties: Icing, Off Sides, High Sticking, Cross-checking ... I even know what most of these mean and can identify them while watching a game (most of them).
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Now We're Cookin' (and Taking Warm Showers) with Gas!
I always liked that expression ("Now You're Cookin' with Gas!"). I never really understood it all that well -- I guess gas is awesome to cook with? Faster or something? -- but it seems to apply to our current situation, both literally and more figuratively, I guess.
First of all, we finally have (wait for it ...) GAS in our apartment after a long saga that is hopefully over (furiously knocking on wood) and involved numerous encounters with John the Plumber, our friendly racist Russian (I think?) plumber who doesn't understand any of my attempts at humor until well after they've been made, at which point he tries to let me know that he understands and reciprocates with a joke of his own, which I usually don't understand ... until later, if at all. John blames the Mexicans for the cluster-F that has been our plumbing situation over the last few weeks. Okay, John! Thanks for the hot water!
In the more figurative sense, we truly are revving up our Chicago existence here with an ever-improving domestic situation (beds, couches, dressers and much MUCH more!), bar review courses and a FUTURE JOB for Rachel (that PAYS ... cue angel chorus NOW!), and daily adventures and preparation for Teach For America for Andy.
To the first of these, we must truly thank IKEA for two adventure-filled, headache-inducing trips, the most recent of which did at least include a touch of humor. As we were (over-)loading our car with boxes of assemble-yourself furniture (which makes me feel like such a man! grunt grunt grunt.), I couldn't help but overhear the startled and concerned cries of the young Asian women (over-)loading their car next to me. A sampling of their ejaculations included: "Oh no! This bed mattress doesn't fit in my trunk!", "Oh no! Tying a knot upside down is way harder!", and "Oh no, girl! Why am I bleeding?" Between these hysterics, those of our own (which will go unelaborated upon), and those of the couple on the other side of us whose stack of furniture strapped to the top of their car looked like a mobile leaning tower of Pisa, I thought we had wandered into a Saturday Night Live sketch. In fact, I regaled Rachel with what I thought that SNL sketch would include the entire way home ... she loved it.
Secondly, and WAY more importantly, Rachel has a job! She'll be clerking in Milwaukee starting fall 2011, which is totally awesome, totally affirming, and totally a load off. Now we just have to figure out how we're going to work our household between my job in Chicago and her job in Milwaukee (1.5-2 hours away). Sweet Potatuhs! My wife is smart as heck!
As for TFA, I stopped by the office the other day for a test prep session and then took the Teacher Certification test yesterday. It was crapalicious, so hopefully I didn't do myself any favors like failing it. During the lunch break I went to this awesome place called Maxwell Street Depot and got a porkchop sandwich ("Chicago's Best!") and about broke a lateral incisor on the humongous bone that was still in it. Once I came to grips with the fact that the bone probably made it more authentic and must have been left in there on purpose, I decided it was fine ... although I was also less excited, because my quarter-pound porkchop lost about half of it's weight/mass once I nibbled around it like a scaredy cat. Anyway, suffice it to say, my breath reeked of grilled onions and whatever else they piled on the thing, which I'm sure my test-taking pals were thrilled about in the afternoon session.
In closing, I decided to google "Cooking with Gas." Here's your tidbit (from a website of "American idioms"):
First of all, we finally have (wait for it ...) GAS in our apartment after a long saga that is hopefully over (furiously knocking on wood) and involved numerous encounters with John the Plumber, our friendly racist Russian (I think?) plumber who doesn't understand any of my attempts at humor until well after they've been made, at which point he tries to let me know that he understands and reciprocates with a joke of his own, which I usually don't understand ... until later, if at all. John blames the Mexicans for the cluster-F that has been our plumbing situation over the last few weeks. Okay, John! Thanks for the hot water!
In the more figurative sense, we truly are revving up our Chicago existence here with an ever-improving domestic situation (beds, couches, dressers and much MUCH more!), bar review courses and a FUTURE JOB for Rachel (that PAYS ... cue angel chorus NOW!), and daily adventures and preparation for Teach For America for Andy.
To the first of these, we must truly thank IKEA for two adventure-filled, headache-inducing trips, the most recent of which did at least include a touch of humor. As we were (over-)loading our car with boxes of assemble-yourself furniture (which makes me feel like such a man! grunt grunt grunt.), I couldn't help but overhear the startled and concerned cries of the young Asian women (over-)loading their car next to me. A sampling of their ejaculations included: "Oh no! This bed mattress doesn't fit in my trunk!", "Oh no! Tying a knot upside down is way harder!", and "Oh no, girl! Why am I bleeding?" Between these hysterics, those of our own (which will go unelaborated upon), and those of the couple on the other side of us whose stack of furniture strapped to the top of their car looked like a mobile leaning tower of Pisa, I thought we had wandered into a Saturday Night Live sketch. In fact, I regaled Rachel with what I thought that SNL sketch would include the entire way home ... she loved it.
Secondly, and WAY more importantly, Rachel has a job! She'll be clerking in Milwaukee starting fall 2011, which is totally awesome, totally affirming, and totally a load off. Now we just have to figure out how we're going to work our household between my job in Chicago and her job in Milwaukee (1.5-2 hours away). Sweet Potatuhs! My wife is smart as heck!
As for TFA, I stopped by the office the other day for a test prep session and then took the Teacher Certification test yesterday. It was crapalicious, so hopefully I didn't do myself any favors like failing it. During the lunch break I went to this awesome place called Maxwell Street Depot and got a porkchop sandwich ("Chicago's Best!") and about broke a lateral incisor on the humongous bone that was still in it. Once I came to grips with the fact that the bone probably made it more authentic and must have been left in there on purpose, I decided it was fine ... although I was also less excited, because my quarter-pound porkchop lost about half of it's weight/mass once I nibbled around it like a scaredy cat. Anyway, suffice it to say, my breath reeked of grilled onions and whatever else they piled on the thing, which I'm sure my test-taking pals were thrilled about in the afternoon session.
In closing, I decided to google "Cooking with Gas." Here's your tidbit (from a website of "American idioms"):
"Although common place today, gas stoves have not always been the norm. Gas stoves started to be available in the 1800's, and until that time wood stoves were the standard.
Now you're "cooking with gas" comes from an old advertisement for gas stoves. The phrase suggests that gas is faster, easier, cleaner, better than cooking with wood."
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Brotherhood of the Traveling Office
... well, it would be a brotherhood, if I had any bros here, anyway. I'm working (for the third day in a row) out of the Dunkin Donuts/Baskin Robbins a couple blocks from our new apartment in Chicago. Every morning I come in, pay $1.09 for an iced coffee, and milk it for all it's worth by nursing it for a couple of hours while abusing the free wi-fi. After today, though, I'm moving this operation to a new coffee shop each day (hence the "Traveling Office" title, also inspired by Rachel recently staying up until 2am to watch the sequel to the Rory Gilmore/Ugly Betty vehicle/sensation) until we have internet set up in the apartment. Tomorrow's office? Cherub which the yelp reviews say "smells like grandma's attic." Can't wait!
Despite the bleak initial picture with regards to coffee shops here (seriously walked two miles down a main street in an unsuccessful search for a coffee shop with free wi-fi -- I don't think that's even possible in Seattle), we're off to a good start here. The apartment is way bigger than we need, particularly since we have no furniture other than the bed which (self-congratulation alert!) I successfully "built" (read: assembled with the helpful picture-instructions of IKEA). Each day brings new adventures and misadventures, the latter being particularly fun in the freakish (or perhaps even worse -- the routine??) 90-degree heat.
We've also been exploring some of the local cuisine and will surely be taco/burrito/torta experts of the first order. I've been furiously trying to keep up with Yelp reviews after each experience, too!) We also found a swingin party to watch the Lost series finale -- part of the Brew and View series at the Vic Theater. As it turns out, it was a good thing, too: the excitement of the crowd definitely buoyed spirits through the at times underwhelming and at other times plain frustrating 3.5-hours (Check out the Slate guys' discussion of the finale, too!). Reminds me of hooting with glee at a midnight showing of "Attack of the Clones" only to find out much much later that Yoda's sparring match with Dooku was actually pretty ridiculous.
Now that I'm settling into some sort of a routine (shyeah right), hopefully I'll be able to post more. There's definitely stuff to say! Until next time, keep cool and go Hawks!
Despite the bleak initial picture with regards to coffee shops here (seriously walked two miles down a main street in an unsuccessful search for a coffee shop with free wi-fi -- I don't think that's even possible in Seattle), we're off to a good start here. The apartment is way bigger than we need, particularly since we have no furniture other than the bed which (self-congratulation alert!) I successfully "built" (read: assembled with the helpful picture-instructions of IKEA). Each day brings new adventures and misadventures, the latter being particularly fun in the freakish (or perhaps even worse -- the routine??) 90-degree heat.
We've also been exploring some of the local cuisine and will surely be taco/burrito/torta experts of the first order. I've been furiously trying to keep up with Yelp reviews after each experience, too!) We also found a swingin party to watch the Lost series finale -- part of the Brew and View series at the Vic Theater. As it turns out, it was a good thing, too: the excitement of the crowd definitely buoyed spirits through the at times underwhelming and at other times plain frustrating 3.5-hours (Check out the Slate guys' discussion of the finale, too!). Reminds me of hooting with glee at a midnight showing of "Attack of the Clones" only to find out much much later that Yoda's sparring match with Dooku was actually pretty ridiculous.
Now that I'm settling into some sort of a routine (shyeah right), hopefully I'll be able to post more. There's definitely stuff to say! Until next time, keep cool and go Hawks!
Sunday, May 9, 2010
On the Road ... Again
I guess it's not entirely crazy that I haven't updated since our yard sale a few weeks ago. Between then and now we have sold or dumped all of our furniture and most other belongings, packed the remainder into the car, moved out of the apartment, couchsurfed with friends, quit jobs/finished school, left Seattle, and made it (so far) to Denver, CO. I haven't had nearly enough time to process all of these happenings (despite the 10-hour drives through Montana and Wyoming) and hope to dive into them a bit more in a later post.
In the meantime, however, I just want to say how much I love and loathe road trips. On the one hand, I can't stand living out of suitcases (particularly those that I didn't pack for myself), but I do enjoy the long stretches listening to country radio, exploring the awfulness of highway-side motels, and discovering regional gems like Taco Johns, to which we just treated ourselves to while watching "Miss Congeniality" (part of some station's "Mamalicious Mothers Day Weekend Movie Marathon") on our hotel room cable, another of our road-trip guilty pleasures.
We've got two more days of driving. Tomorrow's destination is sunny Kansas City, after which we'll make the final push to Ohio. We've seen the more scenic sites of the trip already, but who doesn't have a little soft spot for Kansas, after all?
In the meantime, however, I just want to say how much I love and loathe road trips. On the one hand, I can't stand living out of suitcases (particularly those that I didn't pack for myself), but I do enjoy the long stretches listening to country radio, exploring the awfulness of highway-side motels, and discovering regional gems like Taco Johns, to which we just treated ourselves to while watching "Miss Congeniality" (part of some station's "Mamalicious Mothers Day Weekend Movie Marathon") on our hotel room cable, another of our road-trip guilty pleasures.
We've got two more days of driving. Tomorrow's destination is sunny Kansas City, after which we'll make the final push to Ohio. We've seen the more scenic sites of the trip already, but who doesn't have a little soft spot for Kansas, after all?
Sunday, April 25, 2010
a lesson in yard sale etiquette
We held our yard sale today. It was originally supposed to be yesterday, but we totally chickened out after seeing the ENTIRELY incorrect weather forecast for the Seattle area on weather.com (as one of my friends put it, "They never give Seattle enough credit."). We didn't realize what a big deal it would be to reschedule for the next day, but apparently we screwed up ... BIG time.
The problem begins with our over-preparedness. We had advertised our yard sale on craigslist to maximize our customer base. In the wonderful craigslist ad that Rachel wrote, she also listed some of the sweet gear that we were making available to the public at greatly discounted prices. Among this sweet gear was a particularly coveted roll of bubble wrap, which is probably the second piece leading to this particular woe: our stuff was too awesome ... or at least, people really like bubble wrap.
So we decided to postpone the yard sale from yesterday to today, seeing that the liars at weather.com were predicting sunny warmth all day. We deleted our old ad on craigslist and replaced it with an updated one but did not think to do anything more than that to cover our tracks. Little did we know what a can of you-know-what we had opened!
And we wouldn't find out until the next day (today) when we arrived at the site of the yard sale (our friend's house) and were told that, not only did one overzealous customer come knocking on their door yesterday at 8am looking for a space heater, but they also received a bit of what they termed "hate mail" taped to their door. It went something like this:
"Sure hope it's nothing serious -- but what happened to the yard sale?? FYI -- if you cancel or postpone, it would be nice to leave a note. Some of us got here at 8am."
The letter was written on the back of a printout of our craigslist ad. We had upset a true planner. And we felt some small amount of remorse about it, too, but we did share a chuckle.
It wasn't until later in the sale that a dowdy middle-aged woman with a bit of a grumpy face walked up to our sale, scouring the premises for what appeared to be something very specific. When I finally made eye contact with her, she demanded to know where the "large roll of bubble wrap" was. I informed her that it had been claimed, only to be subjected to several exasperated sighs and the declaration that the bubble wrap was her entire reason for coming out to the sale today ... and apparently -- as she went on to say -- for coming out the day before, as well. The dowdy grumpster proceeded to quasi-shout a litany of complaints that almost exactly mirrored the above-quoted letter, revealing herself to be our hate mailer ... as well as a real fan of bubble wrap. Rather than confront her about any of these oddities, I apologized profusely and then looked away until she skulked off.
Don't let this happen to you. Have a care, if you hold a yard sale, and realize that people really do love them and take them incredibly seriously. For some it truly seems like some kind of competitive sport or cutthroat part-time job ... and you really just don't want to get in the way of that.
Speaking of quasi-hate mail, check out this website chronicling some hilarious and disturbing passive aggressive notes.
And speaking of nothing at all related to anything else in this post, check out this website of the place I went to yesterday and risked life and limb to make a bunch of fools eat my dust in go-cart racing!
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Tacomaroma
Do you smell that?
Wait, do you mean the smell of fear? ... or the smell of paper mill funk as you drive by the Tacoma Dome (where Britney and the cast of both Glee and American Idol come to wow the crowds)? That's right, it doesn't really matter. They smell awful similar.
Picture it:
We were in Tacoma visiting colleagues at the Tacoma office -- something of a storefront operation accessible to both the physically handicapped (thanks to a lovely long ramp) and the batshit crazy! We had just returned from the office, perhaps a little overexcited about our yummerino soups from Infinite Soups (surely the gem of Tacoma), when I noticed a man beginning the in-accordance-with-the-law-gradual incline of the ramp outside. I was curious, as he struck me as different than our usual volunteer interviewee (but, as he was an African American male, I thought this was more a good thing than something to be concerned about). It wasn't until he entered the building that I had occasion to think otherwise.
As he shut the door behind him, I heard a whisper from behind me of my soup-slurping colleague saying (in dramatic fashion) "He locked the door." Of course, this started me into a bit of a panic, but being a cool customer, I suppressed this instinct, welcomed our guest, and waited for him to announce his business ... all the while trying to gauge whether the door had truly been locked (it appeared that if any lock had been engaged, it was only the button lock on the door handle, which would have no impact on one's exit from the premises.)
Our guest was a flurry of vocabulary from the get-go, requesting a private audience with "either a male or a female" staff member about a "confidence matter" before rejecting this idea and settling into a folding chair next to our lunch table (conveniently located mere feet from the entrance) and launching into his story without really any preamble (or else it was all preamble -- as you'll see, it became difficult to tell).
He proceeded to tell us about his situation. He had somehow been transplanted (by train, it appeared) from Maryland and had accumulated a menagerie of teenaged daughters (each of a different ethnicity: white, black, Latino, and Native American ... pretty impressive) that were experiencing no small amount of turmoil. He told us that one of his daughters had been raped by "the Cubans" and (after a long detour into his current strained relationship with one of the girl's mothers involving DV (Domestic Violence) charges and stolen food stamps) mentioned that he may or may not be on something of a vigilante trip to destroy the aforementioned Cubans. He framed all of this as something of a warning to the ineffectual and bureaucratic "system" (a.k.a. the Tacoma Police?) that he may do something and repeatedly said that -- should he do something -- he wanted there to be a record that he had come to somebody beforehand.
His story, when intelligible at all, certainly had elements with which one might sympathize, but mixed in with the other two-thirds of his diatribe that was entirely incoherent and increasingly disturbing. Upon rereading the above crystallization of his ramblings, I see I have not done them justice. Suffice it to say that when our guest mentioned that he would have "no problem pulling the trigger" and flashing what I took to be a somewhat menacing glance in my direction and then proceeded to (we think) inform us that he had two "sides" (either coleslaw and mac and cheese from KFC or sideARMS?) on him that I decided it was finally time to unfreeze my petrified ass and try to coax our friend toward the door.
This was achieved more or less without incident, though he made some ominous reaches into amorphous pockets (to turn off a Walkman, as it turned out), some raised voices, and some decided dilly-dallying around picking up his backpack to leave.
Upon his departure, the authorities were informed of the general gist of our lunchtime conversation, after which I chugged the cold remnants of my "Ethiopian Greens" soup and got the hell out of Tacoma. On the way back to the office, my fellow manager and I compared "last moment thoughts" which ranged from "when I get shot in the stomach, how likely is it that a police officer or other emergency respondent will arrive in time to save me?" to "I bet this would be so much less definitively frightening if I were more religious."
In any case, life continues, despite another visit to Tacoma, and with that continued life come continued reflections: How much danger was I ever actually in? Did I handle the situation appropriately? Should I have given "our guest" more leeway? Less leeway? Should I assume that every middle-aged man with a large backpack and fatigue pants walking up to the office is a threat?
Luckily Ethiopian Greens soup tastes good hot AND luke-warm-to-coldish. That's all I've got to say about that.
Wait, do you mean the smell of fear? ... or the smell of paper mill funk as you drive by the Tacoma Dome (where Britney and the cast of both Glee and American Idol come to wow the crowds)? That's right, it doesn't really matter. They smell awful similar.
Picture it:
We were in Tacoma visiting colleagues at the Tacoma office -- something of a storefront operation accessible to both the physically handicapped (thanks to a lovely long ramp) and the batshit crazy! We had just returned from the office, perhaps a little overexcited about our yummerino soups from Infinite Soups (surely the gem of Tacoma), when I noticed a man beginning the in-accordance-with-the-law-gradual incline of the ramp outside. I was curious, as he struck me as different than our usual volunteer interviewee (but, as he was an African American male, I thought this was more a good thing than something to be concerned about). It wasn't until he entered the building that I had occasion to think otherwise.
As he shut the door behind him, I heard a whisper from behind me of my soup-slurping colleague saying (in dramatic fashion) "He locked the door." Of course, this started me into a bit of a panic, but being a cool customer, I suppressed this instinct, welcomed our guest, and waited for him to announce his business ... all the while trying to gauge whether the door had truly been locked (it appeared that if any lock had been engaged, it was only the button lock on the door handle, which would have no impact on one's exit from the premises.)
Our guest was a flurry of vocabulary from the get-go, requesting a private audience with "either a male or a female" staff member about a "confidence matter" before rejecting this idea and settling into a folding chair next to our lunch table (conveniently located mere feet from the entrance) and launching into his story without really any preamble (or else it was all preamble -- as you'll see, it became difficult to tell).
He proceeded to tell us about his situation. He had somehow been transplanted (by train, it appeared) from Maryland and had accumulated a menagerie of teenaged daughters (each of a different ethnicity: white, black, Latino, and Native American ... pretty impressive) that were experiencing no small amount of turmoil. He told us that one of his daughters had been raped by "the Cubans" and (after a long detour into his current strained relationship with one of the girl's mothers involving DV (Domestic Violence) charges and stolen food stamps) mentioned that he may or may not be on something of a vigilante trip to destroy the aforementioned Cubans. He framed all of this as something of a warning to the ineffectual and bureaucratic "system" (a.k.a. the Tacoma Police?) that he may do something and repeatedly said that -- should he do something -- he wanted there to be a record that he had come to somebody beforehand.
His story, when intelligible at all, certainly had elements with which one might sympathize, but mixed in with the other two-thirds of his diatribe that was entirely incoherent and increasingly disturbing. Upon rereading the above crystallization of his ramblings, I see I have not done them justice. Suffice it to say that when our guest mentioned that he would have "no problem pulling the trigger" and flashing what I took to be a somewhat menacing glance in my direction and then proceeded to (we think) inform us that he had two "sides" (either coleslaw and mac and cheese from KFC or sideARMS?) on him that I decided it was finally time to unfreeze my petrified ass and try to coax our friend toward the door.
This was achieved more or less without incident, though he made some ominous reaches into amorphous pockets (to turn off a Walkman, as it turned out), some raised voices, and some decided dilly-dallying around picking up his backpack to leave.
Upon his departure, the authorities were informed of the general gist of our lunchtime conversation, after which I chugged the cold remnants of my "Ethiopian Greens" soup and got the hell out of Tacoma. On the way back to the office, my fellow manager and I compared "last moment thoughts" which ranged from "when I get shot in the stomach, how likely is it that a police officer or other emergency respondent will arrive in time to save me?" to "I bet this would be so much less definitively frightening if I were more religious."
In any case, life continues, despite another visit to Tacoma, and with that continued life come continued reflections: How much danger was I ever actually in? Did I handle the situation appropriately? Should I have given "our guest" more leeway? Less leeway? Should I assume that every middle-aged man with a large backpack and fatigue pants walking up to the office is a threat?
Luckily Ethiopian Greens soup tastes good hot AND luke-warm-to-coldish. That's all I've got to say about that.
Why I Like Glee
So after a near-death experience while in Tacoma this morning (see future entry, hopefully tonight) I've had to recuperate at home with a little Laphroaig and some hulu repeats of Modern Family and Glee. I've professed my love for the former before (though not to the extent it deserves), but this may be the first time I've admitted to my affection for the latter. The jury was out for a while, but it's solidly in now: I like Glee.
Why do I like Glee? Well, there are the over-produced, self-indulgent musical numbers. That's certainly a big factor. But more than even the musical numbers, I think what I like about Glee is that it's actually in a weird way somewhat unpredictable. Sure, the Gleesters pair up in predictable ways and break up in even more predictable ways, they win competitions in even more annoyingly predictable ways, and they face many of the overly predictable foibles and exploits of typical (or at least TV-typical) high school kids.
And yet I like it. It's strangely appealing in a way that for a while kept me wondering (in a very un-Sopranos-or-the-Wire way), is this a "good" show? And I'm not sure that I've entirely resolved that question still, but I have experienced enough of it to know that it is a good show for me. Despite all of it's seeming predictability, Glee is a quirky, weird little show with little moments of shocking bizarreness or poignant reallifeness. Like the uncomfortableness of Sue Sylvester (hilarious Jane Lynch, a Second City alum!) blackmailing the school principal after date raping (or, as Wikipedia has just informed me, "drug-facilitated sexually assaulting") him, or the some schizophrenic (a good word for the show, perhaps) storyline between Mr. Schuester and his crazy pregnancy-faking wife, or the more-complicated-than-they-should be relationships of the various high school students that remind me of the illogical, uncertain high school existence moreso than other pretenders.
But why do I really like Glee? The list:
-The Schuester hair jokes, which are really in full effect since the show's return two weeks ago. Rachel loves these jokes, too, for the same reason that I'm a little sensitive about it -- my hair is kind of Schuester-like. Though I did find some vindication in the most recent episode in which Sue admits that she only comments on his hair (which had previously been liked to a bird's nest and lesbian hair among other things) because she is jealous of it's waviness ... and lustrousness.
-Lines like "You're about as sexy as a cabbage patch doll. It's exhausting to look at you." ... particularly when they're directed towards the endlessly flummoxed and flabby Finn, at whom it is exhausting to look.
-Unapologetic devotion to particular pop icons. Though I'm still waiting for the David Bowie episode.
-The way it makes it's seemingly unforgivable underdogs (Puck, Quinn, Schuester's wife) somehow so forgivable that you find yourself rooting for them? Was I the only one that thought Schue was overreacting about the faux-baby?
-Speaking of Schue's overreaction, the unexpected and jarring moments of legitimate pathos have got to make the list. When he finally confronts his wife about her deception, a scene not entirely unlike the Tony-and-Carmela-split-up scene in the Sopranos, there is some true pain going on there ... impressive particularly for a guy that spent most of the season fighting off the urge to jam out with a full-on white boy's overbite.
-The ability to seemingly deny that certain characters and plot points ever existed. As much as I love Needle-nosed Ned the Head, jettisoning Stanley Tobolowsky's character was probably a good idea, and the fact that they did it without a moment's worry devoted to explaining it away is refreshing.
I think that's enough for now, though you can expect to revisit this topic in the future. I've also got a lot to say about "Lost" these days but will probably hold off on that until no one remembers this ridiculously long post devoted to a middling teeny bopper show. Now it's time to reflect on the day's other, more traumatic, experience. Stay tuned.
Why do I like Glee? Well, there are the over-produced, self-indulgent musical numbers. That's certainly a big factor. But more than even the musical numbers, I think what I like about Glee is that it's actually in a weird way somewhat unpredictable. Sure, the Gleesters pair up in predictable ways and break up in even more predictable ways, they win competitions in even more annoyingly predictable ways, and they face many of the overly predictable foibles and exploits of typical (or at least TV-typical) high school kids.
And yet I like it. It's strangely appealing in a way that for a while kept me wondering (in a very un-Sopranos-or-the-Wire way), is this a "good" show? And I'm not sure that I've entirely resolved that question still, but I have experienced enough of it to know that it is a good show for me. Despite all of it's seeming predictability, Glee is a quirky, weird little show with little moments of shocking bizarreness or poignant reallifeness. Like the uncomfortableness of Sue Sylvester (hilarious Jane Lynch, a Second City alum!) blackmailing the school principal after date raping (or, as Wikipedia has just informed me, "drug-facilitated sexually assaulting") him, or the some schizophrenic (a good word for the show, perhaps) storyline between Mr. Schuester and his crazy pregnancy-faking wife, or the more-complicated-than-they-should be relationships of the various high school students that remind me of the illogical, uncertain high school existence moreso than other pretenders.
But why do I really like Glee? The list:
-The Schuester hair jokes, which are really in full effect since the show's return two weeks ago. Rachel loves these jokes, too, for the same reason that I'm a little sensitive about it -- my hair is kind of Schuester-like. Though I did find some vindication in the most recent episode in which Sue admits that she only comments on his hair (which had previously been liked to a bird's nest and lesbian hair among other things) because she is jealous of it's waviness ... and lustrousness.
-Lines like "You're about as sexy as a cabbage patch doll. It's exhausting to look at you." ... particularly when they're directed towards the endlessly flummoxed and flabby Finn, at whom it is exhausting to look.
-Unapologetic devotion to particular pop icons. Though I'm still waiting for the David Bowie episode.
-The way it makes it's seemingly unforgivable underdogs (Puck, Quinn, Schuester's wife) somehow so forgivable that you find yourself rooting for them? Was I the only one that thought Schue was overreacting about the faux-baby?
-Speaking of Schue's overreaction, the unexpected and jarring moments of legitimate pathos have got to make the list. When he finally confronts his wife about her deception, a scene not entirely unlike the Tony-and-Carmela-split-up scene in the Sopranos, there is some true pain going on there ... impressive particularly for a guy that spent most of the season fighting off the urge to jam out with a full-on white boy's overbite.
-The ability to seemingly deny that certain characters and plot points ever existed. As much as I love Needle-nosed Ned the Head, jettisoning Stanley Tobolowsky's character was probably a good idea, and the fact that they did it without a moment's worry devoted to explaining it away is refreshing.
I think that's enough for now, though you can expect to revisit this topic in the future. I've also got a lot to say about "Lost" these days but will probably hold off on that until no one remembers this ridiculously long post devoted to a middling teeny bopper show. Now it's time to reflect on the day's other, more traumatic, experience. Stay tuned.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Holding Pattern
Life is in upheaval during this time of intense transition, and yet I can't help but feel like many parts of it are in a bit of a holding pattern. I've all but stopped any serious effort to continue reading or doing much in the way of productive pursuits. I am, however, enjoying my new MacBook Pro. (Let's not talk about the fact that the day after I caved and bought this beauty, Apple released it's latest updated MBPs.)
I did read a bit of "Still Failing at Fairness" (2004) before realizing that it was truly more of a refresh of the original "Failing at Fairness" than a sequel. SFAF did provide me with this compelling statistic: 98% of kindergarten teachers are women. That's actually up 8% from the original FAF (1994). Sounds like I'll once more be surrounded by the ladiez. My lot in life, apparently.
I've decided that it's time to start reading the pre-Institute required readings, too, which will delay further progress on the "So You Think You Can Teach" reading list. We'll see if I ever get back to it.
Our time in Seattle is almost up. We leave here bright and early on May 6th, a little over two weeks away, and there is still a LOT to do. Rachel has been working hard to get rid of all of our furniture, and so we are both currently clutching our computers while perched on the bed, which has been relocated to the living room and has been repurposed as a bed/couch/chair/desk/kitchen table. I've also been taking bag upon bag of clothes donations to work each day. We are really paring down our material possessions right now, which is a very liberating feeling. Today we got rid of our coffee table and futon (Ding Dong it's finally gone!!) and have already lost our dining room table and chairs, my desk and dressers, the microwave, TV, DVD player, and some lamps. Yeah, it's getting pretty empty.
I did read a bit of "Still Failing at Fairness" (2004) before realizing that it was truly more of a refresh of the original "Failing at Fairness" than a sequel. SFAF did provide me with this compelling statistic: 98% of kindergarten teachers are women. That's actually up 8% from the original FAF (1994). Sounds like I'll once more be surrounded by the ladiez. My lot in life, apparently.
I've decided that it's time to start reading the pre-Institute required readings, too, which will delay further progress on the "So You Think You Can Teach" reading list. We'll see if I ever get back to it.
Our time in Seattle is almost up. We leave here bright and early on May 6th, a little over two weeks away, and there is still a LOT to do. Rachel has been working hard to get rid of all of our furniture, and so we are both currently clutching our computers while perched on the bed, which has been relocated to the living room and has been repurposed as a bed/couch/chair/desk/kitchen table. I've also been taking bag upon bag of clothes donations to work each day. We are really paring down our material possessions right now, which is a very liberating feeling. Today we got rid of our coffee table and futon (Ding Dong it's finally gone!!) and have already lost our dining room table and chairs, my desk and dressers, the microwave, TV, DVD player, and some lamps. Yeah, it's getting pretty empty.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Failing at Fairness ... and Blogging!
It's been a while ... again! But I have a better excuse this time: For at least part of the time since my last post I've been "South of the Border" down Mexico-way visiting mi hermano in Guadalajara, where he's teaching English. As for the rest of the time, I don't have a lot to say about that.
I have, however, been able to continue reading and just finished "Failing at Fairness" by Myra and David Sadker, a husband and wife team of education researchers specializing in sexism in education. The book was interesting in a lot of ways but also seemed to be fairly out of date ... probably why they've updated it with a "sequel": "STILL Failing at Fairness." I'm curious to start SFAF, but some of my reflections on the original ...
The Sadkers explore sexism in schools from early childhood through graduate school and identify blatantly sexist practices, barriers, and attitudes at every step along the way. Many of these challenges (and the most interesting, to me) are those perpetuated by well-meaning educators and administrators who don't even know the impact of their actions.
I don't remember elementary school as crystal clearly as I wish I did, but many of the attitudes described regarding school boys' perceptions of girls and what it would be like to be a girl (that is to say, the "I'd rather die!! mentality" struck me as very true and reminiscent of my own childhood. Interestingly, girls are much more open and positive about the idea of what it would be like to be a boy (either for a little or long while), and some said they even wish they could make the change. (There is no real discussion of gender identities beyond heterosexual male and females in the original FAF ... perhaps SFAF?)
Another discussion that resonated with me was that of female protagonists in children's books (at the time of publication, vastly outnumbered by male protagonists) and the very limited role of women in textbooks of all kinds. When I was in high school I remember a new history textbook coming out that featured special text "boxes" or "sidebars" discussing the "important" role of women during each era in history and even remember thinking then that if the role was really so important, why wasn't it just included in the general text of the chapters?
The Sadkers also pointed out flaws in teacher education through the years (for instance, encouraging teachers to stock more books with male protagonists because "girls will read books about boys but boys won't read books about girls") and the various challenges faced by women attending college, graduate schools and professional schools (including a very interesting section on women in medical school in the early 80s -- around the time both my mother and aunt attended). They explore "controversial" ideas like single sex schools which -- though equivocal in their endorsement -- they seem to find more good in than bad.
The Sadkers also point to many things that teachers can do to stem the tide of sexism in their classroom. For instance:
-ensuring that books with strong female protagonists are prominent and in abundance
-making an effort to call on and interact with girls at least as often as boys
-interacting with girls in a way that values their achievements, actions and input
-discussing sexist texts, practices or other challenges openly with students
-exposing girls to traditionally masculine subject areas and careers, identifying role models, and encouraging exploration of these areas
... and many more. As a future kindergarten teacher, I'm very glad to have read this book. While talking to several people about it, I got the impression that many people believe this to be a problem of the past (another reason I'm very glad to read SFAF next!) or a problem relegated to communities of color and/or poverty, but it is clearly an important issue and one that I hope I can address in my own future classroom.
I have, however, been able to continue reading and just finished "Failing at Fairness" by Myra and David Sadker, a husband and wife team of education researchers specializing in sexism in education. The book was interesting in a lot of ways but also seemed to be fairly out of date ... probably why they've updated it with a "sequel": "STILL Failing at Fairness." I'm curious to start SFAF, but some of my reflections on the original ...
The Sadkers explore sexism in schools from early childhood through graduate school and identify blatantly sexist practices, barriers, and attitudes at every step along the way. Many of these challenges (and the most interesting, to me) are those perpetuated by well-meaning educators and administrators who don't even know the impact of their actions.
I don't remember elementary school as crystal clearly as I wish I did, but many of the attitudes described regarding school boys' perceptions of girls and what it would be like to be a girl (that is to say, the "I'd rather die!! mentality" struck me as very true and reminiscent of my own childhood. Interestingly, girls are much more open and positive about the idea of what it would be like to be a boy (either for a little or long while), and some said they even wish they could make the change. (There is no real discussion of gender identities beyond heterosexual male and females in the original FAF ... perhaps SFAF?)
Another discussion that resonated with me was that of female protagonists in children's books (at the time of publication, vastly outnumbered by male protagonists) and the very limited role of women in textbooks of all kinds. When I was in high school I remember a new history textbook coming out that featured special text "boxes" or "sidebars" discussing the "important" role of women during each era in history and even remember thinking then that if the role was really so important, why wasn't it just included in the general text of the chapters?
The Sadkers also pointed out flaws in teacher education through the years (for instance, encouraging teachers to stock more books with male protagonists because "girls will read books about boys but boys won't read books about girls") and the various challenges faced by women attending college, graduate schools and professional schools (including a very interesting section on women in medical school in the early 80s -- around the time both my mother and aunt attended). They explore "controversial" ideas like single sex schools which -- though equivocal in their endorsement -- they seem to find more good in than bad.
The Sadkers also point to many things that teachers can do to stem the tide of sexism in their classroom. For instance:
-ensuring that books with strong female protagonists are prominent and in abundance
-making an effort to call on and interact with girls at least as often as boys
-interacting with girls in a way that values their achievements, actions and input
-discussing sexist texts, practices or other challenges openly with students
-exposing girls to traditionally masculine subject areas and careers, identifying role models, and encouraging exploration of these areas
... and many more. As a future kindergarten teacher, I'm very glad to have read this book. While talking to several people about it, I got the impression that many people believe this to be a problem of the past (another reason I'm very glad to read SFAF next!) or a problem relegated to communities of color and/or poverty, but it is clearly an important issue and one that I hope I can address in my own future classroom.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Birthday
Well if the weather today is any indication, my 27th year is likely to have it's ups and downs. Indeed, the weather has been positively schizophrenic today: mild and pleasant in the morning, showers at noontime, balmy and warm in the early afternoon, and then an apocalyptic (by Seattle standards anyway) thunder and hail storm just a short while ago. Things seem to be settling down now into a cooler than normal March evening.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Oops
Well, I knew it would happen sooner or later, but I've gone two weeks without posting. Some might say that's due to a lack of dedication to the blogging lifestyle and others might say, "Good for you! You got a life!" I wish I could attest to the veracity of the exclamatory statements of the latter group, but, alas, it probably has more to do with the former option.
That said, a couple of exciting things HAVE transpired over the last 12 days. In no particular order:
Rachel finished law school!!! Okay so there is SOME particular order. I can't adequately describe quite how glad I am that law school is OVER and also quite how impressed I am with my wife for completing it. She's a soldier.
We went to Portland! (Part I of Rachel's Guilt Over Missing Andy's Birthday Leads to a Prolonged Birthday Celebration ... which REALLY needs to be retitled) We had awesome Lebanese (not usually my favorite) food at Nicholas Restaurant, explored the Pearl District, saw the largest independent bookstore in Portland, drank a local brew at some bar tended by a pissy barmaid and scarfed a bacon maple bar (and waited half an hour to do it) at Voodoo Donuts.
We also hosted a Murder Mystery Party (Part II of RGOMABLPBC) in which my fictitious bride was murdered at our wedding reception, prompting an evening-long investigation that uncovered ugly truths and disturbing mysteries. It was a lot of fun and Rachel (a.k.a. Inspector Poirot) did a great job of both organizing the party and solving the crime.
Finally, March Madness has once again taken up more than it's fair share of my time over the last week or so. The Buckeyes just lost tonight, thus sinking my longshot bracket. It's been fun, but particularly since we'll be out of the country (Meheeko, here I come!) for the majority of the rest of the tournament, I'm not sure it's an entirely bad thing to lose some interest.
I'll be trying to get back in the swing of posting more about education and other things involving my future life as an educator. A friend has sent some links to some an interesting website and a book or two regarding early childhood education. My father-in-law also forwarded an article about experts condemning "proposed core standards" for young students, which will probably have to be addressed in an upcoming entry along with a question he has posed to me about the very nature of charter schools and their relationship to teachers unions. Heavy stuff.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Is there a Scottish Equivalent to St. Patrick's Day?
It's time for me to acknowledge that I've fallen off the wagon. I haven't picked up a book (any book, really) in about a week. When I'm through with this post, I'm going to give Paulo Freire one last college try, to hopefully alleviate some of the guilt I'm feeling.
My dad told me yesterday that I'm not as Irish as I thought I was -- and he tells me this four days before St. Patrick's Day! He and my mom have been exploring their genealogies online and have been debunking some of the lifelong ideas I had about who I am and where I came from. These ideas were always somewhat general and murky (Scotch Irish, kicked out of Scotland and then kicked out of Ireland and somehow wound up in Ohio), but they were an idea nevertheless, a part of my identity.
So it turns out that the McKee family comes direct from Scotland with no stopover in Ireland at all. The south of Scotland appears to be teeming with McKees (or McKies or MacKays ... or a bunch of other variations), dating back to the early 1700s when my great great great great great great great grandfather, David McKie, left the mother country and set up shop in the British colonies of America. David's son, John McKee, founded McKeesport, Pennsylvania (now kind of a depressed-looking place) in 1795. Dad's having trouble with his maternal line, though he's traced it back to Maryland, and the folks seem to be of English/Welsh descent.
Mom doesn't seem to have found as much in her research, though it looks like the Golemans are also from the British Isles (mostly English, she thinks) and were in Virginia for quite a while upon arriving in the new world.
I'm glad the folks are doing this -- partially because I do find it interesting and am gratified in a way to know where my ancestors came from, but also because it will be one less thing that I have to do when I'm getting old and wishing I knew more about who I am and where I came from. They also seem to be having a lot of fun with it, though, in typical McKee fashion, it took a TV show to spur this interest. They've been watching (and getting inspired by Henry Louis Gates' (he of the Obama Beer Garden Mediation) "Faces of America."
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Final Thoughts ... for the Day
Okay, "Lost" was actually pretty good this week (It helped that it was focused on Ben Linus, one of the few characters to still have much individual interest for me). I wanted to say that, because I mentioned how unimpressed I have been with this season so far. Actually the last couple of episodes have been better ... although the religious overtones (which have previously usually stayed in the realm of undertones) need to get put back in check if it's not going to pull a total Matrix Revolution (remember the Keanu crucifix blast? yeah, you do.).
Also, I just checked macrumors.com, and they had a report about possible updated Macbook Pros being in stores tomorrow. They promptly backpedaled and debunked the rumors, but it seems like there is growing buzz in internetworld about an update very (hopefully VERY) soon!
Finally, Slate has a good advice column called "My Goodness: Advice on How to Make the World Better." Yesterday's topic was a question that I have debated with Rachel many times: Is it "wrong" (or bad) to send your kids to private school? The consensus seems to be that you need to do what's best for your individual kids, but it's certainly a complex issue and one that I'm sure we'll continue to struggle with. The state of public education in the U.S. is really abysmal and needs to be a priority for everyone.
Pacman
Catching up on Lost (so far not impressed with this ho hum final season), finally taking out the pile of recycling that was ivy-like in it's ascent up my living room wall, and now blogging about what has been taking up WAY too much of my thought and time today (and yesterday). I rediscovered the "fun" tab on my Google home page, which includes a Pacman app. I'm a fan of the arcade game (though mostly of the MS. Pacman), but today took the appreciation to a new level.
I was working out of our Tacoma office and (on a break, of course) played a game of Pacman when I started to think of how awesome I was at it. These thoughts merged with some paranoid theories about whether the different colored ghosts (or "Ghost Monsters") had different personalities/strengths/strategies and prompted me to do some Google searches. I not only found that there was a bizarre-sounding and short-lived Pacman cartoon in the 80s, but also (and somewhat more interestingly) a rather intense and impressive history of Pacman players.
I guess I had always thought I was a pretty amazing Pacman player myself and thought I must not be TOO far from "beating" the game. Little did I know that Pacman actually has over 250 levels (I've beaten maybe 10 or 11 in my best games) including a legendary "split-level" (a weird garbled mess of a level) that appears to be endless (or unbeatable). Since 1999, seven people have achieved the feat of a "perfect game" in Pacman, in which the top score is something over 3 million. (One of these guys was actually from Beavercreek, OH!) Anyway, dejected and ashamed, I now acknowledge that I am not a very strong Pacman contender, but it has inspired me to take my Pacman training more seriously.
Bring it.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Kindergarten
Well, it's official. I have a job for next year, and I will be teaching ... KINDERGARTEN! (Cue horror movie shrieks and ominous music.) It's a bit different than I was expecting (i.e. hadn't thought about sitting on carpet squares and finger-painting), but I'm already getting excited about the idea. Now, if only every other woman I tell about it will just stop saying "Aw, so cute!" or "Oh, how precious." We'll work on that.
I've decided that when I start teaching I am going to blog about it in a very scientific way while also respecting the privacy of the subjects (or students) involved. Rachel gave me a book for my birthday a few years ago called "A Primate's Memoir" by Robert M. Sapolsky, who refers to each of the members of the baboon troop by a name from the Bible. I think I'll do that with my kids, too, only maybe I'll use characters from Shakespeare or an HBO series. ("Today McNulty peed himself while I was helping Ophelia get rubber cement out of her hair." Something like that).
So it's been a little while since I posted and I wanted to make up for lost time by also posting a couple of links that I've been enjoying:
A good piece at the New York Times Magazine about "Building a Better Teacher."
An hilaaarious commercial for the hilaaaarious show "Modern Family." Some day I'll have to post specifically about the show, as it's really funny, but for now, enjoy the taste.
I've also been reading a new book, "Pedagogy of the Oppressed" by Paulo Freire. I'll have to comment further on it when I've been able to read a few paragraphs without either falling asleep or becoming somewhat overwhelmed. Gotta get back in the habit of reading academic works, I guess. Phew.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Hodge Podge
I've been reading some forum threads about how to get people to read your blog and in so doing have looked at some other people's blogs. I've come to the conclusion that part of my challenge is that I'm not a very disciplined blogger with regards to sticking to a particular theme or topic ... which makes my target audience for this blog basically people who care about my (apparently quite) random musings.
This entry isn't gonna help that much, I'm afraid.
So, first of all, I started watching "Big Love" this week and -- despite my deep aversion to Bill Paxton (I think I previously mentioned my "Worst Actors of All Time" list, which he tops) -- I'm already sold. I am a LITTLE concerned that I may mostly be enthralled by the strange and bizarre world of polygamy and/or Mormon cult living. Oh well. (The show was very quick to acknowledge that the Church of the Latter Day Saints (LDS) has not condoned polygamy since 1890.)
Okay, how about this one? I was driving down to Portland today, and apparently my radio tuner in the car is busted because most of the time I could only get one or two stations (this may also have been because I was in the boonies). I actually kind of like this, because it makes me listen to things that I normally wouldn't ... like THIS SONG! The first verse is about a guy who's about to kill himself in his car (a Chevy, of course) when his buddies call to make sure he's coming out on some binger. This thoughtful expression of friendship causes the protagonist to reconsider his plans and to respond what will become the refrain of the song: "Thanks for the call."
Today was gonna be the day
He´d already wrote the note
And parked that Chevrolet
At the end of that dead end road
Had his finger on the trigger; just about to end everything
He was taking one last long breathe; when he heard his cell phone ring
And his best friends say man where you been?
We´re headed down to the lake this weekend
You better not miss it ´cause buddy I swear
It won´t be the same If you aint there
And i told that girl that you like so much
You were coming along and her eyes lit up
I better let you go man i really hope i didnt catch you in the middle of anything
He said you kinda did but i don´t mind at all
I´m glad you called
It's been a while since a song made me burst out laughing, but this one did it. A+!
I keep hoping that each of of these posts will be my last one written from my crappy work laptop. I've got my sights set on a new mac and have been obsessively checking this website to see when I can fork over the dough. Both MacRumors, Rachel and everybody else I ask say it's better just to wait until the new updates are out. Sigh. Some day soon ... I hope.
Finally, and most importantly, I got to go watch Rachel compete in the Jessup International Law Competition today. She was amazing. I told her afterward that I was amazed by how much like a REAL LAWYER she really is now. The last time I saw her in a mock trial-type competition was in her first year of law school, and it's so impressive how much progress she has made. She has worked so hard over the last three years, and the results are plain to see. She has inspired me to take a similar tack (though perhaps not QUITE as zealous) in my own career path. She's amazing!
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Hurt Locker
I saw "The Hurt Locker" yesterday and it was predictably awesome. Given everything I had heard about it, the pump was definitely primed going in, but it did not fail to live up to my expectations. In fact, it was a much more enjoyable movie than I was expecting ... which is not to say that my shoulders aren't still sore from being tensed for two hours straight.
Aside from that, Rachel is gone for the weekend for her Jessup competition, and I have a lot of reading to get done. Kozol, charming though he is, isn't lighting me up and keeping me glued to "Letters to a Young Teacher," but I'm hoping to finish it this weekend and get started on "Pedagogy of the Oppressed." Eventually I'll probably have to start reading actual TFA books, but I haven't been able to bring myself to start on them yet ... though they actually look pretty interesting/readable.
Lastly before heading off to a little more time with Mr. Kozol and (likely in quick succession) sleepiness, I just came across this article on Slate.com about the search for the rare Hainan gibbon. Thought it was rather well written and kind of awesome.
Monday, February 22, 2010
worthless post
Well, I've finally eaten enough snickerdoodles (homemade! ... by me ... not very good) to completely eradicate any good i did today at the gym. I'm not sure when it happened, but I don't love that after eating a few cookies I can suddenly feel a bulge develop off each side of my back that a fourth or fifth cookie will send spilling out over the elastic waistband of my pajama pants.
So now Rachel and I are vegging out and complaining (for the second night in a row) about the lameness of ice dancing. Rachel wants to demote it from the ranks of Olympic sports.
I also received a rather large box of pre-institute homework from TFA today. It's both a bit daunting and a bit exciting to start doing official TFA work, rather than my own unofficial "So You Think You Can Teach" reading list, but I think I'm going to make myself read at least the books I've already picked out from the library BEFORE starting in on TFA's box o' goodies.
So now Rachel and I are vegging out and complaining (for the second night in a row) about the lameness of ice dancing. Rachel wants to demote it from the ranks of Olympic sports.
I also received a rather large box of pre-institute homework from TFA today. It's both a bit daunting and a bit exciting to start doing official TFA work, rather than my own unofficial "So You Think You Can Teach" reading list, but I think I'm going to make myself read at least the books I've already picked out from the library BEFORE starting in on TFA's box o' goodies.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Kozol and Ice Dancing
I'm only six chapters (or letters) into Kozol's "Letters to a Young Teacher" but already I have a feeling that he would agree with me when I say that Ice Dancing (the ugly cousin of figure skating) is HELLA lame. Any sport with a major skill component called a "swizzle" should be automatically disqualified from any kind of meaningful competition.
Also, while I'm on an Olympics-related rant, why the hey did Bob Costas decide to show the USA-Canada hockey game on MSNBC today? I guess they just really wanted me to be able to watch the local news. Anyway, I didn't bother to go out to watch it. Maybe some day we'll get basic cable and I won't have to go to a bar for every fringe sporting event.
(Currently some Russians are "ice-dancing" in outfits meant to evoke aboriginal cultures. Mostly they just look ridiculous, but it has apparently created no small amount of controversy.)
Back to Kozol for a moment -- It's beginning to become quite clear to me that TFA and the state-standards-driven teaching movement (think over-structured, fairly standardized teaching complete with mandatory posting of lesson objectives on the whiteboard) is in somewhat of direct opposition to the ideas and strategies that many big thinkers in education (including Kozol) extol. Of course, there are also many ideas that overlap (e.g. including and getting to know students' parents), but the tension is certainly there. Kozol has so far referred to "fast-tracking teacher programs" not exactly with disdain but with somewhat negative implications. This will definitely be something to keep an eye on, but thus far Kozol is recommending things that I can certainly get behind: visiting students' homes and being persistent in communication with students' parents; seeking out the advice of veteran teaching staff rather than becoming siloed with other young, like-minded teachers; allow creativity and actually important education to happen and to trump the mandatory pieces enforced by state standards ("skills" > "proficiencies").
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