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.
No comments:
Post a Comment