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.
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