Megalopolis

Well this is one of those weeks during your first year that you don’t want to remember. I don’t even want to write about it, so we’ll just leave it at this simple statement: life goes on, thank goodness.

I have two days until thanksgiving. Tomorrow in novel studies we’re building wigwams, and maybe reading Chapter 2. Tuesday we’re having a native american feast and we’ll each be responsible for talking about different people who were involved in the first thanksgiving.

In my homeroom class, tomorrow is a skills day (so we’ll all be grumpy, but at least it’s monday, so we’ll be tired). Tuesday we will do a math lesson, do our read aloud, and then spend the afternoon doing whatever we want.

Tuesday night I will drive to Austin with my roommate where I will stay for a few days and attempt to not do work. More than likely, I will end up doing work anyway, but at least it will be in a different place.

for comments that take the prize as most underhanded insult ever…

-”if i were you, i would have quit a month ago. they walk all over you.”

a minute or two later…

-”it’s like sharks in a feeding frenzy.”

or

-”we’re just concerned about how badly you suck at everything.”

this last one didn’t really happen. Also, i am totally aware that these days happen, especially in large amounts on certain days, but i mean seriously?!

On Tuesday, I found an index card (stolen from my desk, for sure) with many many many multiple choice answers written on it. Because I found it by the computer, I knew they were the answers to an AR test- tests my kids have to (and love to) take to meet their reading goal. I held it up in front of class and said that whoever was responsible needed to “own their actions” -one of our rules- and tell me why they didn’t just try their hardest on AR. I said they could do this in private or write me a letter. I also said that we were, as a class, going to take a break from AR until we remembered why it was we take tests: to prove how much we know, not to lie to make ourselves look good.

I locked up my AR-test gym-doors, for those of you who are following my Coach Carter analogy.

Anyway, this backfired (read: parent backlash in Coach Carter and/or any other inspirational teacher movie…) and one of my highest performing students finally convinced her mother to transfer her out of my class.

Why. Why, every time a student leaves (though I know my principal is REALLY easy to convince), do I end up totally questioning everything i do? Not only this, but I’m still incredibly not convinced that we are making any progress. I need proof. Proof that is not being found in improving test scores, that’s for sure. I really wish there was another way, maybe an overall nation-wide approval rating that I could get, something to make me feel like I’m really doing something good. What I am telling myself now is that there’s one month left in this semester and then I will “actually be good starting in January.” Those words have left my mouth more than once.

I like to think this is what the first year of teaching is, because otherwise I’m f–ling miserably. I refuse to say that word anymore, by the way.

In my classroom, we made a list of ALL THE THINGS WE SAY THAT DRIVE ME NUTS. Things like:
- “I wasn’t the only one talking”
- (points fingers)
- (rolls eyes)
- “MAN!”
- “Boy!/Girl!” (In place of a name)
- “You better shut up when you’re talking to me…”
- “Do something about it”
- “You never do anything to them…”

I wrote these all on the board and then I made my class silently wave goodbye to them, and we now call them bad words. I write pink slips instantly if I hear them. So far I’ve written 8, 6, and 3. Improvement! Let’s call each other by our names and treat each other with respect!

And that’s when I realize I’m not improving, it’s just like in Jeopardy when your numbers aren’t negative anymore. You get excited when you reach the top of a mountain! You can’t really be excited about getting yourself OUT of the hole. Especially if you got out of the hole because you had to claw your way out of the hole with stickers and class cheers and back sacks. And now you’re lying on the ground dangerously close to the hole you just climbed out of, covered in mud with it stuck all up in your fingernails since it took you three months to get out.

I should be an inspirational speaker.

what i said to myself when i realized i have 5 weeks left of teaching in the first semester of school. Or, since we’re studying fractions, in the first 1/4 of my TFA career.

I am so incredibly petrified that I am not/will not make the improvement that I want. I feel like every day slips by without me doing 1/10 of the things I want to get accomplished. The way school has determined its schedule has not allowed me to do anything close to what I dreamt of, but I know I can’t put the blame on them. It’s not the school’s fault, and I shouldn’t have expected free reign of a rose garden when I came here. TFA is here for a reason, not because the school is thriving.

I only have 2 quarters and 5 weeks left with my babies, and i feel like i’ve done so LITTLE with them so far, how on earth will i accomplish anything later?

I believe this is called “the freakout,” if it had a name. I believe I have these relatively frequently ie: whenever i think about a calendar.

I can do it. I can do it. I spit all this positive stuff at my kids, I just need to throw some my way. I need to make a sign and put it on my wall like my don’t quit sign at institute….

I just remembered when, in 2004, as I cried over a failed election, I was “consoled” by a friend who said, “Hey, at least the Red Sox won the World Series.”

This time, though the Cubs failed again, I at least won the election.

I have a student who has the nickname of Obama. He has had this nickname since the beginning of the year; the kids all see a striking resemblence. Obama has been in and out of ISS the entire year, and he was just written up again (while still serving time in ISS). Tearfully, he sat next to my desk as other students filed into class this morning.

“I don’t want to come back to school. I don’t like going to ISS. I like you, but I don’t like school.”

I tried to talk him out of it, explaining that it wasn’t school he hated, it was the fact that he kept getting in trouble. He is NOT the kind of student you can….get to behave. Medically, it’s not going to happen.

“I wish I wasn’t alive.” Tears tears tears and clinched fists kneading into his temples, and so I went and knelt by him.

“baby,” I told him, “I am so glad you’re alive and in my class. I will come to your house or anywhere in your town and help you get back on track. Even when you’re in ISS, it doesn’t mean you can’t learn.” Little tears from one of the cutest boys ever continued to roll down his face.

“Why do you care about me?” he asked. I didn’t really have an answer other than that I just sat there with my hand on his shoulder, blocking him from the rest of the class. 10 year old boys do NOT like it when others can see them cry. I stand in front of you to shield you from ridicule, I hold your hand, and I tell you that I believe in you when nobody else will. I care about you because that is my job, but also because that is what my heart tells me to do. I care about you because you changed the way I see the world.

I, on the other hand, apparently have no problem crying in front of class. Since that “incident,” which I like to call watergate, and about which my kids will make veiled references, my class has been…improved? Or maybe I just shifted the way I saw their actions. Either way, I feel good this week. Except that I have four kids in ISS.

Things happen bit by bit, because I care about them and because some wonderful divine power cares enough about me not to have me continuously fail miserably.

Today was hectic and all my students were there except two who went to ISS, but not even because I wrote them up! Eighteen students running around my room in various states of chaos but somehow…. doing what they were supposed to?

Today was…. good. Our math lesson went well, and by well I mean that probably…2/3 of my class understood equivalent fractions. 4/6 of my class! 8/12! Etc!

Today during writing we continued to work on our president reports, about which they are very excited. We ran around and I was inundated with requests for… more information to include in our report. Writing was stressful and it was because we were…too excited?

Amazingly enough, today is not the first “good” day of the week. Yesterday was good too. Magic, my friends. Don’t know what happened, but I hope it keeps happening…

Ahhhhh, this may have been the only weekend I wanted to end (and tomorrow may be the only tuesday that I anxiously await.) Besides the fact that my students boo every time John McCain is mentioned, I am planning on reading a book written by Amnesty International. My goal is to tell my kids that other places besides America have (and deserve) the right to vote, among several other rights that are detailed in the articles of the universal declaration of human rights. I am pumped to point out my Buddha quote and talk about politics and generally put my karma-love and liberalism to good use.

In other news, I did a day of observations today and it was….not what I thought. I thought for sure I’d go into other classrooms and have some great epiphany about how to fix my own. Instead, I found myself wishing I could just hear teachers plan out their days, their behavior plans, and their incentives systems. Not only that, but every teacher I observed didn’t have an extrinsic motivation system, which made me feel pretty worthless.

Also, as much as I’m struggling with understanding the value of skills days (I’m not going to detail it now, just know it’s…not what I would call school reform), I’m starting to reframe and feel better.

I also got 7 hugs today from my children, who desperately miss me whenever I’m not there, and then make me cry when I am present.