This morning I arrived at school to find a memo informing me that I was being assigned to cover the in-school suspension room today. Problematically, an earlier memo had already assigned me to cover the kindergarten (yes, that'd be the entire kindergarten) over in the annex at the same time.
Miss Brave can do a lot of things, but she cannot be in two buildings at once, so the APs said they would find someone else to cover the in-school suspension room.
Then, the professional development session for which I was being assigned the mass prep coverage in the annex was canceled -- which is probably a good thing for me because the memo instructed me to "set up an educational video for the students" and I don't particularly know how to use all the projection equipment at the annex, and I didn't really have time to learn yesterday because I needed my lunch to prep for my first grade and my prep to prep for my new fifth grade and I am not an A/V expert and this is not my job.
So I walked back over to the main building and up four flights of stairs to discover a TESTING -- DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door to the room in which my office is located. This happens to me all the time.
So I did what I usually do: I sat in the hallway. With my coat and all the other junk I had dragged over to the annex. Then the APs came and found me in the hallway. The suspended kid had finished his testing, so off we went to the in-school suspension room. Unfortunately for me, when the period ended, no one came to relieve me until fifteen minutes into the next period. At which point I went back upstairs, retrieved my things from the hallway, and entered my office.
Did you notice how all of this went on before ten o'clock in the morning and I haven't said one word about teaching anything yet? Increasingly my days are filled with this kind of frustrating minituae that puts me in the kind of mood where I am already primed to snap at the kids from the second I enter the room. No one ever says, "Hey, Miss Brave, how about those periods those kids are putting at the end of their sentences?"; they only say, "Miss Brave, please perform some arbitrary function that is only tangentially related to the job for which you were actually hired." Especially because the first five minutes of every period are filled with the piercing agony of wondering whether or not I'm about to be observed. My kids have been working on the same stories for so long. Next week, because it's the week before vacation, I want to do a fun writing project with them for once; we'll read I Took My Frog to the Library ("I took my frog to the library, but he jumped on the checkout desk and scared the librarian") and then they'll write and illustrate their own "I took my _____ to the ______. Here is what happened next!" stories. But I'm afraid if I do this during an observation, somehow it won't jive with our school's official "No fun allowed!" policy.
The good news? My new fifth grade class went pretty well. We talked about the meaning of the words "grammar" and "punctuation" according to the dictionary and how different languages (they're all ESL) can have different rules of grammar and punctuation. Then I gave each of them a card with their name on it and the meaning of their name on the back. They thought it was neat to hear where their names came from, and they clapped after every definition as I read the names aloud. Then they wrote about whether the meaning of their name fit them. And the very best part is, no one asked me to go to the bathroom once!
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Monday, February 4, 2008
Guess who has bronchitis?
I'll give you a hint: It's not Joel Klein!
The bronchitis doesn't excuse it, but it might help explain the fact that I was so mean today. Or maybe it was the weather, or the Monday blues, or the February doldrums. But today...I've had it. I'm fed up with cryptic memos instructing me to do things I don't understand and I'm fed up with being totally left out of the loop on memos that concern my program. I'm fed up with being locked out of my own office during state testing, and with professional development sessions that eat into my lunch time and prep time and instructional time, even though I never get any professional development myself, and I'm fed up with living in fear of being Observed. I'm fed up with rude and obnoxious kids and kids who go crazy when a girl's nose bleeds all over her white shirt and then all over the floor and kids who feel they have to re-enact for me that morning's projectile vomiting incident and kids who can't stop getting on each other's nerves, which consequently gets on my nerves. I'm fed up with having no friends at my school, not to mention a mentor.
I was never this mean to kids until I started teaching. Which means that most of all, I'm fed up with myself. This is not the teacher I wanted to be.
The bronchitis doesn't excuse it, but it might help explain the fact that I was so mean today. Or maybe it was the weather, or the Monday blues, or the February doldrums. But today...I've had it. I'm fed up with cryptic memos instructing me to do things I don't understand and I'm fed up with being totally left out of the loop on memos that concern my program. I'm fed up with being locked out of my own office during state testing, and with professional development sessions that eat into my lunch time and prep time and instructional time, even though I never get any professional development myself, and I'm fed up with living in fear of being Observed. I'm fed up with rude and obnoxious kids and kids who go crazy when a girl's nose bleeds all over her white shirt and then all over the floor and kids who feel they have to re-enact for me that morning's projectile vomiting incident and kids who can't stop getting on each other's nerves, which consequently gets on my nerves. I'm fed up with having no friends at my school, not to mention a mentor.
I was never this mean to kids until I started teaching. Which means that most of all, I'm fed up with myself. This is not the teacher I wanted to be.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Loathsome things
I have this insanely bad habit of picking at my cuticles. Since it's winter and my hands are dry, they tend to get cracked and bleed. So lately I've been wearing a lot of Band-Aids. And I swear, it is all these kids want to talk about. After my mini lesson, I always (naively) ask if there are any questions, and there always are, but they are always about my Band-Aid. Maybe more of my stories should involve medical trauma, and then I could hold their attention.
For four of my classes, I have an ESL support teacher in the room. I run the show, and she assists. Occasionally, she pulls a small group and does a lesson of her own, which is fine by me. But now all of our ELLs have to start prepping for the exam in April. Each ESL class is divided into three groups, and the ESL teachers have started pulling the groups during my class. As one of the ESL teachers put it: "Miss Brave, I have to pull groups, and you're not going to like how I do it."
She's right; I don't. Because here's how it goes: I start the mini lesson with the whole class. Enter ESL teacher, who calls eight or so names. Much ruckus ensues as those eight kids climb over other kids, argue about whose name was actually called, and root around for pencils. Right around the time the mini lesson is ending, those eight kids get sent back to me with no concept of what's been going on on my side of the classroom, and off go eight more kids who won't get a chance to practice the skill they've just been taught. Meanwhile I have a tough time letting the kids go off and work independently, because there's still group work going on in the room, and everyone is interrupted by yet another group being called. (Technically the groups are A, B and C. This past week the ESL teacher in my first grade room spent a good few minutes futilely shouting for Group A. I was like, "Um, they're six years old and they don't speak English. You may need to call them by their actual names.")
Did I mention this is going on until April?
This process also makes me feel like my period is just a dumping ground, as if the kids don't really need to know what I'm teaching them, they just need test prep. If the test prep is so critical, and the only time to do it is during my class, why not train me to teach it too and then we can split the class half and half instead of this rotating mess?
In equally irritating news, the powers that be added on a fifth grade class to my roster, bringing my grand total up to 19 classes. I'll see the fifth grade once a week during the last period of the day (or as I like to call it, the witching hour). The breakdown looks like this:
5 kindergartens (2 ESL, 1 12:1:1 self-contained, 1 CTT)
5 first grades (2 ESL)
6 second grades (2 ESL, 1 CTT)
1 third grade
1 fourth grade (12:1:1 self-contained)
1 fifth grade
In conclusion: Bleh!
For four of my classes, I have an ESL support teacher in the room. I run the show, and she assists. Occasionally, she pulls a small group and does a lesson of her own, which is fine by me. But now all of our ELLs have to start prepping for the exam in April. Each ESL class is divided into three groups, and the ESL teachers have started pulling the groups during my class. As one of the ESL teachers put it: "Miss Brave, I have to pull groups, and you're not going to like how I do it."
She's right; I don't. Because here's how it goes: I start the mini lesson with the whole class. Enter ESL teacher, who calls eight or so names. Much ruckus ensues as those eight kids climb over other kids, argue about whose name was actually called, and root around for pencils. Right around the time the mini lesson is ending, those eight kids get sent back to me with no concept of what's been going on on my side of the classroom, and off go eight more kids who won't get a chance to practice the skill they've just been taught. Meanwhile I have a tough time letting the kids go off and work independently, because there's still group work going on in the room, and everyone is interrupted by yet another group being called. (Technically the groups are A, B and C. This past week the ESL teacher in my first grade room spent a good few minutes futilely shouting for Group A. I was like, "Um, they're six years old and they don't speak English. You may need to call them by their actual names.")
Did I mention this is going on until April?
This process also makes me feel like my period is just a dumping ground, as if the kids don't really need to know what I'm teaching them, they just need test prep. If the test prep is so critical, and the only time to do it is during my class, why not train me to teach it too and then we can split the class half and half instead of this rotating mess?
In equally irritating news, the powers that be added on a fifth grade class to my roster, bringing my grand total up to 19 classes. I'll see the fifth grade once a week during the last period of the day (or as I like to call it, the witching hour). The breakdown looks like this:
5 kindergartens (2 ESL, 1 12:1:1 self-contained, 1 CTT)
5 first grades (2 ESL)
6 second grades (2 ESL, 1 CTT)
1 third grade
1 fourth grade (12:1:1 self-contained)
1 fifth grade
In conclusion: Bleh!
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Flat as a pancake
A few weeks ago in one of my favorite second grade classes (i.e., one of only two classes I see before lunch, when the kids go absolutely gonzo and it is virtually impossible to regain control), a little girl named Queenie ran up to me and threw her arms around me.
"Hi," I said.
"Hi," she answered fondly. Then she took an abrupt step backward and blurted out, "But did our letters come back yet?"
Ah, the letters, the Flat Stanley letters! Despite the fact that I spent five weeks hammering in the notion that I was really going to mail their letters to real people who would take real photos and really mail them back, some of my students are just beginning to cotton on. Queenie, however, has been on board from the very beginning; not only does she quiz me about whether or not the letters have come back every time I see her, but she has since made me promise that I won't open the envelope until I'm in front of the whole class.
Now, Queenie is your basic dream student -- back straight, hands folded, eyes up front, hard worker, eager to please, sweet smile. So I can't say that I'm surprised...but I am also, I confess, the teeniest bit thrilled. There were a lot of reasons I almost didn't do the Flat Stanley project -- I thought the kids would lose momentum, I spent my own money to mail the packages, I didn't get explicit permission from the administration to do any kind of ongoing project, it's not technically a "grammar and punctuation" kind of lesson -- but at least student got really, really interested in it.
That's the good news. The bad news is that when I finally put up my Flat Stanley bulletin board (which I only get to do because another teacher is being kind enough to lend me her bulletin board space for the month), there's a good chance I'll get in trouble for it because the letters are outdated. (The kids worked on them throughout the month of December and then mailed them off, and I obviously can't display them until they come back!) I'm actually considering doctoring
them so that the dates aren't visible. Let's see what Mr. Quality Review Man (as he is not-so-affectionately nicknamed at my school) has to say about that!
"Hi," I said.
"Hi," she answered fondly. Then she took an abrupt step backward and blurted out, "But did our letters come back yet?"
Ah, the letters, the Flat Stanley letters! Despite the fact that I spent five weeks hammering in the notion that I was really going to mail their letters to real people who would take real photos and really mail them back, some of my students are just beginning to cotton on. Queenie, however, has been on board from the very beginning; not only does she quiz me about whether or not the letters have come back every time I see her, but she has since made me promise that I won't open the envelope until I'm in front of the whole class.
Now, Queenie is your basic dream student -- back straight, hands folded, eyes up front, hard worker, eager to please, sweet smile. So I can't say that I'm surprised...but I am also, I confess, the teeniest bit thrilled. There were a lot of reasons I almost didn't do the Flat Stanley project -- I thought the kids would lose momentum, I spent my own money to mail the packages, I didn't get explicit permission from the administration to do any kind of ongoing project, it's not technically a "grammar and punctuation" kind of lesson -- but at least student got really, really interested in it.
That's the good news. The bad news is that when I finally put up my Flat Stanley bulletin board (which I only get to do because another teacher is being kind enough to lend me her bulletin board space for the month), there's a good chance I'll get in trouble for it because the letters are outdated. (The kids worked on them throughout the month of December and then mailed them off, and I obviously can't display them until they come back!) I'm actually considering doctoring
them so that the dates aren't visible. Let's see what Mr. Quality Review Man (as he is not-so-affectionately nicknamed at my school) has to say about that!
Monday, January 28, 2008
Go tell it on the mountain
Natasha: "Yovary is acting like the boss of everyone because he's Ms. K's helper. But he's not the boss of me! He's not the boss."
Other kids, in chorus: "Yeah, he's not the boss! You're not the boss, Yovary! There is no boss! No one is the boss!"
Natasha, importantly: "God is the boss. God is the boss of everyone."
* * *
Recently I finally put two and two together and realized that I see Lyle in kindergarten on Tuesday mornings and his sister Lillian in first grade on Tuesday afternoons. So last Tuesday I said, "Lyle! Did you know I'm going to see your sister this afternoon? Do you want me to tell her that you say hello?" Lyle nodded. So that afternoon, I dutifully announced to Lillian: "Lillian! Did you know I saw your brother this morning? He says hello!"
Today, Lillian followed me around the classroom, a shy smile on her face. "My brother say something," she reported.
"What did he say?" I asked.
"My brother say something," she repeated.
"Okay, what did he say?" I asked again.
"I want you to tell me," she said.
"You want me to tell you what your brother said?" I echoed, totally confused. She nodded vigorously.
"I...don't know!" I replied, wondering if we were playing some kind of guessing game. Her smile faltered a little.
"You see my brother tomorrow?" she said...and that's when it clicked.
I'm not just the writing teacher, I'm a fun messenger too!
In the same class, I was helping Amber add sentences to her story, and I asked her what she wanted to say. Here is what she recited: "One afternoon, I went to my favorite store, Target. When I walked in the store, I saw lots of Valentine's Day candy. I picked up the candy and dropped it in my basket."
This is, nearly verbatim, the same story I told her class a week ago. Amazing!
In other news, what do multi-vitamins, echinacea, extra Vitamin C, Cold-Eeze, Halls cough drops, hand sanitizer and anti-bacterial soap have in common? They all spectacularly failed to keep me from getting sick for the fifth time this school year. Today was the 90th day of school, which means I've been getting sick an average of once every 18 school days, which means my next illness should roll in right around the beginning of March. Let's see if my prediction comes true!
Other kids, in chorus: "Yeah, he's not the boss! You're not the boss, Yovary! There is no boss! No one is the boss!"
Natasha, importantly: "God is the boss. God is the boss of everyone."
* * *
Recently I finally put two and two together and realized that I see Lyle in kindergarten on Tuesday mornings and his sister Lillian in first grade on Tuesday afternoons. So last Tuesday I said, "Lyle! Did you know I'm going to see your sister this afternoon? Do you want me to tell her that you say hello?" Lyle nodded. So that afternoon, I dutifully announced to Lillian: "Lillian! Did you know I saw your brother this morning? He says hello!"
Today, Lillian followed me around the classroom, a shy smile on her face. "My brother say something," she reported.
"What did he say?" I asked.
"My brother say something," she repeated.
"Okay, what did he say?" I asked again.
"I want you to tell me," she said.
"You want me to tell you what your brother said?" I echoed, totally confused. She nodded vigorously.
"I...don't know!" I replied, wondering if we were playing some kind of guessing game. Her smile faltered a little.
"You see my brother tomorrow?" she said...and that's when it clicked.
I'm not just the writing teacher, I'm a fun messenger too!
In the same class, I was helping Amber add sentences to her story, and I asked her what she wanted to say. Here is what she recited: "One afternoon, I went to my favorite store, Target. When I walked in the store, I saw lots of Valentine's Day candy. I picked up the candy and dropped it in my basket."
This is, nearly verbatim, the same story I told her class a week ago. Amazing!
In other news, what do multi-vitamins, echinacea, extra Vitamin C, Cold-Eeze, Halls cough drops, hand sanitizer and anti-bacterial soap have in common? They all spectacularly failed to keep me from getting sick for the fifth time this school year. Today was the 90th day of school, which means I've been getting sick an average of once every 18 school days, which means my next illness should roll in right around the beginning of March. Let's see if my prediction comes true!
Friday, January 25, 2008
Round two
You've already read Miss Brave's version of the epic showdown between Mohammed and Justin. Now read the version written by one of their classmates!
(Miss Brave's note: You can see all the work we've been doing on capitalization and punctuation is having a major effect on him. :::buries head in hands:::)
"tow day I went to school I am having a good day but sum chilljrin are having a bad day It is. so crase to day and Justin and mohammed got in a fit Justin got mad and mohammed got mad then the teacher said wiy are you fiting! Then the teacher got ovre It Hse was still mad a little bit at the end of cklass they. got a letr home thay wer vere mad I think thay got pnisht."
(Miss Brave's note: You can see all the work we've been doing on capitalization and punctuation is having a major effect on him. :::buries head in hands:::)
"tow day I went to school I am having a good day but sum chilljrin are having a bad day It is. so crase to day and Justin and mohammed got in a fit Justin got mad and mohammed got mad then the teacher said wiy are you fiting! Then the teacher got ovre It Hse was still mad a little bit at the end of cklass they. got a letr home thay wer vere mad I think thay got pnisht."
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