Be careful what you wish for

Last year I used to tell myself that if I could survive my class, I could survive any class.  Which just goes to prove that you should be careful what you claim to be able to withstand, because "any class" could be coming sooner than you think.

Last June, at the end of a rough school year, I was able to look back at the year with a sense of relief and even pride.  Despite some very difficult challenges and a huge lack of support from my administration, I could say with certainty that my students were leaving second grade knowing more than when they came in.  I was reasonably sure that 100% of them were prepared to be third graders.

This year, I'm disappointed to report, I don't feel the same way.  Three of my students failed the ELA exam (two of them have IEPs with modified promotional criteria; the third will be promoted via his promotional portfolio).  Too many of my students moved too few reading levels, or haven't yet mastered their multiplication tables, or are writing the same kinds of pieces they were when they arrived in September.  (I nearly cried when I compared their June '11 on demand writing with their September '10 on demand writing.)

I could give you hundreds of excuses that put the blame on them: they didn't do their homework! They're not reading! But I categorically refuse to do this.  The truth hurts: It was a tough year, on the heels of another tough year, and I didn't do as much as I could have or should have to make sure the message went through.

And so I've made a promise to myself: Next year will be better.  And it won't be because I have a better class (although I've been told over and over how amazing next year's third graders are); it will be because I plan to spend at least some of my summer vacation really planning thoughtfully for next year.

Next year will be better.  At this point, it has to be!

Testing Miss Malarkey

Top 10 Questions/Comments Made By My Third Graders During Their First Ever Set of ELA and Math State Exams

(aka "Why Teaching In a Testing Grade May Cause Premature Aging," or "Why I Have Band-Aids On All My Fingers From Nervously Picking Off the Cuticles While Proctoring")

10. "Why do we have to use a #2 pencil?"

9. (Directions read by me: "You may not speak to each other while the test is being administered."  Student:) "What does 'administered' mean?"

8. "I don't get how to show my work for this part."

7. (The test directs students to continue working when they see the words GO ON at the bottom of the page and to stop working when they see the word STOP. On the ELA, students get ten minutes per passage and have to STOP before being directed to move on. On the math exam, they get 60 minutes to do all 40 questions, no STOPping. On the math exam, one student asked:)  "When is it gonna say STOP?!"

6. "But none of these choices are right."

5. "But both of these choices are right." 

4. "Can I look this word up in the dictionary?"

3. (while filling in a graphic organizer on the ELA in which the directions state, "Name two other things in the article that...")  "Am I supposed to answer this using my background knowledge?"

2. (while pointing to an open-answer question on the math exam in which the directions state, "Show your work")  "Do I have to show my work for this part?"

and the #1 comment one of my students made just prior to the start of the math exam...

1. "Wait, is this the real test?"

Happy end of testing season, everyone!

I ain't taking no deep breaths

THE TEST is almost upon us!  Recently I met with my principal to discuss what grade I’d like to teach next year.  After many, many hours of soul-searching I had listed second grade as my first choice on my preference sheet, but there may not be an opening, so I then spent many, many hours agonizing over whether I’d rather move to first grade or stay in third.  My principal asked me to be “completely honest” about my reservations in third grade. 

“Well,” I said, “I’ve never done test prep before, and I’ve never had a class like this before, so getting this class through test prep has been…”

He finished the sentence for me.  “Get me the hell out of third grade?” 

Bingo!  I have not enjoyed doing test prep – what teacher does, really? – but I also do not believe, as some teachers do, that a solid curriculum is enough to prepare eight-year-olds to take their first standardized test without any additional “test-taking” support.  One of the highest readers in my class has committed a bubbling error on every single practice test we’ve taken.  Another one of my highest readers has raised her hand during practice tests to ask to see a dictionary.

Then there’s Marco, an IEP student who’s reading below grade level (not dramatically, but still), whose main issue with THE TEST is just plain stress.  During countless practice sessions, I’ve turned around to find Marco with tears streaming down his face, shaking his paper at me in frustration.  Because Marco’s IEP grants him modified promotional criteria, there’s little danger that he’ll have to repeat third grade even if he does fail the test (which – fingers crossed! – probably won’t happen anyway).  But Marco doesn’t know that, and he’s starting to crack under the pressure of day after day of reading test passages that are just a little too hard for him. 

I’ve been working on some coping strategies with him, like: If a question is getting really hard, just turn your paper over for a few seconds and take some deep breaths before you go back and read it again.  But the other day, I saw Marco’s fists starting to clench in anger.  When I got there, before I could even say a word, Marco looked up at me, waved his paper in my direction and angrily blurted: “And I ain’t taking no deep breaths!”

Oh, THE TEST.  May our pencil points stay unbroken, our bladders empty, and our minds calm!

April is the cruelest month

More than any other school year, I've had a difficult time blogging about teaching this year (as my near-total lack of posting obviously suggests).  I've always blogged a lot about my frustrations with my administration; at my new school, thankfully, most of those complaints no longer exist.  As hard as it is to believe, I've been busier than ever with planning and also dealing with parents outside of school, which is sort of new for me; it was extremely rare for parents at my former school to communicate by e-mail, but this year I feel like I spend a lot of time at home composing e-mails to parents.  Last year I posted a lot about my frustrations reaching my students; while my class this year is at least as "entertaining" as last year's wild bunch, I feel like I'm dealing with a lot of frustration more on a personal level than an academic one, which is difficult to put into words on this blog.  Perhaps it's because I lack a certain amount of autonomy in the classroom now, and I don't feel entirely comfortable posting about my co-teacher and our negotiations over lesson planning. 

I will say this: I had no idea how difficult it was going to be to work with someone else in the classroom.  For two years at my former school, I frequently parallel taught in classrooms with other teachers (i.e., either I pushed into a classroom or a supporting teacher pushed into my classroom; the class was divided into two groups and each of us taught a group on opposite sides of the room).  But we weren't necessarily teaching the same thing at the same time, we rarely planned together and we weren't "responsible" for the other teacher's students in terms of conferencing with them or recording data.  Co-teaching in a CTT classroom is entirely different.  You don't realize how many decisions you make in a day as a teacher until you've had to collaborate on every single one of them.  Also, at my new school, teachers have a lot more freedom to plan their own schedules and their own curriculum, so that actually makes it more difficult to work with someone else because all that has to be decided upon.  I've realized that my instincts are to plow through the curriculum and try to cram everything in and get it done, because I'm used to being told exactly what I'm teaching and when I'm supposed to be teaching it.  When my co-teacher has had to suggest slowing down or reviewing material, I've looked at her like she has seven heads.  If we review multiplication facts again, we won't get to number patterns in time for THE TEST!

Ah, the test.  That's the other thing: test prep.  It's been extremely stressful.  First of all, I've never taught "test prep" before, not least of all to kids who have never taken "THE TEST" before.  I'm convinced we don't know what we're doing and if (when?) they do poorly, it will be our fault for not adequately preparing them.  Second of all, I went to this TC workshop where I was shamefully reminded that my students are eight years old.  They are eight years old and I have spent the last four weeks being impatient with them because they don't understand how to bubble the bubbles correctly and we just taught you to circle the genre in the directions and that answer choice is directly from the passage and none of you are taking this seriously enough.  Meanwhile, we have been gearing up and gearing up for the test, and then we hit vacation, and now the weather is finally lovely and I'm sure none of us want to return to school for THE TEST.  When it's over (by the middle of May, both the reading/writing and the math test will be over), I'm not sure what we'll do.  We have other units left to cover, of course, but I fear the kids will be mentally checked out of school for the year now that it will no longer be on THE TEST, and as teachers we'll be looking ahead to next year.

I know I'll be back in my own classroom next year; CTT is not for me!  I'm hoping I'll be back in second grade next year, too (that is, if I don't get fired; just read this morning in the Post that the budget is still not looking good for teachers).  I'm not sure if it's my third graders, or just all third graders, but third grade is a little too much attitude for me.  I like my students small and sweet, not sassy (well, they can be a little sassy, like when I said to Mario, "It's not the end of the world," and he said, "Yes it is!  In 2012!  Like the movie!").  I also think I prefer the second grade curriculum.  We spent three torturous units in a row this year in book clubs.  That entailed: grouping the kids by reading level while simultaneously taking into account our ridiculous behavior issues; finding an appropriately leveled series for each book club to read; digging up multiple copies of multiple books in each series for each member of the book club to read; attempting to make sure each member of each book club read the same amount of pages each night in preparation for book club discussions; and monitoring book club discussions for signs of intelligent conversation.  I'm not necessarily anti-book club units, but I am anti three-book-club-in-a-row units.  In our class, we have many, shall we say, interesting personalities, at least a few of whom on any given day would outright refuse to meet with their book club, look at their book club, or sit near their book club.  A few of our kids will go so far as to call other kids "cheaters" or claim, "He stole my idea" if someone expresses the same theory about a book (and we're not exactly talking Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration here, we're talking "I think she was being a good friend because she said I'm sorry"). 

Thank goodness, our last unit of the year is more palatable; the kids research another country and then write little information books about that country.  Bonus: connection with social studies!  The other thing I miss about second grade is teaching science and social studies; my third graders go to science twice a week with another teacher, and we in theory teach social studies once a week but in reality hardly ever manage to squeeze it in (especially now with THE TEST) looming.  I can't help feeling like there were so many little things that I managed to squeeze in last year with my class because it was me and only me calling the shots, and if I wanted to take five minutes to do something, I could.  I'm hoping that next year will be a nice fresh start and then I can really enjoy my new school, which -- aside from my issues with my co-teacher -- I really do like.

I had a dream that I didn't pass the state exams and was going to have to repeat third grade.  Clearly the stress of test prep is getting to me.

I came home and followed a link on another blog to a transcript of a Rush Limbaugh show.  I know that guy's a maniac and no one should listen to anything he has to say, but nevertheless, let's take a look at what Rush has to say:

"Can we get rid of the myth once and for all that school teachers, anymore, are these average, ordinary, next-door neighbors who are just doing everything they can to further the educational experience of your children?  That's not who they are.  They are left-wing activists, active members of unions who are oriented first by a political agenda, second by their own well-being, and your kids come last.

Could these people who are making what they're making as a result of state and federal accidents, could they earn that money in the private sector on their own? Do they have the skills? Do they have the talent?  Could they?  Do they have the ability to even do what they're doing now reasonably well? The whole educational system has been co-opted by people who have found an easy way to a good living, and they realize it and they don't want to give it up without a fight.  It's always about the money."

Definitely, Rush, I know I certainly became a teacher because I was all, "Easy money!"   

I don't know how to prove it to these jerks, but please believe me when I say: I work so hard for these children.  I dream about these children.  I wake up in the middle of the night worrying about how I can best further the educational experience of these children.  

:::sigh::: 

 

Booking it

Like last year, I have some capital-A Angry Kids in my class.  They are mistrustful and suspicious of everyone ("I don't need any friends, I don't trust nobody in this class").  They take everything as a personal affront or insult.  They go out of their way to attract attention through every possible negative behavior: loud and frequent farting noises, banging on the table, kicking other kids' chairs, bumping the table so no one can write.  And when asked to stop, they will tell you they weren't doing it even as they continue to do it.

Since winter break, our kids have been in "book clubs," reading the same book at the same pace so they can meet with each other and discuss the book.  Now, imagine you're a capital-A Angry Kid.  You hate books.  You hate people.  You hate being told what to do.  Now you're in a book club.  Perfect!

If you were to come to my classroom with the intention of watching my students chatter away in their book clubs, what you would probably witness instead in at least one corner of the room is someone getting Angry, kicking a chair or slamming a book down, and storming away from the group.  Today it took me fifteen minutes just to determine that Marcelino hadn't finished his book, because he kept rolling his eyes and exclaiming, "Jesus Christ!" when I inquired whether or not he had done the reading.  (He then went on to inform me in no uncertain terms that he had no intention of reading the rest.)  Walter came to his book club meeting without his book and sat there for about twenty minutes; when Ms. Halpert told him to go get it, he got up, walked in a semi-circle around his chair, and sat back down.  When I told him to go get it, he heaved himself up with a piercing "Okaaaaaaaaay!"  Vanessa eloquently summed it up this way: "I hate school, I hate people, I hate reading, I hate reading to other people, I hate talking to people, I hate books..."  I think it might have gone on from there, but honestly, I had heard enough.

I've been seeing that video clip of Cathie Black getting booed at the PEP meeting on Tuesday night and responding to the crowd's jeers with a sarcastic noise.  I would love, love, love to see Cathie Black come into my classroom and demonstrate how to be one of those fantastic teachers she's always talking about, and show me how to raise the test scores of kids like my Angry Kids.  I can be delivering the greatest lesson ever prepared in the most scholarly way ever, but if your hands are over your ears and you're rocking in the corner with your sweatshirt up over your head, that lesson is not going to reach you.  I want someone like Cathie Black to acknowledge that quality teaching is only part of it, that one has to be a social worker and a psychologist and a guidance counselor and a parental figure all wrapped up into one. 

Things I really needed

First and foremost: the snow day, obviously. I had my hopes raised high for the last potential snow day; we even assigned "Sleep with your pajamas inside out and a spoon" as homework.  I slept badly all night from the anticipation, woke up at 5 am to hear the big announcement, and ended up hugely disappointed.  (Dirty teaching secret #437: I think teachers enjoy snow days more than our students.)  So yesterday, when Ms. Halpert started to say, "What do you think are the chances that -- " I cut her off with a "Absolutely none. Zero."  So it was an especially lovely surprise to get the gift of a snow day this morning!  On the news, I saw a reporter interviewing several home health aides who had been waiting for the bus for more than thirty minutes so they could get to their patients, and I immediately felt guilty.  So props to all the people (like Mr. Brave!) who did make it in to work today.

What I really needed, though, was a little encouragement.  Between the situation with my co-teacher and my students' tiny attention spans, I was beginning to question my effectiveness altogether. 

Then the other day, one of my students brought in a cake his mom had baked for us (delicious).  The attached card thanked us for all of our hard work and dedication.  "I have seen my son's love for school grow this year, and it could not have happened without you," she wrote.  Both of us teared up when we read it; what a lovely expression of appreciation, and what validation for both of us.

For some reason, the other day, my thoughts drifted back to the infamous Julio.  He's now in a self-contained class and, according to his new teacher, is doing great.  Recently she contacted me to tell me that his classmates had voted him student of the month for his kindness.  His kindness -- my Julio, who used to kick chairs in the direction of other students in my class.  All of a sudden, I was tearing up again.  Because I thought: I did that for him.  Was I the only reason he got the services he needed?  No.  But was I an instrumental reason his mother finally saw the light after three unsuccessful, frustrating years in school?  I give myself permission to say: Yes, I was.  I may have wanted him out of my classroom, I may have had many, many unkind thoughts about him, I may have cried my eyes out with frustration over him, but I believed in that child.  I am so honestly happy to hear that he's having a good year. 

So that's what I really needed: to feel good about myself as a teacher again, if only for a few brief moments.  (And to lie on my couch wearing my fuzzy pink slippers and blogging in the middle of the day while chunks of snow crack against my window -- that too.)