The student teaching component

Some people call it an extended job interview. Others call it the best learning experience of their lives. Still others consider it to be a time of painful out-growing of naive, idealistic hopes and dreams.

I call it all of the above.

Everybody's student teaching experiences are going to be different, even if the requirements (set by the university where the credential program is held) are different.

Which leads to the most frequently asked question on student teaching that I've heard yet: why do the requirements differ from university to university? I don't know, although I can guess. Some places only require four weeks of shadowing a classroom teacher. Others, like CSUS, requires two full semesters - one at part-time (i.e. half of each week), and the other at full-time (basically all day everyday). I did all my student teaching at Title I schools, and even though they had a lot in common, they had even more differences.

Room 10, first iteration.
My first student teaching experience was in a first grade classroom at a Title I school. It is my favorite out of the three. It was difficult, exhausting, fun, frustrating. I grew the most, as a teacher, here, in large part due to the highly hands-on, guidance my CT gave me. I walked in apprehensive of 5-7 year olds, and walked out armed with skills, knowledge, and confidence for the next step. I also learned to love teaching first graders. They are hilarious.

Room 14 - ominous, since "14" in Chinese means "certain death." The woman in this photo was a fellow student teacher. I got a lot of support from my fellow student teachers while at this school. Thank you!
My next student teaching assignment was at a school that had recently undergone various administrative changes. They had four different principals in as many years before the one that was there (still is, I think) when I was there. The students were pretty much like most students I've seen. They all have their own individual baggage of course, but I never viewed that as a handicap, or an excuse. Still don't.

I never really fitted in at this school. Never really understood the reason why, but I guess "why?" is a moot question. I just didn't make it. Period. There were many subtle undercurrents within the intermediate teaching staff that I grasped not at all - and liked even less. While I was there, I got the feeling that the primary teaching staff - in general a much more uniformly formal group, at least on school grounds - looked down upon the intermediate teachers. Including me, a person they had just met. A lot of this occurred, a lot of "inside jokes" and clichishness. A lot of rumors. A type of casualness with the students I didn't feel comfortable with.

I learned a lot in the short seven-and-a-half weeks I was here. A lot in terms of depth AND breadth AND intensity. This experience is listed on my resume, despite some people telling me that isn't a good idea. I am not ashamed of what I did here. I was prepared. I worked hard. I gave my excellence at this place, for these students. It wasn't enough to get on any where near the medal podium. Sometimes your best is not enough. So goes life.

Room 10, second iteration.
My phase-3-take-2 was at an incredible rare school - winner of various awards, including the Title I Academic Achievement School for nearly a decade. Straight. The students here were the sweetest I've ever met. The staff here actually enjoyed teaching nearly all the time - and they enjoyed working with each other. The front office people are the nicest. Ever. And I've seen a lot of front office people through teaching after school art.

I had it easy at this school, not just in comparison to the previous semester, but relative to the entire realm of classroom teaching. Thus, I became a bit complascent and fell into some difficult to correct bad teaching habits. My CT had to lay it down pretty hard before I even began to get out of that rut.

Towards the end of my student teaching here, I got the opportunity to observe 3/4 of the entire staff at work. Most of them were excellent. There were a few who were good, but were given the short end of the stick and were struggling to corret it (one teacher entered in the middle of the semester because of staff changes, and another had to deal with a class that the student teacher ruined). Watching them, and their classes, was eye-opening. There were a small handful that were horrible - even I, n00b and green, could see that. My CT had advised me to watch these people. He didn't tell me why, he was just pretty adamant about it, so I went. Afterwards, he told me he wanted me to see some really bad teaching in action from these teachers - I wasn't the only one who thought they could improve much.

And there you have it: my 2.5 semesters worth of student teaching summarized, and yet there is so much more that occured than in just this summary. So goes teaching in general. I can summarize my thoughts in reflection until my fingers fall off, but it still doesn't say it all.

Then again, some things are more powerful unsaid.

Overprotection

Human wheelbarrow races: the school board would not like that.
One of my students told me a pretty horrifying story the other day. I was asking how her week was, whether she was able to go outside for recess in between all the rain our town has been getting.

Student: Yeah, I got to go outside. But we can't play anyway.

Me: Why not?

Student: Because the yard duty is always looking.

I've had my fair share of yard duty during student teaching. One school even saved a whole morning recess for all the student teachers - and only the student teachers. That was a fun recess time. Kids fought, they ran, they fell, they shouted, they argued with each other on who gets the tether ball.

Some did get hurt, because they fell, they bumped into each other while running. The office bandage station was always busy on the day the student teachers had yard duty.

The students had a lot of fun, got a lot of exercise, and some were able to concentrate better in the classroom during the days when the student teachers had yard duty.

There are a myriad of rules for recess. Walking only in certain areas, tattling vs. telling (which is a really good rule, IMO), alternating days for the jungle gym equipment to limit the number of students in a potentially deadly area (which is the single most telling piece of evidence for over-crowding in schools that I have ever heard).

The rules are there because apparently, there has been legal precedence where parents have sued the school for bodily injury of their student during recess times - and the parents won. I haven't actually read these cases, I don't even know where to begin looking to find out more about these cases. However I think the following points make my stance clear:

- kids are kids, they will break things, including themselves.
- kids are kids, they can heal much faster than some people think they can. definitely much faster, and with less scaring than an adult.
- kids are kids, they can handle much more physical activity than some people think they can.
- exercise is good for the body and the brain.
- let them play, damn it!

Later the same day, I saw another teacher (pre-school) support the arms of a 5-year-old as the 5-year-old carried a toy from the play area to the toy shelves. Are. You. Freaking. Kidding. Me? This kid is notorious for not putting away her toys. This kid does not do anything if she knows an adult will do it for her.

So here's my question to end this post: is it more harmful to prevent students from getting hurt, or is it more harmful to allow them to use their bodies the way it was made for?

Discipline without stress

That moon cake from the Hong Kong Peninsula Hotel was awesome. I ate three of them in two days. Which is an example of non-discipline.
Ideal and impossible? Not according to Dr. Marvin Marshall. I bought this book some months ago and began reading it immediately. The first third wasn't so great. It was everything I knew already, nothing new to add.

The second third was a little better. A bit more practical advice, and an activity on defining standards that I want to do in my own classroom. Very logical, very clear cut, and very internally driven, which I like. The goal, when teaching behavior and social standards, are to get students to do things on their own, for their own benefit.

UTEC encourages us in a very overt way to feature social objectives in every lesson. I would say at least 70% of my pedagogy classes were about teaching social standards in an explicit way. But my CT likes to handle behaviors on a one-to-one basis, developing a sort of mentorship rather than direct teaching. From what I've seen, both are effective, and both are even more effective when both are used at once.

I haven't gotten to the last third of the book yet. There are still five days left of my solo, and I've only been able to read a few paragraphs before I conk out each night. But I'll get to it. And I'll let this blog know.

My teaching career downfall is because of a purse

At least it was a good purse.
GE is the first school where I've experienced "after-school" yard duty. WB had it too, in a way, but different because I was in lower primary and also because students were not allowed direct street access from the playground.

But the campus at GE is situated such that the upper primary classrooms have easier street access through the playground. And as with most 21st century campuses, the ten minutes before and after the final bell is like a car show. Worse than when Cal Trans decides to work on the Bay Bridge during the rush hours.

Thus, two teachers must monitor that route, making sure students walk (some will run) and wheel their bikes out (some will ride and cause a safety hazard) as well as preventing any pedestrian/auto accidents. Didn't think traffic police was on the list of duties for a teacher? Think again. Because there is absolutely NO duty off limits to a teacher. Vomit patrol? Check. Nurse? Check. Interior designer on a shoestring budget? No doubt. Inserting yourself between fighting students like a human punching bag to make them stop? You got it.

So on the first day of school, we leave the classroom a minute before the bell to open the playground gates. Except that my CT had to leave school right after yard duty was over. Which meant he locked the classroom when we left for yard duty. Which meant I had my bag with me during yard duty.

Which meant the principal saw me, bag over my shoulder, during first day yard duty as if I couldn't wait to leave.

This is definitely NOT the most professional of appearances. I saw it in her eyes too, and a little in my CT's eyes as well, although they said nothing about it. Awesome. Great first day impression, Ms. Ng.

That's not a big deal, you might say. But you did not have a two hour lecture on professionalism at student teaching orientation. You did not have the exact same lecture TWICE because you had to repeat phase 3 student teaching. Frankly, if I hear "student teaching is like an extended job interview" one more time, I'm going to wear a sandwich board that says, "IT'S ONLY A JOB INTERVIEW IF THERE ARE ACTUAL JOBS AVAILABLE!" With flashing neon lights. And glitter.

For the record, I scored 5's (out of 5) on professionalism on my evaluations in both phase 2 and phase 3. My middle name is professionalism. I am known to NOT PEE during an entire school day, holding in two cups of coffee and then some, because going to the bathroom would have meant neglecting my teacher duties. I've arrived at school two hours early, stayed two hours late. I have a collection of shirts Banana Republic would envy. The only time I missed a day of teaching was when I had a sinus infection so bad I COULDN'T HEAR OUT OF MY LEFT EAR. I do not remember the last time I wore jeans. THAT is the state of my professionalism.

See, I should have clarified with my CT whether he was returning to the classroom or not (he ended up doing so, although the gods of communication decided to cross our signals so that I took it completely opposite). Even if he wasn't returning, I should have just dropped my bag somewhere out of sight rather than have it strapped over my shoulder like some banner for defeatist laziness. Many things I should have done. Many things I didn't.

And of course, the one time I slack off had to be the first day of school with the principal watching. Swell.

Lining up

Would lining up from shortest to tallest be too much?
Walking to and from the classroom and various other parts of the school may seem like a simple thing, no? Well, it can be when I'm prepared and have trained the class to respect others, the school, and themselves. To me, a perfect line looks like this:

>> Everyone is quiet, literally the only thing you can hear is the soft shuffling of feet. I will permit an occasional whisper or two.
>> Everyone faces forward. I will also permit an occasional head turn, but students should turn back to the front of the line almost immediately.
>> The line is single file (or double file, for a larger class size), with no more than a 1-person space between each student nearly the whole time the class is lined up.
>> Students are walking in an orderly fashion, playground equipment and other items held firmly, hands and feet to themselves.
>> Students pause and allow teachers, staff, and other adults to pass first, no matter where they are. With their peers, or other classes lined up, it's first come first serve. For older students, I would make them let the younger students go first too.

During my phase 2 student teaching, my first graders were nearly always like this. Not really because of anything I did, since I was in class for only two days out of the week. But I did enjoy this, and I was able to maintain that level with the students on my own. Besides, it's nice to know what kind of line I want for my own class.

During phase 3, very rarely was my fifth graders like this. Not really because of anything I did either. Actually, when I was in charge of lining them up and walking them to places, the students were WAY more diligent about making a structured line. An entirely different story when they lined up with my CT (unless he took the effort to make them so that is, on a typical day he didn't, plus I know for a fact that when I left in March his class went back to being an unruly line).

Getting the students to this end product is the tricky part and there is no one correct way of doing so. It depends on the class I guess. But I find it really important to make a line as close to possible as the ideal situation above. Hallways can be small, and cramped, and during high traffic times like lunch or recess, there can be a hundred students at a time in the walkways. It just isn't safe to have a class full of kids bouncing off the walls - and ceilings, like my fifth graders - and trampling on muddy grass, which the maintenance people hate because they have to put down new sod again, and their budgets have been cut too so they would rather not spend money on something that can be so easily prevented.

To me, it also shows in general what kind of control a teacher has over their students. That sounds awful, but it's true that the teacher does need to have a firm grasp on discipline and maintaining control. Call me a line nazi, I don't care. I am most definitely the boss, and quicker my students learn this, the more fun we can have for the rest of the school year.

The (other) class pet

Brown-nosers can be very annoying. I didn't particularly like them as a student because they hogged the teacher's time, which didn't seem very fair to me. I don't particularly like them as a teacher because they hog my time and I end up not being able to pay as much attention to the rest of the class.

But Bernice* was one of my first grade students last year who really sucked up like nothing else. She was a little older than the other students, since there was some sort of mix up with her shots records and she started kinder a year later than expected. Because of this, she knows she can be a much bigger helper than the other students, and thus took advantage of the closer role she played with me and my CT.

She wasn't a particularly manipulative kid. Although I know she sometimes purposefully uses the bathroom pass during class so that she can take the consequence of staying in during recess time to do academic stuff with the teacher (that was the rule in KM's classroom).

So I wonder if brown-nosers do what they do because they crave that attention from adults? I would think most students crave that kind of attention from adults. And considering the typical background of students in Title I schools, it's no wonder.

Still, I can't "save" every single kid. That's not my job, neither is it my responsibility. That sounds cruel, but I really dislike that motive for being a teacher. I can't save my students from the cycle of poverty. They have to save themselves. I can only give them the tools and skills and experiences that might help them with their goals.

So Bernice, and other brown-nosers, I wish you well. But you do need to get out of my face sometimes, no offense intended.

*Not the real name

The cup game - ordinal numbers version

The Saxon Math curriculum for first grade has an entire series of lessons devoted to teaching ordinal numbers (i.e. first, second, third, etc), and they are deathly boring. So my CT uses this game instead. It's quite effective, as well as efficient. Most of our first graders got the idea in one sitting.

Materials:

- post-its with the numbers 1-6 written on them, one number each
- 6 small disposable cups, non-transparent and identical
- 1 small object that fits under the cups (we used a linking cube)

How to play:

1. Before class, set up the cups and post-its on a table or counter where all students can see.

2. Direct students attention to the cups. Have a short direct instruction time, telling students that when things are lined up, like the cups on the counter, they each have a special name. The cup at the very front of the line is "first," just like how we call the student at the very front of a line "first." The one after first is "second." And so on. Make sure to check for understanding. I did it by pointing to each cup randomly and having the class call out the ordinal number. I also like to ask students, "Which number is under the ___th/st cup?" and vice versa.

Note: I also call the cup on the most left-hand side first, at least in the beginning. Later, when all students have mastered this skill, I'll mix things up.

3. Tell students we'll now play a game where everyone will take turns guessing where the cube is. I didn't do this because I didn't think of it at the time, but it might be a good idea to coach the students to keep track of which cups have been called. If a student already called the third cup, and the cube isn't under that one, then there is no use calling the third cup again - the cube won't move unless the teacher moves it. Some first graders still do not automatically pick up on this bit of logic.

4. Put the cube under a cup. Shuffle the cups around. It doesn't matter if you hide the shuffling from the students or let them see. Although, if you are like me and do not have smooth cup-shuffling skills, I would hide them.

5. Students take turns calling out the ordinal number. On the first round, I allow students to pass. After that, they have to make a guess. Also, I would tell students to think of the ordinal number of where they believe the cube to be before calling on any names - at least at first. Some students take forever and a day to spit out what they want to say. I also didn't think of this until after I had taught the lesson.

Modifications:

Later, I would add a seventh, eighth, ninth, etc cup. One at a time until they begin to see the pattern. I would spread them out a little more, putting more space between each cup. Maybe putting random objects in between the cups too. This last thing I haven't tried, and might throw off students without some additional direct instruction. Also, I would take away the post-its, also one at a time until none are left.

Catharsis and second chances and perseverance

Looking inward, moving outward.
I met with my phase 2 CT this week for dinner to catch up and hang out. It was fun. I miss our weekly meetings - something I never did with my phase 3 CT because I was at school so much of the time we didn't have to schedule something else.

Of course, through the teacher grapevine, she already know about my phase 3 failure of all failures. Still, it was nice to talk it out with some perspective. I did nearly cry in the middle of my narrative, but managed not to. And I tried to make the story as clear and as complete, without blaming anyone other than myself, as I possibly could. Whatever my personal feelings about how phase 3 went down, I really only have myself to blame for being stupid and slow on the uptake. I've been told multiple times that I've made lemonade out of lemons in this situation, but it's still a failure if the lemonade doesn't sell.

I did really want to quit teaching for a while there - didn't realize how much until after I've gotten over it. All the other hazards of the profession have nothing on this single fact: that sometimes, your life and your entire sense of self is so wrapped up in the job that each success in the classroom seems like heaven. And each failure seems like the lowest pits of hell.

It's nearing four months since that failure. It took two months to get out of the depression I was in. It took another two months - plus two holiday travels - to recover from the mental and physical exhaustion that added up. Four months total (so far) to recover from six weeks of phase 3. I haven't made even an outline of a plan for teaching in the fall. Which might be a good thing. For all my careful planning and the four hours I spent at school each day, in addition to the five hours of actual class time, to prep I still failed. If I fly by the seat of my pants will I make better decisions?

Somehow, I doubt it. I'll still plan, although actually following that plan to the letter is a different story. Still, I'm glad to look forward to teaching again. It would be an even more intense failure to quit now. I genuinely like teaching, boring meetings, unproductive budgets, social unbalance and all.

It's time to let go and carry on. Thanks, KM, for helping me through this step towards that goal.

Bingo!

One of the all time most popular games. Ever. I play it usually as a review game:

With first graders, I use a 3x3 chart on a half-sheet of paper. Students choose and write one sight word in each box. Then I draw the words one by one from a hat, using all the words on the given list (which is about 12, so there are always some that the students never write on their game board). When I'm feeling generous - or if I'm only tutoring in pairs - then I give them a sticker for each win.

This also works with math facts, vocabulary words, science/social studies facts, character/plot of story recall, etc.

Older students should have a larger board. I typically add one box on each side per every other grade level, starting with the 3x3.

Bingo is not a good activity for writing intensive content. Reasons are quite obvious.

Either I just got hit on or I made someone's bad day good

Sometimes, being grown up is worse than being a kid
This happened way back in December 2008, but I'm reposting it here from another blog because I like how it makes a good story.

Tonight was the Holiday Craft Night at my student teaching school. I ran the foam reindeer and Christmas tree station. It was fun.

And then, during a lull in the waves of students passing through my station as they glutted themselves with cookies and hot chocolate (remember when hot chocolate was the most awesome thing to happen on winter days? I relived that tonight), a couple parents stopped by to make reindeers.

One was a middle aged man with an Indian accent. His son is in second grade. The cafeteria was loud, and full of voices, and it was a little difficult to hear clearly. But I'm pretty sure as I was patiently showing him step by step which tiny pieces of foam to glue, like he was in kindergarten, that he said,

"I learn more English by speaking more. And I want to speak more to you because you love me."

Needless to say, that startled me. I most certainly did not do or say anything that would warrant that kind of remark. I was only being professional - I'm a teacher, and he needed someone to teach him, so I taught him just like I would any other student of any age.

Right at that moment, one of my own first graders jumped on to the table between me and the parent and demanded that I show him how to make a reindeer. I (rather thankfully) turned my attention to my student, and the parent eventually wandered away.

Having some time to ponder and get over my initial reaction (creep-o-la; I mean the guy had also asked if I was married or had kids, and which days I worked at the school, and where I lived, and where I was a student at and what I was studying; of course this could all be a cultural thing, some cultures think nothing of asking for your weight or salary), a second reaction slowly entered my mind: pity.

This parent revealed quite a few things to a total stranger (he was unemployed, didn't know a lot of people, etc). He must have felt comfortable enough at the school event to be like that. To think that the teachers not only cared for the children, but the parents as well. That school is a safe haven of community in the middle of a pile of crap, and more crap.

And, as with most things, I compared it to my own life. How lucky I am. That laid-off parent struggling to make ends meet, but for the grace of God, could be me.

One of my professors (to be honest, I don't really like her class) said the other day that, with perhaps the exception of medicine, there is nothing with loftier ambitions than the profession of teaching. I never really thought of it that way, although I've heard it before. It certainly isn't the reason why I chose to be an educator. But I've grown to like this side effect. In more than one case in any given lifetime, the teacher is literally the only positive influence on a child's AND the parent's lives. When someone is at rock bottom, it's reassuring to know the school is still a "clean, well-lit place."

At the end of the night, the parent purposefully found me again and shook my hand, thanking me, and hoping to see me again. The surprising turn out (100+ adults, so probably 200-300 people including students) was happily chatting and filing out of the cafeteria, paper bags full of crafts and cookies to take home. My students hugged me as they left the warm room for the cold outside. I told them I was see them on Monday. They turned back for a last wave and look at the teachers busily cleaning up as fast as they could (the neighborhood around my school isn't the best, but I guess that's obvious from this note).

On the off chance the dude is a nut job, well, at least I had the presence of mind to keep quiet about myself and turn the conversation back about the students.

Things I've learned this year:

- I still look forward to when Christmas is over, even when there are fun things to do with fun people. New Year's Eve still rocks solid.

- It is definitely not a good idea to have caffeine after 1pm. Or else I'll be awake, like I am right now when I really really want to sleep.

- I cannot live with my parents for an extended period of time and still maintain a healthy relationship with them.

- I have the confidence to take the RICA and think I can pass. Actually passing is a whole other story.

- I miss China.

- I miss my China teammates and other friends from T.

- I miss my brother. Weird.

- I would very much like to return abroad. Preferably in a teaching/learning capacity.

- I like teaching first grade.

- I would very much like to earn a Ph.d some day.

- I like someone. Who is already in a relationship. So I am also a coward/passive observer about it. But I think I can live with it if he is happy too.



Things I haven't learned yet:

- What exactly I'll do about my future.

- What exactly is going on with my spiritual life.

- The best way to format a lesson plan. At least for my own use, since there really is no "best" way.

- If I'm really a grown-up or still a kid.

- How not to be socially awkward with teenage girls. Teenage boys are ok. It's the girls I don't get. See next line.

- Why children are mesmerized by Hanna Montana.


I've only ever had one super-long term goal for myself, and only because a high school English teacher made us write about short and long term goals once. That is: to make the last year of my life the best. And since one never knows when one will up and smoke it, it seemed like just another way to say carpe diem without the latin.

However, that goal may not be quite as worthwhile after all. It is also very vague. What does "best" mean exactly? And what if the die just weren't rolling my way the year before I kick the bucket? So I've decided on a new, hopefully more concrete goal:

To learn more things than not in any given year.

One can say that one never learns more things than not. For instance, I will probably never learn the finer details and calculations associated with String Theory. Not an impossibility, just slim chances. But when this time of the year rolls around again and again, I would like to make a list similar to the above with which I can prove that I've been more productive with my life than not.

And that would make it a decently "best" year for me.

I'm going to miss those first grade booger snots

I went into room 10 for the last time today. Half in a daze, partly because I didn't have coffee and partly because my mental self had allowed my physical self to loosen some accumulated tension, I helped with some crafts and read some stories for the afternoon.

Then, the students surprised me with thank you letters they wrote themselves. The pictures are the most hilarious. A lot of them remembered to put glasses on me; which made me wish I had worn contacts at least once during the school year to freak them out a little.

They went to P.E. and I helped my CT deal with a kid off his meds. Then we chatted for a little bit with her visiting boyfriend. The bell rang and I went to say a final good bye to the students.

K, one of my favorite students, hugged me for a long time. She is the sweetest, most well behaved kid, albeit not quite academically at standard yet. Far from it actually. But she has shown great improvement.

K: Ms. Ng? Will you come back?
Me: Probably not, but you never know. [my CT had asked if I can sub for her in May when she goes to So. Cal. for a wedding. I said I would if I had no other engagements.]
K: Thank you for the card. [I had given all the students a Christmas card with bunches of stickers to go with it.]
Me: You're welcome.
K: I'm going to miss you.
Me: Me too.

She hugged me again, and then reluctantly left with her mom and siblings.

Yeah, me too K, me too.

Thanksgiving

Room 10 as well as the other 3 first grade classrooms had a Thanksgiving potluck last Tuesday. It was awesome, to say the least. I was surprised that so many parents brought items to share. Not that the parents at my ST school are more (or less) non-participatory than your typical school, but we ARE Title I, and 99.9% of these kids are on a free/reduced price lunch program. I personally would have changed it to only one class (or pair up with another class) for the potluck. Then the parents would only have had to make enough for 20-40 rather than 80+.

But they did, and the teachers supplied pizza, and the kids were So. Very. Full. After lunch it was chaos. One of my students had to just put his head down for awhile.

All the first graders made this "Albuquerque the Turkey" placemat, tracing their hands on construction paper and glueing beaks and waddles to the thing. They turned out rather cute, and I'll make a note to take a photo of one of the absent student's placemat tomorrow and post later.

Everything they did that day had a turkey theme: from the math facts, to a connect the dot activity sheet, to a story book. Hopefully, they will be turkey-ed out and we won't have to mention them for another year.

Sunday seems to be a good day to post. Except for last Sunday, I've been pretty consistent about it for several weeks now. So let's make Sunday my posting day. I'll try to up it to twice a week, but no promises. Which is sad, because there is so much I want to make a note of and comment on. I've learned so much this past semester.

Just say no!

A couple weeks ago (actually, closer to a month ago) was Red Ribbon Week. What I remember of RRW from my own elementary school years consisted of drug sniffing dogs showing off their skills, various competitions among classes for a pizza party, and copious amounts of thin plastic red ribbon tied to the fences, randomly or by design.

Considering that, RRW hasn't really changed all that much. Here's a breakdown of the activities my school participated in:

Monday - start of RRW; pass out those awful, scratchy, "red" but really orange, plastic bracelets that I always was relieved to take off at the end of the week; assembly by a puppeteer/magician with catch phrase "Too smart to start!"; beginning of prize give away at lunch time for students who have their plastic bracelets (each bracelet has a number on it)

Tuesday - nothing related to RRW (except the lunch time give away) because yesterday's assembly was so freaking long that teachers spend all of today catching up on academics.

(I'm not at my student teaching school after Tuesday of each week, but they informed me about it anyway)

Wednesday - students spend some class time working on "Too smart to start!" themed activities; depending on grade level, these activities ranged from drawing pictures of different ways to be "Too smart to start" through the physical, emotional, psychological, and economical effect of drugs.

Thursday - another long-ass assembly, this time a presentation from the local police force, sans drug sniffing dogs (boo, the dogs are cool); murmurs throughout teacher population of doing away with RRW in lieu for teaching actual content; the smarter, more savy, and thus better teachers breathe a sigh of relief (or a smirk of arrogance, depending on the personality of the teacher) for planning ahead and integrating RRW themes into academic content.

Friday - last day of RRW!; competitions in K-3 and 4-6 categories of who drew the best pictures/wrote the best essays about being "Too smart to start!" judged and prizes handed out; the entire school population can finally cut off those plastic bracelets and feel the blood circulate through that hand again.

The funny thing is, most kids at this school probably have more first hand experience with seeing the effects of drugs than any of their upper-middle-class, mainly white teachers. I saw some of the drawings they did; a blind person would have been able to detect the fakeness in some of those illustrations.

Which leads me to ask: are we really teaching students to say no to drugs, or are they the ones playing along, pacifying the adults? Who, for many inner city students, is the sole steady grown-up role model they have and thus want to impress. Because these are the people, maybe the only people, who have higher aspirations for them. Who view through jaded-but-still-rose-colored glasses, hoping that their students will reach that full-ride scholarship to a prestigious 4-year university, unscathed by the environment they live in. Most of these students know, at the bottom of their hearts, parts that they don't even know they have, that statistics are against them, as is practically everything else on the face of the planet.

But they still pop out with pat answers, play acting the dream for the adults who care so much for them and wish them so much better, because these kids know what it feels like to be disappointed.

Wow, I didn't mean to make this entry so angst-filled. On a brighter note, the essays by the older grades were less contrived. A few were quite good. Maybe it's just the natural tendency for younger students to please their teachers that make them do the fake-answer thing. I hope so.

A note on behavior management

This past week made me want to pull out my hair. What is with all the chatter? Is this how people grow up to be obnoxiously loud, especially on their cell phones?

I know I am WAY too lenient. I personally don't really give a damn if people are chattering and not listening to me during daily conversations. Their rudeness is their own problem, not mine, and if they have no desire to listen, well, I have no desire to speak to them.

However, obvious differences in a classroom environment makes me need to care. Students are not going to learn much if they are forever chattering away in personal conversations. Thus, the following will be implemented in strict order, with no exceptions, from now on. And if the Ss start to dislike me, so be it. I am there to teach them something, not be their friend. Or their mother. Which is a whole different issue entirely and, as always, deserves to stand on it's own at another time.

Anyway, my hiearchy of behavior management, moving up the steps if the previous doesn't work:

ONE nonverbal intervention
ONE verbal intervention, consisting of a warning to the next step if they don't shape up
ONE move to an isolation from the group (if at the carpet), or closer to me (if at grouped desks)
ONE phone call home
Ejection from classroom lasting no longer than 15-20 minutes
Principal time; which usually means some form of suspension/detention

Time wasted continues to be taken from recess.

I've done nearly all of these things up to isolating the student from the group. Which usually works and thus no more interventions are necessary. But I have trouble with the ONE of each level. Usually I give them so many second chances to prove themselves, the message being delivered now is that "the consequences to misbehavior are negligible."

But no more Teacher Nice. They will already have a second/third chance with the nonverbal and verbal warnings. It's time to stop babying them and put the responsibility of their behavior (thus the consequences too) on their own shoulders.

$$$$$ vs. $

My CT recently asked me why I prefer working at Title I, or equivalent, schools. I gave her a very impassioned and strong answer - something I haven't been doing for a while now (being impassioned, I mean). When I got home, I wondered why (haven't I been more impassioned lately, that is).

Hmm, maybe not being able to communicate in any coherent way plays a factor. The fact that a lot of theories is being shoved down my gullet right now doesn't help with developing my own opinions very much. Lack of reflection time.

Anyway, Title I schools are awesome. I know most teachers flee to the 'burbs - if they haven't quit already - because of better pay/benefits/local environment and students who don't live as tough a life as inner city kids. But these schools deserve a lot more than what they get. There is just as much talent, if not more, here. There is ambition, intelligence, hard work, and yes, even fun here.

Most of all, the vibe of Title I schools feels so much more comfortable to me. Many students spend the majority of their time at school. They get fed here, they play here, they see friends here, they come into contact with responsible adults who care about their well-being and provide the structure that they need.

Not that all these things don't happen at home sometimes. It's just other times, it doesn't happen at all. Reality bites, even for 7 year olds.

School is where they come into contact with books, stories, problems that they can solve, the social circles that are important to them, and a wider world they may not be able to see from home. These schools are more home-like, sometimes, than their homes. School is where they get flu shots, eye exams, hearing exams. Schools are the first level of detection for CPS, health issues, psychological needs. Some Title I schools open the campus for food drives, as storm shelters, or clothing drives.

Non-Title I schools, or at least the ones I've taught at, are...well...not home-like. At least not to me. The students in these schools have support elsewhere, so school life is not as important to them. They have computers at home, so it's not such a cool thing to use them at school. They have books at home, so getting them at school isn't a novelty. They have friends, responsible adults (although, again, sometimes not), social circles outside of school. Thus school is less a place of community, more like a bunch of buildings that they have to spend 6 hours a day in.

Frankly, the attitudes I see in non-Title I schools are much more intense. Not just about academics, but also about diversity. Students and staff alike.

Now, not all Title I schools are communities, and not all non-Title I schools are arrogant stuck-ups. It's just the tendencies I see. Most of all, I like Title I schools because these kids need me, in all my noobie-student-teacher-mistake-making-insufficient-management-handling glory.

And it's always nice to be needed.

Saturdays = Laze

I can't seem to tear myself away from the intarweb this morning and despite waking up at 7-freaking-AM for no apparent reason, I've yet to do much more than brush my teeth, wash my face, and eat breakfast.

Thus a to-do list! Crossing stuff off a list always motivates me to work, so here goes:

1. Fold laundry.
2. Write LP's for Monday and Tuesday. Send to my CT. - afternoon was MUCH more productive. The nachos didn't hurt either.
3. Prep tomorrow's Sunday school.
4. Write reflection on performance eval. Print.
5. Re-write/revise classroom philosophy paper. Print.
6. Clean bath. Get rid of ants! Seriously, where do they come from anyway?
7. Exercise: yoga and/or bike.
8. Read and write notes for math.
9. 4 hour nap - yeah, today's kinda a failure...let's see what the afternoon brings.


I'll probably add more, besides crossing off, as the day goes.

The Jermies

I am officially sick.

To be honest, I’m surprised I’ve lasted this long - first illness of the school year after 6 weeks - especially considering how my immune system has been famously downgraded since my stint in China.

Not that I blame China.

Nope, it’s the germs. The creepy, crawly, microscopic organisms I hadn’t yet built up a firewall against and hence over the course of that year, I got sick a whopping 6 times, each bout lasting 3-4 weeks. Breaking it down, I was sick for a nearly month every other month I was there. The effects of which I have yet to fully recover. And probably never will until the day my health insurance deems it suitable for me to finally remove my tonsils.

I was hoping it wouldn’t happen on my home turf, but apparently I am no match for kiddie-germs. They have killed me and me is ded. I’m sure those kids would be proud of their achievements.

Note: I’m not a fan of airborne, and recent studies have shown echinacea and zinc tablets don’t really work at all, but ZINC IS DA BOMBASTICFULNESS OF ILLNESS HELPING!!!! Vitamin C apparently still works, but your body can only absorb so much of it at a time, which means it’s a waste if I take a dozen Halls drops at 200% DV of vitamin C. I’ll probably still do it though. Just because they are addictingly good tasting. Cocaine pushers putting drugs in candy cough drops actually have an effective idea there.

Fortunately, class is suspended for tomorrow. Thanks to the Large Group of Professionals Who Enjoy Gathering Those of the Same Professionals Together, my professors will be in Tahoe conferencing it up.

And I will be in bed, staving off the return of the King of Phlegm.

Photo from Washington City Paper

Playing dead

I woke up this morning with idea after event after though running through my mind like it was the racing of the bulls, except with faster bulls and only one street.

Hence my breakfast of two Advil and a chocolate bar.

All the stuff that's been going is probably just hitting me now, creating shock and panic and freeze-mode. Right now, I feel for the fainting sheep when confronted with an umbrella that suddenly decides to open and chase after them.



Too many boxes to unpack all at once, too many people + their baggage to take in, too many changes to a schedule, which was really intense, but at least I was ready to follow through (can't say the same for the rest of my cohort-mates). All makes me just want to hid in bed this weekend.

Which is too bad because the weather is glorious - just after a night of rain, clean, fresh, cool, mellow sunshiny with a scattering of fluffy clouds just for fun. Maybe I'll manage a bike ride later.

Maybe.

For the love of language

Sitting outside the classroom, waiting for parent pick up today:

Issac*: Ms. Ng?
Me: Yes?
Issac: Do you speak Spanish?
Me: No.
Issac: Yes?
Me: No. (I shake my head)
Issac: Yes! (he nods vigorously)
Me: (thinks to myself, "Ms. Ng, you cultural dumbnut.") Oh, yes, "no" means no in Spanish.
Issac: Yes! You speak Spanish!
Me: (trying very hard to hold in the side-splitting laugher bubbling up) Si, I speak a little Spanish. Do you?
Issac: (huge grin) Yes!
Me: No?
Issac: (pauses and thinks for a moment - I could almost hear the cogs in his head clicking) Si!!

XD