If you’re like me and freaking

Don’t let the fact that you’re under- or even unprepared get you down; the school year starts tomorrow and you’ve already got the first few days planned. You have your syllabus (which you’ve written, scratched, revised, nixed, or overhauled), you have the first two days absolutely planned even though a number of questions have come your way, and you’ve squared up your room so that it almost resembles something you can teach in.

The next step is inviting in the kids and calming yourself down, and you are free to switch around the order of those two items.

You’re on your own after that, but don’t let it worry you. The year, like each student, is an open canvas. Explore what you can in teaching, and let the kids explore along with you.

And before you step through those doors tomorrow, make sure you read (and re-read) Bud Hunt’s Open Letter to Teachers.

Countdown to Day One

Summer’s over and it’s time to admit something truly awful: I did nothing to prepare for this school year. Nothing in reading (at least nothing I could read with the students), nothing in research (or, at least nothing that seems as though it would relate to teaching 8th grade English), nothing in paperwork preparation (except for the one summer class I attended or the fact that I directed the summer school program this year), and nothing that would allow me to actually be “ready” when the kids walk through the new doors at this new school, which happens tomorrow.

Tomorrow our 6th grade classes attend for half a day, and during that time I’ll be at the high school to welcome last year’s students to a new environment. I’ll return to the new school to help the 6th graders find their way around our maze of halls and to help them open their lockers. I’ll shoo them home at noon, and that’s when the real get-down-to-business preparation begins.

Forgive me.

It’s not as though I meant this to happen, but that I found my summer so absolutely booked with other duties and plans that time slipped on by, as it is wont, and now I have one day to prepare myself (and others) for the coming year.

A few things are new:

• I have a prep period!

I didn’t think I was going to get one. Didn’t have one last year, and I found that pretty difficult. I finally got into my groove somewhere around the midyear point, but now that I will have an extra hour in the day, I think I might actually be able to sit back for a few moments and find ways to make my the materials in my classes flow together in a sequence that provides information and depth; lessons that will resonate with the students and offer meaning.

• I have a team teacher

We met FTE and were allowed to hire a few extra teachers for overflow, and now I have a sidekick. Thank god it’s a guy I already know, but he’s been given a difficult job. He’s the overflow teacher for myself and the 7th grade English teacher, and his job is to teach what we teach in the same manner and at the same time. Problem is — and this is a large one, for him — the 7th grade teacher and myself are laissez faire, at best. Not “lazy,” but we allow for openings in our curriculum. If discussion leads toward a new insight, we make like Robert Frost and walk into the bramble. If an assignment doesn’t immediately work, we fix it (often drastically). When we plan, we plan days in advance, but those plans might change and new units might supplant them in the morning on the drive to school.

This makes things very difficult for this team teacher, and I haven’t even brought up the fact that he’s also going to team-teach two of his classes with the Special Education teacher, because all of her 8th grade and 7th grade students have been moved into his overflow classes.

He’s also teaching a computer class on top of all this. Granted, he’s not a new teacher — he taught English several years ago, and computer classes after that, but he’s taken the past two years to find other employment, and is returning after meeting his monetary obligations through that other job.

But he did mention to me today that he’s frightened, and I don’t blame him one bit.

For me, this means I need to truly buckle down and look at my own planning and my own lessons to provide thorough assistance for him. It’s only fair, as his taking over two of my classes allows me to have a prep period (and even his taking over those classes leaves a few of my numbers pretty high: one class is 38 students).

What’s next?

Well, tomorrow I get my shit together, and make things new all over again. I do want to reinvent the wheel. I don’t want to be the teacher I was last year; I want to be the teacher I was the two years prior to that. I have the excitement right here, in my pocket, on this table, in the room, in my car, in my eyes…I want the preparation to go along with it, and that’s what I’m doing tomorrow.

Friday Haiku

Totally forgot to post this yesterday.

(whoa.)

Man.

Just tried to read through my last post.

(T’was trying.)

You might think it was the scribblings of a drunkard.

You might be correct.

I apologize.

Whoa.

Whoa. In the Keanu sense, that is. “Whoa” in that I feel completely overwhelmed by the overall state of things; “Whoa” in the sense that I’m constantly trying to regain a grasp on what’s being taught, what’s going out the window, and what’s necessity; “Whoa” in that the school year has passed so quickly. I’m at a lack of words to describe just how awful and trying this year has been, and yet I’m at a stage similar to late May in my previous three years as a teacher: suction/desperation/preparation.

Suction

We know it and the kids know it — the school year is drawing near. Much nearer than it was a month ago, when our focus was lost in state testing; much nearer than it was two weeks ago when we tried to preach ‘We’re still learning, dammit!’ to the kids; and much nearer than it has been since so many of the teachers in my school have posted countdown calendars on their walls.

We’ve got one week to go, and today and tomorrow are our “Finals Days.” In my school, finals are honored. They contribute 10% to each student’s grade, and we’re required to break up those finals so that each student only takes three finals per day — 2nd period, 4th period, and 6th period took their finals today. 1st, 5th, and 7th take theirs tomorrow. We’re supposed to follow this schedule and not veer beyond its boundaries. A major exception is given to the math classes who proctor a lengthy final and get prior permission to do so.

Nevertheless, I followed my gut and began my finals yesterday. And I’m giving three days to the students to complete it. It’s a 36 question, written test asking them to discuss Characterization, Mood, Tone, Theme, Conflict, and lessons learned (outside of ‘theme’) acrossSix different literary works. I took the test myself, and I was not able to complete it in the time we have allotted for the finals — that’s why I began the test two days in advance. And even in two days, only 11 students actually completed the thing. That means the rest of the kids (uhh…that’d be the other 169) have yet another day to write out their thoughts on paper.

As a kid I was never one to break the rules, but as an adult I feel I have a grasp when there’s a necessity to ignore them. Last year I got into a bit of trouble in not following the finals schedule, and I’m repeating that action this year to allow my students to give forth their best work. I’d like to think this doesn’t affect the students and doesn’t hamper their abilities to complete their other finals, but the final we English teachers gave this year is a lengthy one, and the kids deserve as much time as possible to complete it. And like I said: even with two days work, only 11 kids have finished it.

Nevertheless, many kids have checked out completely. Some kids are leaving school for the remainder of the year for family trips. Some kids are missing their finals. Some kids are just sitting there staring at the test sheet. Some kids are just scribbling all over it. The suction of summer is a strong one, and for our kids (who do not need to actually pass any classes in order to move on to high school) the finals don’t mean anything; neither does the entire school year. Sitting silent is a common test answer.

Desperation

I’m a mess, and my classroom is a mess. The way I’ve dealt with kids is a mess. The entire environment in my room is “scatter.” As we move into the final days, the kids care less and less about their own belongings — I have a stack of personal pictures and posters and videos and essays, stories, poems, and binders waiting to be taken, but the owners never show. I have boxes of my own items waiting to move to the new school, and the kids keep nagging about the state of my chairs instead of asking for their own materials.

This week I even mentioned (to the hordes of kids asking me for pens, pencils, and paper) that I gave them materials at the start of the year — that if they don’t have anything now, it should be in a folder at the back of the room. Several got up, searched for those things, and even said: “Whoa! Here’s my notebook! And a PEN!” But after they led the charge, their actions were followed with comments of: “So gay.”

And I can’t deny that I have my own sights set on the coming year of school, in a new school. I, too, have set sail, in a sense. I’m not without blame.

Preparation

But before I take on that upcoming school year (and believe me, man, I have some drastic changes planned for the structure and action of my own teaching (more to come)), I have to worry about summer school.

See, I’m the summer school administrator, and just getting that going is a process in itself. For the summer session I have four teachers — myself included — who will work to give a selection of students those skills they need for the upcoming year. Those skills deal with the interpersonal, the written, the research, and the basics of math and science, and we provide these thing so that the kids don’t forget any of them over the summer.

But getting students signed up is a hassle, and it’s taken much of the past two weeks (both at work and at home) to accomplish that. And getting ahold of the parents is a hassle — some parents give you 6 contact numbers and none work. And getting kids to understand that summer school isn’t a punishment is a hassle. And getting parents to not tell you their personal problems (when all you want to do is talk to them about their kids’ strengths and weaknesses) is a hassle. And there are numerous more hassles dealing with paperwork, bussing, incentives, snacks, receipts, funding, etc.

But the one thing that I’m working on, and am crossing my fingers about, is that I’d also like to invite a number of stronger students to also attend the summer program. I want some of the best and brightest there to take part as peer mentors; to help the kids learn and to help the teachers teach — kids who already know the materials and who will provide that inside voice of “It’s really not that difficult, all you have to do is…” I’m working to select four students who could take part in the summer school program and work as teachers, as well as complete a portfolio of the work they do over the summer, and trying to find a way for them to earn high school credit.

That’s a lot of balls in the air. Keeping my eye on them is one problem. Catching and releasing them is another, and I’ll let you know when I drop one. Hopefully I’ll let you know that they’re all still airborne before they fall.

Cheers to the end of your school year.

Friday Haiku

Who Are You?

Today was the first meeting of the entire faculty at the new school. If you’re new to this blog, here’s an update: I’m moving to a new school, and I found out today (contrary to that linked post) that I have TWO windows. I didn’t turn on my lights once today, and it was by far the best day I’ve had in a school thus far into my career. Not because there weren’t any kids around, but because I could use natural light to utilize the environs. It’s a beautiful thing.

At this first meeting the principal handed us a sheet to fill out. This before launching into a Q&A about the changes we’d like to make in ourselves as teachers; the changes we’d like to enliven within the students; the changes we’d like to make in education in our city and state. And while I principal might not have addressed his goals as directly as he could have, I know that these goals are in the back of each teacher’s mind: What are we going to do to open a new school?

We shared a few things, and I shared my own with the group. But before I turn in the questionnaire to the principal, I’d like to share them here. What follows are the questions on that sheet of paper, along with my answers.

I am a young-ish man; still new to teaching. I teach 8th grade Language Arts. I am a husband, a father, and I feel that I am still a child and thus still able to connect to the kids. I am a reader. I am a thinker. I am a camper. I am a cook. I try to be that ‘renaissance man’ in every way I can, and so I am an artist, a scientist, a lawyer, a mathematician, kook, and thief. I am malleable, and am willing to take on any challenge teaching brings.

What do you stand for and believe in?

Sadly my political views are cinched off by the morals of teaching. Should I teach or inform about certain topics, I’d come under fire. And so I teach around those beliefs. I do honestly believe that every student can and will learn. I honestly believe that our current education system dumbs things down for the kids. I honestly believe that students can be treated as adults, and I believe that we should give the kids the best, most honest education we can provide. I think we should expose students to every type of reading, writing, philosophy, science, and practice we comprehend, and I think we should also work to learn those things we do not comprehend. I believe that teaching opportunities happen every day and every minute for the students, but I also think that we teachers need to seek out those teaching opportunities for ourselves. We we encounter something we do not know or understand, we should work to educate ourselves. We should pass on what we’ve learned to the students. If the job of an educator is to be a parent, then we must strive to answer every question of “Why?”

Where do you want to take us?

I want to take our faculty and our student body beyond what’s expected. If our ultimate goal is to create critical thinkers, then we need to act as critical thinkers. I think we need to open the boundaries of our teaching and step into the ether to answer the questions our students seek. We need a willingness to say “I don’t know the answer to that question,” when the kids ask difficult ones, and we need to be able to share with our students the process of learning that information. Kids aren’t dumb, they’re inquisitive, and they need and seek guidance. We can’t tell them what to think (unless it’s a scientific or mathematical proof), but we can show them that asking questions requires a follow-through.

Why you?

Because I actually care about walking kids through a series of hoops to show them that life is not a series of hoops. Life is a series of conflicts and resolutions. Our job is to make our students able to take part in the resolution. My job is to make them realize that if they don’t take part in creating their own future, someone else will do it for them, and that won’t always work out to their liking.

What qualifies you for this job?

I’m here, aren’t I?

But a more serious answer would be a copy of the previous answer: I want to help students see that school is not a punishment; I want them to take an active part in learning learning learning. I want them to succeed and I want to take them to a point where there figure out that what you do in life is not something you accept.

What makes you think you can do this?

Sheer defiance.

Do you really know what you’re getting yourself into?

No, I don’t. And that’s why having this opportunity to open a new school is so interesting to me. I don’t think I’m valuable to the community, and I don’t think I can adequately provide an education to my students. I don’t thin I can learn the kids as individuals. I don’t think I have the skills to teach, and I don’t think I model the skills students need in the future. I think I’m learning right along with the students, and I think that I model a self-deprecating person. So maybe that’s a strength. If I am at all capable, it’s to show students that I am currently in class alongside them. I support them. I am them.

What changes are you planning to make?

• I want to enter us into the Scripps spelling bee.
• I want to have my students participate in NPR’s StoryCorps.
• I want my students to participate in the NaNoWriMo.
• I want my students to Read 4 Novels.
• I want my students to write 10 papers.
• I want my students to learn research and writing by doing both for their other classes. Meaning, I want to help create a cross-curricular educational process for the kids, where they research and write for their other classes. I want them to use my class a method to learn how to learn about the topics in other classes.
• I want to enable the creation of a learning community, and by that I mean not only the students, but to bring in their parents as co-learners and advocates for the education system.
• I want to be a smarter teacher.
• I want to be a better teacher.
• I want to create a learning environment where the process (of all classes) leads to an attainable goal for all students.

And while all of this is still preliminary and completely unsubstantiated, It’s my plan.

Shaving Face

And here I am without beard for the first time in years. (Read here to find out why.) You will get no pictures.

I shaved off my beard in the middle of the lunchroom in the middle of lunchtime. Isn’t that tantalizing. No one was available to take pictures (thank the good lord), but I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a cellphone video lurking about somewhere. I asked the kids to pick up the shavings and try to sell them on eBay for whatever profit they could find, but I have doubts that money will filter back through to the district.

Of course, there were a few comments:

You look stupid.

Now your face looks like the top of your head.

You really shouldn’t have done that.

Now you actually look younger than [an older teacher].

All I’ll say is that it’s a little colder. Especially cold because of this comment:

You look like a pedophile.

And while this post is meant to show off how willing I am to do anything to ensure my students succeed, that last comment made me wonder why there are no popular national news stories about teachers who make a difference or teachers who enrich the lives of their students.

In no way am I saying that shaving off my beard enriched the students — I’m not trying to take credit here for anything more than to say that somehow, in some way, I might have enabled my students to pass the state test. But any time you hear about teachers or read about teachers you only find negative news: Teachers fail to help students pass state tests, Teacher has sex with student, teacher throws Mexican flag in garbage can (which happened in my state).

Why is that?

Maybe, as a people, we should focus on the things that matter and make those things news. Because I could see my own story — shaving the beard — be a part of the local news if I wanted it to be. I could see that piece of fluff thrown all about, but it ultimately means nothing. I teach 190 students every day and half of them don’t give a flying fuck about their education, and they’ve told me so. To top it off, their parents preach similarly. I had a parent in my room just this week whose complaints and rhetoric (which I did not present in the linked post) showed me that he views school as a punishment for his child.

When even our students can turn an act of honor — and again, I’d just like to say that shaving my beard is not honorable, but the fact I lived up to my promise is — into a joke that reflects the common view of teachers, I worry.

Anyway.

Aside from all the politicking here, I even think the pedophile joke is funny. I really do. There’s humor in everything, especially when it hurts.

EFFin’ A! (From F to A)

Alternate title: Beard Be Gone

Last week I lamented the fact that my students underperformed on the state test covering Language Skills. At the same time I praised my students for doing so well on the Reading Skills section of the test. At the time, I think about 92% of my students tested “Proficient,” which means they’re testing at grade level — they’re performing exactly as we would expect a student to perform given the set of information we’re required to teach them.

Students can also score “Advanced,” meaning they’re more than capable of understanding the content of the class; they can score “Basic,” meaning their performances are just below expectations; and they can score “Below Basic,” which happens from time to time, and were these scores only used as a measure of student performance and teacher performance at the district and state levels (meaning: leaving out NCLB) so that we could monitor student progress and align curriculum and focus on bettering ourselves without the worry of losing funding (because you would think that a failing school would get more funding to help better the environment for the students), but that’s all another story.

Maybe I’m complaining about NCLB because this is our fourth year as a failing school. We “fail” because we’re seemingly not capable of reaching “all students” and making “all students” proficient in those three areas (four, if you count the Science Skills test given in the 7th grade). And this means making the general population proficient as well as the Special Education students and the English as a second Language students and the Minority students proficient. This all in an overpopulated school with students largely from a lower socioeconomic background — I believe our student body hovers at 75% for free/reduced lunch.

Maybe I shouldn’t make generalizations, but I’m not trying to blame any teacher or any administrator for this failure. We’ve spent the last three years thoroughly examining the standards and our practice. We’ve created Data Teams to scour students’ testing histories, we’ve organized learning lunches for the teachers and for the students, we’ve found ways to fund test preparation specialists, study groups, tutoring sessions, and more often than not our teachers and students come to school early for extra instruction. The teachers are working together on lessons and evaluating our assignments against the standards. The kids are focused on taking apart the test, and we have several class sessions based on analyzing a question for content and scope.

In a word, or three: We’ve worked our asses off.

And today we got some very promising, second-round preliminary news: That language test we bombed? We scored higher than last year. That’s good news. According to NCLB if we can’t meet proficiency, we must prove that this year’s kids perform better than last year’s kids. We’ve done that, and to finally hear it feels great.

On top of that, the Reading Skills scores are off the chart. Something around 73% for the entire school, and for the 8th grade — my classes and my team — we’re up in the 90th percentile, and well above last year’s scores.

Seriously, 90% of our students are Proficient (and better) in Reading Skills. That’s phenomenal! That’s unheard of! That’s so fantastic I might just need a change of pants.

Add to that the fact that I promised my students that I’d shave off my beard and reveal the true horror behind it if 90% of them scored Proficient on the test. Their final score: 88%, which is a damn good amount of students Proficient, and they should be damn proud of themselves for doing such good work and for understanding so much of the content of my course, that I think I’ll just go ahead and do it anyway. It’s a little thing for me, but it’ll be just embarrassing enough to make them happy.

I hope they’re proud of themselves, because they should be.

A Parent said to me today:

Why didn’t you escort him back to his desk?

This type of question bugs me because it requires me to do something outside of my job requirements. And trust me, I know and understand that being a teacher requires so much more from us than to simply pass off information. It requires us to be adults, parents, examiners, practitioners, confidantes, police, comics, judge bailiff and jury, friends, fiends, uncles aunts sisters and brothers, neighbors, politicians, repairmen (and women), cooks, delivery people, janitors, drivers, aides, dancers, hosts, emcees, brethren, litigants, manufacturers, dumpster-divers, garbagemen, doctors, nurses, receptionists, lawyers, spokespeople, landscapers, architects, upholsterers, librarians, framers, directors and actors, and all the while function as unassuming commoners. But when it comes to being asked to do one of those jobs I get irate.

My simple answer was: I will not follow your son around the room. Because I will not accept that I am being asked to coddle or wipe.

The simple answer I got in return was a sigh.