The beginning is here yet again. The first week of school is over and both my students and I are in the awkward transition from nervous apprehension to unconditional love. I have registered all my student's families, tested all of my students and spent five consecutive eight hour schools days with my newbies. History is not so much repeating itself, but improving itself.
As a teacher, I have learned that people learn new information best by attaching the new to what is already known in their own minds. Therefore, I will call my inability to separate the connectedness of August of last year to the present as pure human instinct. I find it impossible to reflect on my first week of school now without comparing it to my first week of school one year ago. So humor me as my analysis of the present is inextricably linked to the past.
First and foremost, as people are instinctively self-oriented, I cannot help but compare my own mental state now to my mental state last year. I am caught in a paradox this year as I find myself feeling quite overwhelmed despite a comparatively underwhelming situation. Last year, despite knowing nothing about teaching, children or early childhood, having no real connections in New Orleans and barely being old enough to consume alcohol, I did not feel as stressed as I feel now. I had so much more to stress about, a smaller support system and less knowledge, yet somehow I managed to survive each day feeling tired, but not overwhelmed. Call it flight or fight if you will, but somehow I learned to numb myself to what was out of my control and focus on the little that was in y control, resulting in a somewhat sound state of mind. However, this year, I have it more together but feel more stressed than ever. With a stronger support system and more knowledge, I am finding more and more within my control (creating added pressure to use the control) and conversely, finding myself more frustrated at that which is outside of my control, perhaps explaining my confusing feelings.
On the flip side, I find my confidence in my own abilities exponentially increased. Last year I never slept well on a Sunday night, especially not the Sunday before my first day of teaching. Each Sunday I would work tirelessly all day compiling materials for the week, lesson planning and trying not to drown in the pressures of the job. I would work myself to the bone and still lay wide awake 5 hours after going to bed, anxious and excited for how my newest plans would manifest themselves. Now I spend Sundays still working to the bone, but without the nervous pit in my stomach. I sleep soundly at night and come to school excited, but not nervous for the start of the week. I think I really saw the change this week when on my third day of teaching (and therefore the third day of school for my kids EVER) the CEO of my school (public school equivalent of a superintendent) walked into my room unannounced and plopped himself down on a chair and watched me teach for about 30 minutes. Oh and it was my birthday. I kept teaching without my voice even faltering in tone and at several points even forgot he was in the room. In fact, it was not until he left 30 minutes later that I realized my palms were pretty sweaty and remembered why. Had the CEO walked in last year, I am almost positive I would have either passed out, ran out or had nightmares about it for weeks to come. After surviving and on occasion, thriving, last year, I have a belief in my own abilities I did not possess last year. Last year I had to prove to more people than I should have that I was competent and able as a teacher. It took until the beginning of this year until I realized that somewhere along the way, I proved it to myself as well.
Everything about this week has been amazing. Things that were painstakingly challenging for me last year are second nature to me this year. I am slowly being given and taking up more responsibility as a professional while also pushing myself to new levels as a teacher, particularly in the development of relationships with student's parent and home involvement. The week before school started, I had some incredible people in my life donate to a school library for my children and created a homework help DVD for my children's parents. By all measures, this year is off to a wonderful start. While there are so many areas I need to improve on, for the first time, I feel like I am starting to become a fraction of the teacher I want to be.
My children this year are absolutely astounding. Firstly, my 12 returning Pre-K students have been blowing my mind in Kindergarten. Even T, the bane of my existence last year. After crying non stop for one whole year in my class, he went two whole days of Kinder without a tear. My students are well-adjusted, joyful and hard-working. Everything I wanted them to be in Kinder and more. I am SO proud of them. My newbies are an interesting bunch. One adorable boy, O, has comprehension skills that could compete with some of the 2nd graders at the school, but has tantrums of astronomical proportions. In any given day, he will answer every single question with complete accuracy and then some and then turn around, call me a stupid animal and hit me square in the face with a stick at recess (which hurt by the way). F, the 13th of 14 children in a family with no income and a mother who is completely illiterate is quickly becoming my favorite. She cries at least the first hour of every day for her sister and the last ten minutes of every day that she wants to get on the bus (while walking out TO the bus), eats like a slob (including spitting apple skins onto the floor of my classroom), throws woodchips at other girls because she does not like them and sneaks juice into a brown paper bag which she hides under her blanket and sucks down like a 40 during nap time. She cannot accurately identify one color, letter, number or shape, but she has a sassy personality that would melt the most hardened of hearts. N, one of several of my students with a disability, has a severe physical disability but plays harder and more joyfully than all my other students combined at recess (and sometimes while I am in the middle of a lesson). And lastly, R, my most energetic (often synonymous with challenging) student goes from dancing his heart out by himself and screaming loudly (and usually incorrectly) the words of whatever song we are learning to calling the special education teacher a punk. I thought it would take longer than a week, but I must admit, I am head over heels in love with my new Pre-K crew. They are wild, they are way low academically and they have seen some things in their short lives, but I would not have it any other way. I love them and I am so confident of the amazing things they will accomplish this year. My hope is that their achievements this year make my Pre-K class from last year look like amateurs.
I hope my reflection does not come off as narcissistic or unrealistic, but as an accurate portrayal of what it is like to go from practically drowning to surprisingly floating. I am more prepared this year and more determined than ever, so I know it is going to be an exceptional year. I will settle for nothing less.
"To succeed in life, you need two things: ignorance and confidence" -Mark Twain
Friday, August 3, 2012
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
July Resolutions
Tomorrow marks the first day of my second year of teaching. After a reflective, adventurous and grounding four weeks escape from the real world of work to my idealistic world where my social life reigns supreme, my summer has come to an end. I feel torn between two emotions right now. The first being unease. An uneasiness stems in the pit of stomach as a cross between nerves for another first day and guilt for not taking more advantage of my time this summer. So many days this summer I chose to go out with friends or lay in bed an extra hour (or four) instead of start meticulously planning for the year. More than once I wrote things on a to-do list that never got done and spent too much money on a Wednesday night going out with friends. While I did work this summer (more than most would even), despite my best efforts to repress that little voice in my head, it keeps reminding me I could have done more. And with that voice, comes the realization that my students may on some level, pay for my self-indulgence. Now you can point out that I deserve a break and that to stay sane, I must take time for myself and I will not argue you on that fact. However, in the end, the truth remains that my work ethic to some extent, is proportional to my student's success and therefore, should not be too neglected. The second emotion I feel right now is excitement. Pure joy at the prospect of meeting my new students, seeing my old students and honestly, just going back into the old routine. I am going into withdrawals of 4-year-old hugs and 4-year-old smiles as all summer long I have had to go without the unwavering love and devotion of my students. Not to mention, my friends are finding my stories increasingly less hilarious as they begin to revolve more around my life and less around the anecdotal stories of my little comedians. Try as I might, I will never be as funny as my students. I do not miss the hours, I do not miss the early mornings and I definitely do not miss the tantrums, but I REALLY miss my kids. More than once this summer, I have been talking to someone about my kids with such excitement and pride that a perplexed listener has misunderstood, thinking me a mother, not a teacher. I think that is a sign, I desperately need to get back into the classroom.
I have always found it funny that we make New Year's Resolutions in January, as if people actually consider January to be the start of a new year. As children, it is ingrained in us that the year begins in August (or in my case July) with the start of school and even into adulthood, I think people from all professions would agree that the end of summer marks a new year much more than the passage of Christmas. Therefore, with the beginning of a new year starting tomorrow, I figure it may be a good time for me to make some.
1. I will be more patient. People who do not know me very well often consider me a very patient person. People meet me and think me quiet and understanding, traits that often go hand and hand with patience. However, people who actually know me will be the first to tell you tales of how incredibly impatient I am. I hold myself and other people to extremely high expectations and become increasingly frustrated when people fail to meet those expectations. On top of that I am timely, move quickly and action-oriented. This combination keeps me far from possessing any sort of patience. However, I teach children. Despite their grown-up polo uniforms, their oftentimes inappropriate grown-up language and confidence beyond their age, they are only four years old. In fact, at the beginning of the year, there is usually a handful of kids who are only three. Kids need patience. Kids need a teacher who will explain the rules once and one hundred times with consistent tone. Kids need a teacher who will give them time to discover the answers at their own pace. I have BIG dreams for my kids, I think anyone can tell you that. However, I need to remind myself not just daily, but hourly, that big dreams take big chunks of time and it does not happen overnight. I will be patient.
2. I will be more positive. I hate to admit this is one of my resolutions because I have always considered myself extremely positive. I am energetic and optimistic and generally excited for most situations. I like to think both people who know me well and those how barely know me would say that I am generally positive. But I have come to discover in the past year that it takes more than a generally positive outlook to be successful. It takes staying positive even when I want to punch a wall to really help my students accomplish their goals. Firstly, I need to be more positive in my system of rewards and consequences. This year I have really grown in my behavior management and my ability to keep my students "in line" so to speak. However, my system centers around consequences instead of rewards and incidentally, takes some of the positivity out of the room. Obviously, I dote on my children constantly, giving verbal rewards and physical rewards daily and even hourly, but in reality, my students need more opportunities for yes's and less opportunities for no's. I do not want my kids to look back on my year and talk about time out or missing recess, I want them to look back and talk about being the superstar of the day or getting a sticker. I want them to remember me for how happy I made them while still preserving structure, not for how strict I was. Again, they are only four. Secondly, I need to be more positive with people I work with, even when it does not come easy. I have always been an authentic and genuine person, resulting in it being nearly impossible for me to hide my true feelings about anyone---ever. I wear my emotions on my sleeve and always have and as much as I may hate it, I need to learn how to grit a smile through my grimace and put on the happy face for the sake of my own sanity. I need to understand that it is not so much about who is right and who is wrong, but who has the power and how to influence them to use their power in a way that helps instead of harms, my students. I hate this truth, but it is a truth, so I am practicing my smile. This may be my most difficult resolution of all. I will be positive.
3. I will be exceptional. Last year, I was an okay teacher. More generous observers may have even ventured to call me good. Considering it was my first year in teaching ever, some may say for my experience level, I was above average. But this year, I will not allow that to be the case. I don't want to be great compared to other people of my experience level. I don't want to be pretty good. I want to be as exceptional of a teacher as my exceptional students deserve. I want my students this year to achieve twice that of what my students last year did. I want them to show more advanced social skills, more advanced discipline and more passion for learning than my students did last year. I want people to meet my students at the end of the year and be floored to learn they are only in Pre-K. I want my students to not just enjoy school, but to fall in LOVE with it. I want them sleeping dreaming about what they will learn the next day and I want their parents flabbergasted by how much their students prove to be capable of. My students last year proved that they deserve not a good teacher, but an extraordinary teacher. So this year, I will be exceptional.
So those are my goals. Fall short I may, but give it my all I must. My students deserve the best and I must do everything in my power to give them my best self.
"Always bear in mind that your own resolution to succeed is more important than any other" -Abraham Lincoln
I have always found it funny that we make New Year's Resolutions in January, as if people actually consider January to be the start of a new year. As children, it is ingrained in us that the year begins in August (or in my case July) with the start of school and even into adulthood, I think people from all professions would agree that the end of summer marks a new year much more than the passage of Christmas. Therefore, with the beginning of a new year starting tomorrow, I figure it may be a good time for me to make some.
1. I will be more patient. People who do not know me very well often consider me a very patient person. People meet me and think me quiet and understanding, traits that often go hand and hand with patience. However, people who actually know me will be the first to tell you tales of how incredibly impatient I am. I hold myself and other people to extremely high expectations and become increasingly frustrated when people fail to meet those expectations. On top of that I am timely, move quickly and action-oriented. This combination keeps me far from possessing any sort of patience. However, I teach children. Despite their grown-up polo uniforms, their oftentimes inappropriate grown-up language and confidence beyond their age, they are only four years old. In fact, at the beginning of the year, there is usually a handful of kids who are only three. Kids need patience. Kids need a teacher who will explain the rules once and one hundred times with consistent tone. Kids need a teacher who will give them time to discover the answers at their own pace. I have BIG dreams for my kids, I think anyone can tell you that. However, I need to remind myself not just daily, but hourly, that big dreams take big chunks of time and it does not happen overnight. I will be patient.
2. I will be more positive. I hate to admit this is one of my resolutions because I have always considered myself extremely positive. I am energetic and optimistic and generally excited for most situations. I like to think both people who know me well and those how barely know me would say that I am generally positive. But I have come to discover in the past year that it takes more than a generally positive outlook to be successful. It takes staying positive even when I want to punch a wall to really help my students accomplish their goals. Firstly, I need to be more positive in my system of rewards and consequences. This year I have really grown in my behavior management and my ability to keep my students "in line" so to speak. However, my system centers around consequences instead of rewards and incidentally, takes some of the positivity out of the room. Obviously, I dote on my children constantly, giving verbal rewards and physical rewards daily and even hourly, but in reality, my students need more opportunities for yes's and less opportunities for no's. I do not want my kids to look back on my year and talk about time out or missing recess, I want them to look back and talk about being the superstar of the day or getting a sticker. I want them to remember me for how happy I made them while still preserving structure, not for how strict I was. Again, they are only four. Secondly, I need to be more positive with people I work with, even when it does not come easy. I have always been an authentic and genuine person, resulting in it being nearly impossible for me to hide my true feelings about anyone---ever. I wear my emotions on my sleeve and always have and as much as I may hate it, I need to learn how to grit a smile through my grimace and put on the happy face for the sake of my own sanity. I need to understand that it is not so much about who is right and who is wrong, but who has the power and how to influence them to use their power in a way that helps instead of harms, my students. I hate this truth, but it is a truth, so I am practicing my smile. This may be my most difficult resolution of all. I will be positive.
3. I will be exceptional. Last year, I was an okay teacher. More generous observers may have even ventured to call me good. Considering it was my first year in teaching ever, some may say for my experience level, I was above average. But this year, I will not allow that to be the case. I don't want to be great compared to other people of my experience level. I don't want to be pretty good. I want to be as exceptional of a teacher as my exceptional students deserve. I want my students this year to achieve twice that of what my students last year did. I want them to show more advanced social skills, more advanced discipline and more passion for learning than my students did last year. I want people to meet my students at the end of the year and be floored to learn they are only in Pre-K. I want my students to not just enjoy school, but to fall in LOVE with it. I want them sleeping dreaming about what they will learn the next day and I want their parents flabbergasted by how much their students prove to be capable of. My students last year proved that they deserve not a good teacher, but an extraordinary teacher. So this year, I will be exceptional.
So those are my goals. Fall short I may, but give it my all I must. My students deserve the best and I must do everything in my power to give them my best self.
"Always bear in mind that your own resolution to succeed is more important than any other" -Abraham Lincoln
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Three Simple Rules
How do I possibly begin to sum up the most challenging, enjoyable and stretching 11 months I just spent as a first year Pre-K teacher? Do I brag about my children's results, lament on my teaching shortcomings, voice my fear of more changes from the administration or share a string of unrelated but heartwarming anecdotes from my children? Each approach paints me, the writer, in a different light. The first paints me as proud (maybe slightly arrogant), the second, humble (maybe slightly insecure), the third, victim (maybe slightly pity-seeking) and the fourth, a storyteller (maybe slightly near-sighted). But as my blog is not meant to impress, but as a means for self-reflection alone, I think I will have to do the rudimentary, but nonetheless holistic format of listing not the lessons I taught this year, but the lessons I learned.
First this year, I learned to laugh when I want to cry. At the risk of sounding like an embarrassingly cheesy hallmark card with a kitten stuck in a tight space on the front, this lesson I list first because while I know the philosophy, my application is less than impressive. As much as I try to present myself to the world as in control of my emotions and above such grievances as crying, the truth is this year, I probably cried more than a handful of times. And definitely more than a handful of times the crying was unnecessary. At the risk of sounding cold-hearted, I must take a moment to clarify that tears are healthful and I can appreciate crying as something that makes us human, as painful as it may be. However, this year I have learned that to cry over a challenge is to admit that the challenge is more of a set back. When my first school closed, I cried a lot. Much more than I would ever care to admit. However, some of my tears were worthy while some were simply foolish. When I cried for the loss of my old co-workers, the memories and attachment I had to the building and the breaking of the team, those tears helped me grapple with the emotions of grief, not over a person, but over a place. However, when I cried out of the frustration in the changes, the apprehension of the newness of the situation and the feeling of being treated unfairly, I was immediately labeling the closing as a setback, not as a new opportunity. Unworthy tears. Had I laughed at my own awkwardness during bus dismissal, trying to find the bathroom in the new building and the passive comments grimaced through less than welcoming co-workers instead, I know my year would have been better. To take a step back when a situation seems so frustrating and view your life as if you were the main character on a sitcom instead of a tragedy, can give so much life to a fatigued body and soul. Next year, I resolve to laugh more at the petty obstacles working in a school can through my way and instead, embrace the humor in human awkwardness.
Second this year, I learned to admire my students, not just respect, but admire. I have never really had a problem admiring my students, never thought of them as incapable or less than their worth; however, I do not think before I got this job that I knew just how incredible my children really are. At an end of year staff party, I was having an intimate conversation with a staff member about how proud I am of certain students and of course, I had to talk about C. C, my amazing student who went from self-inflicting pain on himself to winning the "Most Likely to Become the President" award at our graduation. His academic and behavioral gains have been amazing this year and any insider or outsider can quickly recognize it. However, when talking with this staff member, she mentioned very off-handedly a thought I had never been able to articulate the way she did. She said, simply, but powerfully, "You know, he has overcome so much at just four years old." And it is true. Our children are not just capable of learning how to socialize positively, their academic essentials and table manners. Our children (without our teaching) are capable of overcoming obstacles that most of us cannot even fathom exist. When I think about the defining life moments in my life, the biggest obstacles I have overcome and more, the earliest memories I have of even the slightest obstacles do not even surface until high school. However, every single one of my students has already overcome obstacles that I have never even experienced in my life. Not to put my children in a box of their situation, but to shed life on their power over setbacks, I want to really talk about their home lives. This year, two of my students have verbally told me about watching their parents be physically abused and both of those students had to move to escape. In fact, one of the students saw his sister's father throw a brick inches from his 1 year old sisters head in his rage. Three of my students had a father in a jail for a stint this year, with one of those students watching his father leave and go back to jail for extended stays TWICE in one year. Almost all of my students are in single parent or divorced/not married households, with one student literally spending two weeks with one parent and the next two weeks with the other parent. Not that this is a bad situation in and of itself; but to make matters worse, the parents put their daughter in the middle of their battles and play games with her which are just plain absurd. One student witnessed before four years old his brother be abused so badly that he ended up on life support by his brother's father. One student watched her 10 year old brother smoke weed and get arrested for it. Yes, I said 10 year old. Out of my class, there are three people who may not come into the school because of restraining orders , and all three of the people are the real fathers of the students. Nineteen of my twenty students are under the poverty line. And this is ONLY based on the stories that the children or parents have verbalized to me. Only the stories the students felt safe enough to tell me about. My kids are overcoming obstacles that I have NEVER had the misfortune to face and do not even realize their own power to survive when life tries to bring them down. And for this, my children deserve nothing but admiration. They truly inspire me.
Third this year, I have learned how much I have left to learn. I have had a truly incredible year. My students far exceeding expectations. On average, they are going to Kindergarten ABOVE level in reading and other subject areas and this, is worthy of a quick brag on my part and a humongous brag on my student's part. For a first year teacher, I have been told again and again, I am doing an excellent job. My student data is impressive and my management is not bad, especially considering where my lovelies started. However, the more people compliment me on my successes, the more I feel the guilt for all the places where I am truly, inadequate. The areas where, not out of a lack of hard work, (I promise you I worked more than hard this year), but out of a lack of experience, training and time, did not do my students justice. In all, I know my net output in teaching this year was wholly positive, but I cannot help but wonder how much more my students could have achieved under my instruction if I had more training, experience, time and rest. How much higher could their data skyrocket? How much more maturity could they exhibit while interacting with others? While this train of thought can be extremely dangerous, especially considering that in actuality, you can always do more, I think it is important as a teacher that I know that this first year must be my worst. While I am so proud of my gains this year, if my gains are the same next year, I should be ashamed. As if in my first year, I reach the peak of my teaching potential, I am doing my students a huge disservice. However, as long as I can always see that I have more left to learn and am actively pursuing learning and applying it, I know I will be the teacher my students deserve to have.
I can think of about 200 more life lessons I learned this year. From the obvious lessons like, get a full nights rest, to the weirder lessons like, students will go crazy over a make-believe vocab crown, to the ones that are hard to describe like, the facial distinctions between a child who HAS to use the restroom, could use the restroom and just wants to play, I could write books on this stuff. However, for the sake of brevity (relative brevity for me at least) and the sake of simplicity in three simple rules, I will leave it at this.
This will probably be my last post for a bit. Summer started yesterday and I do not have to report back to school until July 11th. Perhaps as the world's way of making me take some time off, I will now know until June 20th what I am teaching next year, which should force me to take some much needed Hannah-time. Summer, as is always the case will enchant and entice me into fantasy world of free time, stress-free sleep and being romanced by the things in life I will surely take for granted, like the warm sun on my skin and heavy rainfalls lulling me to sleep in the mid-afternoon. However, I know once I am fully immersed in the ecstasy of summer, it will leave me once again, so I have given myself a simple homework assignment for this summer. Enjoy it. Therefore, speak to you again in mid-July.
“We live by our imagination, our admirations, and our sentiments.” -Ralph Waldo Emerson
First this year, I learned to laugh when I want to cry. At the risk of sounding like an embarrassingly cheesy hallmark card with a kitten stuck in a tight space on the front, this lesson I list first because while I know the philosophy, my application is less than impressive. As much as I try to present myself to the world as in control of my emotions and above such grievances as crying, the truth is this year, I probably cried more than a handful of times. And definitely more than a handful of times the crying was unnecessary. At the risk of sounding cold-hearted, I must take a moment to clarify that tears are healthful and I can appreciate crying as something that makes us human, as painful as it may be. However, this year I have learned that to cry over a challenge is to admit that the challenge is more of a set back. When my first school closed, I cried a lot. Much more than I would ever care to admit. However, some of my tears were worthy while some were simply foolish. When I cried for the loss of my old co-workers, the memories and attachment I had to the building and the breaking of the team, those tears helped me grapple with the emotions of grief, not over a person, but over a place. However, when I cried out of the frustration in the changes, the apprehension of the newness of the situation and the feeling of being treated unfairly, I was immediately labeling the closing as a setback, not as a new opportunity. Unworthy tears. Had I laughed at my own awkwardness during bus dismissal, trying to find the bathroom in the new building and the passive comments grimaced through less than welcoming co-workers instead, I know my year would have been better. To take a step back when a situation seems so frustrating and view your life as if you were the main character on a sitcom instead of a tragedy, can give so much life to a fatigued body and soul. Next year, I resolve to laugh more at the petty obstacles working in a school can through my way and instead, embrace the humor in human awkwardness.
Second this year, I learned to admire my students, not just respect, but admire. I have never really had a problem admiring my students, never thought of them as incapable or less than their worth; however, I do not think before I got this job that I knew just how incredible my children really are. At an end of year staff party, I was having an intimate conversation with a staff member about how proud I am of certain students and of course, I had to talk about C. C, my amazing student who went from self-inflicting pain on himself to winning the "Most Likely to Become the President" award at our graduation. His academic and behavioral gains have been amazing this year and any insider or outsider can quickly recognize it. However, when talking with this staff member, she mentioned very off-handedly a thought I had never been able to articulate the way she did. She said, simply, but powerfully, "You know, he has overcome so much at just four years old." And it is true. Our children are not just capable of learning how to socialize positively, their academic essentials and table manners. Our children (without our teaching) are capable of overcoming obstacles that most of us cannot even fathom exist. When I think about the defining life moments in my life, the biggest obstacles I have overcome and more, the earliest memories I have of even the slightest obstacles do not even surface until high school. However, every single one of my students has already overcome obstacles that I have never even experienced in my life. Not to put my children in a box of their situation, but to shed life on their power over setbacks, I want to really talk about their home lives. This year, two of my students have verbally told me about watching their parents be physically abused and both of those students had to move to escape. In fact, one of the students saw his sister's father throw a brick inches from his 1 year old sisters head in his rage. Three of my students had a father in a jail for a stint this year, with one of those students watching his father leave and go back to jail for extended stays TWICE in one year. Almost all of my students are in single parent or divorced/not married households, with one student literally spending two weeks with one parent and the next two weeks with the other parent. Not that this is a bad situation in and of itself; but to make matters worse, the parents put their daughter in the middle of their battles and play games with her which are just plain absurd. One student witnessed before four years old his brother be abused so badly that he ended up on life support by his brother's father. One student watched her 10 year old brother smoke weed and get arrested for it. Yes, I said 10 year old. Out of my class, there are three people who may not come into the school because of restraining orders , and all three of the people are the real fathers of the students. Nineteen of my twenty students are under the poverty line. And this is ONLY based on the stories that the children or parents have verbalized to me. Only the stories the students felt safe enough to tell me about. My kids are overcoming obstacles that I have NEVER had the misfortune to face and do not even realize their own power to survive when life tries to bring them down. And for this, my children deserve nothing but admiration. They truly inspire me.
Third this year, I have learned how much I have left to learn. I have had a truly incredible year. My students far exceeding expectations. On average, they are going to Kindergarten ABOVE level in reading and other subject areas and this, is worthy of a quick brag on my part and a humongous brag on my student's part. For a first year teacher, I have been told again and again, I am doing an excellent job. My student data is impressive and my management is not bad, especially considering where my lovelies started. However, the more people compliment me on my successes, the more I feel the guilt for all the places where I am truly, inadequate. The areas where, not out of a lack of hard work, (I promise you I worked more than hard this year), but out of a lack of experience, training and time, did not do my students justice. In all, I know my net output in teaching this year was wholly positive, but I cannot help but wonder how much more my students could have achieved under my instruction if I had more training, experience, time and rest. How much higher could their data skyrocket? How much more maturity could they exhibit while interacting with others? While this train of thought can be extremely dangerous, especially considering that in actuality, you can always do more, I think it is important as a teacher that I know that this first year must be my worst. While I am so proud of my gains this year, if my gains are the same next year, I should be ashamed. As if in my first year, I reach the peak of my teaching potential, I am doing my students a huge disservice. However, as long as I can always see that I have more left to learn and am actively pursuing learning and applying it, I know I will be the teacher my students deserve to have.
I can think of about 200 more life lessons I learned this year. From the obvious lessons like, get a full nights rest, to the weirder lessons like, students will go crazy over a make-believe vocab crown, to the ones that are hard to describe like, the facial distinctions between a child who HAS to use the restroom, could use the restroom and just wants to play, I could write books on this stuff. However, for the sake of brevity (relative brevity for me at least) and the sake of simplicity in three simple rules, I will leave it at this.
This will probably be my last post for a bit. Summer started yesterday and I do not have to report back to school until July 11th. Perhaps as the world's way of making me take some time off, I will now know until June 20th what I am teaching next year, which should force me to take some much needed Hannah-time. Summer, as is always the case will enchant and entice me into fantasy world of free time, stress-free sleep and being romanced by the things in life I will surely take for granted, like the warm sun on my skin and heavy rainfalls lulling me to sleep in the mid-afternoon. However, I know once I am fully immersed in the ecstasy of summer, it will leave me once again, so I have given myself a simple homework assignment for this summer. Enjoy it. Therefore, speak to you again in mid-July.
“We live by our imagination, our admirations, and our sentiments.” -Ralph Waldo Emerson
Monday, May 14, 2012
Welcome to Kindergarten
Welcome to the first day of practice Kindergarten were the first words I said to my sleepy eyed, but bouncy 20 little gremlins on our first day back from spring break. Practice Kindergarten, I went on to explain, is the last six weeks of Pre-K where we get to try out Kindergarten and see if we are ready. We said goodbye to nap, hello to lamplight silent math and differentiated math centers. We waved at our (fictional--although all but TM believe it to be very real) Kindergarten teacher spy cam which records their every move and dove in. I have NEVER taught this much material and been this much of a stickler about anything in my entire life. If the shift were not noticeable enough in the schedule, it is noticeable in the student's attitude, my even higher expectations and the no-nonsense philosophy busting at the seams of our classroom. It has actually become an interesting paradox, as I have never been as proud of my students as I am in this moment, but I have always never pushed them harder. I gave them the seemingly impossible task of Kindergarten and in return, they are showing me how very possible it is.
I am working day and night. I am asking my students to work harder and more relentlessly than they have ever worked in their tiny lives and in turn, I am asking myself to do the same. To push myself as I am pushing them, all in the name of being ready. I have stated before that based on national testing, my students started the year in the 15th percentile of all Pre-K kids in the nation. However, I have recently gained access to that document and in fact, my class is lower than the district, meaning my class is at an even lower 11th percentile overall and 5 of my kids are in the 1th percentile in at least one category. Gives new meaning to the 1% I guess. With this data, mediocrity cannot be tolerated. Therefore, these past few weeks I have been finding a way to communicate to my children immense pride in their work without allowing them to be comfortable knowing only what they know, but asking them to thirst to achieve even more.
My goal is such. I want my kids to end the year in the 50th percentile. While jumping from 11th to 50th seems like a big jump, I think of myself as a child. I must admit, I don't know what my percentile was in Pre-K, nor any grade in anything until about late high school when things like the SAT, ACT and more started to matter. But, I remember shuddering at my TAKS percentile in science because it was in the 70s. The 70s. It sounds a bit nutty now to know I would be disappointed in that score once you meet the "1%"; however, it just infuriates me and ignites my passion to get my kids there.
So this week I start the testing cycles. I have 4 tests to administer in 4 weeks. Each test takes anywhere from an hour to an hour and a half per student and must be administered one on one. Not to mention, with all this high stakes testing going on, I am refusing to give up my small group time or whole group instruction time and instead find myself cornered in the room at recess, lunch and before and after school testing student after student. But its worth it. If one more guided reading session could help Z jump from before Pre-Read to Pre-Read by learning just one more letter, it is worth it. I might be exhausted, overworked and overtried, but my excitement at the impending success keeps my chin up proud.
And I am so proud. Let me say this now, before I get the data which will inevitably make me tear up in both disappointment and relief at what my kids learned and what I failed at teaching them, that I am proud no matter what. OH MY GOD they have come far. Farther than I could have hoped and I am sure they will continue to impress and amaze me even after they leave my care. So on the brink of big news that is sure to be a mix of joys and disappointments (reminiscent of years ago, waiting for college acceptance letters) I want to tell the world that even if my kids fail every assessment, we will still credit this year as a victory. They have shown a passion to learn, an ability to rise to ever-increasing expectations and a maturity I am not sure I even exhibited at such a young age (or even exhibit at my own age now). While I will hold off all celebrations and congratulations for the next few crucial weeks as the final results roll in and the last lessons are hopefully absorbed by my genius children, I want the world to know I am internally celebrating not my own success as a first year teacher, but the success of my children in their first year of school. It was a year of firsts for us all and while firsts are generally associated with mistakes, accidents and misguided events, our first was a great one.
"A hard beginning maketh a good ending."
-John Heywood
I am working day and night. I am asking my students to work harder and more relentlessly than they have ever worked in their tiny lives and in turn, I am asking myself to do the same. To push myself as I am pushing them, all in the name of being ready. I have stated before that based on national testing, my students started the year in the 15th percentile of all Pre-K kids in the nation. However, I have recently gained access to that document and in fact, my class is lower than the district, meaning my class is at an even lower 11th percentile overall and 5 of my kids are in the 1th percentile in at least one category. Gives new meaning to the 1% I guess. With this data, mediocrity cannot be tolerated. Therefore, these past few weeks I have been finding a way to communicate to my children immense pride in their work without allowing them to be comfortable knowing only what they know, but asking them to thirst to achieve even more.
My goal is such. I want my kids to end the year in the 50th percentile. While jumping from 11th to 50th seems like a big jump, I think of myself as a child. I must admit, I don't know what my percentile was in Pre-K, nor any grade in anything until about late high school when things like the SAT, ACT and more started to matter. But, I remember shuddering at my TAKS percentile in science because it was in the 70s. The 70s. It sounds a bit nutty now to know I would be disappointed in that score once you meet the "1%"; however, it just infuriates me and ignites my passion to get my kids there.
So this week I start the testing cycles. I have 4 tests to administer in 4 weeks. Each test takes anywhere from an hour to an hour and a half per student and must be administered one on one. Not to mention, with all this high stakes testing going on, I am refusing to give up my small group time or whole group instruction time and instead find myself cornered in the room at recess, lunch and before and after school testing student after student. But its worth it. If one more guided reading session could help Z jump from before Pre-Read to Pre-Read by learning just one more letter, it is worth it. I might be exhausted, overworked and overtried, but my excitement at the impending success keeps my chin up proud.
And I am so proud. Let me say this now, before I get the data which will inevitably make me tear up in both disappointment and relief at what my kids learned and what I failed at teaching them, that I am proud no matter what. OH MY GOD they have come far. Farther than I could have hoped and I am sure they will continue to impress and amaze me even after they leave my care. So on the brink of big news that is sure to be a mix of joys and disappointments (reminiscent of years ago, waiting for college acceptance letters) I want to tell the world that even if my kids fail every assessment, we will still credit this year as a victory. They have shown a passion to learn, an ability to rise to ever-increasing expectations and a maturity I am not sure I even exhibited at such a young age (or even exhibit at my own age now). While I will hold off all celebrations and congratulations for the next few crucial weeks as the final results roll in and the last lessons are hopefully absorbed by my genius children, I want the world to know I am internally celebrating not my own success as a first year teacher, but the success of my children in their first year of school. It was a year of firsts for us all and while firsts are generally associated with mistakes, accidents and misguided events, our first was a great one.
"A hard beginning maketh a good ending."
-John Heywood
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Anticlimatic
Unveil the fireworks, balloons, congratulations cakes, and words of encouragement because I passed the state inspections. After months of preparation, thousands (okay literally one thousand) of dollars, weeks of nightmares and hours of complaining at the injustice, the woman from the state came, breathed down my neck for 7 hours and then left, leaving me with a thorough checklist of all I failed at including just how many inches out of compliance our step into the bathroom is and how many inches off the ground our monkey bars are out of compliance. But, those small errors (some in my control, most not), do not matter because I PASSED. Unfortunately, the pay out for the work I put in is not exceptional. My kids are not suddenly ready to move up to the 99th percentile of Pre-K kids and my school program is not now considered the best in the state or any sort of a model of exceptional child care. But, I was not responsible for the shut down of a brand new Pre-K program, as I took the responsibility of buying and arranging the mandatory supplies, changing the schedule to meet the requirements, and essentially reading and complying to a 500 page manual on how Pre-K should be. As mentioned in previous posts, as I vehemently disagree with just about every part of the manual (minus the focus on language development and student-teacher interactions), my work towards this goal was not always enthusiastic, but wholly bitter. However, I am positive that had the state inspectors come in before I did all the work I did to be in compliance, our program would have been shut down. And since we were not shut down, I am proud. Hard to explain to people outside of my world, but I feel I deserve a party for my success. Start planning.
In other news, my kids and I have been on field trip overload as we are not allowed in the school for four days due to state testing (our rooms are being used for testing accomodations). I have successful shepherded 20 rambunctious four year olds around both the zoo and the aquarium. Now, this involves less planning and work on the forefront, but I also have the admit, I am pretty proud of myself for that feat. I have worked this job since July and never felt like a mom until the field trips. Something about being in public with my kiddos doing things outside the classroom and having them see me less formally has made me feel more motherly. As much fun as it has been, you will all be happy to know, motherhood is not something I am interested in anytime soon. Not for a very very long time. Next up, the movie theater and the children's museum. Wish me luck.
In other news, I am happy and optimistic for my plans post spring break. Come May, I am telling my kids it is their first day of Kindergarten and I am going to use the last 6 weeks of school to push them like I have never pushed them before. I know they are ready for the push and I am ready to challenge myself to really see how much they can learn. It's crunch time and I am prepared to start crunching.
No quote today. Insert your own quote here. :D
In other news, my kids and I have been on field trip overload as we are not allowed in the school for four days due to state testing (our rooms are being used for testing accomodations). I have successful shepherded 20 rambunctious four year olds around both the zoo and the aquarium. Now, this involves less planning and work on the forefront, but I also have the admit, I am pretty proud of myself for that feat. I have worked this job since July and never felt like a mom until the field trips. Something about being in public with my kiddos doing things outside the classroom and having them see me less formally has made me feel more motherly. As much fun as it has been, you will all be happy to know, motherhood is not something I am interested in anytime soon. Not for a very very long time. Next up, the movie theater and the children's museum. Wish me luck.
In other news, I am happy and optimistic for my plans post spring break. Come May, I am telling my kids it is their first day of Kindergarten and I am going to use the last 6 weeks of school to push them like I have never pushed them before. I know they are ready for the push and I am ready to challenge myself to really see how much they can learn. It's crunch time and I am prepared to start crunching.
No quote today. Insert your own quote here. :D
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Anger Management
I am livid. Not at my beautiful children, they are my little (sometimes demonic) angels. Not because I work constantly. I don't remember a time I didn't work constantly. Not at the level of responsibility I am asked to carry. I do well with pressure. I am mad at "the man."
I am infuriated at the negativity I receive daily from the person I work for. Never has anyone nitpicked me and attacked my credibility when I did not deserve it, not to this extent. Do not get me wrong, I oftentimes deserve a good nitpicking. As a perfectionist, I am usually the first and most diligent in finetuning my own performance. Atttempting the impossible task of perfection almost always brings you close to it. But for the first time ever, I am being torn apart not for the betterment of myself, not for the betterment of my kids, not for any other reason than petty ones. She does not like first year teachers. She does not like the organization I am a part of. And mostly, she does not like people who do not beg her for help. She has made all these facts crystal clear. And now I am left with the inevitable. Should I change the only part I have control over and grovel for her help and guidance when thus far, all the help she has given me has harmed, not helped me? Or should I stick to my stubborn values and not ask her for the supposed "help" she is dying to give me? In this case, I honestly do not know which route to take.
I know she will not fire me. With my student scores to back me, she would really have to have a good reason to terminate my employment. Also, even the most ridiculous and oftentimes inappropriate pieces of "advice" she has given me, I have immediately executed (even against my better judgment) in order to stay in good standing with her (not that she would ever acknowledge that I take her feedback). So maybe I should just let her hate me. But I can't take this. I come home from work everyday LIVID over some petty and mean remark or comment she just had to give me beneath the smirking, condesending smile. She has never spent more than 5 minutes in my classroom, but always finds at least 30 seconds a day to come in, look around and immediately tell me what I am doing wrong. But would insulting my own competence by asking for help I don't need just to boost the ego of a power hungry person result in enough of a change to sooth the wounds she has already carved into the surface of me. Or would it just leave a deeper more painful mark.
I honestly do not know what to do. I want to clarify, I am not above asking for help. I ask for help everyday. Coworkers and other leaders in my life who have proved to have the best interest of both myself and more importantly my kids in mind, I trust to ask for guidance. I do not trust her. I do not like her and I definitely do not understand her. And she definitely does not trust, like or understand me. So what do I do?
I'm asking seriously, not hypothetically because I am out of ideas. I tried upfront confronting her behavior (professionally and calmly I might add) and all she had to tell me was that I was wrong.
At this point, I am beginning to think she is either Lord Voldemort or that I am developing an acute case of anger mismanagement. It is probably a combination of both. Either way though, she might single handedly ruin the one thing in my life I adore right now. The thing I wake up for, the thing I miss sleep for, the thing I talk anyone who will listens ear off about--my job and my kids. And I cannot let her do that.
I am infuriated at the negativity I receive daily from the person I work for. Never has anyone nitpicked me and attacked my credibility when I did not deserve it, not to this extent. Do not get me wrong, I oftentimes deserve a good nitpicking. As a perfectionist, I am usually the first and most diligent in finetuning my own performance. Atttempting the impossible task of perfection almost always brings you close to it. But for the first time ever, I am being torn apart not for the betterment of myself, not for the betterment of my kids, not for any other reason than petty ones. She does not like first year teachers. She does not like the organization I am a part of. And mostly, she does not like people who do not beg her for help. She has made all these facts crystal clear. And now I am left with the inevitable. Should I change the only part I have control over and grovel for her help and guidance when thus far, all the help she has given me has harmed, not helped me? Or should I stick to my stubborn values and not ask her for the supposed "help" she is dying to give me? In this case, I honestly do not know which route to take.
I know she will not fire me. With my student scores to back me, she would really have to have a good reason to terminate my employment. Also, even the most ridiculous and oftentimes inappropriate pieces of "advice" she has given me, I have immediately executed (even against my better judgment) in order to stay in good standing with her (not that she would ever acknowledge that I take her feedback). So maybe I should just let her hate me. But I can't take this. I come home from work everyday LIVID over some petty and mean remark or comment she just had to give me beneath the smirking, condesending smile. She has never spent more than 5 minutes in my classroom, but always finds at least 30 seconds a day to come in, look around and immediately tell me what I am doing wrong. But would insulting my own competence by asking for help I don't need just to boost the ego of a power hungry person result in enough of a change to sooth the wounds she has already carved into the surface of me. Or would it just leave a deeper more painful mark.
I honestly do not know what to do. I want to clarify, I am not above asking for help. I ask for help everyday. Coworkers and other leaders in my life who have proved to have the best interest of both myself and more importantly my kids in mind, I trust to ask for guidance. I do not trust her. I do not like her and I definitely do not understand her. And she definitely does not trust, like or understand me. So what do I do?
I'm asking seriously, not hypothetically because I am out of ideas. I tried upfront confronting her behavior (professionally and calmly I might add) and all she had to tell me was that I was wrong.
At this point, I am beginning to think she is either Lord Voldemort or that I am developing an acute case of anger mismanagement. It is probably a combination of both. Either way though, she might single handedly ruin the one thing in my life I adore right now. The thing I wake up for, the thing I miss sleep for, the thing I talk anyone who will listens ear off about--my job and my kids. And I cannot let her do that.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Stretched Thin
My life has always been an incredible balancing act. For as long as I can remember, I have had so many interests and such a devotion to perfection (okay relative perfection) that I have been a workaholic. Whether it was in middle school when I was balancing school, tennis team and dance classes on the side, in high school when I was working, in drill team and taking hard classes or college when I was taking 18 hours, working, interning, and in multiple organizations, I have always been busy. So I figured when I graduated college, I would for the first time in my life, be less stretched. One job, that is it. No clubs, no classes, no internships, just complete and total devotion to one thing, my students. Yet, perhaps ironically, perhaps inevitably (depending on your life experiences) I find myself stretched in way too many directions by just one thing.
To clarify, you must realize that my district is exactly like the nonprofit I am a part of, data driven, data driven, data driven. Even though I teach Pre-K, because of the absolute gaping hole of the achievement gap, I am asked to teach my kids not just Pre-K objectives, but begin to overprepare them for Kindergarten, all for the purpose to not just close the gap, but flip it, having my students start ABOVE grade level instead of below (which is just UNHEARD of in New Orleans public schools these days). So, when given the extremely rigorous task of teaching my kids really tough skills I have to make some tough decisions. I have made executive decisions to cut down on nap time, slim down transitional time to virtually nothing, instruct students during bathroom break, center time and well, every waking second of the day. Even during breakfast and snack, I'm turning on letter or counting videos. Not to say my kids are not having fun, learning is a game at this age and they have LOTS of time to play, but I am expecting a LOT of them and they are meeting my expectations. I am proud of them not just for what they know, but for how hard they work. I know it sounds silly to describe a four year old as a hard worker, but through repetition and careful practice, my students are really hard workers. I do not accept answers I know are not their best and I am constantly pushing them further and further. Criticism me as you may, but this is what I truly believe I have to do to keep them from the future they unfortunately are likely fated to if they fall behind in school.
So when I really break down my day, I give my students direct instruction for over four hours a day (which is a lot for Pre-K). Granted, a lot of it is in the form of small groups and all the lessons are very interactive, but at the end of the day, it is quite rigorous. I send home four page report cards detailing every single skill they know and how their parents can help them with the ones they still struggle with and I hold my students to HIGH behavioral expectations. Honestly, I do not let my kids get away with anything, believe it or not. They came cursing, fighting and biting and to this day, I do not even tolerate bathroom breaks or playing with your shoes during instructional time. While of course, all of this is time consuming and draining in so many ways, I find it worth it for the amount of knowledge my students now possess and demonstrate daily. They are so much more mature, intelligent and self-regulated than they were the first day of school and I like to think that I have helped them find their own potential (although I probably give myself too much credit). But now, things have gotten much more complicated. All in the name of state visits.
Basically, way back when a bunch of pre-k and nursery type schools were, for lack of a better term, the pits. They were unsafe, understaffed, and generally places you would not send your child if you had any control over the situation. So, in the infinite wisdom of the state, a checklist for safety, appropriateness, etc was created to make sure the state's youngest and most vulnerable were in healthy and happy places. Flash forward to today and the checklist is essential the same. A LOT of emphasis is on health, safety, play and happiness and absolutely no emphasis is put on academics. And they still come around once a year and check up on teachers to make sure they are "in compliance", with a particular attention and critical eye to, you guessed it, FIRST YEAR TEACHERS!
Now, I am all for oversight. Really, I am. I want teachers to be held accountable, I want students to be guaranteed a safe, healthy, fun place to learn. I want all of this. But this checklist is outdated and quite frankly, impractical. In fact, I could sit around and teach my kids that the letter J was the number 45 and I would not even lose a point for that, because there is NO absolutely NO indicators regarding academics. However, having my kids do any form of worksheets (i.e. tracing their name), teaching for more than FORTY MINUTES TOTAL a day (oops--I teach for four hours) or breaking the 10 to 1 student to teacher ratio even just to go to the bathroom (allowing my para to watch all 20), and I am shut down. So now, one month before my observation (thank god they are announced), I have to completely redo my schedule, change a lot of my classroom routines deemed unsanitary (like washing hands in the bathroom before lunch instead of in the cafeteria), and completely revive my room with new and expensive supplies, student art work at eye level, safety precautions and more. Oh and as far as behavior, time out is not allowed and kids are allowed to do absolutely anything (unless of course, it is unsanitary).
So here I am torn in two different directions. I have this long list of objectives and ideas that my students have to master and a long list of behavioral expectations I want them to understand before the end of the year, which is oh so quickly approaching. Yet, for the next month, I have to reteach everything to my students so that they don't say, "Ms. Knipp, why aren't you sending him to time out?" on the day the observer comes or "Why aren't you doing small groups?" causing me to be out of compliance. So in the next month, I am dumbing down my day, teaching for only 40 minutes a day, allowing students who have made some seriously bad choices to keep playing after a quick "conference" and attempting to re-prioritize everything so that academics is our last priority, right behind student choice, sanitation, safety and everything else you could possibly think of.
It kills me to do this. I know my students will LOVE the new schedule (centers all day!) and behavior may even improve due to this. However, my bigger concern is will my kids learn enough and will they be ready for next year with this new all play, no work schedule? You think my schedule is hard, you should see kindergarten. Part of me feels guilty for asking so much from my kids, maybe I should take academics less seriously. But the other part of me looks at the statistics and wonders if I can even do enough in just one year. So here I am. Torn. The state grabbing one hand, my nonprofit grabbing the other, pulling me farther and farther apart, while I gasp for air. I just hope this tension helps me find my comfort level in the balance between work and play.
So to end a rather nightmarish account of the current stress level I am at, I want to end with one of those cute feel good stories. One student, SB came in SUPER low. I'm talking every report card, she inevitably achieved "still working" in every subject (which is a nice way of saying failing) no matter how much progress she had made. This quarter, however, she passed the STEP test (putting her on a Kinder reading level) and all around just really started getting the toughest content. When her mom came to the conference she had a Progressing in nonfiction (C), a Mastery in math (B) and in ELA she had an Advanced (A)!!. Her mom was in absolute disbelief. She checked the name about five times and kept saying, are you sure this is SB? She has never done this well before! To end the meeting, I showed an answer she gave that I knew would make her mom proud. February was black history month and I taught the kiddos about Martin Luther King, Harriet Tubman and Rosa Parks. After learning about all these leaders over the course of a week, I had students graph their favorite leader and tell me why they picked who they picked. As a end of quarter test, I asked them to recall their favorite again and tell me why. SB explained assuredly, "Martin Luther King because he fight with his words." When I read the words aloud to her mom at our conference, I looked up to see her mom biting her lip trying not to cry, as proud tears fell down her face to her bursting smile. "I have never been more proud of my daughter" she said in shaky breaths. I kept it together then, but I must admit, a little later that night, in the safety of my home, I gave SB a couple proud tears myself, after all she did earn it.
And that is why I do it. I'm exhausted, torn and downtrodden. My boss is determined to hate me despite my best efforts to prove my competence and work harder than everyone else at my job. Another coworker is going behind my back trying to get me moved out of her team because she sees me as a threat to her reign as Pre-K queen. I gave up my Friday night and Saturday morning to study and take certification exams and some days, I do not even remember the last time I went to the bathroom, I am so busy. But SB makes all those troubles seem silly in relation to her growth. So go ahead times, I dare you to get harder, nothing will keep me from my kids.
"Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies." -Mother Teresa
To clarify, you must realize that my district is exactly like the nonprofit I am a part of, data driven, data driven, data driven. Even though I teach Pre-K, because of the absolute gaping hole of the achievement gap, I am asked to teach my kids not just Pre-K objectives, but begin to overprepare them for Kindergarten, all for the purpose to not just close the gap, but flip it, having my students start ABOVE grade level instead of below (which is just UNHEARD of in New Orleans public schools these days). So, when given the extremely rigorous task of teaching my kids really tough skills I have to make some tough decisions. I have made executive decisions to cut down on nap time, slim down transitional time to virtually nothing, instruct students during bathroom break, center time and well, every waking second of the day. Even during breakfast and snack, I'm turning on letter or counting videos. Not to say my kids are not having fun, learning is a game at this age and they have LOTS of time to play, but I am expecting a LOT of them and they are meeting my expectations. I am proud of them not just for what they know, but for how hard they work. I know it sounds silly to describe a four year old as a hard worker, but through repetition and careful practice, my students are really hard workers. I do not accept answers I know are not their best and I am constantly pushing them further and further. Criticism me as you may, but this is what I truly believe I have to do to keep them from the future they unfortunately are likely fated to if they fall behind in school.
So when I really break down my day, I give my students direct instruction for over four hours a day (which is a lot for Pre-K). Granted, a lot of it is in the form of small groups and all the lessons are very interactive, but at the end of the day, it is quite rigorous. I send home four page report cards detailing every single skill they know and how their parents can help them with the ones they still struggle with and I hold my students to HIGH behavioral expectations. Honestly, I do not let my kids get away with anything, believe it or not. They came cursing, fighting and biting and to this day, I do not even tolerate bathroom breaks or playing with your shoes during instructional time. While of course, all of this is time consuming and draining in so many ways, I find it worth it for the amount of knowledge my students now possess and demonstrate daily. They are so much more mature, intelligent and self-regulated than they were the first day of school and I like to think that I have helped them find their own potential (although I probably give myself too much credit). But now, things have gotten much more complicated. All in the name of state visits.
Basically, way back when a bunch of pre-k and nursery type schools were, for lack of a better term, the pits. They were unsafe, understaffed, and generally places you would not send your child if you had any control over the situation. So, in the infinite wisdom of the state, a checklist for safety, appropriateness, etc was created to make sure the state's youngest and most vulnerable were in healthy and happy places. Flash forward to today and the checklist is essential the same. A LOT of emphasis is on health, safety, play and happiness and absolutely no emphasis is put on academics. And they still come around once a year and check up on teachers to make sure they are "in compliance", with a particular attention and critical eye to, you guessed it, FIRST YEAR TEACHERS!
Now, I am all for oversight. Really, I am. I want teachers to be held accountable, I want students to be guaranteed a safe, healthy, fun place to learn. I want all of this. But this checklist is outdated and quite frankly, impractical. In fact, I could sit around and teach my kids that the letter J was the number 45 and I would not even lose a point for that, because there is NO absolutely NO indicators regarding academics. However, having my kids do any form of worksheets (i.e. tracing their name), teaching for more than FORTY MINUTES TOTAL a day (oops--I teach for four hours) or breaking the 10 to 1 student to teacher ratio even just to go to the bathroom (allowing my para to watch all 20), and I am shut down. So now, one month before my observation (thank god they are announced), I have to completely redo my schedule, change a lot of my classroom routines deemed unsanitary (like washing hands in the bathroom before lunch instead of in the cafeteria), and completely revive my room with new and expensive supplies, student art work at eye level, safety precautions and more. Oh and as far as behavior, time out is not allowed and kids are allowed to do absolutely anything (unless of course, it is unsanitary).
So here I am torn in two different directions. I have this long list of objectives and ideas that my students have to master and a long list of behavioral expectations I want them to understand before the end of the year, which is oh so quickly approaching. Yet, for the next month, I have to reteach everything to my students so that they don't say, "Ms. Knipp, why aren't you sending him to time out?" on the day the observer comes or "Why aren't you doing small groups?" causing me to be out of compliance. So in the next month, I am dumbing down my day, teaching for only 40 minutes a day, allowing students who have made some seriously bad choices to keep playing after a quick "conference" and attempting to re-prioritize everything so that academics is our last priority, right behind student choice, sanitation, safety and everything else you could possibly think of.
It kills me to do this. I know my students will LOVE the new schedule (centers all day!) and behavior may even improve due to this. However, my bigger concern is will my kids learn enough and will they be ready for next year with this new all play, no work schedule? You think my schedule is hard, you should see kindergarten. Part of me feels guilty for asking so much from my kids, maybe I should take academics less seriously. But the other part of me looks at the statistics and wonders if I can even do enough in just one year. So here I am. Torn. The state grabbing one hand, my nonprofit grabbing the other, pulling me farther and farther apart, while I gasp for air. I just hope this tension helps me find my comfort level in the balance between work and play.
So to end a rather nightmarish account of the current stress level I am at, I want to end with one of those cute feel good stories. One student, SB came in SUPER low. I'm talking every report card, she inevitably achieved "still working" in every subject (which is a nice way of saying failing) no matter how much progress she had made. This quarter, however, she passed the STEP test (putting her on a Kinder reading level) and all around just really started getting the toughest content. When her mom came to the conference she had a Progressing in nonfiction (C), a Mastery in math (B) and in ELA she had an Advanced (A)!!. Her mom was in absolute disbelief. She checked the name about five times and kept saying, are you sure this is SB? She has never done this well before! To end the meeting, I showed an answer she gave that I knew would make her mom proud. February was black history month and I taught the kiddos about Martin Luther King, Harriet Tubman and Rosa Parks. After learning about all these leaders over the course of a week, I had students graph their favorite leader and tell me why they picked who they picked. As a end of quarter test, I asked them to recall their favorite again and tell me why. SB explained assuredly, "Martin Luther King because he fight with his words." When I read the words aloud to her mom at our conference, I looked up to see her mom biting her lip trying not to cry, as proud tears fell down her face to her bursting smile. "I have never been more proud of my daughter" she said in shaky breaths. I kept it together then, but I must admit, a little later that night, in the safety of my home, I gave SB a couple proud tears myself, after all she did earn it.
And that is why I do it. I'm exhausted, torn and downtrodden. My boss is determined to hate me despite my best efforts to prove my competence and work harder than everyone else at my job. Another coworker is going behind my back trying to get me moved out of her team because she sees me as a threat to her reign as Pre-K queen. I gave up my Friday night and Saturday morning to study and take certification exams and some days, I do not even remember the last time I went to the bathroom, I am so busy. But SB makes all those troubles seem silly in relation to her growth. So go ahead times, I dare you to get harder, nothing will keep me from my kids.
"Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies." -Mother Teresa
Monday, February 20, 2012
Awed and Amazed
Happy Mardi Gras!
In the midst of the craziness that defines New Orleans over the month long celebrations leading up to Mardi Gras, I feel compelled to take a break and share with the online world the happenings in my classroom and to a smaller extent, my life. First of all, it is 9:17am on a Monday morning and I am blogging. NOTHING is better than time off work, case in point. In a few hours I go to pick up my brother and his girlfriend from the airport to end the Mardi Gras celebrations in the coming days and just yesterday, six visitors left our then overcrowded, but obviously rambunctious house. Not to mention I have seen Will Ferrill three times in the past two weeks from up close and afar and have about 2 giant grocery bags full of beads, cups, shot glasses, stuffed animals and glow in the dark junk people throw off of parade floats. But somehow, I am always thinking about my kids even in the midst of my week long vacation from the reality of the classroom.
So after a prolonged and lets face it, bragging lead up about Mardi Gras from me, let me get to the point. My wonderful, brainaic, perfect children! I have never been so proud of them as I am right this instant. At the beginning of the year, I was handed 20 blank slate children who did not know right from wrong, letters from numbers or pink from blue. This year I have had the privilege to watch them become socially conscious, problem solving, geniuses. Okay, obviously I exaggerate, as always, but seriously, they are so smart. I always joke with my kids when they are getting all the answers right during lessons, saying, "Are you guys secretly sneaking into Kindergarten classes without me? How did you get so smart?" This of course, they find hilarious, but lately, it is getting to the point where I think they might be. We had our second wave of STEP testing this past week and my kids NAILED it. Our end of the year goal is for all our kids in Pre-K to end the year having "achieved Pre" on this test. To put things into perspective, last year, the Kinder class started with only 5% starting the year at the "achieved Pre" stage. AKA, 95% of our kids started Kinder below grade level. Therefore, we want to change that number to 100% starting the year at "achieved Pre", which would entirely eliminate the literacy gap for our kids before they even start Kinder, with 0% starting below grade level in reading.
Without getting too technical, it sounds relatively easy right. Teach kids one year of material in Pre-K, they are on grade level for K. But, the depth and vastness of the literacy gap begins so much earlier than people realize. My kids started off so low. In fact, in their beginning of the year comprehensive assessment, they scored in the 15th percentile of all children in Louisiana in Pre-K. So, in other words, 85% of other kids in Pre-K knew more than them at the beginning of the year. And, let me remind you, Louisiana is NOT known for our quality education or high achieving students. At all. It is not like the other 85% of students are at Harvard nursery schools. We can speculate why, how and possible biases in this data, but the truth is, the gap affected my kids before they ever stepped into my door.
Flash forward to today. 50% of my kids are now at their end of the year goal, "Achieved Pre". Even better, I still have the months of March-July to get the last ten to that goal. Most encouraging, the test assesses four things: name, alphabet names, rhyming and concepts of print. 95% of my class passed alphabet, 95% passed name, 75% passed rhyming and 60% passed concepts of print. The only one who did not pass name and alpha was my new student. Even more encouraging, only 3 of the 10 who did not pass failed in more than one area. And at least 4, including T, were literally one right answer away from passing. So basically, with a lot of intervention with my new student (who knows nothing, but oh my goodness is picking up FAST), and a focused small group with the other 9 based on either rhyming or concepts of print once or twice a week, I can get them there. The hard part is over. They can write their names. They know the alphabet. They are GREAT at letter sounds (averaging about 12-15 letter sounds already). And most importantly, they are hungry to learn and eager to get to Kinder and strut their stuff.
Obviously, there is so much more to teaching than just literacy scores. Math, science, social studies, fine and gross motor skills, social development, etc. is just as big of a part of my job. However, none of these subjects are as easy to communicate and quantify, and therefore, I am left with anecdotal notes and likely flawed data to show that my kids are geniuses in basically every field. But even if their success is not as prevalent and gratifying as it is in reading, I am okay with that fact at the moment. All research points to the achievement gap starting in literacy, and if I can teach my kids success in reading, success in all subjects will come naturally. How can a student excel in any other subject without a reading foundation? How can they read the word problems in math, read the experiment instructions in science or read the historical textbooks without an ability and passion to read? Reading is the foundation and I have never been more proud to watch 20 little ones take ownership or their learning and development and get motivated to read.
Obviously, I have played a part in their learning. I have made the lesson plans, set up the centers, lead the small groups in order to get my kids to their tremendous gains in literacy. But the real credit is due to my kids and their families. I have been awed and amazed at how well my students understand the connection between learning letter sounds and realizing that is the key to reading, forming their tiny hands into a sign language "b" and saying quietly "/b/ /b/ bat the ball" when asked the sound B makes. I have been amazed at how seriously my students frow their eyebrows and repeat words under their breath, trying to determine with precision whether mouse and house rhyme. And perhaps most importantly, I have been amazed at parents. I sent home progress reports about three weeks ago and for the 10 of my students who still could not rhyme, I wrote a long note about how that was holding them back from achieving Pre and needed serious intervention. Fast forwarde less than three weeks later, and five more of my students pass the rhyming section with flying colors (10 out of 10, 9 out of 10) and four of the other five were literally one or two short from passing.
Student success is dependent on so many things. Teachers, families and most importantly the students themselves. I am so proud of my kids for the ownership and joy they are taking in learning. Even if they do not achieve Pre at the end of the year (which they will and likely more), they are working harder than any other 4 year olds I have ever met and I could not be prouder of their commitment to learning. For the first time since I started teaching, I am beginning to feel like my kids have advanced so far, and that they will be okay without me. Maybe I am wrong, but I think they are beginning to take ownership in their own learning enough, that in any teachers hands, they will be set up to succeed. And god, is that feeling gratifying as the end of the year and big changes approach rapidly. My kids are going to be okay.
So I am awed and amazed. Not at the data (although I am proud of that), not at myself (I have so much to improve on), not at my school (don't even get me started on its problems), but with my kids. They are passionate to learn and learning quickly. I sometimes sit around while they nap putting together their homework and think about what they are going to be when they grow up. You get to know their little personalities so well, you cannot help but assign them the roles you know they would excel in. I think about CH becoming president, CW becoming a pediatrician. I think about JW becoming a college professor. I think about T becoming an inventor and M becoming a computer programmer. I think of R becoming a journalist, K an astronaut, TL an artist, TM a famous comedian or actress of some sort, obviously. JWa a math genius and J an author. E a doctor, SB a teacher, SD a fire fighter, I a counselor and MB a scientist. I could go on forever, so I will force myself to stop. At the beginning of the year, almost half my class said they wanted to be a doctor. I looked at the educational levels of their parents (usually middle or high school drop outs), their test scores, their family income levels (most below 10k a year) and their social skills and worried. Now, when they tell me they want to be a garbage can man, spongebob or a power ranger, I think, you are going to be so much more.
"You cannot open a book without learning something." -Confucius
In the midst of the craziness that defines New Orleans over the month long celebrations leading up to Mardi Gras, I feel compelled to take a break and share with the online world the happenings in my classroom and to a smaller extent, my life. First of all, it is 9:17am on a Monday morning and I am blogging. NOTHING is better than time off work, case in point. In a few hours I go to pick up my brother and his girlfriend from the airport to end the Mardi Gras celebrations in the coming days and just yesterday, six visitors left our then overcrowded, but obviously rambunctious house. Not to mention I have seen Will Ferrill three times in the past two weeks from up close and afar and have about 2 giant grocery bags full of beads, cups, shot glasses, stuffed animals and glow in the dark junk people throw off of parade floats. But somehow, I am always thinking about my kids even in the midst of my week long vacation from the reality of the classroom.
So after a prolonged and lets face it, bragging lead up about Mardi Gras from me, let me get to the point. My wonderful, brainaic, perfect children! I have never been so proud of them as I am right this instant. At the beginning of the year, I was handed 20 blank slate children who did not know right from wrong, letters from numbers or pink from blue. This year I have had the privilege to watch them become socially conscious, problem solving, geniuses. Okay, obviously I exaggerate, as always, but seriously, they are so smart. I always joke with my kids when they are getting all the answers right during lessons, saying, "Are you guys secretly sneaking into Kindergarten classes without me? How did you get so smart?" This of course, they find hilarious, but lately, it is getting to the point where I think they might be. We had our second wave of STEP testing this past week and my kids NAILED it. Our end of the year goal is for all our kids in Pre-K to end the year having "achieved Pre" on this test. To put things into perspective, last year, the Kinder class started with only 5% starting the year at the "achieved Pre" stage. AKA, 95% of our kids started Kinder below grade level. Therefore, we want to change that number to 100% starting the year at "achieved Pre", which would entirely eliminate the literacy gap for our kids before they even start Kinder, with 0% starting below grade level in reading.
Without getting too technical, it sounds relatively easy right. Teach kids one year of material in Pre-K, they are on grade level for K. But, the depth and vastness of the literacy gap begins so much earlier than people realize. My kids started off so low. In fact, in their beginning of the year comprehensive assessment, they scored in the 15th percentile of all children in Louisiana in Pre-K. So, in other words, 85% of other kids in Pre-K knew more than them at the beginning of the year. And, let me remind you, Louisiana is NOT known for our quality education or high achieving students. At all. It is not like the other 85% of students are at Harvard nursery schools. We can speculate why, how and possible biases in this data, but the truth is, the gap affected my kids before they ever stepped into my door.
Flash forward to today. 50% of my kids are now at their end of the year goal, "Achieved Pre". Even better, I still have the months of March-July to get the last ten to that goal. Most encouraging, the test assesses four things: name, alphabet names, rhyming and concepts of print. 95% of my class passed alphabet, 95% passed name, 75% passed rhyming and 60% passed concepts of print. The only one who did not pass name and alpha was my new student. Even more encouraging, only 3 of the 10 who did not pass failed in more than one area. And at least 4, including T, were literally one right answer away from passing. So basically, with a lot of intervention with my new student (who knows nothing, but oh my goodness is picking up FAST), and a focused small group with the other 9 based on either rhyming or concepts of print once or twice a week, I can get them there. The hard part is over. They can write their names. They know the alphabet. They are GREAT at letter sounds (averaging about 12-15 letter sounds already). And most importantly, they are hungry to learn and eager to get to Kinder and strut their stuff.
Obviously, there is so much more to teaching than just literacy scores. Math, science, social studies, fine and gross motor skills, social development, etc. is just as big of a part of my job. However, none of these subjects are as easy to communicate and quantify, and therefore, I am left with anecdotal notes and likely flawed data to show that my kids are geniuses in basically every field. But even if their success is not as prevalent and gratifying as it is in reading, I am okay with that fact at the moment. All research points to the achievement gap starting in literacy, and if I can teach my kids success in reading, success in all subjects will come naturally. How can a student excel in any other subject without a reading foundation? How can they read the word problems in math, read the experiment instructions in science or read the historical textbooks without an ability and passion to read? Reading is the foundation and I have never been more proud to watch 20 little ones take ownership or their learning and development and get motivated to read.
Obviously, I have played a part in their learning. I have made the lesson plans, set up the centers, lead the small groups in order to get my kids to their tremendous gains in literacy. But the real credit is due to my kids and their families. I have been awed and amazed at how well my students understand the connection between learning letter sounds and realizing that is the key to reading, forming their tiny hands into a sign language "b" and saying quietly "/b/ /b/ bat the ball" when asked the sound B makes. I have been amazed at how seriously my students frow their eyebrows and repeat words under their breath, trying to determine with precision whether mouse and house rhyme. And perhaps most importantly, I have been amazed at parents. I sent home progress reports about three weeks ago and for the 10 of my students who still could not rhyme, I wrote a long note about how that was holding them back from achieving Pre and needed serious intervention. Fast forwarde less than three weeks later, and five more of my students pass the rhyming section with flying colors (10 out of 10, 9 out of 10) and four of the other five were literally one or two short from passing.
Student success is dependent on so many things. Teachers, families and most importantly the students themselves. I am so proud of my kids for the ownership and joy they are taking in learning. Even if they do not achieve Pre at the end of the year (which they will and likely more), they are working harder than any other 4 year olds I have ever met and I could not be prouder of their commitment to learning. For the first time since I started teaching, I am beginning to feel like my kids have advanced so far, and that they will be okay without me. Maybe I am wrong, but I think they are beginning to take ownership in their own learning enough, that in any teachers hands, they will be set up to succeed. And god, is that feeling gratifying as the end of the year and big changes approach rapidly. My kids are going to be okay.
So I am awed and amazed. Not at the data (although I am proud of that), not at myself (I have so much to improve on), not at my school (don't even get me started on its problems), but with my kids. They are passionate to learn and learning quickly. I sometimes sit around while they nap putting together their homework and think about what they are going to be when they grow up. You get to know their little personalities so well, you cannot help but assign them the roles you know they would excel in. I think about CH becoming president, CW becoming a pediatrician. I think about JW becoming a college professor. I think about T becoming an inventor and M becoming a computer programmer. I think of R becoming a journalist, K an astronaut, TL an artist, TM a famous comedian or actress of some sort, obviously. JWa a math genius and J an author. E a doctor, SB a teacher, SD a fire fighter, I a counselor and MB a scientist. I could go on forever, so I will force myself to stop. At the beginning of the year, almost half my class said they wanted to be a doctor. I looked at the educational levels of their parents (usually middle or high school drop outs), their test scores, their family income levels (most below 10k a year) and their social skills and worried. Now, when they tell me they want to be a garbage can man, spongebob or a power ranger, I think, you are going to be so much more.
"You cannot open a book without learning something." -Confucius
Monday, February 6, 2012
Flashbacks and Beliefs
At the more than halfway point through quite possibly the most tumultuous series of events in my life, I pause from looking forward to the finish line to reminisce on the starting point in July.
Last Monday, my reflection on the "back when" of July was sparked by at long last receiving a new student to replace S who I was never able to win back in November. Z is not particularly a misbehaved student or a behind student, although he certainly did not come in at an above average behavioral and academic level. In fact, he is exactly on par with where all my other students were in July. Which is not saying much. He solves his conflicts with a swift punch, he writes his name with a quick scribble motion and a finite "I'm done" throwing down the pencil he holds incorrectly and yells out at several points in the day, "I wanna go home" "What that is?" or my personal favorite, "I get centers now?" freqently. Most humbling perhaps, was h is complete lack of knowledge of not only the vocab "criss cross applesauce" but the actual process of flexibility entailed in getting into said position.
At first, I was quite frankly alarmed at his conduct and knowledge. Considering my lowest student in the class does not even scribble anymore and writes 8-9 letters out of her 10 letter name and my worst behaved students do not even punch for something as small as a cut in line, I wondered where in the world this kid came from.
However, looking back to July, I remembered the days of Ms. Knipp's class that I tried to block out. I remembered C bleeding from a self inflicted punch to the nose. I remember 3/4 of the class scribbling while incorrectly gripping the pencil. I remember most students unable to repeat "C" after pointing to the letter C and saying "C" aloud literally 5 seconds earlier and worst of all, T not even knowing yellow from blue. I remembered the lifelong battle of teaching students how to raise their hand and not just blurt out whatever the heck came in their mind. I remembered the horror of 3-4 accidents a day in class, 5-6 crying kids over missing home, someone failing to share or worst of all, a sentence to a 2 minute time out (the horror!). Now accidents, tears and blurt outs are not extinct, but largely diminished within the walls of the Pre-K class.
While I often find my self esteem bloated when I look at test scores, old work samples or just anecdotal observations of improvement, nothing could have been as rewarding as seeing a ripe never been to school 4 year old thrown into the mix of my superstars. I hate to say it, but I honestly did not believe in July they could get to where they are now. Today, I awarded C the coveted "Principal's Breakfast Award" (only one other student has received it this year) for demonstrating respect. The student who used to call me the ugly mother effer, now the most respectful student in class, well I must admit, I did not think I would see the day.
So I have a LONG way to go with Z. It is hard right now to stay positive about the situation, as I worry about only having half a year to get Z where his peers have had an entire year to get. The material I am teaching has gotten very rigorous (sounding out words, cause and effect, basic word problems in math, counting to 50+), yet Z lacks all the basics (any knowledge of letters, words vs. pictures, counting to ten) and will still be held to the same standards. Also, due to his arrival, some of the kids have decided to re-test the cardinal rules of the classroom (pushing in line, yelling out on the rug, etc) and I have had to quickly dispell the myths that I have gone soft-which is anything but the truth. But, just like my doubt in my abilities to get my kids into the calm, well behaved, little geniuses they have become, I will just have to prove myself wrong with Z.
This whole TFA experience has taught me a lot, about what I know, what I believe and what I wish for our country and our children. I believe that I have done nothing in my life as important as what I am doing now. I believe in the importance of early childhood education and want it mandated. I believe in happy hours after long weeks with coworkers. I believe that unfortunately, TFA is not the be all end all of educational inequality, although I wish it were. I believe that TFA is mostly effective, although some serious changes probably need to occur. I believe that children are capable of more than we can imagine and I believe that I am capable of more than I can imagine. I believe in sink or swim. I believe in great parents in all communities and that most parents are better than people give them credit for. I also believe parents are blamed for too much, often not warranted. However, I also believe bad parenting (not necessarily bad parents) can have dire consequences. I believe in educating the family, not just the student. And I believe in celebrating the small things and small victories, and on the flip side, taking time to grief the small pains and cuts of life. I believe in a social life, but I also believe in being a workaholic sometimes. I believe in giving people the benefit of the doubt, but I also believe in standing up strong when you know you are right. On that note, I believe in picking your battles. I believe in tough love, but most importantly, love in any form. I believe in hugs and high fives and jumping up and down with four year old kids when things are tough. I believe that my students are the future.
"If our American way of life fails the child, it fails us all." -Pearl S. Buck
Last Monday, my reflection on the "back when" of July was sparked by at long last receiving a new student to replace S who I was never able to win back in November. Z is not particularly a misbehaved student or a behind student, although he certainly did not come in at an above average behavioral and academic level. In fact, he is exactly on par with where all my other students were in July. Which is not saying much. He solves his conflicts with a swift punch, he writes his name with a quick scribble motion and a finite "I'm done" throwing down the pencil he holds incorrectly and yells out at several points in the day, "I wanna go home" "What that is?" or my personal favorite, "I get centers now?" freqently. Most humbling perhaps, was h is complete lack of knowledge of not only the vocab "criss cross applesauce" but the actual process of flexibility entailed in getting into said position.
At first, I was quite frankly alarmed at his conduct and knowledge. Considering my lowest student in the class does not even scribble anymore and writes 8-9 letters out of her 10 letter name and my worst behaved students do not even punch for something as small as a cut in line, I wondered where in the world this kid came from.
However, looking back to July, I remembered the days of Ms. Knipp's class that I tried to block out. I remembered C bleeding from a self inflicted punch to the nose. I remember 3/4 of the class scribbling while incorrectly gripping the pencil. I remember most students unable to repeat "C" after pointing to the letter C and saying "C" aloud literally 5 seconds earlier and worst of all, T not even knowing yellow from blue. I remembered the lifelong battle of teaching students how to raise their hand and not just blurt out whatever the heck came in their mind. I remembered the horror of 3-4 accidents a day in class, 5-6 crying kids over missing home, someone failing to share or worst of all, a sentence to a 2 minute time out (the horror!). Now accidents, tears and blurt outs are not extinct, but largely diminished within the walls of the Pre-K class.
While I often find my self esteem bloated when I look at test scores, old work samples or just anecdotal observations of improvement, nothing could have been as rewarding as seeing a ripe never been to school 4 year old thrown into the mix of my superstars. I hate to say it, but I honestly did not believe in July they could get to where they are now. Today, I awarded C the coveted "Principal's Breakfast Award" (only one other student has received it this year) for demonstrating respect. The student who used to call me the ugly mother effer, now the most respectful student in class, well I must admit, I did not think I would see the day.
So I have a LONG way to go with Z. It is hard right now to stay positive about the situation, as I worry about only having half a year to get Z where his peers have had an entire year to get. The material I am teaching has gotten very rigorous (sounding out words, cause and effect, basic word problems in math, counting to 50+), yet Z lacks all the basics (any knowledge of letters, words vs. pictures, counting to ten) and will still be held to the same standards. Also, due to his arrival, some of the kids have decided to re-test the cardinal rules of the classroom (pushing in line, yelling out on the rug, etc) and I have had to quickly dispell the myths that I have gone soft-which is anything but the truth. But, just like my doubt in my abilities to get my kids into the calm, well behaved, little geniuses they have become, I will just have to prove myself wrong with Z.
This whole TFA experience has taught me a lot, about what I know, what I believe and what I wish for our country and our children. I believe that I have done nothing in my life as important as what I am doing now. I believe in the importance of early childhood education and want it mandated. I believe in happy hours after long weeks with coworkers. I believe that unfortunately, TFA is not the be all end all of educational inequality, although I wish it were. I believe that TFA is mostly effective, although some serious changes probably need to occur. I believe that children are capable of more than we can imagine and I believe that I am capable of more than I can imagine. I believe in sink or swim. I believe in great parents in all communities and that most parents are better than people give them credit for. I also believe parents are blamed for too much, often not warranted. However, I also believe bad parenting (not necessarily bad parents) can have dire consequences. I believe in educating the family, not just the student. And I believe in celebrating the small things and small victories, and on the flip side, taking time to grief the small pains and cuts of life. I believe in a social life, but I also believe in being a workaholic sometimes. I believe in giving people the benefit of the doubt, but I also believe in standing up strong when you know you are right. On that note, I believe in picking your battles. I believe in tough love, but most importantly, love in any form. I believe in hugs and high fives and jumping up and down with four year old kids when things are tough. I believe that my students are the future.
"If our American way of life fails the child, it fails us all." -Pearl S. Buck
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Up Close and Personal
Of my handful of followers on this blog, I have received feedback from the vast majority of them that my blogs are notably lacking information pertaining to anything besides work. I wish I could say I had some secret life going on from July-present that involved long tales of trials and tribulations, events and landmark occasions and everything in between, but the truth of the matter is work has been my life.
So for the first time in the history of my teaching blog, I will divert from tales of teaching into something personal with this bold and definite statement. I have a personal life.
Somehow between July and January, I found a way to make it work. To cut my work hours from 100+ a week to a solid 60. I have something to talk about with friends and family in person and on the phone besides the trials of T or the leaps and bounds of C.
Evidence of a personal life?
-I now wake up at the ungodly time of 5am and go to the gym for pleasure. It is mind-blowing, starting the day with natural endorphins and something for me, not for anyone else.
-I leave town. And people visit me. And it does not involve holidays. Weird. Two weeks ago I went to Denver and from now until June, I have either plans to leave the city or for a visitor to come at least once a month.
-One of my best friends is moving in New Orleans to join me in the trenches of education come July, which ideally will pointedly improve my living situation.
-My happiness, for the first time since July, does not lie solely in my effectiveness in the classroom. Even on the roughest days in class, I come home happy with life, because I have one.
Woah.
Now let's not get crazy. I am still the most uninteresting 21 year old in the world. From going to bed at sometimes (preferably actually) 8pm, spending still more time out of my house than in it and actually procuring joy from the tedious task of cutting out laminated things for hours, I am a mega nerd. A 21 year old trapped in a 50 year old body. And I would not have it any other way.
So life is good. I am happy. I still have ridiculously hard days, I still have an impossibly difficult task to achieve through this job and I am still drastically less exciting than I was in my college days, but I have rediscovered the contented joy of being alive, healthy and doing meaningful work that for the past six months has been temporarily clouded by emotional and physical exhaustion. I have overcome in some ways, the most challenging task of my life.
I know I sound dramatic, as I always do, but I say this because some others in my shoes did not overcome. I can count on two hands, the number of people who joined this organization with me who have since quit. I can count on one hand, the number of people who joined with me who had to seek out counseling to deal with the pressures of the job. I cannot even count the number of people I know who still have not reached this peaceful utopia I know find myself in.
It is ironic actually, switching schools, which I never wanted to do and am still against, even once all is sad and done has made me stronger. Case in point, I was speaking with my coworker of all year earlier and we simultaneously reached this conclusion, that actually now we can handle anything. From the stress of starting a school from absolutely nothing to breaking it back down to nothing in six months, and reintegrating into a less than welcoming new school not by choice, we are now prepared for anything. While I would love my life to stay constant and things to taper off into something more still and quiet, at this point, I know I can handle it all. And that feeling is empowering. So I leave you with these words of wisdom.
"My great concern is not whether you have failed, but whether you are content with your failure." -Abraham Lincoln
So for the first time in the history of my teaching blog, I will divert from tales of teaching into something personal with this bold and definite statement. I have a personal life.
Somehow between July and January, I found a way to make it work. To cut my work hours from 100+ a week to a solid 60. I have something to talk about with friends and family in person and on the phone besides the trials of T or the leaps and bounds of C.
Evidence of a personal life?
-I now wake up at the ungodly time of 5am and go to the gym for pleasure. It is mind-blowing, starting the day with natural endorphins and something for me, not for anyone else.
-I leave town. And people visit me. And it does not involve holidays. Weird. Two weeks ago I went to Denver and from now until June, I have either plans to leave the city or for a visitor to come at least once a month.
-One of my best friends is moving in New Orleans to join me in the trenches of education come July, which ideally will pointedly improve my living situation.
-My happiness, for the first time since July, does not lie solely in my effectiveness in the classroom. Even on the roughest days in class, I come home happy with life, because I have one.
Woah.
Now let's not get crazy. I am still the most uninteresting 21 year old in the world. From going to bed at sometimes (preferably actually) 8pm, spending still more time out of my house than in it and actually procuring joy from the tedious task of cutting out laminated things for hours, I am a mega nerd. A 21 year old trapped in a 50 year old body. And I would not have it any other way.
So life is good. I am happy. I still have ridiculously hard days, I still have an impossibly difficult task to achieve through this job and I am still drastically less exciting than I was in my college days, but I have rediscovered the contented joy of being alive, healthy and doing meaningful work that for the past six months has been temporarily clouded by emotional and physical exhaustion. I have overcome in some ways, the most challenging task of my life.
I know I sound dramatic, as I always do, but I say this because some others in my shoes did not overcome. I can count on two hands, the number of people who joined this organization with me who have since quit. I can count on one hand, the number of people who joined with me who had to seek out counseling to deal with the pressures of the job. I cannot even count the number of people I know who still have not reached this peaceful utopia I know find myself in.
It is ironic actually, switching schools, which I never wanted to do and am still against, even once all is sad and done has made me stronger. Case in point, I was speaking with my coworker of all year earlier and we simultaneously reached this conclusion, that actually now we can handle anything. From the stress of starting a school from absolutely nothing to breaking it back down to nothing in six months, and reintegrating into a less than welcoming new school not by choice, we are now prepared for anything. While I would love my life to stay constant and things to taper off into something more still and quiet, at this point, I know I can handle it all. And that feeling is empowering. So I leave you with these words of wisdom.
"My great concern is not whether you have failed, but whether you are content with your failure." -Abraham Lincoln
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Pointedly Untitled
For the first time in a long while, my past few weeks seem to lack a fluidity and thematic element usually typical of my amateur blogging. Usually, the title comes first to my blogs. Some central idea captivated in clever word play allows the unloading of whatever thoughts I feel worth sharing. However, not today. Significant events seem disconnected and almost like an essential plot piece is missing in the novelity of my life. There are about 100 directions I can choose to take this post and as someone who has always been adamantly opposed to brainstorming (much to the distaste of my former english teachers), feel welcome to step in for the journey through the tangled web of my reflections.
Adjusting to a new staff and a new school ten times the size has been surprisingly smooth for my ducklings, but exasperatingly frustrating for me. Up until this point, I have taken for granted the amazing powerhouse of a school I worked at, where all that mattered was child prosperity, teacher sanity and team unity. Now I am at a school where it is easy to become entangled in the hierarchy of power and for child success to take a backseat to personal pride and logistical convenience. Without boring you with details, I am mainly speaking to logistical issues which I feel are inappropriate for my students (bus routes, exposure to older kids, etc.). While my friends and family may say I have been less than maturely ranting about the injustice of this revelation, I call it advocating.
After taking a quick weekend retreat to Denver for snow skiing and R & R, I came back to school this week invigorated to fall into line and brown nose my way into a more comfortable work environment. However, the self-dubbed "Pre-K guru" at my school who I have already had more than a couple passively tense interactions with said humbly that she was intimidated by me because I was stubborn (I prefer passionate) when it mattered for my kids. Probably not intended as a compliment, I took it as just that. As a 21 year old vegetarian former social work major I view myself as quite possibly the least intimidating person in the world. In fact, I think the only thing that could possibly make me less intimidating would be if I walked around holding a small kitten at all times. However, I often forget that not everyone speaks their mind as I do and I am not ready to give that up for an easier time at work. I realized that maybe brown nosing is not for me. I remembered that for me, this job is not about a paycheck, yet definitely not charity. For me, this job is about improving the one part of my kid's life I have control of---their education. And if that means I have to continue to speak my mind over the quietly hinting cleared throats from the non confrontational types, I will. I truly believe that as long as I approach each of these interactions from a state of respect and understanding for the other person and genuine best interests of my students at heart, I can be the person I want to be for my students. Besides, as long as I have the evidence of my student data, support of my student families and meet/exceed work expectations, what can anyone really say against me. I never wanted to be a teacher, I wanted to be a positive influence in any and every way I can in my students life and by quietly standing by, I am not doing the job I signed up for.
Speaking of speaking my mind. Here is the other thing that has been on it. The concept of "saving the black kids". Yes, I know I just breached the subject of race, the highly sensitive and taboo topic avoided by all well respecting polite types. Perhaps it was stepping out of the vortex of my New Orleans circle of friends (comprised wholly of teachers--hate to say it), but going home hit me with a new wave of those subtle, but suggestive comments from well intentioned passerbys. The idea that black children are living in some sort of desperation and need a hero, a superman of sorts (pun very intended), to come save them from the evils of their community filled with violence, under-education and poverty. Granted, I know the reality of the community my students live in is probably even worse than the stereotypes generated by said passerbys. Just today, I discovered another one of my students has witnessed domestic abuse and was humbled yet again to find out one of my students lives in a 2 bedroom with only a half bath and at least 5 people in the residence (although my guess is closer to 7). The reality of low income communities is dim, however, something about this saving technique is bringing me into frustration. Do my students really need to be saved from their own community--their parents, their neighbors, their brothers, their sisters OR does the community just need the tools for success? Obviously, I believe the latter, but I have no idea how to articulate it to people who do not seem to get it. Perhaps my mind has been brainwashed with strengths-based social work and the naivety that comes with youth, but I can say that my kid's parents (by and large) are not evil or oppressive, but ill-equipped. At the risk of sounding like an infomercial, I am NOT volunteering my time and energy to the poor black kids, as unfortunately many people seem to view this work, I am investing in a better future for all of America, one where my little gremlins reach their full potential because they have the tools to overcome the societal oppressions holding them back in other areas. My limited brainpower will never be able to fully grasp the societal and historical causes that created the reality of dire income disparities between people (often correlated with color), but I know that it is not the people in the community that I work in that need fixed. Instead, the community I work in just needs some tools that have been withheld for too long. So, I do not see myself as a philanthropist, I see myself as a entrepreneur, finding the greatness hidden from the general public and cultivating it into something amazing.
So not to leave you with a nonspecific and preachy post, but that really is my specialty. Because at the end of the day, who would I be if I did not voice my opinion like it was the absolute truth? I can only believe what I believe and I can only believe it with a passion that must be spread.
"To see things in the seed; that is genius" -Lao Tzu
Adjusting to a new staff and a new school ten times the size has been surprisingly smooth for my ducklings, but exasperatingly frustrating for me. Up until this point, I have taken for granted the amazing powerhouse of a school I worked at, where all that mattered was child prosperity, teacher sanity and team unity. Now I am at a school where it is easy to become entangled in the hierarchy of power and for child success to take a backseat to personal pride and logistical convenience. Without boring you with details, I am mainly speaking to logistical issues which I feel are inappropriate for my students (bus routes, exposure to older kids, etc.). While my friends and family may say I have been less than maturely ranting about the injustice of this revelation, I call it advocating.
After taking a quick weekend retreat to Denver for snow skiing and R & R, I came back to school this week invigorated to fall into line and brown nose my way into a more comfortable work environment. However, the self-dubbed "Pre-K guru" at my school who I have already had more than a couple passively tense interactions with said humbly that she was intimidated by me because I was stubborn (I prefer passionate) when it mattered for my kids. Probably not intended as a compliment, I took it as just that. As a 21 year old vegetarian former social work major I view myself as quite possibly the least intimidating person in the world. In fact, I think the only thing that could possibly make me less intimidating would be if I walked around holding a small kitten at all times. However, I often forget that not everyone speaks their mind as I do and I am not ready to give that up for an easier time at work. I realized that maybe brown nosing is not for me. I remembered that for me, this job is not about a paycheck, yet definitely not charity. For me, this job is about improving the one part of my kid's life I have control of---their education. And if that means I have to continue to speak my mind over the quietly hinting cleared throats from the non confrontational types, I will. I truly believe that as long as I approach each of these interactions from a state of respect and understanding for the other person and genuine best interests of my students at heart, I can be the person I want to be for my students. Besides, as long as I have the evidence of my student data, support of my student families and meet/exceed work expectations, what can anyone really say against me. I never wanted to be a teacher, I wanted to be a positive influence in any and every way I can in my students life and by quietly standing by, I am not doing the job I signed up for.
Speaking of speaking my mind. Here is the other thing that has been on it. The concept of "saving the black kids". Yes, I know I just breached the subject of race, the highly sensitive and taboo topic avoided by all well respecting polite types. Perhaps it was stepping out of the vortex of my New Orleans circle of friends (comprised wholly of teachers--hate to say it), but going home hit me with a new wave of those subtle, but suggestive comments from well intentioned passerbys. The idea that black children are living in some sort of desperation and need a hero, a superman of sorts (pun very intended), to come save them from the evils of their community filled with violence, under-education and poverty. Granted, I know the reality of the community my students live in is probably even worse than the stereotypes generated by said passerbys. Just today, I discovered another one of my students has witnessed domestic abuse and was humbled yet again to find out one of my students lives in a 2 bedroom with only a half bath and at least 5 people in the residence (although my guess is closer to 7). The reality of low income communities is dim, however, something about this saving technique is bringing me into frustration. Do my students really need to be saved from their own community--their parents, their neighbors, their brothers, their sisters OR does the community just need the tools for success? Obviously, I believe the latter, but I have no idea how to articulate it to people who do not seem to get it. Perhaps my mind has been brainwashed with strengths-based social work and the naivety that comes with youth, but I can say that my kid's parents (by and large) are not evil or oppressive, but ill-equipped. At the risk of sounding like an infomercial, I am NOT volunteering my time and energy to the poor black kids, as unfortunately many people seem to view this work, I am investing in a better future for all of America, one where my little gremlins reach their full potential because they have the tools to overcome the societal oppressions holding them back in other areas. My limited brainpower will never be able to fully grasp the societal and historical causes that created the reality of dire income disparities between people (often correlated with color), but I know that it is not the people in the community that I work in that need fixed. Instead, the community I work in just needs some tools that have been withheld for too long. So, I do not see myself as a philanthropist, I see myself as a entrepreneur, finding the greatness hidden from the general public and cultivating it into something amazing.
So not to leave you with a nonspecific and preachy post, but that really is my specialty. Because at the end of the day, who would I be if I did not voice my opinion like it was the absolute truth? I can only believe what I believe and I can only believe it with a passion that must be spread.
"To see things in the seed; that is genius" -Lao Tzu
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