Thursday, July 08, 2010
Friday, June 17, 2005
Grand Finale 2006
10...9...8...you get the rest. The count down ends the last day of school. Backpacks fly, kids scream, teachers sigh a major breathe of relief....ahhh....the sweet smell of summer.
One of the best things about teaching is the momentum. Everyday is something.
I wrote this exactly a year minus three weeks ago. That's how long its been since I visited this blog and my main reason for revisting was to check out my friends sonograms of her baby almost due to be born 10 days later now born!
This teaching year has been a crunch. A quick turn of page. By the end of the year and at the beginning of the year, I always say it is my last year. Must be part of the ebb and flo because ultimately it never is. It used to be easier before tenure and before I found a district that actully pays well and that somewhat respects me as a professonal. I often wonder if anyone else gets to have the same waxing and waning about their job - must be the timeline of the year that allows, we, the techers, to really think about our "place in life" and the career that "never sleeps".
When the year starts I am all fresh like the smell of new box of crayolas or a crisp notebook with unturned pages. By the last month of the year I am torn and rumpled like a students' notebook -- a notebook like I stuffed in an envelope and returned to a spoiled student this week. It was "unacceptable". Of course, bring the nitty little 8th grader this student is, he fought me every inch of the way stating his claim that I should be able to read his notebook wether it is cryptic or not. He'll be a great lawyer or doctor someday but at this point, I just want him to go away. But that is another story....It is like I plan on preparing during the year to make an exit and then I don't. Because the year sucks me in and I can't find the space in my mind or day to figure out where I could go next. Afterall, this isn't my first career....and that's another story too. Regardless, I've placed my 8th grade class in high school bootcamp, or so I tell them, the last three weeks of school and this means I won't accept any $$%^&* or any $%^&* and it seems to be working, that and the stash of jolly ranchers and the bright pink bathroom passes -- both of which they have to either beg, barter, or steal to receive ..oh and not to forget, the coveted homework passes that kids have actually stayed after school and dusted the room for - who have I become? Who have they become? Is this the same spirit kicking Berkeley graduate liberal that I so honored? Is this really a democracy or have I unknowingly become a tyrant? Regardelss, it is amazing what a jolly rancher can do ...in a pinch.
This year I switched from teaching 6th grade to 8th grade and it was like going from the petting zoo right to the lions den. I mean, there is no inbetween. From the minute I walked in the door deep voices spewed spit and zits were seeping from the surface of once dewy, rosy, and innocent faces. "What is this? The night of living dead?" I think as I straighten a skirt I swore I would throw out the year before "hell, teacher clothes, one more year..."As I greet the lil' darlings each day, I ritualistically stick out my hand to shake theirs thinking that this small gesture could be the connection that will make both mine and their day! And perhaps will make our worlds seem a little less huge. Instead, I used every sick day plus. I couldn't have been much sicker. But luckily, the 8th graders, unlike the 6th, did tell me when I should or should not shake their hand," uh, my hand is gross, you really don't want to shake this..." or they would make a robotic notion so I couldn't get get a hold or pull an old slapstick routine sticking a hand out and quickly pulling it back to slick down hair....if it wasn't this they would try to tell me how to shake, or give me a high five or even bow to me in a strange buddha/Puff Daddy way.
No matter where they sat in the classroom, the little angels could talk enough talk to power a small town. Early on in the year, I forgot to say all the things I should have like, "I am here to be your teacher, not your friend" or "That is NOT OK" and "OUTSIDE" with a quick point of my index finger to the left. I didn't get started soon enough so the dreaded "...."th period everyday ate me alive. I felt bad for the 3/4 of the kids both girls and Asian boys who really were top students. They listened, seemed to care about their work, and really made an effort. But the lack luster, skinny, handsome, and well, NEEDy causcasian sports group - all ended up in this class and for some reason, they just couldn't fgure out to make it work. One, who really was the king pin, had such a big mouth that when I mentioned his name to other teachers they would roll their eyes "Oh, I remember him" or kids "He is rude and unkind" even his mother said he was a neandrathal at home and she was sorry I had to put up with him! But that didn't stop him. I don't think his mouth closed the entire year. Not that he wasn't a capable student - straght A's but oi vey! What a mouth!
Overall , the kids weren't too bad, I had many days when I felt good about teaching, laughed a bit, and walked away with a pang of love in my heart. Unfortunately, the real culprit would then start -- the department meetings... really, the kids aren't all that bad, its the clad of "folks" in my department, who love to talk about what great things they are teaching (been there done that) and how "The kids can't write" keep in mind they say this to a room of their collegeus, but what the heck, only they can teach so really the kids can't write, right?
I am sure a lot of my angst has to do with the end of the year blues....exhaustion and preparation for graduation.....who knows, after tomorrow, I might feel differently....
One of the best things about teaching is the momentum. Everyday is something.
I wrote this exactly a year minus three weeks ago. That's how long its been since I visited this blog and my main reason for revisting was to check out my friends sonograms of her baby almost due to be born 10 days later now born!
This teaching year has been a crunch. A quick turn of page. By the end of the year and at the beginning of the year, I always say it is my last year. Must be part of the ebb and flo because ultimately it never is. It used to be easier before tenure and before I found a district that actully pays well and that somewhat respects me as a professonal. I often wonder if anyone else gets to have the same waxing and waning about their job - must be the timeline of the year that allows, we, the techers, to really think about our "place in life" and the career that "never sleeps".
When the year starts I am all fresh like the smell of new box of crayolas or a crisp notebook with unturned pages. By the last month of the year I am torn and rumpled like a students' notebook -- a notebook like I stuffed in an envelope and returned to a spoiled student this week. It was "unacceptable". Of course, bring the nitty little 8th grader this student is, he fought me every inch of the way stating his claim that I should be able to read his notebook wether it is cryptic or not. He'll be a great lawyer or doctor someday but at this point, I just want him to go away. But that is another story....It is like I plan on preparing during the year to make an exit and then I don't. Because the year sucks me in and I can't find the space in my mind or day to figure out where I could go next. Afterall, this isn't my first career....and that's another story too. Regardless, I've placed my 8th grade class in high school bootcamp, or so I tell them, the last three weeks of school and this means I won't accept any $$%^&* or any $%^&* and it seems to be working, that and the stash of jolly ranchers and the bright pink bathroom passes -- both of which they have to either beg, barter, or steal to receive ..oh and not to forget, the coveted homework passes that kids have actually stayed after school and dusted the room for - who have I become? Who have they become? Is this the same spirit kicking Berkeley graduate liberal that I so honored? Is this really a democracy or have I unknowingly become a tyrant? Regardelss, it is amazing what a jolly rancher can do ...in a pinch.
This year I switched from teaching 6th grade to 8th grade and it was like going from the petting zoo right to the lions den. I mean, there is no inbetween. From the minute I walked in the door deep voices spewed spit and zits were seeping from the surface of once dewy, rosy, and innocent faces. "What is this? The night of living dead?" I think as I straighten a skirt I swore I would throw out the year before "hell, teacher clothes, one more year..."As I greet the lil' darlings each day, I ritualistically stick out my hand to shake theirs thinking that this small gesture could be the connection that will make both mine and their day! And perhaps will make our worlds seem a little less huge. Instead, I used every sick day plus. I couldn't have been much sicker. But luckily, the 8th graders, unlike the 6th, did tell me when I should or should not shake their hand," uh, my hand is gross, you really don't want to shake this..." or they would make a robotic notion so I couldn't get get a hold or pull an old slapstick routine sticking a hand out and quickly pulling it back to slick down hair....if it wasn't this they would try to tell me how to shake, or give me a high five or even bow to me in a strange buddha/Puff Daddy way.
No matter where they sat in the classroom, the little angels could talk enough talk to power a small town. Early on in the year, I forgot to say all the things I should have like, "I am here to be your teacher, not your friend" or "That is NOT OK" and "OUTSIDE" with a quick point of my index finger to the left. I didn't get started soon enough so the dreaded "...."th period everyday ate me alive. I felt bad for the 3/4 of the kids both girls and Asian boys who really were top students. They listened, seemed to care about their work, and really made an effort. But the lack luster, skinny, handsome, and well, NEEDy causcasian sports group - all ended up in this class and for some reason, they just couldn't fgure out to make it work. One, who really was the king pin, had such a big mouth that when I mentioned his name to other teachers they would roll their eyes "Oh, I remember him" or kids "He is rude and unkind" even his mother said he was a neandrathal at home and she was sorry I had to put up with him! But that didn't stop him. I don't think his mouth closed the entire year. Not that he wasn't a capable student - straght A's but oi vey! What a mouth!
Overall , the kids weren't too bad, I had many days when I felt good about teaching, laughed a bit, and walked away with a pang of love in my heart. Unfortunately, the real culprit would then start -- the department meetings... really, the kids aren't all that bad, its the clad of "folks" in my department, who love to talk about what great things they are teaching (been there done that) and how "The kids can't write" keep in mind they say this to a room of their collegeus, but what the heck, only they can teach so really the kids can't write, right?
I am sure a lot of my angst has to do with the end of the year blues....exhaustion and preparation for graduation.....who knows, after tomorrow, I might feel differently....
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
2day
Spring has sprung and hormones are raging on our once sweet and innocent middle school campus. Empty crevasses, nooks, and door jams are now filled with blossoming youth. One seasoned teacher caught a few snuggling today. She later found out her son, a lanky 8th grader has been seen in the nook with a lovely female....while other students are drawing tiny superheros and munching on oreos "ragers" as we call them lurk in the hallways, shirts too low, belly buttons revealed and pants practically falling down. Lip gloss is shiny and aerosol after-shave, pungent.
My innocent 6th graders are now heading (most of the time head first) into adolescence. Though the love trysts are still few, we have some of the other hurdles to jump. Hygiene is top on the list. I had to directly ask these "innocents" today if after PE they were taking showers. Our classroom, which usually smells like mold, now has taken on the sweaty sneaker/BO smell. Because our diligent window opener (he has taken to opening every window, everyday) hadn't completed his job yet, I wasn't afraid to tell these spirited 12-year-olds about their body changes.
Bringing up the shower warranted the same response as if I had sprung a "pop quiz".
"EWWWW the showers stink."
"They are gross."
"They have mold."
"They back up to up into the toilets...and you know what that means."
I remind them that it is a requirement to take a shower, isn't it?
"NO" they scream in unison. I take a big swig of my Starbucks venti half caf latte - I can tell that not only the daylight savings time change but their energy is going to make it an extra long day.....
"Well," I clarify, "They should be required."
I regain my composure say "SSSSSH" because this hot topic has inspired 50 side conversations. The room becomes a beehive, and I the queen swig my coffee, take a deep breathe and bluntly continue.
"Listen, you can at least put on deodorant, can't you?"
Some kids look a little embarrassed and say they do. Some nod. Some turn red.
"Well, regardless, it is time. You are 12-year-olds and, well, it is just time!"
I don't tell them my middle school stories. How I hid from the showers in the dark, eery locker room. Short and underdeveloped I couldn't handle , the thought of de-robing my undershirt in front of budding and buxom classmates. But I could probably tell my students about my first can of deodorant and how proud I felt using it....
OK, I pray my mission will be accomplished. I decide, since I have their attention, to address one last topic.
"OK, did your science teacher talk to you today about an issue?" They nod their heads ---not smiling.
"Good because I am gonna continue. We both think it is great that you all like each other but lately, you are WAY too chatty. In other words, I am spending time I would rather be teaching or having you learn telling you to settle down and listen."
For a moment, their solemn, pouting faces are thinking (...I don't talk). But the general feeling is sympathetic and I know I have their attention. I pause to reflect on being a new teacher and having felt the class would eat me alive when I tried to discipline. But now, 7 years later, it is different. My experience doesn't mean that kids won't be kids but it means I won't run in the bathroom and cry because some adolescent insulted me.
"So, you guys get it, right? In other words," I repeat, "just ZIP IT..." I realize that my attempt at humor may have caused a few tears.
"You know, ZIP IT.COM!" I am relying on Austin Powers to pull me out of this potentially rude comment that I might get a parent phone call about. A few laugh. Then a few more. Thinking I am safe, side conversations start and it is back to me SHOOOSSSHING again. How will I ever teach?
Ah spring. I know this is why we stop teaching in the summer.
My innocent 6th graders are now heading (most of the time head first) into adolescence. Though the love trysts are still few, we have some of the other hurdles to jump. Hygiene is top on the list. I had to directly ask these "innocents" today if after PE they were taking showers. Our classroom, which usually smells like mold, now has taken on the sweaty sneaker/BO smell. Because our diligent window opener (he has taken to opening every window, everyday) hadn't completed his job yet, I wasn't afraid to tell these spirited 12-year-olds about their body changes.
Bringing up the shower warranted the same response as if I had sprung a "pop quiz".
"EWWWW the showers stink."
"They are gross."
"They have mold."
"They back up to up into the toilets...and you know what that means."
I remind them that it is a requirement to take a shower, isn't it?
"NO" they scream in unison. I take a big swig of my Starbucks venti half caf latte - I can tell that not only the daylight savings time change but their energy is going to make it an extra long day.....
"Well," I clarify, "They should be required."
I regain my composure say "SSSSSH" because this hot topic has inspired 50 side conversations. The room becomes a beehive, and I the queen swig my coffee, take a deep breathe and bluntly continue.
"Listen, you can at least put on deodorant, can't you?"
Some kids look a little embarrassed and say they do. Some nod. Some turn red.
"Well, regardless, it is time. You are 12-year-olds and, well, it is just time!"
I don't tell them my middle school stories. How I hid from the showers in the dark, eery locker room. Short and underdeveloped I couldn't handle , the thought of de-robing my undershirt in front of budding and buxom classmates. But I could probably tell my students about my first can of deodorant and how proud I felt using it....
OK, I pray my mission will be accomplished. I decide, since I have their attention, to address one last topic.
"OK, did your science teacher talk to you today about an issue?" They nod their heads ---not smiling.
"Good because I am gonna continue. We both think it is great that you all like each other but lately, you are WAY too chatty. In other words, I am spending time I would rather be teaching or having you learn telling you to settle down and listen."
For a moment, their solemn, pouting faces are thinking (...I don't talk). But the general feeling is sympathetic and I know I have their attention. I pause to reflect on being a new teacher and having felt the class would eat me alive when I tried to discipline. But now, 7 years later, it is different. My experience doesn't mean that kids won't be kids but it means I won't run in the bathroom and cry because some adolescent insulted me.
"So, you guys get it, right? In other words," I repeat, "just ZIP IT..." I realize that my attempt at humor may have caused a few tears.
"You know, ZIP IT.COM!" I am relying on Austin Powers to pull me out of this potentially rude comment that I might get a parent phone call about. A few laugh. Then a few more. Thinking I am safe, side conversations start and it is back to me SHOOOSSSHING again. How will I ever teach?
Ah spring. I know this is why we stop teaching in the summer.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)