This Teaching Thing

Back in June I was nervous. I had heard how tough summer school was and I wasn't sure if I could handle it. Once I was immersed in the grind of my summer schedule, I realized that it wasn't that hard to run on no sleep, and while I wasn't very good at teaching yet, I felt that I could get the hang of it soon enough.  By the end of summer school, I had gotten more confident, but as the two weeks before real school slipped away, I started downright dreading it. It seemed like so much. It seemed nearly impossible. It seemed like it wasn't worth it.

I put off my departure from Ohio for as long as possible. I ended up leaving at 4:00 am the Wednesday before professional development - Monday. I got to Byhalia around 1 pm, and oddly, as soon as I walked into the school, my nerves eased. I walked into my classroom for the first time, saw the pile of old books, stacked desks, a garbage left by the previous teacher, and instead of getting even more overwhelmed, I got excited. Maybe it's my competitive nature, but by the end of the day, it looked like a classroom. I had sanitized every desk... twice. I included two pictures of my room at the end of day one.

The view from the back of the room

The view from my desk toward the right side of the room

Since then things have really been good. Of course I've had bad days. It wouldn't be natural if I hadn't. I'm new at this, so I take everything with a grain of salt. Sorry to throw a cliche at you. I don't expect things to be perfect, and I think that has kept me sane. My mindset now is so much better than it was before I started. I really enjoy my kids. They make me laugh a lot. Even in situations like today, when I wanted to get angry at one of my students, I couldn't help but just stand up there and laugh. He was being funny! I'm sorry, Teacher Corps, if it is not recommended to show your cards like that. I'm sure I should have given him a consequence. But I
have to stop and enjoy myself (or my students) at least once daily.

So has this been easier or harder than I thought? Easier. So far.

"Is the teacher fair?"

So I chose my best and worst-behaved classes and passed out a survey asking if I was a fair teacher. It's obviously a simple yes or no question, but I told them that they could elaborate if they felt the need.

I assumed that my "bad" class would be really negative. I knew there would be a couple kids who said I was fair. There are a few good eggs who got stuck in my 6th period class... poor things. What was shocking though, was that a lot of the bad kids also said I was fair. I would love to dive deeper into why that may be. But I'm baffled. Obviously I know I'm fair. I don't hand out undeserved consequences. I don't hold grudges outside of class... or even inside of class. I try to call on kids to answer questions after they get in trouble. I don't want them to think that I think they're bad and unworthy.  But we all know how kids are, especially when they get in trouble. "Fair" is not a label they normally give authority figures.

I guess what was less surprising was that my "good" class also labeled me as fair. I hand out next to no consequences in there. No need to expand on that.

What I expected to get but didn't get a lot of was negative feedback from the trouble-makers. The kids who usually say, "Ms. B be mean," are the ones who ALWAYS get in trouble. No! I'm not mean... only to you... because you refuse to behave. And only if you define mean as handing you the consequences listed on the wall at the front of the room. You know, the ones that correspond with the rules posted on the wall at the front of the room. But I digress... while I allowed their responses to remain anonymous, the shockingly low number of "unfair" responses tells me that a lot of the bad kids know why they get in trouble.

Maybe there's hope that they will trace the cause and effect back far enough to stop themselves before they disrupt the class....

Free Write

I have had my kids do a lot of free writing lately. They hate it. But I think it’s a great way for me to gauge their abilities and for them to tell me what they want me to know. In an effort to try and convince them, I explain that free writing is good for you. 

My turn.

It is Wednesday of my second full week of school, and as I sit in my classroom during 5th period planning, (with the lights off) I can honestly say that this is the first day I have actually done something productive with this free time.  My day is split up relatively well. I never go more than 2 periods without a break of some kind. But for some reason, by the time 5th period gets here, all I usually want to do is SLEEP. I find myself just staring out the window most days. Unfortunately for me, my 6th and final period of the day has some of the worst attitudes in the 7th grade. Not only do I lack the patience to deal with them by that point, but I am not even close to being mentally present enough to stay on top of every management problem that that joyful bunch of kids brings.

I understand that it is the end of the day for them too. I understand that the last thing they want to do from 2:05-3:00 is learn grammar. But to be totally honest, one of the last things I want to do from 2:05-3:00 is teach grammar - especially to a group of kids as disinterested as these.

What they fail to understand is that I’m willing to put on a happy face anyway. Sometimes I wish they saw that. It is way more exhausting to be a teacher than a student. Can’t they just appreciate my effort and be quiet, respectful little 7th graders?? Ha! I know that is ridiculous. But one thing I have already taken from this teaching experience is that I severely under-appreciated my teachers. I’m saying that, and I was one of the good kids! I remember thinking that teachers had it easy. I remember thinking that all they had to do was tell us what to do and then just relax. What I didn’t realize was that, more than likely, 80% of their conscious hours were spent thinking about school, worrying about school, dreading school, looking forward to school, planning for school, grading papers for school... you see the theme.

This is easily the most time-consuming thing I have ever done. But I’ve said that before. Today at lunch, unsolicited, a few of my kids decided to tell me what the general consensus was about Ms. Buccilla. They said that most kids either think that I’m mean (good!) or that I’m really nice (not sure how I should feel about that). They said that the ones who think I’m mean are the ones who act up all the time... duh. I just kind of sat and listened. But the conversation got me thinking. I work extremely hard every day to put out a specific product. That product includes me, my appearance, my attitude, the content that I teach, and the way I teach it. That product is the calculated result of an effort to make material fun and engaging, beneficial and structured. What I realized though, was that no matter how much effort, how much preparation and thought I put in, the kids are still going to think what they think, and learn what they learn. I can’t force kids to like me, respect me, or even learn everything from me. But I can try. 

Besides time-consuming, I came up with a few more adjectives for my experience:

brutal educational (for me)

arduous educational (for them)

demanding illuminating 

edifying rare

inspiring uncharted

uplifting

exhausting

impossible

possible

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Brent the Warrior Monk

My response to the blog of Brent Bonds: Entertaining and enlightening. Delicious and nutritious. 

I was fortunate enough to work with Brent over the summer. He split his time between our class and the 9th/10th grade English class. Not only did I thoroughly enjoy watching him teach, I learned from him. He put crazy wigs on his bald head and wore scarves, hats, and jackets just to grab the students' attention. He taught them to play flip-cup as a review game. And they learned from him. But enough of my brown nosing campaign and more on his blog.

It is one of the most entertaining blogs I've read. He manages to throw in references to warrior monks almost flawlessly, and still there is substance. It is an honest blog, regardless of who it may offend. This passage illustrates that idea perfectly and it ranks among my favorites:

"I'd like to see a new wave of teachers who do more than teach to tests and who rely more on trenched experience than empty research. It is a perfect time to revamp our schools of education, which I must admit I have always thought were Mickey Mouse courses. It would be nice to see a change of emphasis from a minimum of subject area classes and too many less-than-valuable education courses to a system that requires a great deal of core subject-work and supplements that in-depth knowledge with a greater hands-on apprenticeship."

I could not agree more. He wasn't afraid to say that he thinks education courses are Mickey Mouse, and talks about how and why he thinks it should change, and I'm pretty sure he's right!

One of my other favorites, and a perfect example of how he turns the painful requirement of blogging into something he and the rest of us can enjoy:

"In three weeks time, at the current rate of personal growth, I expect a golden transformation. A glowing apotheosis. I, Brent Bonds, will have become a teaching god."

I think he may have succeeded. 

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Summer Training

This summer was easily the most intense of my life. I have never really had a summer in the typical, kid sense of the word. I was always playing competitive sports... softball, golf. Until college, my goal every summer was to play well enough to get noticed by a college coach and earn myself a scholarship. Once I achieved that and got to college, I was required by my coach to play in amateur tournaments all over the country or I wouldn't be eligible for fall qualifying.

There was a lot of pressure.

That was nothing.

I didn't know what pressure was back then! While at the time I thought everything in the world was riding on whether or not I played a good round of golf, what I immaturely failed to realize was that it didn't matter. Not at all. And certainly not to the kids whose lives I've just been thrust into. They don't care if I was a college athlete. They don't care how hard I worked every summer or even if I was a success or failure. They just want me to teach them. That's pressure.

So this brings me to the matter of my summer training. I must say that without it, I would be feeling infinitely more pressure going into the actual school year. We taught summer school in Holly Springs, Mississippi. Students were bused in from a couple different districts for a total of around 250 students. which is a lot of students in one summer school.

We had anywhere from 25 to 30 kids in the 7th and 8th grade English class. It felt like 100 kids for an inexperienced, fresh-out-of-college student with zero training, but it was undoubtedly the best training I could have possibly received. It was like a mini school year. I saw the steady decrease in student focus and behavior as the weeks passed. I had high and low days, successes and failures. I reached some kids and failed to reach others. I learned how to plan a lesson, come up with assessments, and attempt to make grammar interesting. 

By no means do I think I am ready for the coming school year. I'm not sure if first year teachers are ever fully ready for that. I actually still hesitate to even call myself a teacher. But I am licensed, and regardless of what my feelings are, I will be in a classroom of my own in a matter of weeks.

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In My Students' Shoes

As a requirement of MTC, I video taped one of my early lessons, in fact, my first lesson. While at this point in time I hate the fact that I have hard evidence of my lack of teaching abilities, I think that down the road it will be pretty neat that I have my first lesson ever on video. Even if I do hate it though, I certainly learned a lot from watching it.

First and foremost, on the surface, I realized I hate my voice. I'm pretty sure that is a natural response, but I really had no idea I sounded so annoying. What I thought was intense fluctuation in my intonation sounded like a glorified monotone. I can't believe the students came back the next day. Maybe it helped that my first lesson was a Friday, first period.

I didn't move around nearly as much as I though I had, and the few board-hugging steps I took seemed forced and calculated. Not knowing the students' names didn't help either. So when I called on someone, I did this awkward point with my clip board, which I'm sure they saw right through.

One thing I thought I did well was the lesson itself. I was teaching pre-writing for an autobiography, so I played them a clip of Vh1's Behind the Music on T.I. It was someone they respected and knew something about and it was a show they were all familiar with. I began playing it without even giving them some things to look for. So then I awkwardly paused and gave them a list of four things, which I later realized they didn't understand. After it was finished playing, I pulled the projector screen up to reveal three graphic organizers drawn on neon poster board. This was one of the things I think I did well. It showed them I was prepared.

On the board I had drawn a Venn Diagram, a cause and effect map, and a timeline. I filled the organizers out with events from my life. I had been told that students enjoy learning about their teachers... they didn't seem to care. But back to the point.

I watched the video that night and then again yesterday (2 weeks after). I can feel that I have already gotten better. There is far greater volume and excitement in my voice. I am starting to connect with the kids, and I move around so much now (touching all four walls) that I have actually been told to stand still a little more. 

My nervousness has turned into excitement (at least internally). I can't wait to see myself in two years.

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Reluctant Blogger

My whole life I have been stubborn. It's not that I have problems with authority or taking orders. All of that is fine and a natural part of growing up. The problem has usually been that I don't like to do unnecessary things. Busy work in class always frustrated me. Homework for the sake of homework never got completed. Scenic routes aren't really my thing either, and admitting that there is nothing wrong with standing in a grocery store check-out line in the south for twice the time I would in the north has been something I have struggled with for my four years at Ole Miss. 

"Where else do you have to be, Andrea?" 

"Anywhere but here," I usually retort. "It is totally inefficient to stand in line at Wal-Mart for this long."

So here's my point: I am stubborn on nearly every level. I will argue with you about whether or not the sky is blue if you really want to. I will take any side of any argument and enjoy arguing it. So coming into teaching, I figured I would have no problems letting my students know exactly how I felt, exactly what I expected, and exactly what would happen if they chose to go against me. I figured they would be able to sense the brick wall that is Miss Buccilla. 

NOT.

As I have said before, I have discovered this odd contrast between Andrea and Miss Buccilla. Andrea lives pretty happily without concern of approval from much of anyone. Miss Buccilla secretly begs for the acceptance of her young students. So as a result of this dichotomy, that hardened disciplinarian that I assumed would exist in the classroom is remarkably absent. 

So all of that was so that I could simply say this. The Reluctant Disciplinarian helped me. It was probably too anecdotal, which caused me to begin tuning out what I was reading - much like I do when people get too anecdotal in conversation. (It's that whole aversion to unnecessary things) But I could relate to Gary Rubinstein in a number of ways. Even though Andrea is very different than Gary Rubinstein, Miss Buccilla has a lot in common with him.

If I had to choose one piece of advice to immediately take from the book, it would be to develop a teacher look. According to Rubinstein, "the teacher look says, 'There's nothing you can do that I haven't already seen, so don't even bother trying.'"

That sounds wonderful. I have already tried it a couple times and it has been entirely ineffective. In fact, it even produced some laughter. But I had teachers (and a mother) who had that look down to a science, so I know how effective it can be. I know that there will come a point in the year when my voice is like poison that my students immediately shy away from and ignore... so I need a look.

I think that devoting a significant amount time practicing my teacher look in the mirror is entirely necessary and time effective. This blog however, was completely unnecessary.  

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