Embarrassing

Embarrassing is the word that best summarizes my day. In the afternoon my students had math while I had my prep period. I spent my prep in the classroom today, and listening to the teacher constantly redirect my students. For 45 minutes straight they were rude and disrespectful. She was unable to even complete her lesson and instead assigned the day's work as homework.

I'm frustrated that their focus and behavior seems to fall apart when they're not with me. But, most of all I was embarrassed by their behavior and embarrassed on their behalf. I didn't mind letting them know. Although I don't know how well 3rd graders truly understand the concept of feeling embarrassed...

Later, I finally finished grading my students math baselines, and the results were equally embarrassing. But this time I didn't feel embarrassed for my students. Rather I was embarrassed for myself and for our educational system.

My students averaged just over 30% on the baseline. The highest score was a 72%, but 20 of my 28 students scored less than 50%. I was embarrassed first that I had placed so much confidence in my "high students". It was sad to realize how much the bar for excellence can shift in a classroom filled with low-performing students. I was also embarrassed for a system that could let down so many children by letting them reach the third grade without the necessary basic skills.*

Of course, that is the reason why data is so hot right now. For all the complaints (including my own) about data crowding out the magic of the classroom, it also serves a valuable purpose. With data there are no excuses and there is no relativity. It strips me of my delusions and allows me to see my students' true strengths and needs. It also lays the failings of our system bare. Now that I've had an embarrassing (yet healthy) dose of reality, I have a true sense of the work that needs to be done.


*To clarify however, close to half of my students have been in the country for two years or less.

Learning to Love Learning

Last week my school gave parents an opportunity to meet with teachers. In my halting, broken Spanish I dispensed with as many suggestions as possible for the handful of parents who visited. I talked about the importance of homework and reading everyday. I talked about ways parents could help their kids learn basic math facts, practice telling time and counting money. I threw a lot of ideas out, and it may have been overwhelming. Before I let them go, I tried to emphasize something more important than all the little ways they could help at home. I tried to add one last message, in my stilted Spanish: "Yo quiero los ninos a aprender como... encantar... aprendiendo." I want the kids to learn how to love learning.

This is the essential challenge of my teaching this year. It has always been a focus of my teaching, but it feels especially urgent this year. Perhaps it's tied to the rocky start I've had to the school year. As I've struggled through several lessons with an especially talkative and inattentive group of students, I can tell that nobody's enjoying themselves. The best parts of my day have been when a mess of students are struggling to control themselves and can't wait to share their ideas. It can be frustrating when students forget to raise their hand, but it's also a sign that they're excited. It's this excitement about learning I want to cultivate in every subject, every day.

But I also feel a sense of urgency because lately I don't hear anyone talking about this. From the highest levels down to the schools I've been in, this topic seems absent from so many conversations about education reform and student achievement. You will hear words like data, performance standards and intervention to no end, but rarely will you hear anyone ask, "Do our students love to learn?".

Ultimately, it's important to me, because I know it's the only way my students will have a chance to succeed. I may not get all my students to grade level within the next nine months, but if I can implant them with a drive and desire to learn, then they will find a way to catch up. Conversely, if I somehow got all my students to grade level, but crushed the love of learning out of them in the process, as soon as they left my classroom their development would end.

I understand completely the importance of data and other trendier concepts to the 21st century classroom, and I utilize them fully. But we cannot create the next generation of innovators, inventors of entrepreneurs anywhere, let alone the poorest neighborhoods, without creating a sustainable thirst for knowledge within our students. Love of learning and "college and career readiness" are not mutually exclusive, but rather are deeply intertwined. I wonder about ways to achieve this synergy, whether through more engaging instruction or more field trips. And as I think about my own commitment to simultaneously helping my students to learn and helping them to love learning, I wonder why we don't hear more voices acknowledging that both are vital to our children's education.

Making Magic

We were ten minutes late for everything today. During a lesson on prefixes there was mass confusion and during a goals setting lesson there were glazed eyes. Our math lesson ran long so there was no time for social studies. But balancing out all those frustrations was a simple moment of magic.

During our first real attempt at independent reading I sat down on the rug with my five non-speakers. I told them we were going to make a book together, and I watched their faces light up. Each student told me one thing they liked, I translated it to English and recorded it on an index card. Then each student got to illustrate their sentence. For a brief part of the day they weren't confused. They were excited and engaged.

It was a simple lesson, taken from a colleague, but it was the best part of my day. It was the kind of "ah ha" moment that embodies the thrill of teaching. I'm hoping I can create more of them.

Questions I'm Pondering

Should a grown man spend so much time using magic markers?

Should I stay up to watch the rest of the 49ers' game on Monday Night Football?

Am I really getting sick already?

Will I get any new students tomorrow?

Can I get through tomorrow without raising my voice?

Will I get to catch up on my DVR before Saturday?

And Now...For the Truth

Yesterday I came to a realization that I've been lying about my school year. My writing hasn't been total fabrications, but a series of lies of omission. I've been trying to craft a narrative of positivity and a fresh start. Who is this narrative for? Myself most of all.

The truth is, I'm feeling exhausted, burnt out and discouraged. And I haven't yet finished my first full week of teaching.

What is going wrong? What is so different from the past two school years which began with (relative) calm and optimism? Why does this year feel chaotic and overwhelming?

On a practical level, it's the number of bodies in my room. Last year I had a ridiculously low roster of 19 students. While my classroom was still full of challenges including non-readers and students without basic number sense, the small class size made most management much easier. This year, with 29 students, including three who are new to the country and two other non-English speakers...not so easy anymore.

Beyond the logistics of a classroom that's almost double the size of last year, I just don't feel psychologically ready. I mentioned that I felt I had spent the summer backsliding, but I think I may have understated that feeling. Slowly I'm getting my bearings on all the pieces that go into teaching, but it feels like a struggle in a way I haven't experienced since my first year teaching.

The students (a handful in particular) are talking nonstop. During class discussions, they're having side conversations. When they line up for lunch or dismissal, they're talking. When I'm giving directions, they're talking. And it's only the first week of school! Where's my honeymoon period?

But then of course, there's a glimmer of hope in today's teaching. I felt a hint of rhythm in my teaching. In class discussions I caught a glimpse of what could be some awesome accountable talk. I know enough not to declare "Mission Accomplished," just yet. Still, if I can build on today I may create the narrative for my school year that is positive and completely truthful.

Fourth Chances

While this new school year has felt overwhelming and exhausting in many ways, I am trying to focus on the ways in which I can capitalize on the fresh start I've been given. It's one of the best features of teaching. There aren't many jobs out there where you're essentially allowed to press reset and try a myriad of different approaches to your work.

Sometimes it can be something as simple as a new procedure for sharpening pencils or checking homework. You'd be surprised how much peace of mind rests on these minutia. But hopefully, when September comes around, you can find something really special to try out for the first time to change the landscape of the school year. In a school community where standardized testing can weigh heavier and heavier over the course of the year, this is especially important.

One way I've tried to reinvigorate my practice and the outlook for my school year is by planning for numerous guest speakers and field trips. The guest speaker piece will be trickier to pull off (get in touch if you have knowledge or talents to share!), but I'm planning to hold myself accountable for field trips this year in an attempt to erase the "experiential gap" that's often ignored in classrooms like my own.

In smaller ways I'm also trying to establish a positive tone for the school year. The most effective change I've made so far is by making a positive phone call home every day. Last year I got a bit lazy because I interacted with a lot of parents daily when they picked up their children. But those encounters were often rushed, and not always positive. By forcing myself to reach out for positive reasons I'm reinforcing positive behavior in the classroom and changing the expectation of home-school communication. After an especially tiring day like today it was refreshing to make a parent's day with the good news. Changes like these phone calls and the field trips I am planning make me thankful for a new school year and another chance to get things right as a teacher.

Separation Anxiety

It's been strange watching my former students walking the halls these past few days. My second year of teaching I felt a mix of regret and anxiety when I saw the previous year's students. Last year, at a new school, I avoided such interactions altogether. So, this is the first time where the students I'm seeing everyday on the way to lunch, during arrival and dismissal, don't inspire remorse. But oddly, it doesn't feel entirely better.

There's a mix of nostalgia and sadness when I see my former students this year. Last year was undoubtedly the best year of teaching I've had so far. There were ups and many downs for sure, but I know I improved as a teacher, and I bonded with all of my students in a way I hadn't before. Maybe it was just the fact that they were 3rd graders instead of 4th graders, untainted yet by the early signs of prepubescent attitudes, or maybe I just got lucky with the group I taught. Regardless, I know we really cared about each other. It's sounds strange, but I miss them.

I don't doubt that the same is possible with my new students. Kids it turns out, are pretty easy to please as long as you are a semi-competent teacher and read them a few good stories now and then. On the first day of school, after reading Miss Nelson is Missing I asked the students to share what kind of teacher they want this year (e.g. Miss Nelson or Miss Swamp). One boy replied, "I want you as my teacher," (cue sitcom audience "awwwww"). I miss my old kids, but I need to remind myself that a relationship, just like academic skills, will take time to develop in my new students. In the mean time I'll just have to settle for goofy grins and waves from last year's kids.

Classroom Reincarnations

The cyclical nature of teaching is at once comforting and disturbing. A new school year means a fresh start, a chance to "get things right" or try new things. After your first few years it's also a return to the familiar as you re-establish the rules, routines and procedures that have come to define your classroom. And in one way, it can be terrifying, because you may meet reincarnations of past students, including the archetypal "problem children".

Now, of course, all children are as unique as snowflakes, and no two are identical. But once you have seen your fair share of students you start to notice certain recurring characters in your classroom drama, some of whom you wish you could avoid. Today I met a student who reminds me in many ways of my ALP, my old arch-nemesis from my first year of teaching. He's very bright, very verbal, and loves to push the boundaries of acceptable behavior.

Luckily, while this may be a new cycle of the school year, I haven't lost the lessons from years past. While ALP was able to antagonize me and basically usurp control of my classroom in my first year, I don't foresee anyone below five feet taking over my classroom this year. I have learned countless ways to exert and express authority over the 28 (yes 28!) new little people in my classroom without the shouting matches and frustration that characterized my first year of teaching. So while it may be a bit daunting to see a new version of an old challenge, in the familiar I'm able to see my own growth, and that's encouraging.

Backsliding

It's a reality of teaching in a high need school that many if not most of your students will suffer some backsliding over the summer time. Studies show that students regress around 2 months in reading and 2-3 months in math. The effects are especially pronounced in lower socioeconomic communities and among students who are English language learners. So, suffice it to say, the first day of school is always a little interesting/overwhelming/daunting at schools like mine.

But after today, I have to confess that students are the only ones who backslide during the dog days of summer. While my students may have suffered from learning loss from an extended period undoubtedly spent playing video games, watching cartoons and visiting water parks, I felt equally dumbed down by "teaching loss." While the students and I shared some poetry, created our class rules and played a few ice breaker games, I still have to say I felt completely...off today.

It's hard to find your rhythm after two months of free concerts, beer gardens and beach trips. The first day is also just generally tricky, because the essential lessons based around rules, routines and procedures don't align with the usual flow of a workshop-model based day. Excuses aside, I'm anxious to overcome the summer rustiness that slowed down my teaching today. In the mean time recognizing my own backsliding may force me to stop complaining about the kids'.

A New Beginning. Again.

I can't imagine teaching before the era of the internet. This poem I'm using tomorrow is a perfect example.

	Welcome Back to School
	by Kenn Nesbitt

“Dear students, the summer has ended. The school year at last has begun. But this year is totally different. I promise we’ll only have fun. “We won’t study any mathematics, and recess will last all day long. Instead of the Pledge of Allegiance, we’ll belt out a rock ’n’ roll song. “We’ll only play games in the classroom. You’re welcome to bring in your toys. It’s okay to run in the hallways. It’s great if you make lots of noise. “For homework, you’ll play your Nintendo. You’ll have to watch lots of TV. For field trips we’ll go to the movies and get lots of candy for free. “The lunchroom will only serve chocolate and Triple-Fudge Sundaes Supreme.” Yes, that’s what I heard from my teacher before I woke up from my dream.

"The possibilities are endless."

I wrote this a little over two months ago. Now it's time to see what I can make of this year.