This morning I went to Brown to watch a spelling bee. Given my interest in the topic, I was eager to see what it was like. All the fourth, fifth and sixth graders were in the gym, watching the spellers seated in a semicircle on stage. I believe all the participants were in either fifth or sixth grade. There were twenty children, only four of them boys. It was charming to see some of their little tics and tricks, like tracing the spelling with a finger on their sleeves while reciting. The spellers didn't seem especially nervous or anxious, although afterwards I saw one girl crying and being consoled by her mother.
Some of the correctly spelled words by these brave eleven- and twelve-year-olds were: argument, cinema, newfangled, pleasant, patient, tattle, unsociable, vinegar, leisure, walrus, and tardiness. Those words have got nothing on the national list in terms of difficulty, but, you'll agree, a challenge to most kids.
Some of the incorrect spellings were: solami, hikory, infurno, sarcasim, noseyest, bungalo, looner, drousy, apetite, abbsents, orthandocs, flanel, chedder, and soilders.
The winning word was associate, which the losing finalist spelled, bizarrely, as "aseoiate."
Afterwards, I caught just a little bit of a fourth-grade class. I saw some six-minute fluency at work first. I'm not a big fan of this strategy, as it seems to me to strongly impress upon the kids the need for speed when reading, which is not helpful. I'm an extremely fast reader, but even I wish I'd slow down a bit and remember things once in a while. I walked around the room and heard a lot of fast-talking reading: "batsareflyingmammalsthatuseecholocation," all rapid-fire and without any attention whatever to prosody. Indeed, supposedly after they'd read this piece on bats, not for the first time, the teacher asked whether bats have ears, and most of the class said no. They also, on an unrelated note, had a lot of trouble figuring out how many years ago 1984 was. Anyway, the kids started working on making lists of facts from their reading when I left.
I went to a meeting with Mr. Gung Ho, the principal, at his request. He heaped some more praise on me and asked me what kind of school I wanted to teach at, and what grade I thought I'd be best at. He told me to give him a call when the district job fair started, and he would personally help me with the first qualifying test and then introduce me to other principals at schools that he thought I'd fit in at. I was pleased and honored; he certainly didn't have to extend such a courtesy. I told him I enjoyed his managerial style as well.
After that I went to the dentist. Apparently, a piece of my tooth didn't fall off, as I reported yesterday. I will spare you the gruesome details, but suffice it to say that I really ought to get my teeth cleaned more often. My teeth look and feel much more different now (I can actually feel the contours and see the gaps!). I got bad gums; hours later, my spit's still pink with blood. There; not quite as disgusting as Samurai Frog's recent health updates, but it'll do.
My father's in search of a rehab center. His AA buddies are trying to help him out. He is way too old for the kind of wringer he's going to go through. We shall see what develops.
Showing posts with label schools. Show all posts
Showing posts with label schools. Show all posts
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
The tooth is out there
I was scheduled to observe at Ms. Negativity's second grade class this morning, but I called to cancel because a piece of my tooth fell off. (More on that tomorrow.)
So I went in to Brown around noon. The principal was in the office when I came in, and we had a brief chat. He said I had qualities that can't be taught, like a good rapport with kids, and that it seemed that I'd be good teaching any grade level. He knows about the five-month contract with Prestigious, but said he wanted to keep me in his district and introduce me to other principals. The praise was embarrassing but, obviously, quite appreciated. (More on that tomorrow, too, I guess.)
I sat in on a fifth grade pullout reading group and a sixth grade pullout reading group led by Mr. Big Fellow. I wasn't with the sixth graders long. Then I stopped by a regular sixth grade class just long enough to tell a girl that the USSR is the same as the Soviet Union.
The fifth graders were reading a book on birds. Mr. BF led them through a cognitive content list (unfamiliar words, predictions as to meaning, and then actual meaning), a graphic organizer, cause and effect scenarios (just like the first graders!), and text description vocabulary (non-fiction, expository, factual).
Most of them were reasonably amenable to instruction, but a couple were truly surly, nearly to the point of rudeness, which only cemented my conviction that I will never, ever teach fifth or sixth grade.
Sample dialogue, verbatim as far as I can attest:
Mr. BF asks, "How does the main character's teacher help her with her photography?"
Surly kid, looking away, frowning: "I don't know, photos."
Mr. BF rephrases the question and gives a few redirecting prompts: "So how does he help her?"
Surly kid: "I guess he helps."
Mr. BF: "That's what I said. But how does he do it?"
Surly kid: "I don't know, photography, or pictures, whatever."
Don't worry, kid, soon the most challenging question people will be asking you is whether you want to man the fryer or the register.
So I went in to Brown around noon. The principal was in the office when I came in, and we had a brief chat. He said I had qualities that can't be taught, like a good rapport with kids, and that it seemed that I'd be good teaching any grade level. He knows about the five-month contract with Prestigious, but said he wanted to keep me in his district and introduce me to other principals. The praise was embarrassing but, obviously, quite appreciated. (More on that tomorrow, too, I guess.)
I sat in on a fifth grade pullout reading group and a sixth grade pullout reading group led by Mr. Big Fellow. I wasn't with the sixth graders long. Then I stopped by a regular sixth grade class just long enough to tell a girl that the USSR is the same as the Soviet Union.
The fifth graders were reading a book on birds. Mr. BF led them through a cognitive content list (unfamiliar words, predictions as to meaning, and then actual meaning), a graphic organizer, cause and effect scenarios (just like the first graders!), and text description vocabulary (non-fiction, expository, factual).
Most of them were reasonably amenable to instruction, but a couple were truly surly, nearly to the point of rudeness, which only cemented my conviction that I will never, ever teach fifth or sixth grade.
Sample dialogue, verbatim as far as I can attest:
Mr. BF asks, "How does the main character's teacher help her with her photography?"
Surly kid, looking away, frowning: "I don't know, photos."
Mr. BF rephrases the question and gives a few redirecting prompts: "So how does he help her?"
Surly kid: "I guess he helps."
Mr. BF: "That's what I said. But how does he do it?"
Surly kid: "I don't know, photography, or pictures, whatever."
Don't worry, kid, soon the most challenging question people will be asking you is whether you want to man the fryer or the register.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Lots of screaming today
Had an even more leisurely start this morning; I didn't get to Brown until 11:30 a.m.
The first class I observed was a kindergarten ESL class. There were two Asians, two Hispanics, and, in a striking aberration, one blonde girl from Denmark. I enjoyed being there; they traced letters with their fingers, wrote on dry-erase boards, and read phonics readers. They were so cheerful and ready to learn. Indeed, you could have fooled me --- most of them were reading just as well as a lot of the first graders.
Then I went to a special ed room, euphemistically and sort of confusingly called the "Preschool Program for Children with Disabilities, Kindergarten." There were three teachers there and six kids. The head teacher read a long and rather complex rhyming book, went over the letter of the week (L), played a song about lollipops on the CD player, and read "Jack Be Nimble" six times (once for every child's name in place of "Jack"). Then there was another song about spelling, and then the kids jumped around a bit to a sorta rockin' song about jumping, and then took turns "reading" from a very short phonics reader. A couple of the kids left to go to mainstream kindergarten. After that, it was math time. The kids did patterns with manipulatives and continued their peers' patterns. The highest level kids were fairly adept at making ABAB patterns. One kid refused to work and sat screaming and crying in time out for about fifteen minutes. (He quickly did some work when he saw that everyone else got to play with a little Thomas train set.)
Another child there is so severely disabled that she's pretty much an infant, throwing things placed in front of her, tearing any available paper, and unable to speak. Instead, she screams. She's physically disabled as well: stunted, constantly twitching, and needing a walker. Her presence in what would otherwise be an only moderately low-level special-needs program is a good example of window dressing. I suppose good intentions are meant, but that room doesn't have the resources to meet that kid's needs (she perforce spends a lot of time just sitting in a chair, everything around her out of reach), and the other kids' learning goes slower because of her presence. And that's in what I consider a terrific room, with cheerful and energetic teachers. Inclusion: pretending everyone is equal, whether it helps or not.
The Lady kindergarten teacher from yesterday confirmed every bad feeling I had about her condescension. I saw her outside at the end of the day, thanked her for her time the day before, and said, referring to specific bit of correction, that I hoped I hadn't overstepped any bounds when I helped the kids out with their writing. "Oh, don't worry," she said. "That's just something you have to be told. You'll get it!" Gee, thanks. I smiled and waved, and then got in my turnip truck and went back to Hicksville Farm.
***
Went to my parents' house, did a very little cleaning, and heated up some soup for my dad, who's now going through withdrawal. He's apparently going back to AA/NA meetings now. Unless he's actually secretly meeting his pusher.
The first class I observed was a kindergarten ESL class. There were two Asians, two Hispanics, and, in a striking aberration, one blonde girl from Denmark. I enjoyed being there; they traced letters with their fingers, wrote on dry-erase boards, and read phonics readers. They were so cheerful and ready to learn. Indeed, you could have fooled me --- most of them were reading just as well as a lot of the first graders.
Then I went to a special ed room, euphemistically and sort of confusingly called the "Preschool Program for Children with Disabilities, Kindergarten." There were three teachers there and six kids. The head teacher read a long and rather complex rhyming book, went over the letter of the week (L), played a song about lollipops on the CD player, and read "Jack Be Nimble" six times (once for every child's name in place of "Jack"). Then there was another song about spelling, and then the kids jumped around a bit to a sorta rockin' song about jumping, and then took turns "reading" from a very short phonics reader. A couple of the kids left to go to mainstream kindergarten. After that, it was math time. The kids did patterns with manipulatives and continued their peers' patterns. The highest level kids were fairly adept at making ABAB patterns. One kid refused to work and sat screaming and crying in time out for about fifteen minutes. (He quickly did some work when he saw that everyone else got to play with a little Thomas train set.)
Another child there is so severely disabled that she's pretty much an infant, throwing things placed in front of her, tearing any available paper, and unable to speak. Instead, she screams. She's physically disabled as well: stunted, constantly twitching, and needing a walker. Her presence in what would otherwise be an only moderately low-level special-needs program is a good example of window dressing. I suppose good intentions are meant, but that room doesn't have the resources to meet that kid's needs (she perforce spends a lot of time just sitting in a chair, everything around her out of reach), and the other kids' learning goes slower because of her presence. And that's in what I consider a terrific room, with cheerful and energetic teachers. Inclusion: pretending everyone is equal, whether it helps or not.
The Lady kindergarten teacher from yesterday confirmed every bad feeling I had about her condescension. I saw her outside at the end of the day, thanked her for her time the day before, and said, referring to specific bit of correction, that I hoped I hadn't overstepped any bounds when I helped the kids out with their writing. "Oh, don't worry," she said. "That's just something you have to be told. You'll get it!" Gee, thanks. I smiled and waved, and then got in my turnip truck and went back to Hicksville Farm.
***
Went to my parents' house, did a very little cleaning, and heated up some soup for my dad, who's now going through withdrawal. He's apparently going back to AA/NA meetings now. Unless he's actually secretly meeting his pusher.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Week 12: Of our elaborate plans, the end
Observation week!
I slept until nearly 9:00, like a self-satisfied somnolent sybarite. I ate a leisurely breakfast and then tooled up to Brown Elementary to sit in on a couple of classes.
The first one was Some Guy's kindergarten class. He read a poem, then asked the kids to identify certain words' onset and rime. he then read a longer story, and stopped occasionally to ask questions on and ask for predictions about vocabulary, motives, and plot. It seemed the same as the first few weeks of first grade, but with a little less emphasis on print. For example, he played a song about the week's letter, n, instead of showing a big book with a printed poem. I liked the way he would ask a question and scan the room with his eyes, letting the whole class think about it, and then he'd call on a kid at random to answer. He also promised that if they identified all the words that started with n in a given picture, he'd do a silly dance, and he delivered. I liked the whimsy --- it reminded me of me in preschool. I did think he let the kids make too many noises, and get into each others' faces, while he was teaching. That didn't remind me of me.
After lunch, I went to Some Lady's kindergarten class. First, she introduced them to writing journals, showing them where to write the date, and then giving them a mock sentence to copy with a fill-in-the-blank ending of their choosing. Her kids seemed even more adept than Ms. L's first graders at writing, being familiar with the use of the period and being able to identify verbs as action words, for example. Her kids also demonstrated better listening skills and more subdued behavior in general. The second half of the afternoon was taken up with math. She had the kids think of and perform body-language patterns (stomp, clap, clap, snap, etc.), showed them patterns with classroom items (pencil, pencil, scissors), played a catchy song about patterns, and then gave the kids a pattern worksheet. The kids were also asked to, and could, label the patterns (as ABAB, ABBABB, etc.). I liked the results she got, but I got a vague sort of sense of superiority vibe from her. I may be overly touchy, just because I know I'm a good teacher and have more experience than others might expect, and it rankles me to be given advice when it's obviously delivered as if from a wiser mentor and not a colleague. (I need to learn to swallow that kind of thing, quick, 'cause I bet I get it at Prestigious.) Also, Lady did pretty much come right out and ask me to praise her teaching effectiveness compared to Guy's --- "Do you see a difference between the two classes?" she inquired coyly. I mean, I did, and Lady ought to be applauded for her skills, but I guess there was just something about her that struck me as smug.
Lest it seem that I'm over-reacting, let me relate something that happened back on the in- service day. I didn't mention it, but it stuck with me. A teacher from another school came up to the table where Ms. L, Ms. W, Ms. S, and I were sitting and started chatting with Ms. W, whom she knew from somewhere else. Ms. W did the introductions, noting that I was a student teacher and making a little crack about it. Which was totally fine with me, as, like I've noted, our team is irreverent and jokes around a lot. A few minutes later I made a little crack back at her, whereupon the teacher from the other school said sharply to me, "Uh, you're just a student teacher, so shut up. Know your place."
I kid you not. My team did stick up for me, in a kind of muted, non-boat-rocking of way. Anyhow, I said nothing, because I need to learn to let some stuff go. I have no intention of being spineless as a rule, but as practice for being the new (and slightly unwanted by some) guy, I ignored this particular power-tripper.
I slept until nearly 9:00, like a self-satisfied somnolent sybarite. I ate a leisurely breakfast and then tooled up to Brown Elementary to sit in on a couple of classes.
The first one was Some Guy's kindergarten class. He read a poem, then asked the kids to identify certain words' onset and rime. he then read a longer story, and stopped occasionally to ask questions on and ask for predictions about vocabulary, motives, and plot. It seemed the same as the first few weeks of first grade, but with a little less emphasis on print. For example, he played a song about the week's letter, n, instead of showing a big book with a printed poem. I liked the way he would ask a question and scan the room with his eyes, letting the whole class think about it, and then he'd call on a kid at random to answer. He also promised that if they identified all the words that started with n in a given picture, he'd do a silly dance, and he delivered. I liked the whimsy --- it reminded me of me in preschool. I did think he let the kids make too many noises, and get into each others' faces, while he was teaching. That didn't remind me of me.
After lunch, I went to Some Lady's kindergarten class. First, she introduced them to writing journals, showing them where to write the date, and then giving them a mock sentence to copy with a fill-in-the-blank ending of their choosing. Her kids seemed even more adept than Ms. L's first graders at writing, being familiar with the use of the period and being able to identify verbs as action words, for example. Her kids also demonstrated better listening skills and more subdued behavior in general. The second half of the afternoon was taken up with math. She had the kids think of and perform body-language patterns (stomp, clap, clap, snap, etc.), showed them patterns with classroom items (pencil, pencil, scissors), played a catchy song about patterns, and then gave the kids a pattern worksheet. The kids were also asked to, and could, label the patterns (as ABAB, ABBABB, etc.). I liked the results she got, but I got a vague sort of sense of superiority vibe from her. I may be overly touchy, just because I know I'm a good teacher and have more experience than others might expect, and it rankles me to be given advice when it's obviously delivered as if from a wiser mentor and not a colleague. (I need to learn to swallow that kind of thing, quick, 'cause I bet I get it at Prestigious.) Also, Lady did pretty much come right out and ask me to praise her teaching effectiveness compared to Guy's --- "Do you see a difference between the two classes?" she inquired coyly. I mean, I did, and Lady ought to be applauded for her skills, but I guess there was just something about her that struck me as smug.
Lest it seem that I'm over-reacting, let me relate something that happened back on the in- service day. I didn't mention it, but it stuck with me. A teacher from another school came up to the table where Ms. L, Ms. W, Ms. S, and I were sitting and started chatting with Ms. W, whom she knew from somewhere else. Ms. W did the introductions, noting that I was a student teacher and making a little crack about it. Which was totally fine with me, as, like I've noted, our team is irreverent and jokes around a lot. A few minutes later I made a little crack back at her, whereupon the teacher from the other school said sharply to me, "Uh, you're just a student teacher, so shut up. Know your place."
I kid you not. My team did stick up for me, in a kind of muted, non-boat-rocking of way. Anyhow, I said nothing, because I need to learn to let some stuff go. I have no intention of being spineless as a rule, but as practice for being the new (and slightly unwanted by some) guy, I ignored this particular power-tripper.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
All over bar the shouting
Well, that's it for Student Teaching, except for next week's series of observations (a less rigorous schedule, to say the least). It was an unusual day to begin with: the entire school participated in a "race" around the field for twelve minutes. They collected feathers each time they completed a circuit, and later the entire school, class by class, attached the feathers to a giant wooden turkey. Of course, it wasn't really a race; apparently years back they used to give ribbons to kids who ran the farthest, but they don't do that anymore. Nowadays, the entire world is the Special Olympics, and no one ever wins or loses. Some schools never even give failing grades.
***
A boy who is in the first grade for the second time this year told me, apropos of nothing, "I hate my life." When I asked him why, he said it was because his sister made him dress as a girl when he was one or two. He may be making the whole thing up (he's definitely a casual teller of tall tales), but any seven-year-old who says he hates his life definitely needs to see the counselor. So I'd better tell the counselor about it on Monday, I just realize.
***
I gave the kids treat bags with decorated pencils, stickers, candy, and a personalized note for each one. Mostly, it was easy to say something nice about them, either one of my trademark humorous bits of hyperbole ("You're the smartest kid in Smart City! Your name ought to be Genius Q. Brainiac!") or a genuine note of appreciation for one of their virtues. Some were harder. For Perezoso, I praised his artistic ability (he really is good at drawing, and loves comics). For Drooly, I noted her interest in all things zoological. Sassy was a tough one: neither sweet-natured, nor smart (or even passably clever), nor helpful in class. I finally put, rather lamely, "You're a good sister!"
***
A boy who is in the first grade for the second time this year told me, apropos of nothing, "I hate my life." When I asked him why, he said it was because his sister made him dress as a girl when he was one or two. He may be making the whole thing up (he's definitely a casual teller of tall tales), but any seven-year-old who says he hates his life definitely needs to see the counselor. So I'd better tell the counselor about it on Monday, I just realize.
***
I gave the kids treat bags with decorated pencils, stickers, candy, and a personalized note for each one. Mostly, it was easy to say something nice about them, either one of my trademark humorous bits of hyperbole ("You're the smartest kid in Smart City! Your name ought to be Genius Q. Brainiac!") or a genuine note of appreciation for one of their virtues. Some were harder. For Perezoso, I praised his artistic ability (he really is good at drawing, and loves comics). For Drooly, I noted her interest in all things zoological. Sassy was a tough one: neither sweet-natured, nor smart (or even passably clever), nor helpful in class. I finally put, rather lamely, "You're a good sister!"
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Any Turkey Can Tango
I was at Brown over twelve hours today. The first grade did their song-and-dance Thanksgiving production at 7:00 p.m in the gym in front of hundreds of parents and well-wishers. (Drooly mentioned in an offhand way just before she went on, "My imaginary eighteen-year-old brother might come tonight." My, but that girl marches to a different trumpeter.) The show went off without a hitch, except for one poor girl who was terrified and completely froze, staring off into space with her little mouth stuck open in a shocked O while everyone else genstured and sung and spun. On the whole, I was proud of the little hooligans.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Week Eleven, Last Observation
Week eleven! Five days this week, two days next week, and then five easy days the week after during which I'll observe other classes. And then this sumbitch is finally well and truly over.
Glad to be moving on (to my job! at Prestigious! thank God!), but I will miss the kids and the first-grade teachers. I should thank the deities of the aleatory for my great fortune, working with a team full of such camaraderie and good humor.
State School Sponsor came for the fourth and final observation today. I led the kids through another of my highly enjoyable PowerPoint presentations, this one on the verb endings -s, -ed, and -ing, as well as the possessive apostrophe-s ending. Then I distributed a worksheet of my own devising based on material covered in the PowerPoint to most of the class before taking the low-achieving readers to guided group reading of short phonics stories that featured the endings.
Sponsor gave me a generic letter of recommendation and told me I'd be getting an A for the class. I'd told her about the five-month contract at Prestigious, and she said I ought to apply for jobs in the fall just in case. She also repeated the old saw that public schools pay more than private; I didn't have the heart to tell her that in this case the pay's better on the other side. Still, though I hope Prestigious will just extend my contract, I'd better hedge bets and apply at public schools for the fall of '08.
Not much learning went on today for two reasons. (1) The Thanksgiving play is coming up, so every first-grader has been spending a lot of time lined up at the cafeteria stage's proscenium and taking turns mumbling or shouting lines and then breaking into song every so often. Busby Berkeley it's not, but it's cute. (2) A local university is doing some kind of experiment on the children while they play with computers. Brown Elementary is, without a doubt, being paid for providing the guinea pigs, given how the principal perseverated at the faculty to get the kids' permission slips in so everyone could participate. Anyway, it's an inconvenience, because the kids miss some learning, but Ms. L did appreciate the forty-five minutes they were out of her hands, in the computer lab, and being subjected to Narada knows what unspeakable Ludovico technique. Just kidding, it's just some dopey psychology test, I'm sure.
Glad to be moving on (to my job! at Prestigious! thank God!), but I will miss the kids and the first-grade teachers. I should thank the deities of the aleatory for my great fortune, working with a team full of such camaraderie and good humor.
State School Sponsor came for the fourth and final observation today. I led the kids through another of my highly enjoyable PowerPoint presentations, this one on the verb endings -s, -ed, and -ing, as well as the possessive apostrophe-s ending. Then I distributed a worksheet of my own devising based on material covered in the PowerPoint to most of the class before taking the low-achieving readers to guided group reading of short phonics stories that featured the endings.
Sponsor gave me a generic letter of recommendation and told me I'd be getting an A for the class. I'd told her about the five-month contract at Prestigious, and she said I ought to apply for jobs in the fall just in case. She also repeated the old saw that public schools pay more than private; I didn't have the heart to tell her that in this case the pay's better on the other side. Still, though I hope Prestigious will just extend my contract, I'd better hedge bets and apply at public schools for the fall of '08.
Not much learning went on today for two reasons. (1) The Thanksgiving play is coming up, so every first-grader has been spending a lot of time lined up at the cafeteria stage's proscenium and taking turns mumbling or shouting lines and then breaking into song every so often. Busby Berkeley it's not, but it's cute. (2) A local university is doing some kind of experiment on the children while they play with computers. Brown Elementary is, without a doubt, being paid for providing the guinea pigs, given how the principal perseverated at the faculty to get the kids' permission slips in so everyone could participate. Anyway, it's an inconvenience, because the kids miss some learning, but Ms. L did appreciate the forty-five minutes they were out of her hands, in the computer lab, and being subjected to Narada knows what unspeakable Ludovico technique. Just kidding, it's just some dopey psychology test, I'm sure.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
An elliptical education
The first graders have language arts most of the morning. Many of the New! Hot! reading strategies passed down from on high (such as GLAD strategies and daily literacy centers) have been discarded, but we spend a lot of time on vowel sounds, blending, sight words and so forth. The kids will soon start learning about inflections, endings, and other basic grammar. Language arts takes more than half of their classroom time.
There's an all-too-brief recess, then lunch. The kids walk around outside after lunch, to get a little more cardiac exercise, then they go to specials.
Twice a week they go to music, twice a week to P.E., and one single block of 45 minutes per week is spent in art.
We spend about an hour on math, including calendar time, in which we tally days of school and the kids think up equations for the number day it is. A lot of math --- maybe too much --- is done on the overhead while the kids follow along on worksheets. There's too little manipulative experimentation, and for first graders, that's too bad.
Once a week they go to the library after math to hear a story and check out books.
Science is less than forty minutes long, at the end of the day, and it's a good week when we actually get to it four days out of five. Otherwise the kids just catch up on unfinished work, write in their journals, or hear a book. The science lessons are usually fun for the kids. For example, they loved making paper shapes balance using counterweights, and they enjoy growing plants --- but they don't really understand why they record observations in their science journals. There's just not enough time in the day devoted to the teaching of good scientific practice.
***
I read the kids a book today about three turkeys on a farm who get excited about the upcoming Thanksgiving celebration and hold a series of contests to decide who will be the Thanksgiving turkey that year. In the middle of their striving, they overhear the farmer talking and realize just what will happen to the "winner."
At that point, I asked the kids for predictions for what would they turkeys would do now. The kids gave me all sorts of answers: they'd hide in the grass, they'd disguise themselves as other animals, they'd keep running right on out of the farm, etc.
One kid predicted the end accurately, and I gave him some attention. But then I said that everyone else's answers were just as important as his. I noted that their answers were imaginative and could easily have ended the story on a satisfying note. I told them I would like to see them write their one endings based on their ideas.
I do think it's important for kids to hear "no" and "wrong" when they have a wrong answer, instead of the more common damning with faint praise ("good try!"). But I also think that kids become better students when they understand that observing, predicting, using strategies and making reasonable inferences and predictions are all just as important as getting questions right.
There's an all-too-brief recess, then lunch. The kids walk around outside after lunch, to get a little more cardiac exercise, then they go to specials.
Twice a week they go to music, twice a week to P.E., and one single block of 45 minutes per week is spent in art.
We spend about an hour on math, including calendar time, in which we tally days of school and the kids think up equations for the number day it is. A lot of math --- maybe too much --- is done on the overhead while the kids follow along on worksheets. There's too little manipulative experimentation, and for first graders, that's too bad.
Once a week they go to the library after math to hear a story and check out books.
Science is less than forty minutes long, at the end of the day, and it's a good week when we actually get to it four days out of five. Otherwise the kids just catch up on unfinished work, write in their journals, or hear a book. The science lessons are usually fun for the kids. For example, they loved making paper shapes balance using counterweights, and they enjoy growing plants --- but they don't really understand why they record observations in their science journals. There's just not enough time in the day devoted to the teaching of good scientific practice.
***
I read the kids a book today about three turkeys on a farm who get excited about the upcoming Thanksgiving celebration and hold a series of contests to decide who will be the Thanksgiving turkey that year. In the middle of their striving, they overhear the farmer talking and realize just what will happen to the "winner."
At that point, I asked the kids for predictions for what would they turkeys would do now. The kids gave me all sorts of answers: they'd hide in the grass, they'd disguise themselves as other animals, they'd keep running right on out of the farm, etc.
One kid predicted the end accurately, and I gave him some attention. But then I said that everyone else's answers were just as important as his. I noted that their answers were imaginative and could easily have ended the story on a satisfying note. I told them I would like to see them write their one endings based on their ideas.
I do think it's important for kids to hear "no" and "wrong" when they have a wrong answer, instead of the more common damning with faint praise ("good try!"). But I also think that kids become better students when they understand that observing, predicting, using strategies and making reasonable inferences and predictions are all just as important as getting questions right.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
A bad egg
Today I handed out worksheets on the short vowel u. The kids had to write the appropriate words under such pictures as mug, bug, sun and so forth. One of the pictures, to my amazement, was a gun. I thought all schools had a zero-tolerance policy for even a mention of firearms. I was pleasantly surprised when many of the kids asked me in bafflement what the picture of the gun was. I reluctantly told them.
***
One of our first-graders who gets free lunch tried to take a hard-boiled egg today. Things like eggs and box juice and ice cream and pickles are extras; they're not included in the $2.75 or so basic lunch price. Eggs cost an additional quarter. Well, he tried to sneak the egg out surreptitiously, and of course the hawk-eyed lunch lady at the register caught him, and he was so surprised and upset he dropped his tray and grapes rolled around everywhere.
Poor little welfare-fed guy. They can't treat him to a twenty-five cent egg? It's good healthy protein, for the love of Krishna. He's not in my class, but I may give him a dollar to get a side.
***
One of our first-graders who gets free lunch tried to take a hard-boiled egg today. Things like eggs and box juice and ice cream and pickles are extras; they're not included in the $2.75 or so basic lunch price. Eggs cost an additional quarter. Well, he tried to sneak the egg out surreptitiously, and of course the hawk-eyed lunch lady at the register caught him, and he was so surprised and upset he dropped his tray and grapes rolled around everywhere.
Poor little welfare-fed guy. They can't treat him to a twenty-five cent egg? It's good healthy protein, for the love of Krishna. He's not in my class, but I may give him a dollar to get a side.
Friday, November 02, 2007
The road to nowhere
As I'd feared, there are indeed, without a doubt, rats or squirrels in my attic or walls. It's very disconcerting to hear scrabbling and gnawing coming from your bedroom wall about two inches from head level. I no longer feel the least bit bad about shooting those horrible little rodents. I wish I could shoot them through the walls.
***
This district's starting salary for a new teacher with a BA and no experience: $42,000 and change. Not bad at all for a beginner; the typical 24-year-old woman just out of school can live well on such a salary, whether single or married, kidless, and sharing two salaries.
The salary for the same teacher with a BA and 14 years of experience: $46,000 and change. So, basically, no recompense at all for experience. And if that teacher now has kids and is looking down the road to retirement, it doesn't seem so much at all. That lack of salary growth says a lot about how little the administration values professionals who are in it for the long haul. No future, no incentives. And yet the teachers are supposed to attend all kinds of professional development classes throughout their careers.
***
I saw David Lynch's Eraserhead with Epalg. It was, without a doubt, one of the least enjoyable movie experiences I've ever had. Nothing but visceral stimulus. I don't care at all about things that don't bother to have an emotional or intellectual resonance. Hell, I'll settle for a spiritual vision. But a drawn-out nightmare on film? It just doesn't have any impact on me, except boredom. I was rolling my eyes throughout the film, when I wasn't dozing off (hey, it was a midnight show, and I had been up since 6:00 a.m.). I mean, I like to look at Salvador Dali's paintings, but not for an hour and a half. Or maybe I just go into a film with different expectations and value judgments for what's acceptable than I do painting. And with good reason, I'd say.
So the film I enjoyed the least of all time? Probably. The worst film? That's a different and more subjective question, of course. I suppose you have to ask what Lynch was getting at. Did he want to depict an extended nightmare? That is, his aim seemed to be a series of visuals unconnected by logic or linear storytelling, and a discordant score, meant to shock or revolt the viewer. If so, mission accomplished. But I was bored.
***
This district's starting salary for a new teacher with a BA and no experience: $42,000 and change. Not bad at all for a beginner; the typical 24-year-old woman just out of school can live well on such a salary, whether single or married, kidless, and sharing two salaries.
The salary for the same teacher with a BA and 14 years of experience: $46,000 and change. So, basically, no recompense at all for experience. And if that teacher now has kids and is looking down the road to retirement, it doesn't seem so much at all. That lack of salary growth says a lot about how little the administration values professionals who are in it for the long haul. No future, no incentives. And yet the teachers are supposed to attend all kinds of professional development classes throughout their careers.
***
I saw David Lynch's Eraserhead with Epalg. It was, without a doubt, one of the least enjoyable movie experiences I've ever had. Nothing but visceral stimulus. I don't care at all about things that don't bother to have an emotional or intellectual resonance. Hell, I'll settle for a spiritual vision. But a drawn-out nightmare on film? It just doesn't have any impact on me, except boredom. I was rolling my eyes throughout the film, when I wasn't dozing off (hey, it was a midnight show, and I had been up since 6:00 a.m.). I mean, I like to look at Salvador Dali's paintings, but not for an hour and a half. Or maybe I just go into a film with different expectations and value judgments for what's acceptable than I do painting. And with good reason, I'd say.
So the film I enjoyed the least of all time? Probably. The worst film? That's a different and more subjective question, of course. I suppose you have to ask what Lynch was getting at. Did he want to depict an extended nightmare? That is, his aim seemed to be a series of visuals unconnected by logic or linear storytelling, and a discordant score, meant to shock or revolt the viewer. If so, mission accomplished. But I was bored.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
In the land of the blind...
...The guy who can make a PowerPoint presentation is king.
So I had my third (and penultimate, it turns out) observation by my State School Sponsor this morning. (Previous sessions are here and here.) For the third time, she was mightily impressed and effusive in her praise. That PowerPoint presentation I made on reading strategies (mentioned briefly here), which to me was not much work and turned out only fairly okay, garnered rave reviews. She told me I ought to market it, that the industry is crying out for people who are creative and can make tools for other teachers to use. She even said she'd call a few people and see if anyone was interested.
Now, I know that I won't actually market it, and that probably nobody really cares about some silly electronic slideshow that a student teacher made. But it does underscore the dearth of creativity and industry in the teaching profession. Mandatory state testing and the constant influx of New! Big Idea! fads from administration and district higher-ups are partly to blame, as I've written here before; they choke the creative impulse out of teachers. But as I've also said before, many elementary teachers --- while creative in their way --- aren't broadly educated nor accustomed to noetic pursuits, and are only too happy to travel the most comfortable and well-worn of methodological paths. So a guy with a lifetime of writing and creating under his belt, plus a lot more free time than the average teacher, can really shine in such an environment.
In any case, what with all the glowing observation sessions, my Sponsor is getting to be a big booster of ol' Chance, and I'm sure she'd try hard to help me land a job. I almost feel bad that I'm starting at Prestigious in January. Then I remember how Prestigious has more to offer, both for the pocketbook and for the soul, than any ISD in the state, and I feel better.
So I had my third (and penultimate, it turns out) observation by my State School Sponsor this morning. (Previous sessions are here and here.) For the third time, she was mightily impressed and effusive in her praise. That PowerPoint presentation I made on reading strategies (mentioned briefly here), which to me was not much work and turned out only fairly okay, garnered rave reviews. She told me I ought to market it, that the industry is crying out for people who are creative and can make tools for other teachers to use. She even said she'd call a few people and see if anyone was interested.
Now, I know that I won't actually market it, and that probably nobody really cares about some silly electronic slideshow that a student teacher made. But it does underscore the dearth of creativity and industry in the teaching profession. Mandatory state testing and the constant influx of New! Big Idea! fads from administration and district higher-ups are partly to blame, as I've written here before; they choke the creative impulse out of teachers. But as I've also said before, many elementary teachers --- while creative in their way --- aren't broadly educated nor accustomed to noetic pursuits, and are only too happy to travel the most comfortable and well-worn of methodological paths. So a guy with a lifetime of writing and creating under his belt, plus a lot more free time than the average teacher, can really shine in such an environment.
In any case, what with all the glowing observation sessions, my Sponsor is getting to be a big booster of ol' Chance, and I'm sure she'd try hard to help me land a job. I almost feel bad that I'm starting at Prestigious in January. Then I remember how Prestigious has more to offer, both for the pocketbook and for the soul, than any ISD in the state, and I feel better.
Friday, October 26, 2007
An old-timer grouses
Everything's too politically correct these days. We can't have ghosts or jack-o-lanterns or anything fun for Halloween at Brown Elementary. We can't even man the fuck up and admit what we're doing; we just pretend mainstream culture doesn't exist. The kids were painting paper pumpkins, and one girl asked if next week they could draw faces on the pumpkins for Halloween. The teacher didn't say, "No, because we're terrified that recognizing that American culture includes such festivities as Halloween might offend a Muslim or a Jehovah's Witness who nevertheless lives in America and is steeped in our culture." Instead she dodged the question with a non-committal question: "Would you like to do that someday?" And then she smiled and carried on, neither admitting or denying the possibility of such a thing ever happening.
***
Friday was a day where all the kids seemed to find it necessary to tell Ms. L and I every single thing they did. They were constantly out of their seats showing us completed work, telling us anecdotes, and so on. I mean, it's nice they were doing the work, but they ought to know at this point that they should just turn it in and begin the next assignment.
One girl asked me if she could get a drink of water. I said sure, and she left. A few minutes later, I was crouched down helping another kid, so when she came in, she didn't see me. She asked Ms. L where I was, and then approached me. "I ended up going to the bathroom," she said.
"Okaaaay," I said, and kept helping the other kid.
A few minutes later she was back again. "Remember when I said I went to the bathroom?" she said. "Really, I only tried. I didn't actually go."
Gee, thanks for the updates. I'll be sure to stay tuned for further fascinating bathroom-related developments.
Speaking of which, another girl told me that the girls stand on top of the toilets and talk over the tops of the stalls while they're in there. Why on earth would they do that? Reminded me of this funny anecdote over at Learn Me Good, though.
***
Oh, almost forgot: a sub tried to set me up with her daughter today. Even showed me her picture. Pretty cute, too. But the sub was shocked when she found out how incredibly old I am (I look like I'm barely into my 20s). She might have still pimped out her daughter on me if I'd pushed it, but I'm not much of a dater, and on her part she did say that a 36-year-old guy like me was maybe a bit too worldly for a 25-year-old girl.
***
Friday was a day where all the kids seemed to find it necessary to tell Ms. L and I every single thing they did. They were constantly out of their seats showing us completed work, telling us anecdotes, and so on. I mean, it's nice they were doing the work, but they ought to know at this point that they should just turn it in and begin the next assignment.
One girl asked me if she could get a drink of water. I said sure, and she left. A few minutes later, I was crouched down helping another kid, so when she came in, she didn't see me. She asked Ms. L where I was, and then approached me. "I ended up going to the bathroom," she said.
"Okaaaay," I said, and kept helping the other kid.
A few minutes later she was back again. "Remember when I said I went to the bathroom?" she said. "Really, I only tried. I didn't actually go."
Gee, thanks for the updates. I'll be sure to stay tuned for further fascinating bathroom-related developments.
Speaking of which, another girl told me that the girls stand on top of the toilets and talk over the tops of the stalls while they're in there. Why on earth would they do that? Reminded me of this funny anecdote over at Learn Me Good, though.
***
Oh, almost forgot: a sub tried to set me up with her daughter today. Even showed me her picture. Pretty cute, too. But the sub was shocked when she found out how incredibly old I am (I look like I'm barely into my 20s). She might have still pimped out her daughter on me if I'd pushed it, but I'm not much of a dater, and on her part she did say that a 36-year-old guy like me was maybe a bit too worldly for a 25-year-old girl.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Week Eight
Poor Ms. S in the next first grade room. Her husband had a heart attack so she's out all week. I hope he's okay. That class had a substitute who was just terrible: came in late, left early, didn't study the lesson plan, shouted a lot, complained the kids were rowdy, talked on the phone during class hours. She's been a "professional" teacher for a lot of years, and I probably could have done a better job than her ten years ago. I'm all for paying teachers twice as much, but only if all the incompetent ones are fired first.
We also had an anti-drug rally for K-3 in the afternoon. It was seriously the most retarded thing I've ever seen in my life. Six high schoolers with puppets that lip-synched to a CD with songs and dialogue. Hard to hear, and mostly drowned out in any case by the kids screaming and laughing at the puppets' wacky antics. Way to drive that message home, Drug Free Party Kids!
We also had an anti-drug rally for K-3 in the afternoon. It was seriously the most retarded thing I've ever seen in my life. Six high schoolers with puppets that lip-synched to a CD with songs and dialogue. Hard to hear, and mostly drowned out in any case by the kids screaming and laughing at the puppets' wacky antics. Way to drive that message home, Drug Free Party Kids!
Monday, October 15, 2007
Week Seven: It's a hard knock life
Teachers routinely work ten-hour days. A kindergartener teacher told me he was sometimes at school from 6:30 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. Ms. L is nearly always at school past 5:00. Now, I don't know if they're going about their jobs in an inefficient manner, or what, but I'm impressed anyway. Who else regularly works such long hours with little recompense? Bartenders?
The teachers also spend a lot of money on supplies out of their own pockets: photographs, extra lamination (at Brown, the laminating machine is only available once a week, and only the Gorgons in the supply room can use it on pain of being screeched at), print cartridges, and so on. There is a supply stipend, but it's never enough.
An elementary teacher shouldn't have to be in charge of twenty to thirty children without so much as a teacher's aide in the room. Considering the wide gap in achievement levels, this can be a logistical nightmare. (Happily for us, a student in Ms. L's class withdrew today, leaving her with a mere and very unusual sixteen first graders.)
The teachers at Brown are all required to do tutoring one or two days a week, on top of everything else they need to plan, coordinate, and set up. The tutoring sessions are vital, however; most kids could use a lot more one-on-one instruction time.
The teachers also spend a lot of money on supplies out of their own pockets: photographs, extra lamination (at Brown, the laminating machine is only available once a week, and only the Gorgons in the supply room can use it on pain of being screeched at), print cartridges, and so on. There is a supply stipend, but it's never enough.
An elementary teacher shouldn't have to be in charge of twenty to thirty children without so much as a teacher's aide in the room. Considering the wide gap in achievement levels, this can be a logistical nightmare. (Happily for us, a student in Ms. L's class withdrew today, leaving her with a mere and very unusual sixteen first graders.)
The teachers at Brown are all required to do tutoring one or two days a week, on top of everything else they need to plan, coordinate, and set up. The tutoring sessions are vital, however; most kids could use a lot more one-on-one instruction time.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Time keeps slipping
I went to 74's birthday dinner tonight. Of course, his wife Zaftig was there, as was the Friar and Palfrey, and Zaftig's friend the Kraut and his wife. I got roundly congratulated on my job appointment. Everyone has heard of Prestigious and wants their kids to get in.
Palfrey is always a source of amusing public school anecdotes (she teaches in a largely Hispanic public school in a poor area). Today she told how some of her kids who get the free lunch were laughing at a child who brings money to buy lunch. In their eyes, they were the standard, and it was the kid buying the lunch who was abnormal, and therefore fair game for mockery. Something wrong there...
On Tuesday the first grade at Brown is going to a play. We have one kid who's a Jehovah's Witness and so can't see a play about fairies (they don't approve of fairies, of the supernatural or lifestyle varieties). One of the teachers was moaning about what we'd have to end up doing with this kid, and I half jokingly said, "Oh, all right, I'll miss the play to stay at school with him." The teachers all turned on me and said quite seriously, "Oh no you won't!" Misery loves company, and we're all getting on that goddamn bus together, whether we like it or not.
Man, kids these days are enormous. Not just fat (though they seem to be that), but tall. Kindergarteners shouldn't be four and a half feet tall, should they? Less wealthy children live on a cheap, calorie rich diet fortified with vitamins, antibiotics and an unnatural cocktail of hormones. This diet, from formula to McDonald's, seems to generate huge kids. I have no hard evidence, but observation at private schools seems to indicate the kids are shorter and slighter in comparison: that is, they have normal, healthy diets, and are kept more active.
***
Palfrey is always a source of amusing public school anecdotes (she teaches in a largely Hispanic public school in a poor area). Today she told how some of her kids who get the free lunch were laughing at a child who brings money to buy lunch. In their eyes, they were the standard, and it was the kid buying the lunch who was abnormal, and therefore fair game for mockery. Something wrong there...
On Tuesday the first grade at Brown is going to a play. We have one kid who's a Jehovah's Witness and so can't see a play about fairies (they don't approve of fairies, of the supernatural or lifestyle varieties). One of the teachers was moaning about what we'd have to end up doing with this kid, and I half jokingly said, "Oh, all right, I'll miss the play to stay at school with him." The teachers all turned on me and said quite seriously, "Oh no you won't!" Misery loves company, and we're all getting on that goddamn bus together, whether we like it or not.
Man, kids these days are enormous. Not just fat (though they seem to be that), but tall. Kindergarteners shouldn't be four and a half feet tall, should they? Less wealthy children live on a cheap, calorie rich diet fortified with vitamins, antibiotics and an unnatural cocktail of hormones. This diet, from formula to McDonald's, seems to generate huge kids. I have no hard evidence, but observation at private schools seems to indicate the kids are shorter and slighter in comparison: that is, they have normal, healthy diets, and are kept more active.
***
Indeed, a faint hypnopædic prejudice in favour of size was universal. Hence the laughter of the women to whom he made proposals, the practical joking of his equals among the men. The mockery made him feel an outsider; and feeling an outsider he behaved like one, which increased the prejudice against him and intensified the contempt and hostility aroused by his physical defects. Which in turn increased his sense of being alien and alone. A chronic fear of being slighted made him avoid his equals, made him stand, where his inferiors were concerned, self-consciously on his dignity.--- Aldous Huxley, Brave New World
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Week VI: So Very, Very Tired
Today was a student holiday but a staff in-service day at Brown Elementary.
The fun part of the day was a Singing Bee type game, where the staff picked genres and then had to finish the choruses of songs. Our team got Men At Work's "The Land Down Under." Even though I'm not a teacher, I was forced into joining one of our members up in front of everyone and "singing." And as I've noted before, I have zero sense of rhythm, tune, pitch or key. Also, I didn't know the words. So I chanted, "I come from a land down under! Something something thunder!" That went down well.
Also, our team went out to lunch at the Old Folk's Cafeteria, a staple around this town. It was okay. Though I have almost nothing in common with the 50-60+ year old ladies in the team, I tried to join in. Trying to be a team player ya know.
The rest of the day was taken up with a tutorial on GLAD Strategies. These are ideas on how to carry literacy into other fields and to make books into active learning tools. For example, they use story charts, idea maps, geographical maps (that get labeled), vocabulary charts, and so on.
It's good stuff, but the people at the top throw down so much of this kind of thing that I can see how actual teaching gets lost in the scramble to accommodate it all. Word walls, focus walls, themes, six-hour fluency, DIBELS, GLAD Strategies, literacy centers, reading intervention, daily phonemic awareness, morning messages --- these are all mandated procedures just for reading. With teachers trying under the watchful eye of administrators and with the state exams looming over them, when is there time to, say, read a good book together and talk about it? All the books the kids seem to read are these inane phonetic booklets: "Sam sat on the mat. The pig in the rig picks a fig. Did Sal and Pat grab the cat?" How utterly boring for them.
One of the experienced teachers said at lunch that there up until recently, a teacher who was good and dedicated and got results could afford to ignore a lot of the learning fads that got tossed down the pipeline. But these days the second-guessing and direction are so much that teachers are getting their hands tied.
It's easy to see just by looking at private schools that learning in the public sector is suffering in large part because of these strategies and fixes of the month. I hope that in a few years this wil reach a critical point and public education will undergo a backlash in which small community groups take control, get back to basics, and demand creativity as well as professionalism in teachers.
***
In other news, I was going to see a movie with Maddening Angel tonight (I got a free pass to an advance screening), but she got sick. I would have asked Epalg instead, but I have a blemish on my face. So I didn't. That's my life, I'm afraid.
The fun part of the day was a Singing Bee type game, where the staff picked genres and then had to finish the choruses of songs. Our team got Men At Work's "The Land Down Under." Even though I'm not a teacher, I was forced into joining one of our members up in front of everyone and "singing." And as I've noted before, I have zero sense of rhythm, tune, pitch or key. Also, I didn't know the words. So I chanted, "I come from a land down under! Something something thunder!" That went down well.
Also, our team went out to lunch at the Old Folk's Cafeteria, a staple around this town. It was okay. Though I have almost nothing in common with the 50-60+ year old ladies in the team, I tried to join in. Trying to be a team player ya know.
The rest of the day was taken up with a tutorial on GLAD Strategies. These are ideas on how to carry literacy into other fields and to make books into active learning tools. For example, they use story charts, idea maps, geographical maps (that get labeled), vocabulary charts, and so on.
It's good stuff, but the people at the top throw down so much of this kind of thing that I can see how actual teaching gets lost in the scramble to accommodate it all. Word walls, focus walls, themes, six-hour fluency, DIBELS, GLAD Strategies, literacy centers, reading intervention, daily phonemic awareness, morning messages --- these are all mandated procedures just for reading. With teachers trying under the watchful eye of administrators and with the state exams looming over them, when is there time to, say, read a good book together and talk about it? All the books the kids seem to read are these inane phonetic booklets: "Sam sat on the mat. The pig in the rig picks a fig. Did Sal and Pat grab the cat?" How utterly boring for them.
One of the experienced teachers said at lunch that there up until recently, a teacher who was good and dedicated and got results could afford to ignore a lot of the learning fads that got tossed down the pipeline. But these days the second-guessing and direction are so much that teachers are getting their hands tied.
It's easy to see just by looking at private schools that learning in the public sector is suffering in large part because of these strategies and fixes of the month. I hope that in a few years this wil reach a critical point and public education will undergo a backlash in which small community groups take control, get back to basics, and demand creativity as well as professionalism in teachers.
***
In other news, I was going to see a movie with Maddening Angel tonight (I got a free pass to an advance screening), but she got sick. I would have asked Epalg instead, but I have a blemish on my face. So I didn't. That's my life, I'm afraid.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Overhead
* Ms. L's habit of adding the /uh/ sound to her phonemes becomes particularly egregious when she blends consonants, magically and surely incomprehensibly combining /tuh/ and /wuh/ into the single sound /tw/.
* I did a math transparency on the overhead. I'd never done that before, so I didn't have a good sense of whether the pacing was appropriate or not. Ms. L very helpfully went around the room while I stood up at the front, so probably not too many kids were lost. The big question with overhead work is whether the kids are thinking along with you as you explain strategies and steps, or if they're just unthinkingly copying what you write onto their own sheets.
* I was struck numb today by the dragging, infuriating bureaucracy that public school teachers have to deal with. Someone at the top doesn't have the slightest concept of what it's like to be in a classroom, but that's not stopping them from adding more and more helpful (read: required) tips for teachers.
* Some kids are like the elements in binary chemical weapons. They're inert, harmless, by themselves, but combine the two, and you get a lot of explosions. I note that the day after I mentioned that no one had ever gotten on the red section of the behavior chart, a boy did today. I don't know what impact a note home does. Probably none, except to the kind of child who wants to be a success and so isn't a behavioral problem anyway.
* Think good thoughts for me Thursday morning, internet friends.
* I did a math transparency on the overhead. I'd never done that before, so I didn't have a good sense of whether the pacing was appropriate or not. Ms. L very helpfully went around the room while I stood up at the front, so probably not too many kids were lost. The big question with overhead work is whether the kids are thinking along with you as you explain strategies and steps, or if they're just unthinkingly copying what you write onto their own sheets.
* I was struck numb today by the dragging, infuriating bureaucracy that public school teachers have to deal with. Someone at the top doesn't have the slightest concept of what it's like to be in a classroom, but that's not stopping them from adding more and more helpful (read: required) tips for teachers.
* Some kids are like the elements in binary chemical weapons. They're inert, harmless, by themselves, but combine the two, and you get a lot of explosions. I note that the day after I mentioned that no one had ever gotten on the red section of the behavior chart, a boy did today. I don't know what impact a note home does. Probably none, except to the kind of child who wants to be a success and so isn't a behavioral problem anyway.
* Think good thoughts for me Thursday morning, internet friends.
Monday, October 01, 2007
Week five, observation two
Week five began with a 9:00 a.m. observation of my language arts lesson by my State School Sponsor. I taught a lesson on cause and effect, which began with reading a book about a tiger who lost his roar, and ended with the kids making their own folded single-sheet "books." They wrote "I lost my..." on the left side of the fold and an effect sentence beginning with "So..." on the right side. I also had stickers of the words "cause" and "effect" for them to label the sides.
The lesson went great; I had written it up and read over it a couple of times, so I was fairly ready. My Sponsor absolutely loved it; she was full of praise for my delivery, pacing, redirection, and poise. And frankly, I was impressed myself with how well I did. I handled all the little digressions and distractions admirably, in a quiet and friendly but firm tone. My Sponsor said I was very good about letting the students know what my expectations were. It was, dare I say it, fun.
In giving me the run-down of her evaluation, she said she hoped I would always work with the younger children, because I obviously had a gift for it, especially for a man.
So, definitely an ego-stroking morning.
I also taught a good chunk of math: calendar, sequencing, and greater and lesser than.
Here's a good idea I had about behavior. Ms. L has a chart on the wall with green, yellow, orange and red sections. The children start the day with clothespins on green, and for major infractions, they have to move down a color. If they end up on red (which has not happened so far), they get a note home. If they land on orange (which happens a lot for a few of them), they miss ten minutes of recess, unless it happens after recess, in which case nothing happens to them. (Yeah, not very effective.)
My idea is to combine this chart with color-coordinated stickers. My students would get a green, yellow, orange or red sticker in their calendar at the end of the day. They would take the calendars home every day along with their completed work. Every two weeks or so, there would be a class treat, and students who had, say, eight yellow or five orange stickers in ten days would not get the treat. This would provide long-term incentive, a concrete connection between behavior and recompense, and would allow parents to tell at a glance how their child was doing in terms of behavior. So that's my idea for when or if I ever have a classroom.
I made the appointment for my final meeting with the Head at Prestigious. By 9:00 a.m. Thursday, I will know what his "concerns" were and whether I have a job there.
Freaking out again!
The lesson went great; I had written it up and read over it a couple of times, so I was fairly ready. My Sponsor absolutely loved it; she was full of praise for my delivery, pacing, redirection, and poise. And frankly, I was impressed myself with how well I did. I handled all the little digressions and distractions admirably, in a quiet and friendly but firm tone. My Sponsor said I was very good about letting the students know what my expectations were. It was, dare I say it, fun.
In giving me the run-down of her evaluation, she said she hoped I would always work with the younger children, because I obviously had a gift for it, especially for a man.
So, definitely an ego-stroking morning.
I also taught a good chunk of math: calendar, sequencing, and greater and lesser than.
Here's a good idea I had about behavior. Ms. L has a chart on the wall with green, yellow, orange and red sections. The children start the day with clothespins on green, and for major infractions, they have to move down a color. If they end up on red (which has not happened so far), they get a note home. If they land on orange (which happens a lot for a few of them), they miss ten minutes of recess, unless it happens after recess, in which case nothing happens to them. (Yeah, not very effective.)
My idea is to combine this chart with color-coordinated stickers. My students would get a green, yellow, orange or red sticker in their calendar at the end of the day. They would take the calendars home every day along with their completed work. Every two weeks or so, there would be a class treat, and students who had, say, eight yellow or five orange stickers in ten days would not get the treat. This would provide long-term incentive, a concrete connection between behavior and recompense, and would allow parents to tell at a glance how their child was doing in terms of behavior. So that's my idea for when or if I ever have a classroom.
I made the appointment for my final meeting with the Head at Prestigious. By 9:00 a.m. Thursday, I will know what his "concerns" were and whether I have a job there.
Freaking out again!
Thursday, September 27, 2007
A nation of the unemployed
Today's thought-provoking question at circle time was "If you could be any kind of building, what would it be?" The kids gave great answers like hospital, art museum, library and (bizarrely) casino. Man, kids really do surprise you. As for me, I thought I might want to be a hotel, but I'd hate to witness all the loneliness and pain found in hotels. I'd rather want to be, say, a bridal suite --- where only people who delight in each other's company go.
***
Two girls approached Ms. L today while we were lining up for something or other. Kid A said, "When will the work get harder?"
Kid K said, "Yes, it's too easy. I can spell cat and hat," she added with a slight touch of derision.
This is, remarkably but perhaps all too predictably, perhaps the fifth child in four weeks who has requested of me or the teacher more and harder work in school. As I watch the teacher give endless iterations of examples of the work, or lead the class over the entire worksheet before the students are to do it at their desks, I don't blame them. I'm just surprised, and a little sad, that they haven't yet caught on that public education will kill their innate curiosity and desire to learn.
***
Two girls approached Ms. L today while we were lining up for something or other. Kid A said, "When will the work get harder?"
Kid K said, "Yes, it's too easy. I can spell cat and hat," she added with a slight touch of derision.
This is, remarkably but perhaps all too predictably, perhaps the fifth child in four weeks who has requested of me or the teacher more and harder work in school. As I watch the teacher give endless iterations of examples of the work, or lead the class over the entire worksheet before the students are to do it at their desks, I don't blame them. I'm just surprised, and a little sad, that they haven't yet caught on that public education will kill their innate curiosity and desire to learn.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Bullet points
* Student teaching is one quarter of the way over. This is week four.
* For language arts, I read an extremely simple Big Book (meant for read-alongs: with few words, repeating phrases, etc). I also reviewed some phonemes and some blending exercises.
* For math, I did the calendar (month, date, day, weather, days of school tally), and then taught a lesson on comparison. the kids tossed a set of bi-colored discs out of a cup, then tallied how many of each color and which total was greater.
* While Ms. L was talking about counting by twos, a boy raised his hand and said, "Um, I already learned how to count by twos in kindergarten. I thought I would learn new things in first grade, like how to count by fives."
Poor naive kid. He's too young to realize that public education in Texas doesn't exist to teach kids new things. Its purpose is to move them along.
* For language arts, I read an extremely simple Big Book (meant for read-alongs: with few words, repeating phrases, etc). I also reviewed some phonemes and some blending exercises.
* For math, I did the calendar (month, date, day, weather, days of school tally), and then taught a lesson on comparison. the kids tossed a set of bi-colored discs out of a cup, then tallied how many of each color and which total was greater.
* While Ms. L was talking about counting by twos, a boy raised his hand and said, "Um, I already learned how to count by twos in kindergarten. I thought I would learn new things in first grade, like how to count by fives."
Poor naive kid. He's too young to realize that public education in Texas doesn't exist to teach kids new things. Its purpose is to move them along.
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