Ready or Not

As happens to all new teachers periodically, I’m having a formal observation this week in my English 9 class. My principal, Mrs. Stratton, will enter the class, sit silently to the side, and note everything I do, say, or indicate with a motion or facial expression. The students will begin the class quietly, a little nervously, until they realize her presence has nothing to do with them. Then they’ll be their normal easily-distracted-bored-by-learning-trying-to-find-their-place-ninth-grade students. I really like this class, and sometimes we have a discussion that surprises me. But I hope I don’t get any surprises next Wednesday.

Every detail of the lesson must be planned in careful increments. I’ll have an opening motivational activity, which must refer to the previous knowledge of the students and excite them about what we’re about to do. I’ll have a basic instructional module, which will present new information. Then we’ll go into a group reading, in which we’ll delve further into the story of “The Scarlet Ibis”. A second instructional module, which will present the idea of a symbol as a way to present meaning and theme, will follow the reading. Finally, the creative application part of the day – “the students will create a personal symbol to represent their self-image as a way to understand the purpose of symbolism in the text.”

I must remember to have a strong closure activity to “leave ‘em wantin’ more”. What could I do that would make the 14 year old students want to come back tomorrow and read more about the sickly and weak main character of the story? I’ll tell them about the graduate course I’m taking which required me to make a project with a personal symbol of my leadership style. I’ll show them my collage, with a picture and text, and let the students know I also resented spending my Sunday afternoon on homework. Still, when it was done, I was very proud of it. I’ll share my pride with my students, too, in the hopes that they’ll look forward to successful completion of this assignment. Then I'll try to get them interested in describing their own character through use of a personal symbol.

After the observation I will get to sit down with Mrs. Stratton and hear her evaluation of my performance as a member of her instructional team. Since I’m older and wiser this discussion doesn’t make me nervous. I’ve learned that hearing someone else’s opinion of my performance isn’t personal, but it can help me become better at what I’m doing. I won’t be offended if she proffers criticism, unless it is something beyond my control. Like the fact that things don’t stay plugged in the wall, that the room is incredibly hot and lacks ventilation, that there are two students with emotional challenges that sometimes need breaks and diversions, or that the student who’s been absent for a week may come and won’t have a clue what we’re doing. But then part of the observation process is watching how the teacher anticipates the unexpected and handles challenges. If the students surprise me, I need to be ready to respond.

The best part is I have a second observation in my World Civilization class in just two weeks … and two more in the spring. Does all this sound familiar to you?

Have a good week!

Posted by at 4:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I am 47 years old, and only a second year teacher. I began my high school teaching career after 30 years of other jobs. I don’t know as much about teaching high school as those teachers who completed a four year college program, but I know a whole lot of other stuff. All that other stuff adds up to a lot of knowledge to apply to the classroom. What specifically can I offer as an older but inexperienced teacher?

I know what matters in life. I know that relationships and knowledge are much more important that possessions and position. I know that the things I did as a teenager shaped my adult life. I know that what I learned in algebra and world history and music classes helped me in my jobs, and I can tell you how. I know that the experiences I had with all kinds of diverse people helped develop the character I have now. I recognize the mistakes I made, and I understand my regrets. I’ve had a lot of successes in my life just because I tried to do something. I have learned a lot, so I know how to learn. I know that everything I do today affects the rest of my life.

I know that our world is interconnected, and that both personal history and world history are joined. What happened before can happen again, and we need to study the past in order to prepare for the future.

I know that I am an adult now, not a “young person”. I am a teacher, a professional, a leader. I am not in the classroom to be friends with the students. So if they don’t like me, or don’t think I’m cool, I am good with that. I learned this because early on I realized my own children didn’t need more friends, they needed a mother. A mother who was friendly, yes, but who wasn’t afraid to assert authority. I want to be that kind of teacher, too.

I am old enough that I know I am not all that cool, and I’m cool with that. My clothes are more comfy than chic, my hair-style is simple. I’m not trying to get approval from the students in my class – they don’t have to like me, they just have to respect me. Still, that inner-teenager in me wants to think they do like me. At least I get a lot of “Hey Ms. Denney” in the halls. I’m young enough to want to be liked.

When you’ve lived longer you have more stories. I like to share stories about myself with my students. I tell students about my personal experiences, or the experiences of people I know. High school students like stories about people. Even an active teenager-filled classroom quiets down for a good story.

I know that when I share my stories, I encourage listeners to think about their own stories. We need our students to understand their past stories, and to think about their present stories. More importantly, we must work to help them believe their future stories are positive adventures just waiting to begin.

History students learn that stories about individuals come together to form histories about whole cultures. English students learn to see stories as the foundations for literature. If a child wants to hear more stories, they must learn to read, and I’ll help them do that. If a child wants to tell their own story, they must learn to write. I’ll help them do that, too.

I know that my own history, and all that I’ve learned, have come together to create a good teacher. Everything that happens now is another chapter in my story book.

Posted by at 6:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (12)

You know my niece and nephew lived in New Orleans, two young adults just beginning their post-college professional lives. I appreciate your good thoughts and prayers, and I’ve let Nick and Michelle know of them. I am sharing their story because individual stories shape cultural history. The story of Hurricane Katrina is now part of the history of our country and its people.

As many New Orleanians are doing, Nick and Michelle finally got to go home to see what’s there. Michelle wrote,

“Nick and I went to New Orleans this past weekend to retrieve some things out of our apartments. The city that was once so beautiful and alive is now a massive site of destruction and despair. Everything that we once loved about New Orleans is gone. In its place are piles of debris and the garbage that used to be people's lives. Although the contents of our apartments were fine, the neighborhoods and buildings were damaged. My car had what looked like almost four feet of water in it. The water was not only in the car, it was above the seats. The inside is now completely covered in mold. It cannot even be salvaged, it's gone. What wasn't destroyed by the wind and flood was ravaged by the desperate people left in the city after the storm. St. Charles, once covered by an amazing canopy of 100+ year old oak trees, now is sparsely covered with mangled limbs. They had to cut most of the trees to pieces to repair the power lines. It will take decades for those limbs to grow back, if they ever do. For those of you who had the opportunity to visit New Orleans before this bitch came along, consider yourself very lucky. For those of you who were less fortunate, who never saw her in all her glory, what a shame. It will never be the same. I will mourn the loss of her for my entire life.”

I know that part of recovery from trauma is the stage of getting angry. That helps you move ahead. Call her what she is, Michelle, that hurricane is dead and gone and now it’s up to us to help rebuild New Orleans. Let us know what you need.

Posted by at 8:33 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Saturday morning, and I am celebrating with a second cup of coffee. Saturday brings the chance to get up and actually see the sun rise! What glory it brings. Usually by now I’m looking at sixteen students ages 14-18, all “eager” to learn parts of speech at 7:30 am. If I’m lucky the sleepy ones had a caffeinated drink for breakfast. If I’m really lucky the overly-energetic kids have had their medication and not a caffeinated drink.

I’m thinking about parents this morning. I have several I need to contact. It is, I think, one of the hardest parts of the teaching job. First of all, teachers aren’t in offices. In my school, at least, we don’t have phones in the classrooms, and the phones in the workrooms are never next to the computers we need to use to look up phone numbers. The information sheets the students fill out have (intentionally or not) inaccurate numbers. With cell phones, kids today don’t learn phone numbers – Mom’s office is programmed in, but they can’t (won’t) tell you her number. Planning periods are so often taken up with standing in line at copiers or meetings that it’s hard to get on the phone, let alone be available when the parent calls back from the message you left yesterday.

I like to use email to reach parents, because the student can’t as easily intercept a message. But it doesn’t afford the same opportunity to react to tones of voice, or to give immediate answers to questions. I’m trying to set up email distribution lists for my classes so I can send out group messages about upcoming due dates, or tests, or progress reports sent home for signature. But I still have to set up those email lists, and of course, not all parents use email or have computers.

When I called a parent this week to discuss her son’s frequent absence from my class, she asked me what she could do about it. She works, and drops her son off at the crosswalk to walk to school. Apparently that crosswalk is hard to cross, because often he doesn’t make it. I told her, “parent-to-parent”, that she needed to park the car and walk her son into the office (in front of all his friends) and hand-deliver him to an administrator to escort to class. I suspect it wouldn’t take more than one or two mornings for him to get the message that he did have to go to school, and that Mom was prepared to see that he did. But she told me that it didn’t make sense for her to walk a 15 year old boy to school. He wasn’t there yesterday.

I called another parent, a father, because his son had been involved in an argument in my last class and I was afraid the argument was carrying into violence in his neighborhood after school. The student answered the phone, handed it to his dad, and heard his father tell his teacher, “I don’t have to talk to you, my son will do what he has to do to defend himself.” And then Dad hung up. All I wanted to do was protect the safety of his kid. Now that kid knows he doesn’t have to respect the teacher – Dad surely doesn’t.

The call I don’t want to make this weekend is for a girl who told me she had been doing something stupid, and possibly illegal, the night before. She thought it was funny, and really cool, because she made it home safely. All I could think of was the number of girls who don’t make it home safely. I’ll call her mother, who may or may not act on my information, but who will certainly tell the daughter I called. The student won’t trust me, and will be angry with me. But I’ll know I tried, the same way I tried to help keep a kid from violence when I called his dad.

We’re teachers, we try. We try to call parents, or email them. Because it’s our job, no matter how hard it is to do. And when we do finally make contact, we try to REACH them.

This week I’m setting a goal to contact as many parents as I can. Good luck to us this week. Talk to some parents. They need to hear from us, even when they don’t want to listen.

Posted by at 9:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)