In the Middle

Direction: Write a six-word sentence, a mini-memoir, of your teacher life.
Response: I'm always learning, can't help it.
Teacher Magazine is asking teachers to participate in this project. If you haven't read the responses yet, you should. Read "The Short Happy Lives of Teachers", then add your own sentence. I think we're writing a poem of the teacher experience. It's an epic poem.

This is my week of professional development for the summer. I'm attending the Maryland Artist/Teacher Institute (MATI). This week I have created a puppet and an artist book and several poems and a dance and a musical and a tableau. If that sounds like a run-on sentence, well this has been a run-on kind of week. MATI is a very intensive experience.

I've worked with professional artist educators and teachers of all content areas. I've become part of a team that has moved through each of these creative mediums and performed. I've arranged my words into poems, my body into dance, and my colors into art, and through this process I've re-arranged my mind into new ways of thinking. Before this week, I would have said I am not an artist. I feel differently now.

I always thought using arts in education meant giving the kids markers to draw a scene from the book being read. I've used creative projects before, like having students draw a political cartoon about World War II. I have used art as an alternative assessment for those students who have struggled with written expression. I've showed artwork to represent history, and played music to create a mood, but I haven't really integrated art into the instructional content.

This whole field is new to me. I'm really excited. Arts Integration is a significant application of Multiple Intelligences theory, of classroom management techniques, of diversity awareness, and of brain research -- not to mention all the specific content available in each of the artistic disciplines. In one week I've learned so much.

Whenever I learn something new about teaching, I learn that I have so much more to learn.

I'm always learning, can't help it.

Posted by at 2:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I spent a year with middle school students. I taught an 8th grade science and social studies class first quarter then moved to a 7th grade language arts class. I also led a 6th grade advisory class all year. So I directly interacted with all three classes.

Sixth grade entered in August like the elementary students they knew how to be. Excited about school, eager to begin, and respectful of teachers. The students came in wearing curiosity on their faces. Curiosity is a blessing for teachers.

Eighth graders entered with the cockiness of upperclassmen. They knew the ropes, the administration's patterns of discipline, and the social order of their internal class structure. A lot of them were resistant to learning, and required a lot of teacher encouragement. They envisioned their senior middle school year as a time of ruling the school (it's great to be on top, after all) but could not see beyond that to prepare for high school rigor. The special education eighth grade students were tired of learning to read (another new program!?) and weary of mathematical problems they could not understand. I learned to engage these seniors with active learning, and encouraged whole-class discussions. These kids loved to talk -- and if they could talk about what they were doing they participated. They always showed significant pride of their achievements, and pride is is a strong base for learning.

Seventh grade was the real learning experience for me. How does middle school support students moving from the childish enthusiasm of sixth grade (Yay, School!) to eighth grade's wearied attacks on learning assignments? Seventh grade must be the fulcrum, the balance point of the physics of learning.

My middle school has an extraordinary sixth grade team which has integrated multidisciplinary studies and visual and performing arts into a learning model which is supporting all students. The seventh grade educational program focuses more on lectures and structured group work, with each subject programming independently. Eighth grade was tough this year, with a group of students both interesting and challenging. Many teachers focused on maintaining discipline and order, and kept the reins close to themselves. A lot of our eighth grade classes just weren't very exciting.

I observed these patterns as a teacher of one class plus advisory. Additionally, as Special Education Department Chair, I run IEP meetings and meet with students and parents. I also observe classrooms, and sometimes cover other teachers during meetings, so I see a lot of what's going on in the building.

I want to be a teacher like the sixth grade team. I want to be creative, and engaging, and interdisciplinary. I want our students to leave middle school with the learning enthusiasm they arrived with, and then some. I want them to understand the relationship between all disciplines, and to apply learning strategies and self-expression throughout their academic careers.

Enough talking. What am I doing about it? I'm going to spend the next week at the University of Maryland, learning to design and implement an arts-integrated curriculum. Myself and an assistant principal are attending the program that has inspired our sixth grade team. I am excited. Don't even know what I'm teaching next year, but it doesn't matter.

I'm like a sixth grader -- Yay, School! Lead me to something new. I'm curious.

Posted by at 7:18 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I hear so many voices every day. I hear students calling loudly to friends in the hall, and students whispering confidentially to me in class when they need help. I hear teachers complain and celebrate. I hear administrators express exhaustion, and in the next breath, explain plans for the move to excellence. Sometimes I hear myself in the cacophony, but it’s all too rare.

I’ve been reading the other blogs. Jessica Shyu let her voice express her guilt over leaving the classroom. Then, listening to herself, she was convinced she had made the right decision. She has the voice of a leader. Emmett Rosenfeld’s voice led him through the National Board Certification process, shared pain when the goal was not met, and then talked him through the reapplication process. He is now talking about his many other goals and projects. He has a loud voice, one worth listening to.

Dr. Kevin Maxwell, my district superintendent, spoke for three hours about his experiences as a leader to a group of “aspiring leaders”. I was in the audience. He shared his frustration about funding constraints and politicians, of course. But he also shared his excitement about being part of an educational team, and about his vision for excellence. When he was done, I felt optimistic about his leadership. His voice was sure of its direction.

I’m trying to listen to my own voice, which I have kept quiet this year. I’m in a new school, in a new position (department chair). I’ve paid attention to what everyone else in the school has been saying, to identify the school culture and climate. Now I think I have a handle on it – but the principal is retiring and the leadership will change, so perhaps the culture and climate will also.

If there is to be change, there is an opportunity for me. I have to voice my ideas. I believe my school has a distance to travel before we reach the levels of excellence our students need. I think we can achieve excellence, with all our students. I will work for it. I’m listening for my voice to tell me what to do.

I believe I’m going to start speaking louder.

Posted by at 12:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

I'm sorry I haven't contributed anything worthwhile to the Teacher Blogs recently. All the immediate concerns of special education take up each day, and suddenly a couple of weeks have gone by and I haven't had time to step back and look at the big picture. I have a little time now, so let me look.

I'm thinking about the power of the written word. What a great thing it is to communicate ideas, information, or images through words.. I worked with students this week on a poetry assignment. The assignment was quite simple, and asked them to create a poem using several literary elements. The students had a choice of topics. One student had trouble starting, and didn't want to do it. We brainstormed some ideas, and the next day he brought in a rough draft. He asked to stay after school and I helped him type it up and arrange it in poetic form. His illustrations of the poem were perfect, and he created an amazing artifact expressing the emotions of a student entering middle school. It was his story.

The significant part of the story is not that he earned an "A" (which he did) or even that he completed the assignment (he usually does). What is significant is the pride that this boy felt when his poem was "published" - typed and illustrated. I shared his poem with his teacher from last year, and he showed the math teacher, and the substitute teacher, and a friend. His creative work gave him great joy. He wants to do another one. That gives me great joy. Writing is powerful.

I'm taking off for New Orleans tomorrow with my husband. We are, sadly, attending the memorial services for our nephew Nick. Nick Denney was a writer with an interesting life. He enjoyed the adventure of travel - new people, and new places. He was liked by many and loved intensely by some. Nick was handsome, articulate, and had a great voice. He appreciated the natural beauty of our world, and was a fan of blues and jazz and other things that create pleasure and beauty. With all this, it's hard to understand that Nick was 25 years old when he ended his own life..

Nick read a great deal, and let the words of others inspire him. So now I'm trying to let Nick inspire me. Nick chose poetry and music that held meaning for him, and asked his family and friends to read and share in a celebration of remembrance. That's why we're going to New Orleans. To share and remember.

I've been asked by Nick's sister Michelle to read Shakespeare's "Sonnet 18". It is one of the poems I taught for the last three years in English 9, so I am well familiar with its deep imagery and lingering message. "So long as men can breath or eyes can see, so long lives this, and this gives live to thee". It's a poem about the power of the written word. Words create memories that can both wound and heal. Words can be a promise, and an ending. Nick left a lot of writing, both published and private, which his family will explore as time goes by. For Nick, his final written words summarized his life and explained its end. For my student, the written word is a door opening to personal expression. He's written something that has inspired him to write more.

I wish I could write better. I wish I would write more. Written Language is powerful.

Posted by at 10:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I've been working with middle school students for five months now. We're at the end of the second quarter. It is evaluation time. As a classroom teacher I assess student academic progress and assign a grade. This is done with my co-teacher. We look at scores on tests and quizzes, award points for homework turned in, and measure class participation. Standard procedure for every teacher.

As a special educator, I also prepare quarterly reports that measure progress on IEP goals and objectives. This is not as concrete a process. Although an IEP is written with goals that are supposed to be measurable, it is a challenge to measure exactly how much a child's comprehension in reading has improved, or whether or not they are using appropriate writing and revision strategies 100% of the time. It is best practice to base my assessment on teacher reports (for all classes where that skill is used), review student work samples,conduct observations in class, and talk to both parents and students. Best practice is not always actual practice. I admit it. I'm doing my best, but my best isn't always best practice.

What we're really trying to do is determine whether or not our services as special educators are making a difference. Is the child improving his academic abilities? Can he read faster and more naturally, understand what he reads, and write a reflective analysis effectively? Can she perform algebraic functions and complete homework as assigned? Academic goals are tracked through the appropriate classes. But what about social-emotional goals?

Southern Middle School, like many schools today, has students identified as having an emotional disturbance as the handicapping condition. These students' goals may include appropriate social interaction, coping with stress, controlling anger. The progress the student makes on these goals is much harder to measure.

With a math goal I talk to the math teacher. With a reading goal, I check with all the content teachers. With a social-emotional goal, I need to measure progress in all the child's classes. Physical Education class is a challenge for ED kids. It's a larger class, often in open space, with people moving around. A lot can happen. Foreign language classes can be a source of frustration for students who don't cope well with frustration. I also need to check in with the counselors, and the administrators. Hallways and cafeterias can be tough for our ED students. To measure progress on social-emotional goals, I also should find out if the student is subject to disciplinary actions. And of course, I review the student's progress with the school psychologist, who has a whole different perspective on what's going on with this kid.

All of this information is summarized in several sentences, and mailed to the parent. If I can report progress being made, then the IEP continues. If the student is not making satisfactory progress on their goals, and I report that, then I need to begin the IEP review process. In that process we'll try to identify why a student is not successful, and what supports we can implement for him.

The question I ask myself at the end of each quarter is this: If a child is not successful, shouldn't I have known it before now? Can we afford to wait a full quarter to find out a student needs more help? Again, best practice tells me that I should be aware of my students' needs and progress at all times. Again, best practice is not always what happens. So in the quarterly review progress, I also review my own progress as a case manager. Am I successful?

We tell students all the time, "Do your best". But what we're not telling them often enough is this: "If your best is not good enough, you must make it better."

I'm still a young teacher, only three and a half years into this career. I've only been a department chair for special education for six months. When I get frustrated, and tired, I tell myself, "I'm doing my best." But now I am admitting that my best is not good enough. So my goal is to "make it better". I can't measure my success unless I set goals for myself. To set goals, I need to have an objective. My objective is to have more frequent contact with the students on my caseload, and to develop good portfolios of their work so I can measure progress more accurately. I have nine weeks to do it. One quarter. I'm giving myself nine weeks to meet my goal of becoming a better case manager.

I'm doing my best. I need to make my best better.

Posted by at 4:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

New Year's is, of course, a time to reflect on Self. Formal resolutions aren't required, but time to look back and the willingness to look ahead are. Last year I wrote about using a notebook to keep track of all my "to-do's". That system has worked well for me. Everyone at my new school knows that I carry a red notebook -- and if they ask me to do something, they ask me to write it in the notebook. That way they know I'll see it again, and remember to actually do the task. I'm spending time today looking through that notebook to identify any tasks that I did not complete. I want to take care of those things early in the new year.

I've bought a new notebook for 2008. There's something about starting fresh, with white pages. It's like the first day of school all over again. I'm ready for new tasks.

I bought myself something else to carry with me this year - a small notebook calendar. I already have a planning book for class, and a school schedule book, both of which live in my "teacher bag". But those are for school, and fill up with meetings and paperwork deadlines, assignments and assessment dates. The squares fill up with time for students, other teachers, administration. I realized that calendar did not have much time for Self.

My new calendar is for all those other things that get lost in the daily rush. I'm writing in the fun things I want to do. I'm recording important family dates, such as birthdays, my daughter's graduation date this May, holiday celebrations. I am also scheduling weekend events. I'm planning museum visits, movie dates, lunches with friends. I'm planning my vacation this summer. In keeping with my resolutions, I'm scheduling in exercise and meditation times.

I am realistic, so I know I will have some work to do on the weekends. But It is so easy to let that work time take up most of the day, so that no time is left for other things. So I am trying to shape that into small blocks -- 1-2 hours Sunday afternoon.

Now I am adding something else to my new calendar. I keep talking about school as "work", and of course it is my job, and it is work. But teaching is my vocation, and I want to celebrate and recognize the "fun" of the job, too. So I am including on my personal calendar some celebration times at school, too. I am writing in Friday "team points awards" for Language Arts class. What a great way to finish the week! I am noting my department meetings, where we share our successes. I'm noting workshops and seminars I'm attending, because professional development is refreshing.

I'm not sure my new system is going to work that well, because now I see that the Self and the Teacher overlap a lot. Perhaps they can't really be separated, but both can be strengthened and balanced. So my resolution is to celebrate and enjoy both -- and focus on not losing the Self in the Teacher.

I wish you great joy in 2008. Celebrate!

Posted by at 8:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

I have been sluggish recently. Like a slug, in a slump, for about the last month. I am slumpish. I think my mind is trying to go into hibernation. Each day has become a long list of to-do’s and meetings. Each day’s class follows the same routine. My lunch is boring. I climb into bed the same time each night, and rise around the same time. I don’t want to do much at home. I’m in an early winter cave. No creativity.

I knew I was in trouble when someone said “Good Morning” to me last Monday, and I answered, “At least the weekend is coming”. That is not like me. I’m always optimistic. I’m always ready for a new day. Well, not always anymore. Being a Special Educator seems to be draining me of all strength. Is there such a thing as a fourth-year slump?

I’ve let myself fall into the trap of a pressing schedule at school. I have a relentless round of meetings and paperwork. I’m feeling pressure from parents and advocates, students and administrators. Special Education brings worries about legal obligations and deadlines. Other teachers need help, and students are entitled to their full accommodations. I am always struggling to complete what has to be done NOW, so I’ve lost sight of the importance of my job. There’s been no “big picture” in my school life for the past month or so.

When I think a student is slumping, I ask them to think about things he enjoys, and something he is looking forward to. Have to study for a test? Just think, when it’s over, there’s no studying tomorrow night. I tell kids that if it seems they have a lot to do, stop for a moment and celebrate what is already done. Worried about a paper due? Remember how well you did on the paper in your other class. Good advice I’m applying to myself. Worried about that difficult meeting coming up? Remember how successful last week’s meeting was. Considering a solution to a child’s problem? Call upon the resources that have helped before.

Friday afternoon I worked on an IEP with another teacher. As we considered the needs of this young student, with all his problems,we went round and round about what the school could offer, and how. We worried about it. I realized that all we had to do was write a document addressing those needs and problems. I had to block worries of legal considerations and deadlines. I couldn’t wait any longer for the responses of the “experts” I had called in to help. I had to take care of this young man right now, to the best of my ability. The decision to trust our decisions gave me energy.

I think I’m finding my way out of my slump now. I feel creative again, and enthusiastic. The wicked spell of “sameness” is broken, and I feel spring coming already. I’m going to start this week reminding myself that everything on my “to do” list is important only if it affects the life of a student. Mindless paperwork can wait. I feel like I'm going to get a lot done this week, and some of it may be really important.

I’m doing my job if a student is more successful, less “slumpish” because of something I’ve done, some help I have offered. I'm less slumpish if I am useful, if I accomplish something to make a difference. Out of the slug slump and into the big picture.

Posted by at 8:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I had an unexpected blessing a couple of weeks ago. My home computer was broken. I shouldn’t use the passive tense – actually I tripped on the power cord and yanked it onto the floor. For some reason, it won’t work anymore.

This has been a problem. Since I am a special ed department chair, a lot of my work involves the internet. We use an online IEP program; I can write documents, schedule meetings, and contact parents or staff members from home. I can work ten hours at school, then come home and do another hour or two. I usually spend 5-6 hours over the weekend on the computer as well.

It’s not that I am over-dedicated or extremely organized. I feel as though this extra time “at work” has just barely kept me afloat in my new job. It’s become a habit. After dinner I sign onto our Internet system and get to it.

The blessing of the unfortunate computer accident is that I can’t use a computer at home. For the first time this year, when I go home I can’t keep working. I’ve had to develop other habits. Like sitting after dinner with my husband and talking, or watching TV. I sometimes read a book – one I have chosen. I take a walk as the sun sets. I relax.

I come into work the next day feeling refreshed. I’m rested. I’m sleeping better because I’m not thinking about work right before I crawl into bed.

Well, the blessing was short-lived, as I have now have school laptop which can I can take home. I can sign-on and work anytime. I’m hoping that I have learned a lesson, though, about controlling the Work Demon.

I picture that Demon as a cartoon tumbleweed kind of thing, always in motion. There is always so much that has to be done. Everything is important. Everything we do as teachers and administrators directly impacts the life of a child, and nothing is more sacred. The teacher’s world keeps tumbling around and around, never-resting. We must stop the way we let ourselves be blown by the wind, always going along. We have to compartmentalize our activities; separating work and home, school community and family, or we will lose ourselves.

It’s Thanksgiving week, and I appreciate both blessings and demons. The pressure of my job pushes me, and I enjoy it. But I have learned that breaks are necessary, because rest brings strength.

Take a break. Rest. Let the Demon rest. Rediscover your own blessings this week. Disconnect the wires that connect your home to your school for a couple of days. Happy Thanksgiving.

Posted by at 7:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

The day after my last posting, I was asked to cover another teacher's class for 45 minutes. She was absent, and no substitute teacher was available. I agreed easily, because I am a team player. I actually like going into another teacher's class. Since I only teach one class of one subject of one grade, it's a way for me to meet more students in my new school.

I went into that classroom, relieving another teacher who had covered the first half. I introduced myself as a regular teacher in the school. The students had their work, and knew it was due at the end of the period. Within ten minutes, students were up and walking around the room, talking, throwing papers, handling things on the teacher's desk. I asked several students to return to their seats, and they just looked way from me. Several asked to use the restroom, or the water fountain.

I don't often raise my voice, but I did to tell students to return to their seats. Most did, although the talking continued and little work was being done. I was trying to help a student who didn't understand the assignment, but every time I looked down a paper was being thrown or a student was changing seats.

A lot of teachers will recognize the frustration I felt as my classroom spiralled out of control.

A couple of students were clearly the leaders of the disruption. I asked one for his name, because I did not have a seating chart. He refused to give it to me. I asked again, and he laughed. At that point, I knew that if something did not change, it would be a very long 30 minutes until the bell rang.

I didn't know these students, or how their daily teacher handled her classroom. I didn't know if everyone else would follow this one kid, or decide to follow my instructions. So I played hardball. I called for an administrator.

She came up, and told me the name of the students who were the main problems. She lectured them for five minutes. It was obvious she'd been there before. She asked me how I wanted to handle the problem.

I announced to the class was I was inviting them to lunch with me in a few days' time. Middle school students don't like lunch detention. They have to go into the cafeteria, then show their detention slip to the administrator, then leave their friends to sit in a room with a silent teacher. It's not a hard punishment, it's just really boring.

I'm not a brand new teacher, and days later I am still fretting over the whole thing. I rarely call for administrative help. I prefer to keep problems within my classroom. I want to feel like I am part of a learning team. I want to lead a mutually-respectful group of inquisitive people. In this case, I was not successful.

I've been teaching long enough to know that doesn't happen all the time. Sometimes a pass is intercepted. I offer learning, and it is batted away by a defensive move. Sometimes, I'm put on the defensive. So now I need some coaching, even after several years in the classroom.

I think my first step is to talk to the daily teacher, to see if she has suggestions on what I could have done differently. I'll let her handle any disciplinary action. If she agrees lunch detention is in order, I'll do that. Or if her policies are to call home, I'll call home.

The interesting thing in education is that, just like in football, the quarterback can never be sure what the next play will bring. Teachers never know what the next class will bring. We have to keep talking about our experiences, coaching each other, to be ready for the next game day.

I guess I just need a little pep rally.

Posted by at 5:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

The first quarter is almost over. The teachers now know which students are "problems" or "challenges" or "high-flyers" -- the ones who will need a lot of teacher time to handle attitude issues. One of our school administrators said to me (with a very loud sigh), "I guess the honeymoon's over". She was referring to discipline. The teachers use positive reinforcement techniques, with praise for a job well done, and reward slips given out generously. But the teachers also use progressive dscipline, meaning that there is a tier of response to behavior. First we try talking to the student privately about their behavior, to remind them of the rules and give them opportunity to change. After three in-class behavior interventions (verbal warnings, calls home, detention) the misbehvior becomes an out-of-classroom problem.

So teachers write referrals to the office, and the student is sent out. That means the administrator has to deal with the student. So now the detentions become lunch-time visits with administration, the phone calls home become conferences, and the verbal warnings become written reports. A few minutes talking with the teacher in the hall becomes a suspension.

If the student receivs special education services, a suspension begats a manifestation meeting.

Students don't realize that their patterns of behavior are like the pebble in the pond. One tiny splash, no harm done. But the effect of that splash is a movement of water out in a widening circle. What was an issue between one child and one adult grows to involve two, then three, then seven or eight adults in a meeting.

Manifestation meetings are frustrating to me as Special Education Department Chair, because there is actually little I can do to help the misbehaving student. If their behavior was a manifestation of their disability, I can state that and explain the issue to the teachers so they understand. For example, a child on the autism spectrum perhaps can't stop themselves from calling out answers in class. In that case I can develop techniques for teachers and student to use to monitor and guide appropriate responses. But if the student's behavior had nothing to do with their disability, e.g. the learning disabled child who wants to throw erasers in class, it is not my issue to deal with directly. But I always want to try to do something.

I am one of those teachers who is drawn to misbehaving students. I always want to know WHY a student is not following rules or directions. Middle school students are different than high school students. Misbehavior in middle school is all about getting attention. In high school, misbehavior is an expression of students' anger, or pain, boredom, or frustration. Middle school - behavior is directed towards others. High school - behavior is directed out from the self. I know I'm making a broad statement here, but I'm trying to figure it out.

I teach one class with a general educator; we, too are struggling with some minor behavioral issues. I think the students who are talking, or drawing, or falling asleep are just not engaged in what we're doing. Perhaps we're spending too much time talking to students, instead of engaging them in the learning process. I don't think the students look forward to our class and I want to change that.

Sure, the honeymoon's over. Disciplinary actions are increasing, and it takes more work to get the students engaged. But like any good marriage, the relationship between teachers and students (or administrators and students) takes a lot of work. It takes commitment to make it through the hard talks and disagreements. Sometimes it takes compromise, and trying something new. Since I just came into this class a few weeks ago, perhaps the students don't yet trust that I will be there for the long-term. Like spouses who come to the end of the honeymoon, but decide to build a marriage, I have to accept the "high-flyer" who needs a lot of my attention and work with him or her. Honeymoon's over, but here comes the good part.

Posted by at 5:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)